Birkoff cleared his throat and turned to the gray-haired man standing beside him. "Michael's team is en route...ETA ninety minutes."

Operations glared at him impatiently, and Ackerman could see that the kid looked relieved when Operations finally spoke, asking him a question he could actually answer. "Losses?"

Birkoff turned back to his screen. "Just one...Bartlett, during the initial ambush. Michael was able to get to the new exit point without being approached." Birkoff shook his head, frowning. "I just don't see how they could have known we were going to be there."

Ackerman maintained an appropriately concerned expression as Operations turned to him, shooting him a cold glare. "Any suggestions as to how this could have happened?"

'I have to agree with Birkoff on this one. There's no way that the Freedom League could have known our movements in advance."

Operations eyed him cynically, and Ackerman felt a cool shiver skitter down his spine. "There's always a way, Mr Ackerman. You'll come to realize that in time." Ackerman swallowed thickly and met Operations eyes with a calm he was suddenly far from feeling.

He was more than a little relieved when Operations turned back to Birkoff, biting out an abrupt order. "Find out how. Find out why."

Birkoff nodded to Operations, his fingers already flying over his keyboard. "I'm already on it."

Operations started to walk away, paused, then turned back, his hard stare raking Ackerman from head to toe. "If I were you, Mr Ackerman, I'd concentrate on making sure that this doesn't happen again. " Their eyes held for a long moment, and Ackerman felt the unspoken threat behind the seemingly helpful directive.

Ackerman watched Operations walk quickly away, his pulse slowly returning to normal. Scowling, he watched Birkoff, feigning interest in his movements. The worst thing about playing both sides was the damn paranoia. When the old guy had turned those pale eyes on him, he had felt, stupidly, for a few horrible seconds that he knew.

He continued to watch Birkoff for a few moments, secure in the knowledge that there was no way the resident geek was going to find a single clue as to how the Freedom League got their information. Ackerman studied Birkoff's screen briefly before pulling his mind back to the matter at hand. I suppose I'd better get in touch with them to let them know just how little damage they managed to inflict on Section.

Ackerman drummed his fingers impatiently on the top of Birkoff's workstation and frowned. What a pity that the Freedom League hadn't been able to take Michael out. His death would have sent Section scattering in all directions like so many headless chickens. That would have helped his plans run a lot smoother. Still...beggars couldn't be choosers. Thanks to the little incident in Lyon, Section One would now be spending all its time looking over its shoulder. Perfect.

Ackerman thought of the latest payment that should be resting comfortably in his off shore account, and his mouth almost watered. Suddenly impatient, he looked down at Birkoff.

"I'm sure you can handle this by yourself." Birkoff glanced up at him, opening his mouth as if to speak and then closing it again before looking down at his keyboard. Ackerman noticed, with a flash of irritation, that Birkoff looked as though he was fighting back a smile. "I'm sure I can manage."

~*~*~*~*~

Operations stalked through Section, furious. How did I ever let Madeline talk me into this? Even when Michael was at his worst, he could still run rings around Ackerman.

Damn it. He headed for his office, his mind racing. Somehow, the Freedom League had gained access to Level Seven security intel. How the hell had that happened? A small hook of doubt tugged stubbornly at his thoughts, flooding his mind with a dull sense of dread.

Was someone playing both sides?

He reached his office in record time and headed straight for the intercom, quickly pressing the number for Madeline's office.

"Madeline?"

There was a slight pause before she answered his terse summons. "Yes?"

"I need to see you in my office, now."

"Of course." As usual, Madeline sounded calm and completely unruffled, whereas he...Operations paused as he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the observation windows. He looked exactly how he felt ~ frustrated and more than a little annoyed. He straightened his tie and smoothed his hair, trying to control his anger.

Madeline appeared in the doorway a few moments later, her eyes searching for his as she entered the room. Operations gazed at her, his words seeming to stick in his throat. As usually happened, when he had spent a few hours away from her, her dark beauty had struck him anew. Irritated with himself, he cleared his throat.

"It's about Lyon."

Madeline returned his look somberly. "Yes, I thought it might be...how serious a problem do you think we have?"

"I don't know." Operations turned and gazed down upon Section, studying each face in turn as it passed beneath the window. "Either the Freedom League have found a way of tapping into our system, or..." He paused, turning to meet Madeline's eyes, unwilling to give what he was contemplating credence by putting it into words.

Madeline nodded, correctly interpreting his silence. "Or someone inside Section is providing intel to the Freedom League...no doubt, for a price."

