Nikita's eyes widened, as though hearing his silent thoughts. She swallowed hard, and then reached for his hand. Her voice was not quite steady.

"I guess we can talk later."

Michael felt his breath hitch in his chest at the trust shining in her eyes. A trust that he only prayed he could meet. He tightened his fingers around hers, reveling in the simple pleasure of how perfectly her hand fitted into his.

"No."

Nikita studied him for a moment before her searching gaze travelled lower. A small, secret smile curved her mouth as her eyes came up to meet his once more, one eyebrow raised in smug disbelief. "No?"

Without replying, he tugged gently on her hand to lead her from the kitchen, through the living room, toward the stairs that led to the bedroom. When they were in front of her stereo, he stopped. Nikita gripped his hand tightly and watched as he pressed play, filling the apartment with the soft wailing of blues. Giving silent thanks that she appeared to be past her fascination with techno music, he increased the volume before turning to face her.

He wasn't surprised by the confusion in her eyes. It was usually Nikita, rather than he, who demanded the presence of music when they made love. He watched her, waiting for her to understand. She looked at the stereo, then at him. A small frown, then the confusion cleared from her eyes as she realised what he was trying to tell her.

They're listening.

She nodded, unhappiness glowing briefly at the back of her eyes. Relieved, Michael gathered her in his arms, pulling her to him tightly. He could feel the steady thump of her heart against his, the addictive scent of her skin swamped his senses. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, warm hands slipping underneath his sweater to explore the ridge of his spine. Fighting for control, Michael cupped the back of her head in one hand and put his mouth close to her ear, murmuring words that only she could hear.

"No. I need to tell you this one thing. Now. Before we make love, before I lose my senses, before I lose all my words in you."

The hands teasing his back stilled. Michael lifted the hair away from her neck and pressed a lingering kiss on the soft skin just below her earlobe. A soft shiver went through her, or perhaps it was he who shuddered. He didn't know. Impossible to tell them apart any more. All he knew was that he could no longer hide his heart from her.

"I told you once that there were things about me that had to remain hidden."

Nikita let out her breath in a tremulous sigh. Her voice tight with remembered pain. "I seem to remember that. You also said that you couldn't tell me what I needed to hear." Then, as though to make amends for sounding bitter, she turned her head slightly and brushed his jaw with her lips. It was a soft, sad kiss that sent a shiver skittering down his back.

"I know. Too many secrets that needed to be kept." For a brief but painful instant, Michael thought of his son. Swallowing the knot of bitterness that seemed wedged at the back of his throat, he forced Adam from his mind.

"But now there are no more secrets between us." He felt her body stiffen at that and tightened his arms around her. "No matter what happens, no matter what they try to do to us, believe only this." His heart was pounding. Closing his eyes, he put his lips closer to her ear and told her a truth he had ached to tell her for so long.

"I love you."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...it really is worth fighting for, being brave for. Risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more. ~ Erica Jong

"I guess we can talk later."

Michael's hand tightened around hers, his eyes searching her face. "No."

Nikita looked at him, puzzled and slightly disappointed, until she noticed the rigid set of his jaw, the way he was holding onto her hand for dear life, the pulse at his wrist fluttering against her fingertips. Not so controlled, after all. She smiled into Michael's eyes before dropping her gaze, knowing that there were some things that not even he could hide. Suspicions confirmed, she gave him a satisfied smirk. "No?"

His only answer was to pull her out of the kitchen and lead her through the living room. Still holding her hand, Michael stopped in front of the CD player, leaned down, and pressed 'play'. The sound of Etta James filled the room, softly at first, then quite loudly as he turned up the volume.

Bemused, Nikita looked at her stereo, then at Michael. She was always the one to insist on having music playing. Michael never seemed to care, one way or the other. His eyes, filled with a silent plea, locked with hers, and she felt her heart flip over. She knew what he was imploring her to understand, and she wished to god that she didn't.

Section was listening to them. Probably watching them too. She nodded, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She despised them, hated them for taking this one last thing away from her.

Michael saw the misery in her eyes and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him so tightly that she felt him from shoulder to knee, the heat of his hard body seeping through two layers of clothing to warm her skin.

They stood for a moment in silence, arms wrapped around each other, until Nikita, impatient as ever, slipped her hands up under his sweater. She traced the smooth line of his spine with her fingertips before splaying her fingers across his back, loving how his muscles tensed and shifted under her touch.

As though she had pushed him too close to the edge of his control, Michael curled one hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding into her hair, bringing her head closer to his. Resting his cheek against hers, he put his mouth to her ear. His breath was hot on her skin, his voice urgent. Insistent.

"No. I need to tell you this. Now. Before we make love, before I lose my senses, before I lose all my words in you."

Her heart lurched at the raw emotion in his voice, and the fact that he was taking such care not to be overheard filled her with tenderness. She stood absolutely still as he brushed the hair away from her neck, brushing his lips against her throat in a deliberate caress that made her shiver with longing.

"I told you once that there were things about me that had to remain hidden."

Nikita closed her eyes, recollection unpleasantly swift. A week playing house with Michael had left her feeling completely lost and utterly confused. How strange it was to know now that Michael had felt the same way. That awful hollow ache that came from realising that what you wanted and what you could have were two very different things. Their conversation after the final debriefing on the Armel mission was one that had haunted her for months. Until, of course, she had met Elena and Adam. Then it had all made perfect, terrible sense.

She sighed, and tried without success to keep her tone light. "I seem to remember that. You also said that you couldn't tell me what I needed to hear." Aware of the faint hint of resentment in her voice, Nikita turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Michael's jaw in silent apology.

To her relief, Michael only nodded, his beard roughened cheek scratching lightly against her face. "I know. Too many secrets that needed to be kept." He hesitated for a moment, and she wondered if he was thinking of Adam. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.

"But now there are no more secrets between us."

Oh god...Michael. His words sliced through her, laying her guilt open, right down to its rotten little core. How can I do this to him? He was being so tenderly honest with her, and all she could do was tell him lie after lie. I don't deserve his honesty. She felt his arms tighten around her and she dropped her head, feeling the warm pressure of tears building behind her eyes. I don't deserve him, she thought miserably.