Operations inwardly flinched at Madeline's blunt assertion, but there was no avoiding its soundness. The idea of a mole within these walls was totally abhorrent to him, and yet he had accepted a long time ago that wherever there were secrets, there would also be people willing to buy and sell them.

He darted another look at Madeline. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

She came to stand beside him where he stood at the window, her gaze also drifting over the operatives milling below. "We could have Michael see what he can find out, perhaps. He has been more closely involved with the Freedom League's activities over the past year than anyone else. Get him out in the field...in touch with his old contacts."

"You don't think that it will just cause more trouble? After all, his last contact with the Freedom League was when Nikita was cancelled."

"No, I don't believe it will. If anything, his anger toward the Freedom League may accelerate his efforts." Madeline smiled at him, almost wistfully. "Emotion doesn't always have to be destructive."

He looked away, unwilling to let her see the wave of emotion her words invoked in him. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "Fine."

"I understand that you also have some concerns regarding Mr Ackerman?"

Operations blinked in surprise, then grinned ruefully. As always, she knew what he was thinking before he knew it himself. "Quite true. His performance to date has been less than dazzling."

Madeline turned to him, her expression one of calm assurance. "We didn't place Mr Ackerman in that position to be dazzling, Paul. On each of the two missions that Ackerman has led, Michael's performance has been extraordinary."

"So using Ackerman to push Michael back into line is actually working?" Pleased, Operations gazed at his second in command. She will never cease to amaze me.

The woman in question smiled at him. "With Michael, one can never be certain, but yes...I feel that he is beginning to regain some sort of perspective. All we have to do is wait."

~*~*~*~*~

What the spirit seeks
The mind will follow
When the body speaks
All else is hollow

Unfortunately, the first person I see when I arrive back at Section is Ackerman. He comes toward me, his face a picture of comradely concern as he apologises.

"I'm sorry. There should have been more backup."

Uninterested in his belated acknowledgment that his profile was inadequate, I keep walking. To my relief, he doesn't attempt to pursue the matter, but I can feel his stare at my back as I walk away.

"Michael!"

Operations walks quickly toward me, his expression bleak.

"It was an inside job." I stop walking and turn to meet his eyes, his words touching a raw nerve inside me. "Someone got on to our frequency and knew we were coming."

I stare at him, his words invoking a train of thought I have spent the last two hours trying to avoid. Why was Nikita on site? What connection could she possibly have to the Freedom League? I pause, knowing that Operations expects an answer from me, despite the fact that my mind is very much occupied with a complete different puzzle.

"How could that happen?"

Operations shrugs angrily. "Birkoff is working on it now." He looks at me with a frown. "Did you see anything on site?" I look away, my spine stiffening at his words, but he is too agitated to notice my telltale reaction. "Any anomalies?"

Clamping down on the cautiously burgeoning hope that is unfurling inside me, I blink and return his gaze calmly. "No."

His pale eyes glitter with suspicion. "Something's not right."

I watch him walk away with his words ringing in my ears. Something's not right. He's wrong. For the first time in a long time, something is right.

Operations shakes his head once more and stalks off, Ackerman at his heels. I watch them leave, Operations' words ringing in my ears.

Did you see anything on site?

I turn and walk swiftly to my office, a hot sourness flooding my gut. Despite the moderated temperature inside Section, cold sweat trickles down my back, making me shiver. When I reach my office, I close the door, thankful that I had not taken the time to close down the laptop before leaving for Lyon.

Ignoring both the scrambling unit and my chair, I log in quickly to bring up the secure connection, my heart beating faster with every keystroke I enter, my mind narrowing to one single thought.

If she replies, I can find her.

Having established the connection, I type the same four-word message that has mocked me for the last six months.

NIKITA, ARE YOU THERE?

I stare at the screen, despising the sight of the soulless question even as I pray for it to bring back a reply. My hand hovers above the keyboard, and for one endless moment...I am afraid. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to prepare for the worse case scenario, a wave of misery crashing over me.

If she doesn't reply...I have truly lost her.

Opening my eyes, I hit the enter key hard, my breath seeming to stick in my throat as the message is sent to Nikita's PDA. Agonizing seconds pass by as the connection refreshes, automatically checking for any incoming messages.

Eyes glued to the screen, my blood chills as it suddenly reloads, producing a progress bar that is rapidly approaching completion. I have an incoming message...a reply to my enquiry. I put my hands flat on the top of my desk as if to steel myself, my heart feeling as though it is about to burst.

Incredulous, I watch as one word appears beneath my original message, hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to believe what I am seeing. One tiny word, and yet it brings the dark world I have been living in for the last six months crashing down gloriously around my head, tearing through the shroud of misery that has wrapped itself so tightly around my soul.

Yes.

I stare at Nikita's reply for a few seconds, shocked to feel the hot prick of tears behind my eyes. Suddenly mindful of the fact that I didn't bother to disable the surveillance on my office, I blink rapidly and stare at the ceiling in a desperate effort to control my emotions, relief sweeping through me.

I can find her.

~*~*~*~*~

If I lose you
Could you find me?
Or would you walk right by me?
The soul and the spirit
Each have got their own limit.
And I can't waste another second
Living in hell like it's some kind of heaven.

I toss my duffle bag to the wooden floor and put my hands on my hips as I survey my new, albeit very temporary, home on the high seas. Not bad, but I can why Tahlia's sister-in-law wasn't too keen on living here.

It's more of a barge than a boat, pretty basically fitted out. God knows why Clive loved it so much, although Matty did try to tell me that Clive used to teach marine biology, and that's why he found it useful to have a boat. Hmmmm. I didn't want to cast any aspersions on a member of Matty's family who is now a respected university lecturer, but the only thing that this tub looks like it would be useful for is a spot of drug running.

Having said that, Matty was right about it being warm and clean. There is a large bed covered with surprising clean sheets and even a few cushions scattered around. On further investigation, I find a tiny kitchen galley, a toilet and a shower cubicle even smaller than the one in my apartment.

Taking off my winter coat, I pull out the packet of peanut butter crackers, my mouth watering in anticipation. Catching sight of the plastic bag of fruit and chocolate bars that Matty forced on me at the train station, I smile sadly.

Apart from the very unpleasant experience of being the guest of the Freedom League and having to leave Lyon, my one big regret is that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Tahlia...to thank her for everything. I know in my heart that she already knows what she means to me...it just would have been nice to be able to tell her.

I take a seat on the bench near the front of the boat and shove a cracker in my mouth, chewing furiously. I know very well that I'm trying to dance around another big regret...and also that I'm not having much luck.

Why didn't I speak to him? I'm such an idiot. After spending six months feeling as though I'm missing a limb, I finally have a chance to make peace with Michael and what do I do? I turn and run for my life. Chewing slowly on my third cracker, I half-heartedly try to justify my knee jerk reaction to seeing Michael. Come on...I didn't really have a chance, not with so many Freedom League and Section Ops on site!

That's quite true, but if I had stayed in Lyon, Michael would have been able to track me down, and I could have finally thanked him for what he did for me during the Shays mission.

Yeah right. Thank him. I dust the crumbs off my lap and try to ignore the little shiver of awareness as I think about the way Michael looked at me in that car park. It's a look I have relived again and again during the last couple of hours...on the way back to my apartment...while half-listening to Matty's easy chatter...on the train journey here. I couldn't put it out of my mind.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I close my eyes, the memory of Michael's face dancing inside my head. Michael had looked just how I felt...shocked and wanting and afraid all rolled into one. That feeling of not being able to even blink in case the other person disappears.

But that's just what you did to him, a little voice chirps nastily. He blinked and you disappeared.

The quiet buzzing coming from my bag startles me at first, and then I feel my skin tighten with goosebumps as I realize where the sound is coming from.

The PDA.

Shit...shit...shit. Agitated, I dash to the duffle bag, rummaging in its depths with my heart nearly pounding clear out of my chest. I hold the PDA tightly in my hand for a moment and just stare at it, a heavy sense of inevitability settling around my heart.

When I press receive, the familiar message blinks up at me, quietly imploring, and I'm totally unprepared for the shock of pure longing that surges through me at the sight of those four words.

NIKITA, ARE YOU THERE?

I can't do this, I think despairingly, even as my fingers reach slowly for the keys. Holding my breath, I type yes and press send before I let my common sense get the better of me. I watch my reply disappear and let out my breath in a ragged rush. What's so wrong about replying now that he's seen me, now that he knows I'm alive? It's not as though I'm going to tell him where I am.

Almost as if my thought has conjured it up, another message appears on the screen.

WHERE ARE YOU?

I stare at the words for a few seconds. How can three little words embody so much temptation? Twisting my hand through my hair in agitation, I find myself really considering the possibility. I could tell him where I am...I could see him...talk to him.