"No matter what happens, no matter what they try to do to us, believe only this." His lips moved warmly against her sensitive earlobe, his voice rough with quiet passion.

"I love you."

Nikita felt her throat constrict, making it hard to breathe. He loved her. He was never going to give her up, no matter what Section threw at them. No matter what happened. Tears burned her eyes as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling his heart hammering against hers.

His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her away so he could see her face. His eyes, alive with emotion, burned into hers. "Nikita..." Fingers under her chin, tilting her head back, his mouth only a whisper away from hers. Waiting for an answer.

Nikita felt as though someone was squeezing her heart, squeezing it so tightly that she thought it might burst. How long had she waited for him to say those words? Forever. An eternity. Now that he had actually said them...What the hell was she going to do?

Her thoughts were completely scrambled. Total meltdown. Sucking in a deep breath, she blinked away the tears that made Michael's face seem blurred and blurted out the first thing that came into her shocked brain.

"Are you sure?"

A mortified blush warmed her face, and she wanted to look away. But Michael only smiled at her, a loving, tenderly patient smile that somehow made her feel worse. "Yes."

The tears welled up and spilled over as he kissed her softly, kissed her to the wild strains of Etta singing about living next door to the blues. Michael tasted the tears on her mouth and pulled back slightly, a tiny frown creasing his forehead as his eyes searched hers urgently. "Are you?"

It was her last chance. Last chance to let him go. Last chance to keep him out of it. Last chance to be completely honest. Despite the determination etched on his face, she knew that he would honour her decision.

Nikita looked into his face and saw Michael's heart in his eyes. Hope, fear, longing, desire. Love. She couldn't do it. Couldn't tell him...couldn't stand to see the disappointment, the hurt, in his eyes when he realised that she had been lying. Lying to him for so long. To have him look at her and see her for what she really was...someone whose whole life was a lie.

She couldn't do it.

Swallowing hard, Nikita reached up to touch his face, sliding her fingers along the smooth curve of his jaw. "I'm sure, too." Desire and something else, something less tangible but infinitely more enduring, flickered darkly in Michael's eyes. Her heart was in her mouth, but she was no longer afraid. Pushing her guilt deep down inside, she made her decision. For better or for worse, she could not let him go. Not now. Taking his hand in hers, Nikita pulled him into a languid kiss of promise before leading him up the stairs to her bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart. ~ William Wordsworth

Michael let Nikita draw him toward her room, content to let her take control in exchange for the opportunity to study the alluring sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs in front of him. When they reached the bedroom, she turned to him, her hands tentatively framing his face, kissing him, her mouth warm and inviting.

He knew his declaration had stunned her...he had seen the shock in her eyes. But any disappointment that she hadn't repeated his words had been swept away by the quiet elation that had flashed across her face. I'm sure, too. He knew she loved him. He didn't need the words.

It had only been a week since they had made love but to Michael, it felt like an eternity. He negotiated the buttons on Nikita's sweater with fingers that were slightly unsteady, shaking his head ruefully at his lack of finesse.

Of all the women who had shared his bed, whether Section-ordained or of his own choosing, not one of them had made him lose himself. Only Nikita had the ability to make him feel as gauche as a schoolboy. Only she made his hands tremble as they caressed her skin, his body hard and aching long before her hands touched him. Not even with Simone had he felt this almost gut-wrenching need, this blinding hunger that blurred his senses and robbed him of his reason.

Obviously growing impatient, Nikita smiled slyly and put her hands over his, her fingers dealing with the tiny pearl buttons quickly and nimbly. Holding his eyes with hers, she shrugged the knitted cardigan off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft pink puddle. Its sleeveless counterpart soon met the same fate. The resultant vision of rich cream lace barely covering smooth ivory skinned breasts and dark pink nipples sent his blood plummeting downward, his groin growing tighter and heavier with every beat of his heart.

Nikita grabbed the hem of his sweater in both hands and pushed it up to bare his chest, bowing her head to press warm open mouthed kisses across his skin, tongue flicking teasingly over a tight nipple. Michael blinked as lust stabbed his belly. Seconds later, his sweater had joined hers on the floor and Nikita was wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her close, biting back a soft moan as bare skin slid over bare skin.

Covering her mouth with his, Michael slipped his hands inside the waistband of her loose cargo pants to cup her bottom, lifting her up to him. Nikita sighed unsteadily and pressed closer, her lace covered nipples pushing against his chest in a maddeningly soft caress, sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. Dipping his head, Michael closed his teeth around a taut nipple, tasting cool lace and warm flesh, flesh that came to life in his mouth.

With a low sound of pleasure Nikita arched her back, her fingernails digging into the nape of his neck. Then she was pulling away, her hands dropping to his belt, her fingers suddenly clumsy in their haste. Between kisses that grew more and more urgent, their remaining clothes joined their fallen comrades on the wooden floor. He barely had time to remove his boots and socks before Nikita's hands dropped to his hips to pull him to her, pushing forward against him, kissing him hard, her tongue exploring his mouth impatiently.

Oh god. No longer capable of coherent thought, Michael slid his thigh between hers, his erection pulsing greedily against the soft curls between her legs. Nikita tore her mouth away from his with a gasp and they stared at each other, the only sound in the room their uneven breathing.

Michael couldn't take his eyes off her. Her mouth was wet and swollen from his kisses, her eyes a pure blue flame. Like him, she was breathing hard, her now bare breasts rising and falling rapidly, their pebbled tips brushing his chest with every breath she took. The sight, the smell, the feel of her...it was all driving him quite mad, pushing him beyond the limits of his rapidly vanishing control. Struggling to keep his composure, he cupped her chin with one hand, tilting her face up until her mouth was almost touching his.

He could barely speak. "I have waited a lifetime for you." Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he drew it into his mouth, kissing her hard until he felt her shudder with pleasure. Kissing him back with a passion that heated his blood, Nikita slid her arms around his waist and took two steps back, taking her with him until they both tumbled backward onto her bed.

Clinging to lucidity, Michael thought of Section's cameras. He reached for the lamp beside Nikita's bed, planning to plunge the room into semi-darkness to at least provide the appearance, if not the reality, of privacy.

"No." Nikita put out a hand to stop him. "Leave it on."

Puzzled, he studied her face. She shrugged at his unspoken question, sliding one hand along his leg to lightly trace the crease between thigh and groin, almost but not quite touching him where he ached for her. He felt faint.

"I want to see you." She smiled at him, her full mouth trembling imperceptibly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Let them watch. I don't care."

Her courage stole his words away. Nodding mutely, Michael stretched out beside her and took her face in his hands, kissing her hungrily, breathing in her scent, feeling her heart pound against his. He bent his head and tasted the soft skin of her shoulder, knowing that whatever price he would be made to pay for this transgression, it could never be so high as to keep him from her.

Their caresses were gentle at first, but soon became tinged with desperation. Achingly tender kisses grew harder. Soft touches became frantic exploration, hands sliding over heated skin like flint sparking over dry tinder, the perpetual heat between them catching quickly, flaring into life.

Michael closed his eyes as Nikita moved over him, her skin slick beneath his urgent fingers. There was no fanfare. No lighting of candles. No setting of mood. There was only the two of them. Section didn't exist. Nothing existed but the scorching sexual heat between them, a heat that had simmered without release for far too long to be extinguished now. Not by them.

Not by anyone.

~*~*~*~*~

Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. ~ T.S. Eliot

I have waited a lifetime for you.

God. Oh god. The combined onslaught of Michael's heartfelt words and erotically charged kiss had her legs literally buckling under her. He kissed her until she was shaking in his arms, until the only thought in her head was the longing to have him, all of him, lying against her, under her, over her. She took a few shaky steps backward until the edge of the mattress connected with the back of her knees, pulling him down onto the bed with her as she fell.

Michael kissed her hard before shifting his weight, reaching over her to flick off her lamp. She reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "No. Leave it on." He glanced at her, his eyes hooded with need.

Nikita took a deep breath, feeling anger break through the desire fogging her mind. What was the point of turning off the light? There was nowhere for them to hide, so why deny herself the pleasure of watching Michael's face when she touched him?

She shrugged and smiled, but felt tears sting her eyes. "I want to see you." As she spoke, she trailed her hand up Michael's leg from knee to hip, caressing the soft skin of his inner thigh. He caught his breath with a hiss as she teased him, letting her fingertips almost brush against the dark wiry hair and hard flesh between his legs. "Let them watch. I don't care."

I don't care. I don't care what they do to me. The mantra became Nikita's last rational thought as Michael cradled her face in his hands and kissed her urgently. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as his mouth began to sear a burning path from her lips to her shoulder, the rasp of his beard against the sensitive skin of her throat making her shiver. Warm hands skimmed up her stomach to cup her breasts, his touch sending a bolt of lust shooting straight to her groin. His hands tightened on her breasts at the sound of her soft moan, and she felt her nipples grow taut, pushing into his palms.

The damp ache between her legs grew hotter as Michael took his hands from her breasts only to replace them with his mouth, his teeth biting and teasing until she was mindless with wanting him. Her heart was slamming around in her chest as her body arched toward him, her toes digging into the mattress. She heard the breath catch in her throat, and it sounded like a sob of protest. How could something be too much and yet not enough at the same time?

Nikita wrapped her arms around his neck to bring his mouth back up to hers, kissing him with desperate passion as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. One hand slid up her thigh to pull it up over his hip, opening her to him. Nikita bit back a moan as Michael rocked his hips against hers urgently, his erection pressing hard and hot between her legs. His mouth covered hers as he rubbed against her, pushing, teasing, driving her completely out of what was left of her mind.

Gritting her teeth in loving frustration, Nikita pulled her mouth away from his. She stretched up to whisper desperately in his ear, her breath coming in harsh gasps as she gently bit his earlobe. "You don't have wait. I want this. I want this more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

Strangely nervous, she pulled back slightly, wanting to see his face. Michael's eyes grew very dark, and something inside him seemed to snap. He was suddenly on his knees between her legs, fingers digging into her thighs, pushing them apart, pulling her hard against him. Her whole body felt as tight as a drum with anticipation, her skin stretched thin, restless and aching. When she felt his rigid erection pushing against the heated folds of her sex, she lifted herself up to him, her hands gripping his hips to urge him on, consumed by the hunger to feel him inside her.

He bent his head to take her mouth in a furious kiss as he pushed himself into her, the taste and feel of him overwhelming her senses, making her burn from the inside out. She was quickly losing herself in him, and she wanted so badly to be lost that she was shaking. Michael seemed no less affected; his movements no longer smooth but roughened by impatience. He jerked his hips against her, the fierceness with which he entered her creating a shockwave of lust. He was hot and hard inside her, her body clenching around him as he thrust into her with a wildness that stole the breath from her lungs.

I've waited a lifetime for you.

Nikita was burning up, infected by a fever that seemed to flow from his body to hers. They were both burning, too desperate to be gentle, too greedy to take things slowly.

She cried out softly and Michael slowed his movements, as though suddenly aware of his roughness, sliding down her body to brace himself on his elbows. His heart was pounding violently against hers as he took her mouth in a curiously tender kiss, his tongue lazily exploring, teeth gently biting her bottom lip. Nikita didn't want tenderness. Not now. Not this time. She kissed him back hard and wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the small of his back.

I love you. Three simple words. Nikita ran her hands through his soft hair, her heart aching with tenderness, even as her body burned. He had been to hell and back, and he had come back for her. Only her. Michael was a man accustomed to hiding his feelings. For him to have shown her such honesty, such simple truth after so many lies... Nikita turned her head and kissed his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his hot skin, shame welling up inside her. And she had repaid his honesty with silence, her voice snatched away by guilt. Offered him her body...but not her heart. He deserved so much more than that. Nikita tilted her head back against the pillow, and caught his face between her hands. His eyes were glittering, his sculptured features softened by desire. She took a deep breath. Amidst the lies that littered her life, there was one truth she could share.