I think of Madeline and Operations and my heart hardens. No. Reaching for the keyboard, I type another answer with trembling fingers.

Somewhere safe.

I look at my reply doubtfully but press enter anyway. It's a totally inane answer, but what else can I say? Anything more...elaborate...will only get me into trouble. The PDA beeps again almost at once and another message flashes onto the small screen.

THIS IS A SECURE CHANNEL. TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE.

God, now what do I do? I don't know how much will I have left to hold out against him...and I also know, from far too much personal experience, that Michael is one of the most persistent people on this planet.

Every message we exchange, every word I type...draws me back toward Section. I can't do it. With a heavy heart and a hollow sense of déjà vu, I reach out and turn the PDA off, extinguishing the feeble light coming from the glowing screen.

I can't go back.

~*~*~*~*~

One sin leads to another
The harder I try
I can never find peace in this life

Grenoble.

I stare at the data intently, memorizing every word, every coordinate, before I press a button and it dissolves into black, as though it never existed. Leaning back in my chair, I try to put myself in Nikita's position, try to see the situation through her eyes.

If she intended to run, why didn't she truly run? Why stay in France? I close my eyes and try to avoid the sin of wishful thinking, but it's no use. Has she stayed close in the hope that I will try to find her? Is it only because she is afraid of being brought back into Section that she ran?

I think of the Freedom League ambush in Lyon and my gut churns with dread, a tiny flicker of suspicion I can no longer deny. What was she doing there?

My mind is a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts, but I am certain of one thing. Now that I know where she is, nothing will stop me from going to her.

Nothing, that is, apart from Section...and Elena. My already guilty conscience staggers at the thought of Elena and Adam, waiting patiently for me to return home from work. On Section's orders, I promised Elena that I would be home tonight. Madeline feels that the time is right to broach the subject of my wife's father with her once again. I look at my watch and sigh heavily. It's already late, eleven o'clock. Reaching for the phone, I reluctantly accept that I can do nothing about finding Nikita tonight.

It rings several times before I finally hear the receiver being slowly lifted at the other end, followed by Elena's voice, husky with sleep.

"H-hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

"You did...but I forgive you." I can hear the smile in her voice and my heart aches for her.

"I'm sorry to ring you so late...I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving now. I'll be home in forty minutes."

Elena yawns in my ear and I find my own jaw twitching in sympathy. "That's good...wake me up when you come in, hmmm?" She sounds almost half-asleep.

"I will. I'll see you soon."

"Love you." Elena yawns again and hangs up quickly, saving me from having to reply in kind. Normally, I have no problem maintaining that aspect of my deep cover. I do love her. Elena is the mother of my child...a beautiful, kind-hearted woman who deserves much better than I give her. Normally, I have no problem telling Elena that I love her.

But tonight...how can I possibly say the words when every single thought in my head has been consumed by the memory of another woman and the lure of being with her once again?

I shut down my computer after performing a back trace and prepare to leave Section for the night. Walking slowly across the main floor, I see Madeline walking toward Comm. She catches my eye and nods in a silent request to speak with me. I wait as she approaches, silently wondering what she has in mind for me this time.

"Michael, I've been speaking with Operations." I look at her coolly, waiting for her to continue.

She smiles briefly in acknowledgement of my silent tactics and continues. "He feels that Section would benefit from your knowledge of the Freedom League, and your contacts in Europe ...perhaps even Northern Africa?"

"What is it you require me to do?"

"Dig deeper into the Freedom League's recent activities...get in touch with your contacts, especially those who have been noticeably quiet of late." Madeline's dark eyes study my face. "Gather as much intel as you can."

I suppress a weary sigh, thinking of having to make another call to Elena. "Now?"

Madeline looks at the heavy outdoor coat I am wearing and shakes her head. "No...tomorrow. I take it you're on your way home?"

Home. The sound of the word on Madeline's lips leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

"Yes.''

Madeline smiles once more, holding my gaze with her own. "Has Elena said anything more about her father?"

"No...she still refuses to talk about him."

She reaches out and pats my arm lingeringly. "Keep working on her, Michael. I'm sure that you can convince her that it's the best course of action." The knowing look in her dark eyes makes me want to slap her hand away, but I only nod to her.

"Of course."

~*~*~*~*~

Tonight the wolves are howling
I can't escape from you
A yearning past denying
I will surrender to

I sleep very badly. Every sound, every noise has me sitting bolt upright, gun in my hand, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. I don't know who I'm more afraid of seeing in the doorway...the Freedom League or Michael. When I finally fall into a fitful sleep, my dreams are filled with the sound of gunfire, pounding footsteps...and Michael.