"I love you, Michael."

His eyes burned into hers, pinning her in place. Nikita waited, her mouth painfully dry. Disbelief and pure joy flickered across his face in turn before his lips parted as though to speak, but he said nothing. It was as though she had shocked him.

Nikita smiled at him shakily as tears filled her eyes. "I've been waiting for you, too."

He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, as though fighting for control. Finally he kissed her, a gentle kiss that quickly became something more. "Nikita..." It was little more than a thickly muttered plea against her mouth. His self-possession seemed to dissolve in the face of her quiet confession, and Nikita closed her eyes as he slipped his hands under her bottom to pull her hard against him. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears, in the tips of her breasts, beating between her legs, her blood rushing and receding in a hot wave of sensation that grew fiercer with every urgent thrust of Michael's body into hers.

The rigid heat of him pulsed inside her as they twisted together, and she sensed instinctively that he was fighting off his release. His back was damp with sweat, the muscles rigid beneath her splayed fingers, his breath hot and rough in her ear. Nikita gritted her teeth, her body tensing, so close to her own climax that she felt Michael would only have to kiss her to make her shatter into a thousand pieces.

Nikita pulled him closer and pushed her hips up against him, biting his jaw gently, repeating her words for the sheer joy of saying them aloud. "I love you. I love you."

He shuddered and bent his head to her breasts almost reverently, his mouth hot and wet, biting and sucking the aching tips as he took her hard, thrusting with long, desperate strokes, his hips jerking and rocking as he fought to push her higher.

She closed her eyes as the familiar blistering rush of heat burst into life in her belly, spreading outward, spreading downward, the slick flesh between her legs pulsing with her blood, Michael's flesh, his need.

She heard herself cry out his name as her climax speared her, a willing victim of a hunger so powerful she would rather die than live without knowing. Writhing under him, Nikita raked her nails down Michael's back, uncaring of the marks she would leave, revelling in his hoarse cry of completion as the warmth spilt from his body to hers

Chest heaving with exertion, Michael carefully collapsed onto her, burying his face between her breasts as he slipped his arms around her waist. In silence, they lay wrapped around each other on her rumpled bed, legs entwined, Michael lifting his head to kiss her softly, the wildness gone for the moment, leaving only an aching tenderness that made her shiver.

Nikita had one last lucid thought as Michael drew the covers up over them, his hand on her hip, pulling her close. One last thought as she listened to the hypnotic sound of his heartbeat, thudding steadily under her cheek, as she lay sprawled across his warm chest. One last thought before sleep claimed her.

I love him too much to let him go.

And there was nothing Madeline could do to her that would make her change her mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~

What force is more potent than love? ~ Igor Stravinsky

Michael lay awake, watching Nikita as she dozed, unable to keep the smile from his face. He had come here tonight to ask her a question. As answers went, hers had been spectacular. If he'd had lingering doubts about her feelings for him, they were gone.

She loved him.

He gently brushed the hair back from her forehead, lovingly studying the classic lines of her features. Unable to resist, he ran his index finger lightly over her mouth, tracing the delicate cupids bow, then the tempting swell of her bottom lip. Gently rubbing her cheek with the back of his knuckles, Michael delighted in the velvet feel of her skin, so smooth and flushed with warmth.

There were faint circles under her eyes, not quite covered by the dark lashes. He knew that she had been driving herself too hard for weeks. They all had. Even so, he wanted nothing more than to wake her with a kiss, to push himself into her as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness, to feel her body come alive around his.

His groin tightened at the thought, his blood rushing and rising. Merde. The situation was not helped by the fact that Nikita chose that moment to wriggle in her sleep, shifting her hips backward to press her bottom snugly into his crotch. Abandoning any hope of sleep and wrestling with a conscience that insisted he should let her sleep undisturbed, Michael lay very still and told himself to savour this chance of spending the whole night in Nikita's bed.

Even if it was just to sleep.

It didn't work. All he could think about was rolling Nikita onto her back, covering her body with his and thrusting into her so hard that she would barely have time to cry out his name before she came.

This is unbearable. Michael swore under his breath once more and moved his hips back slightly, trying to allow his rampant lust a chance to die a natural death. He held out little hope of this tactic being a success, but it suddenly seemed important not to give in to his body's incessant demands. Surely he was stronger than that? It was quite galling to realise that, when it came to Nikita, he didn't have a single shred of self-discipline left in his mind or his body. To his relief, that same disobedient body suddenly changed from enemy to ally, his internal clock providing a welcome distraction.

His stomach rumbled, a subtle twist of hunger streaking through his belly. Michael yawned and tried to remember when he had last eaten. Hours ago. Coffee and a roll long before the sun had come up. Careful not to disturb the sleeping woman curled up next to him, he leaned over to pick up his watch from the nightstand. Just after midnight. He had no idea if Nikita had eaten dinner before he arrived a few hours ago, but he knew her appetite well enough to know that if he was eating, she'd happily steal the food from his plate.

The bed sheets were a crumpled mess around their feet. Easing himself out of bed, he untangled one and wrapped it around his waist as a makeshift toga, then padded his way barefoot to the kitchen. The sheet was not for the sake of his modesty, he had shed that trait many years and too many Valentine missions ago. It was to stop him shivering as he hunted for something to eat. Despite the warmth of her bedroom, the lower level of Nikita's apartment was distinctly chilly, making him suspect that she had been doing some 'repairs' on her central heating system again.

Standing in front of the open refrigerator, he searched for inspiration. Chocolate and plain steamed rice were not quite what he had in mind. Spying a large plastic takeaway container on the bottom shelf, he reached for it with a silent prayer. To his relief, it was an almost full serve of pasta from Nikita's favourite Italian restaurant. He sniffed it warily before eyeing the ingredients. Eggplant, Roma tomatoes, mushrooms, fresh peas. He sniffed again. Basil...and definitely some garlic. The question was...how long had it been residing in her refrigerator?

After a few seconds deliberation, Michael shrugged. When you faced death every other day, it seemed foolish to worry about food poisoning. He divided the contents between two soup bowls and put them into the small microwave before rummaging in the wooden breadbox in a vain search for bread rolls. But even as he performed the reassuringly normal domestic chores, his thoughts were racing ahead of his hands.

A type one directive could be issued regarding any situation that Section felt was unacceptable. Obviously, their relationship had been categorised as such. It was something he had been half-expecting, and yet he was puzzled that Madeline had approached Nikita and not himself. He was the senior operative...Nikita's former mentor. Section protocol dictated that Madeline broach the subject with him, not Nikita.

When it was ready, Michael took the warmed up food out of the microwave and arranged the bowls on a tray, adding cutlery. He hardly noticed what he was doing, his mind preoccupied with their current dilemma. He needed to ask Nikita exactly what Madeline had said to her. It was true that he didn't know if a similar directive had ever been issued over a relationship, but he intended to find out.

He glanced toward Nikita's bedroom, catching sight of the long naked length of her back as she stirred, stretching out like a cat in her sleep.

Tomorrow, he resolved. He would find out tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~

While we are free to choose our actions, we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions. ~ Stephen Covey

Nikita's nose twitched as Michael sat down on the bed beside her, tray on his lap. Amused by her delicate grimacing as she woke, he watched as she gradually came awake, her eyes growing wider as she took in the scene before her.

She gave him a smile and sat up, coquettishly pulling the sheet up to cover the pink tipped breasts he had been kissing only an hour or so earlier.

"What's this?" She reached a hand out to run her fingertips along the edge of the tray in his lap, her fingers wandering slightly more than tray exploration warranted. Michael sucked in a breath as her hand tangled itself in the sheet he'd tied around his waist, brushing against him teasingly.

"A very late dinner." Michael repressed the sudden urge to sweep the tray to the floor and bent down to drop a brief kiss on her mouth. "I was hungry. Would you like some?" He put the tray down on the bed between them and handed her a fork.

"Actually, yes." She looked at him and made a face as she reached for one of the bowls. "It was supposed to be my dinner. I picked it up from Giardinetto's on my way home, but then I just didn't have the appetite for it."

Michael watched her face as she daintily blew on a forkful of too hot pasta before taking a bite. "You had a lot on your mind." Nikita swallowed and looked at him almost guiltily, her reply decidedly noncommittal.

"Hmmmm."

His comment seemed to have made her uncomfortable. Michael ate slowly, vaguely enjoying the feeling of warm food in his empty stomach as he let the silence between them draw out. When it became obvious that Nikita wasn't going to continue the discussion unless he prompted her, he put down his half empty bowl and looked at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Nikita shrugged, suddenly concentrating very hard on aimlessly twirling fettuccine around her fork. Torn between frustration and concern, Michael reached out to take her hand, his fingers entwining with hers until the fork stilled.

She clunked her bowl back onto the tray before pushing it away, dropping the fork with a clatter. Sighing wearily, she looked at him, and he was startled to see a sudden emptiness in her eyes. It was as though a veil had been dropped over her thoughts. As though she was hiding something from him.

He watched her eyes as he spoke. "What did Madeline say to you?"

Nikita shook her head and squeezed his hand hard before letting it go, her expression clearing slightly. "Not much. She was pretty pissed that you broke position when I was caught in the back room last night." She blinked and looked away, pressing her lips into a tight line.

"Anything else?"

When she looked back at him, her eyes were suspiciously bright, her words bitter. "That a type one directive had been initiated, and that you and I had to...extract the personal component...from our relationship."

Extract the personal component. He could picture Madeline presenting Nikita with such an unemotional fait accompli all too well. With an effort, he controlled the sudden surge of anger that streaked through him, and reached out to take Nikita's hand once more. "And what did you do?"

Her fingers tightened around his. "The usual. I got angry." Nikita tossed him a wry smile. "I said something about her spies being way off the mark because..." She faltered, colour tingeing her face.

"It's okay." Michael prompted her gently, but he had the sudden feeling that he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

Taking a deep breath, Nikita blew the hair out of her eyes and gave him a sad smile. "...because the personal component of our relationship didn't exist anymore."

Michael looked at her in silence, unable to shake off a faint sense of betrayal. He had suspected that Nikita was planning to end their relationship. After all, that fear was the reason he had appeared on her doorstep this evening. But to suspect was one thing. To learn that she could say as much to Madeline and truly mean it was quite another.

Nikita bit her bottom lip as she watched him intently, guilt flickering darkly at the back of her clear blue eyes. "I'm so sorry." She moved closer to him, putting a tentative hand on his bare knee as she shook her head, her eyes filling with angry tears. "She caught me off guard. I didn't know what else to say to her."

Michael put his hand over hers, the feeling of betrayal dissolving in the face of her obvious distress and his own guilt. Nikita hadn't asked him to back her up last night. That had been his decision alone. When Madeline had backed her into a corner, there hadn't been much else she could have said. It wasn't Nikita's fault that Madeline had chosen to force the issue with her rather than speaking to him. The initiation of the directive angered him, but Madeline's manipulations infuriated him. There had to be a precedent for the use of this particular direction regarding an emotional relationship, and he intended to find it.

"Don't apologise. You did the right thing." Nikita looked at him doubtfully, and he reached for her hand. "It was my decision to break position. Not yours." He pressed a lingering kiss to her palm, feeling the pulse in her wrist leap into life. She edged closer, the sheet covering her breasts fighting a losing battle to stay in place. His body humming, Michael held Nikita's gaze with his as he bit down gently on the fleshy mound beneath her thumb, watching with satisfaction as her eyelids fluttered, the blue eyes growing dark with desire.

She swallowed hard and when she spoke, her voice wasn't quite steady. "So, what do we do now? Just wait for them to read us the riot act?"