Tell me where you are.

The sun is already quite high in the sky when I open my eyes. Staggering to the tiny washroom, I splash cold water onto my face, hoping to shock myself into feeling a little more human. Last night was the first time I'd ever slept on a boat, and I just couldn't get used to the rolling, no matter how gentle it was. I found myself clutching at the bedclothes with the awful feeling that I was about to tumble out of bed onto the floor.

Grabbing my watch, I'm amazed to see that it's already ten in the morning. I must have slept better than I thought. Trying to ignore my body's urgent nagging for caffeine, I rummage through my bag, pulling out half a baguette and a chocolate bar. I eye the combination warily for a moment, then shrug. Desperate times...strange breakfasts. Snagging a warm bottle of water, I walk to the back of the boat and sit on one of the small benches outside, my mind once again sifting through the events of the day before.

So...what happens now? Leave France...start all over again...find a new job...new friends? Then what? If something like this happens again...I'll just have to run. What's the point in making friends if I just have to turn around a few weeks later and leave them behind? I stare at the morning sunlight glinting off the surface of the water as the memories of my past drift back to haunt me.

Pressing a clenched fist to my breastbone, I blink rapidly as the tears sting my eyes. There is a hollow ache in the middle of my chest...the same empty feeling I used to get when I was a kid, when I'd come home from school to find that my mother had once again packed up our meager possessions, a pile of boxes and bags sitting inside the front door. I soon learnt that there was no point crying over the fact that I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to any of my friends, or that in a few days I would yet again be the 'new girl' somewhere else.

Pushing aside the breakfast for which I no longer have an appetite, I walk slowly back inside, unable to resist the lure of the little electronic device hidden in the depths of my bag. Should have tossed the damn thing overboard last night. Blanching at the thought, I draw out the PDA and stare at it irritably for a few moments.

I haven't turned it back on since I received Michael's last message, the one urging me to tell him my location. Rubbing my thumb absentmindedly over the 'receive' button, I'm once again torn in two different directions. I'm glad I finally found the courage to send Michael a reply...but now that we have had contact, I can't stop thinking about him. I scowl at the PDA as though it's personally responsible for my state of mind. Just when I thought I might actually be getting my head together...

So, now what happens? Gee...what country do I want to live in next? Reluctantly grateful for Madeline's insistence that I at least attempt to learn a few foreign languages, I sit on the bed and ponder my options, weighing up the various countries against my language skills. My Italian's not bad. I flop back onto the bed, thinking about the last time I visited Italy. It was on Section business, but sadly that fact didn't make me immune to the winks and painful pinches from several handsome, and not so handsome, dark--haired men. But then...the coffee is spectacular.

I smile briefly at the thought before more serious thoughts crowd my mind. I need to move on, I know...but I just don't have the energy to do it today. I'm so tired of running. Maybe it was a mistake to come here...I've given myself far too much time to think about things, and the more I think, the more confused and uncertain I become.

Dropping the PDA onto the bed with a thud, I stand and walk to the window, scanning the immediate area. There are a few more dark nooks and crannies on the dock than I would like, but strangely enough, I don't feel vulnerable here. Stretching my arms above my head, I wince as my aching muscles twinge in protest, my body making my decision for me. I don't want to spend another night traveling. I'm tired and sore, and I still have no idea where I'm going to go next.

One more night here isn't going to make any difference.

~*~*~*~*~

Elena reached out and brushed the hair back from her sleeping husband's forehead, studying his face. He looks so tired, she thought with a pang. He works too hard.

Michael had arrived home late again last night, but at least he was home. Elena sighed as she thought of how many nights she and Adam had spent by themselves in this big house. It was a beautiful house, but somehow it only seemed like a home when Michael was there.

I shouldn't complain, she thought with a slight feeling of guilt. Many women would kill to have what I have...a beautiful son...a wonderful home...and a handsome husband who treats me as though I'm a princess.

Elena shifted closer to Michael, curling her body around his back, feeling like the most ungrateful woman in the world. It was just that sometimes...being a princess wasn't all it was made out to be.

All the creature comforts in the world meant nothing to her if Michael wasn't there to enjoy them with her. He worked so hard, and he always said that he did it for them, so that the three of them could have a better life.