Holding her wrist, Michael trailed his mouth along the soft skin on the inside of her forearm, brushing his lips over the warm inner crook of her elbow. "Yes, we wait. I need to find out if it's ever been done before." He smiled against her skin as she shivered. "But now..." Another kiss, this time to taste her bare shoulder. Nikita made a low, soft sound, her fingers clutching, tugging at the rumpled sheet tied loosely around his waist. "But for now...the best thing to do is..." Her throat tasted of her perfume. He kissed the silky skin between her breasts, and his head swam with the scent of salty heat and sex.

Michael heard Nikita push the tray off the bed, but the noise hardly registered. Her hands were sliding up his thighs, pulling the sheet away from his waist. Long legs hooking around his, her hands teasing him, cupping him lightly before her fingers dug into his hips to pull him down on top of her.

It seemed slower this time. Sweeter. As though the edge hadn't been taken off their appetite for each other only somehow changed. Made more intense. Her fingernails scratched the skin on his shoulders as his mouth travelled a path down her flat belly, her breath little more than shallow pants of anticipation as he kissed the warm heat of her sex, tasting her there again and again until her hips bucked in his hands, a throaty moan of pleasure tearing from her throat.

After a long moment, her hands tangled clumsily in his hair, urging him up her body. Michael raised his head and smiled as he obeyed her silent command, moving up the bed to lie cradled between her thighs.

He was shaking with raw need by the time he pushed himself into the sleek hollow between her legs, the feel of her body clenching and rippling around his aching erection making him groan aloud. He had wanted to make this last, but Nikita was rapidly sabotaging his plans, her hand slipping between their sweat damped bellies to cup him, kissing him with such passionate hunger that his mind emptied of everything but the need to lose himself inside her.

He rolled onto his back, taking Nikita with him, pulling her over until she was straddling him. With a devilish smile, she put her hands on his chest, rocking her hips against his in a teasing dance, her body so tight and wet around him that he thought his spine might split from the effort of holding back his release. Michael clenched his teeth, closing his eyes as Nikita leaned down to trail open mouth kisses from his stomach to his throat, her teeth nipping at his jaw.

The blood slammed through his veins, his pulse pounding hard inside her, his body pushing, taking, retreating, buried so deep inside her that he knew he would die from the pleasure of it.

He pushed up hard again and again, straining to take her with him, hardly breathing until Nikita cried out, jerking against him, her breasts growing tight and heavy in his cupped hands, her eyes closing in agonized anticipation. Her body stiffened, thigh muscles quivering, then the slippery embrace of her body fluttered around him. Every nerve ending tingling with a searing rush of sensation, he reached up to slide his hand around the damp nape of Nikita's neck, bringing her mouth down to his for a searing kiss.

"My god...Nikita...." He wasn't even sure if he'd spoken the words aloud. She swallowed his rough groan of pleasure and rocked her hips against him, pushing him higher. Pushing him too far. His heart was about to crash through his ribs, his groin tight and heavy as he twisted on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain. Nikita cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, a languid, loving assault. Closing his eyes, he kissed her back, losing and finding himself in the same heartbeat as his body dissolved into the heat of hers.

~*~*~*~*~

No matter how far you have gone on the wrong road, turn back. ~ Turkish proverb

She couldn't sleep.

Resolutely, Nikita shut her eyes tightly, trying to concentrate on the sound of her breathing. Nothing helped. It felt like she had been lying awake for hours. I can't imagine why, she thought dryly. Every time she moved an inch, or took a breath, she was instantly reminded that she wasn't alone. The sensation of Michael's warm naked body pressing against her from neck to toe was disconcerting, to say the least. It was also rather arousing, which wasn't helping her insomnia in the slightest.

The bedclothes were a rumpled mess, thanks to their earlier efforts, the comforter riding up her legs, the cool night air washing over her exposed feet. Michael's legs were tangled with hers, his arm draped over her hip, his long fingers splayed low across her belly. He was possessive even in sleep, and she felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that she didn't mind a bit. In fact, it seemed a waste to just be lying here trying to sleep. Leave the man alone, she admonished herself sheepishly. Twice is more than enough.

Nikita gave up trying to sleep and opened her eyes, shifting her body slightly, wondering how many times she would have to tell herself that before she was convinced. It had become breathtakingly obvious to her that she would never be able to get enough of him. That Michael felt the same way about her was even more difficult to believe.

He loved her. He'd actually said the words that she had been waiting to hear for so long. Despite the guilt that was sitting like a paperweight in the pit of her stomach, replaying his whispered words in her head sent a giddy thrill through her.

I love you.

He loved her. He loved her enough to risk everything. It was, she realized with a pang of tenderness, what he had always done. She felt the tears prick warmly behind her eyes. Tears of happiness, tears of misery...she didn't know any more.

Being with him like this, knowing without a doubt that it wasn't a trick...that it wasn't a manipulation...that it was real...was something that she had ached for, wanted for longer than she cared to remember. This man had coloured her every thought since she had opened her eyes in that stark white room and looked into his eyes, eyes that were so beautiful and yet so cold.

He had been nothing more than a stranger; a man who had looked at her as though she was a science experiment he couldn't understand. But even then, there had been something about him that had gotten under her skin.

By the time he had left the holding cell that day, Michael was already in her blood. It was a simple as that. It had just taken her a long time to admit it.

She had tried to hate him...tried to hurt him the way she thought he was hurting her. When she wasn't doing that, she was trying to make him love her. Nikita sighed ruefully, putting her hand over Michael's where it rested on her stomach. It had taken him a long time to admit it, too. What a pair they were. How different would their lives have been if Michael hadn't been involved with the Vachek mission? Would he have been more open about his feelings for her if Adam and Elena hadn't been in the picture, or would Section have simply found some other stumbling block to toss between them?

As though sensing her quiet melancholy, Michael murmured something unintelligible against her ear and entwined his legs further with hers, one hair roughened knee sliding between her thighs, cradling her tightly in the curve of his body. Her mouth went dry as she felt his sleeping body stir to life, hardening, pressing into the softness of her bottom. Dear Lord. Heaven on earth personified, and he was in her bed, fast asleep, and holding onto her for dear life. In all her wildest dreams, she could never have imagined this. She stayed perfectly still, knowing that if Michael woke up, there would be no sleep for either of them. As much as she wanted him, he was obviously exhausted, and her head was so full of cobwebs that she was sure he would be able to see the lies she was hiding in her heart just by looking into her eyes.

Her chest felt tight, as though an unseen hand was twisting her heart. So what happens now? Tell Mr Jones that I've changed my mind? Tell him that I'd like to go back to the good old days when I was completely out of the loop and he was just a low life informant?

It was hopeless. No matter what she did, no matter how she tried to fix this mess, it wasn't going to work. Until Mr Jones declared that the time was right to let Section in on their little secret, she was stuck. And then... Nikita swallowed hard, her mind putting together the pieces that her heart didn't want to see. And then Michael would find out about her relationship with Centre in the very worst way. And he would hate her for it.

The usually soft chirrup of Michael's phone seemed shrill, piercing the silence of her bedroom. She felt him stir immediately, sighing heavily as he came fully awake. He unhooked his arm from around her waist and rolled away, the sudden loss of warmth making her shiver. She lay still with her back to him, listening. The conversation was brief, and she marvelled at how he managed to sound so awake when only seconds earlier he had been fast asleep.

"Yes?" There was a brief pause, and Nikita suddenly wished she could see his face. "All right."

Nikita heard him close the phone, and then his arm was back around her waist, fingertips gently tracing the outline of her hip. His breath was warm on the nape of her neck, his hand languidly stroking her belly. Goosebumps fanned out across her skin as she felt herself beginning to melt into the smooth warmth of his body, pressed so close behind her.

It could only be Section calling in the middle of the night, but Michael didn't say a word, as though by not mentioning it they could stop the real world intruding. Nikita took a deep breath, knowing that they were only putting off the inevitable. "What time is it?" She rolled onto her side a little more as she spoke, reluctantly easing herself away from the enticing heat of Michael's bare skin.

"Three thirty."

Ugh. The prospect of getting out of a warm bed was not appealing. She shivered, only barely resisting the urge to turn over, wrap her arms around him and pull the covers up over them in a vain pretence that the phone had never rung.

Not fair. I wanted the whole night. I wanted him in my bed when the sun came up. She stared straight ahead, not wanting to make the situation worse by letting Michael see she was upset, glowering at her bedside table as though it was responsible for the sins of the world.

Michael sighed against her ear and she felt his hand touch her hair, gently stroking her head, as though trying to soften to blow he was about to deal.

"We have to go in."

Nikita lay still for a moment, processing his simple statement. She bit her lip, but couldn't control the urge to be a just little bit sarcastic. "We? I don't remember my phone ringing." She shifted, rolling onto her back so she could see his face. "Who called you in?"

His expression barely altered as he replied, but she sensed that she had hit a nerve. "Madeline."

"What did she say?" Michael said nothing, but his eyes implored her not to push the point. Nikita felt sick. "She knew you were here, didn't she?

He stroked her face with gentle fingers before smoothing the hair back from her forehead. He didn't answer her question, only bowing his head to press a warm kiss to her temple. His silence was more eloquent an answer than words could ever be.

Nikita's instincts told her that Madeline already knew that they hadn't paid one bit of attention to her type one directive. The big question was...what would she do about it? In a vain attempt to disperse the nervousness fluttering in the pit of her stomach, she changed tactics, dropping her voice to a throaty whisper. "Let's call in sick." She yawned and trailed one finger down his chest, looking up at him through lowered eyelashes. "I'm still tired from all the talking we did last night."

Michael's eyes widened slightly before he shook his head in amusement, a wicked smile curving his mouth. Sliding his knee between her thighs, he pushed her back onto her back, his hands sliding up over her ribcage to cup her breasts gently. Nonplussed and more than a little breathless, Nikita stared at him, her heart nearly pounding a hole in her chest. With a look of deliberate intent, Michael bent his head to hers, kissing her lazily and very thoroughly, as though they had all the time in the world. When he was done, Nikita could hardly remember her own name, let alone find the energy to brood about what Madeline had said on the phone.

"I have every intention of continuing that particular conversation as soon as possible." He dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth before raising an eyebrow at her, giving her a slow smile of promise that failed to hide the sudden bleakness in his eyes. "But for now, we have to go."

Nodding wordlessly, Nikita watched as he slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. Despite the pall that fallen over her thoughts, the sight of him strolling naked though her bedroom was enough to send her pulse rate shooting off the chart. With a frustrated groan, she buried her face in the pillow. Not fair, Michael. Don't show me what I can't have. She lay there listening to him moving around the bathroom, loving the mundane domesticity of hearing him clean his teeth, the sound of the water running in the washbasin. Like her, Michael had perfected the science of grooming on the run to a fine art. There was no time for drawn out sprucing up sessions when Section was waiting on you.

When he returned to the bedroom, Nikita climbed out of bed, quickly putting on her robe as she tried to steer her mind back to the world of Section. Pausing on her way to the bathroom, she turned to look at him, trying not to stare at all that glorious naked skin as he gathered up his clothes. "Uh, I don't suppose we have time for a quick shower?"

Michael pulled his sweater over his head in one abrupt motion and gave her a look that made her toes curl. Frustration and need and exhaustion all rolled into one heated stare that sent her scurrying for the bathroom alone, grabbing her clothes along the way. I guess not, Nikita thought, fighting the almost hysterical urge to laugh.

She didn't normally feel the need for privacy when Michael was around, but she suddenly craved a few minutes alone to get her head together. Shutting the bathroom door firmly behind her, she washed up as quickly as she could. She didn't want to look in the mirror, knowing that she'd only see a confused girl with sad eyes. Dressing quickly, Nikita tried to forget that in less that thirty minutes, she and Michael would know without a doubt if Section planned to punish them for their non-compliance. She pulled her hair back into a topknot, feeling her stomach steadily tying itself into knots at the same time.

She didn't care what Section did to her...she was ready to take anything they cared to dish out.

But as she laced up her boots, the unwanted memory of Madeline's cold stare and even colder words made a mockery of her silent affirmation. You will extract the personal component from your relationship. Fear twisted through her as she considered just how thoroughly she and Michael had defied those orders tonight. It was as though they had deliberately thrown the directive back in Madeline's face. The thought of Madeline's reaction was enough to make Nikita shudder.

She shook her head. No. She refused to be afraid. What she had with Michael was worth taking a little heat over. She had never been more certain of anything in her life. She glanced quickly into the mirror to make sure everything matched, only to be startled by the fierce resolve in her eyes.

As though taking a silent vow, she stared at her reflection, her mind repeating the same stubborn thought over and over. I don't care what they do to me. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find Michael fully dressed and waiting patiently. Not a hair out of place. Giving him a sad smile, she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on the front of his jacket and tilted her head toward the top of the stairs.

"Shall we?"

~*~*~*~*~

Beware the fury of a patient man. ~ Anonymous

Michael smiled to himself as he watched Nikita beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, unsure as to whether he was relieved or disappointed. Given his body's staggeringly swift reaction to her suggestion of a shower, he had to admit that it was probably a wise decision. He would love nothing more than to crush both their phones into dust and take her back to bed for the next week. Unfortunately, he estimated that they would have less than half an hour to indulge themselves before Section came to cancel them.

He sat on the edge of the bed to put his boots on, feeling slightly guilty for not having been more open with Nikita when she'd asked him what Madeline had said. In his defense, he was only guilty of trying to keep Section from intruding on their time together as long as he possibly could. Nikita would know soon enough that Section was already aware of their non-compliance. He shrugged into his jacket, mentally replaying the brief yet ominous telephone call he had received from Madeline

"Jacques."

"Yes."

"Come in." There was a slight pause before she continued, her words brittle with thinly disguised irritation. "Nikita as well."

From the clipped, almost angry cadence of her voice, it was obvious Madeline knew exactly where he was. It was pointless for him to do anything but quietly agree. "All right."

Running his hands through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to disguise the evidence of their recent activities, Michael stared at the closed bathroom door, trying not to think of a half-dressed Nikita but rather the possible reprisals that lay in store when they reached Section.

He sighed and picked up the abandoned tray from the floor beside the bed, vaguely surprised that neither of the bowls had been broken when they had been unceremoniously shoved aside a few hours earlier. Seeing as Nikita was still ensconced in the bathroom, he took the tray back to the kitchen to rinse out the bowls, leaving them to dry on the dish rack. That small task taken care of, he walked back to the bedroom to wait for her, his mind racing.

In the harsh light of almost-day, Michael couldn't help berating himself for his impulsiveness...his growing impatience where Nikita was concerned. By flaunting their renewed relationship, had he risked too much? He was prepared for whatever Section could throw at him as a punishment, but if they decided to use Nikita to control him...Michael picked up his phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket, trying in vain to ignore the apprehension that tightened his gut.

I should have waited. Once Nikita told me about the directive, I should have stayed away from her until Madeline's attention was elsewhere. Even as he reprimanded himself, he knew that it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference in the long run. It was becoming increasing obvious that Madeline's attention would never 'be elsewhere'...just as it was becoming clear that Section was determined to be ruthless in order to keep him away from Nikita.

Michael closed his eyes, as his resolve became furious determination, a slow burning anger that heated his blood. It was a terse recognition and acceptance of the gauntlet that had been thrown down. Section may well prove to be tireless in its attempts to keep them apart, but he was prepared to be just as ruthless.

He was not giving her up.

Michael heard the bathroom door open and looked up to see a pale-faced Nikita, dressed in tight black pants and a black sweater, her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. She gave him a tight smile as she walked over to him, lightly running her hand down the lapels of his jacket in a possessive gesture.

Their eyes met in a long glance of unhappy acceptance. Nikita jerked her head toward the stairs that led from her bedroom. "Shall we?"

He let her lead the way down to the living room, watching as she grabbed her jacket from the closet. Despite her best efforts to appear in control, he could see the tiny cracks in her composure. Her generous mouth was pressed into a tight line, and her hands weren't quite steady as she started to drag her coat on.

Michael stood behind her and took the coat, holding it open for her to slip into before putting his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. Cupping her face in his hands, he studied her carefully. Nikita returned his gaze steadily, and he was relieved to see that there wasn't the faintest hint of regret in her clear blue eyes, only a quiet sorrow that made him want to gather her to his heart. He leaned closer, brushing his lips over hers in a soft kiss before pulling back slightly. Holding her eyes, he lowered his voice to a fierce whisper.

"No matter what happens."

Nikita nodded and gave him a determined smile before she looked away, her eyes glittering with tears. His heart aching, Michael wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, wishing that there were some way to keep her out of the storm that was brewing. She slid her arms around his waist to hold him tightly, resting her chin on his shoulder to murmur into his ear, a soft sigh of agreement.

"I know."

Turning his head, Michael kissed her one last time, a slow, sensual caress. A tender affirmation that made the blood sing in his veins. With an effort, he pulled back and smoothed a few pale wayward tendrils of hair back from her face. "We have to go."

After a few seconds, Nikita seemed to snap out of her dark frame of mind, as though by sheer force of will. She sighed theatrically and extricated herself from his arms, shooting him a dry grin as she headed for the door. "So you keep saying.'' Smiling to himself at her quicksilver change of mood, Michael followed her out into the hallway, automatically scanning the immediate area while she engaged her security. When she began to walk toward the elevator, he put out a hand to stop her.

He could feel the sudden tension tightening her body as she stared down the length of the hallway, instantly wary. After a brief moment, she looked back at him in confusion. "What?"

Michael smiled at her unapologetically and put his hand under her elbow to guide her in a slightly different direction, surrendering to a whimsical impulse he didn't have the strength to resist.

"Let's take the stairs."

FIN

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