Elena just couldn't find the words to explain to Michael that she didn't care about that sort of thing...that all she wanted was him. He was so happy that he was able to provide her with the things that she hadn't had when she was growing up that she didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

She hated to admit it, but sometimes she still felt shy around Michael, even though she knew in her heart that he was her best friend in the world. Quite often she felt like a gauche teenager when he talked about his work, but she knew it wasn't Michael's fault. He had always been so kind and patient with her, even when he tried to bring up the subject of her father.

Elena slid her arms around Michael's waist and hugged him closer, hearing him murmur in his sleep. He rolled onto his back suddenly, pulling her tightly against his warm body, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled and closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of his sleep-warmed skin.

Her father. Sometimes she regretted ever telling Michael about her past. But it had seemed so natural to share everything with him, tell him all her dark secrets. And her father was her darkest secret of all. Only Michael knew that she still cried late at night for the man who had turned his back on her and her mother so many years ago. Only Michael knew that she was torn between anger and longing, that she was at a loss to understand how she could still love her father after watching her mother struggle through life alone.

"Good morning." Elena opened her eyes to find Michael gazing at her sleepily, a small smile curving his mouth as he studied her.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "I thought that you were going to sleep the day away."

Michael reached out and stroked her hair gently. "I was more tired than I thought."

Joy bubbled up inside her, sheer delight at having him near making her giddy with happiness. Wrapping her arms tighter around him, Elena laid her head on his chest and smiled.

"What did you want to do today?"

For a split-second, she felt Michael stiffen, his body tensing as he lay in her arms. But then he sighed softly and the feeling was gone, leaving Elena wondering if she had imagined it.

When he didn't reply, she swallowed hard, feeling ridiculously nervous. "We could take Adam to the park, or go out to lunch, or..." The words died on her lips as Michael bent his head and kissed her gently, his hand slowly tracing the line of her spine.

"We can do anything you like." Michael kissed her again softly before he pulled away, his eyes searching hers almost worriedly. "I'm sorry that I was so late coming home last night."

Elena gazed at him, realizing with astonishment that she wasn't the only one who was feeling a little nervous. Poor darling...he thinks I'm mad at him. She wriggled her toes against his, loving the feel of his legs tangling with hers.

"That's okay. Adam and I entertained ourselves. We watched a video and ate junk food." Elena poked him lightly in the ribs. "You missed out in a big way."

Michael's eyes darkened slightly at her words before he reached down to take her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.

"I am sorry."

"Michael, stop apologizing...it's okay. You're home now, and that's all that matters to me."

Guilt flashed across his face and Elena felt her heart tumble to the pit of her stomach. "What's wrong?" Realisation dawned with a sickening thud. "You have to go away again, don't you?"

Michael sighed and gathered her in his arms as Elena blinked back the tears. This isn't fair. All I want is to see the man I love in my bed more than two mornings in a row. And what am I going to say to Adam?

She heard Michael clear his throat. "The conference in Brussels...I did mention it to you last month but I wasn't sure if I was required to attend."

Elena pulled away so that she could look at him properly. "Let me guess..." she said flatly. "You're required to attend?"

He nodded apologetically. "I know that it's not fair on you and Adam, but..."

At that, Elena felt ungrateful once more. No matter how much she hated it, Michael was doing this for their future...for Adam's future. It was so much more than her own father had ever done for her that she suddenly felt ashamed.

"No, it's alright. Of course I understand. You're doing this for us." Michael didn't reply, and Elena had the oddest feeling that he was avoiding her eyes. But then he smiled at her, and the feeling vanished. Her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat as Michael started to trail soft kisses across her bare shoulder, and Elena closed her eyes in delight, dismissing the brief flash of unhappiness she had seen in his eyes.

He was home now, and that was all that mattered.

~*~*~*~*~

Have you ever wanted something so badly
that it possessed your body and your soul?

The journey from Paris to Grenoble only takes five hours by car, but it is a very long time when you are spending every second agonizing over what you are about to do.

I spent the first half of the day with my wife and son. We visited the local craft markets, one of Elena's quiet passions. I watched her exclaim over the handcrafted wares and kept Adam entertained, knowing that she treasured this small time to herself. After lunch along the river, we took Adam to the park. I sat and gazed at my small son as he climbed sturdily on the playground equipment under the watchful eye of his mother.

This isn't real. I had blinked and looked away, suddenly overwhelmed by hopelessness. I thought of Salla Vachek and made a quietly determined vow. Whatever Elena may or may not be to me...Adam is and always will be my son. If it is humanly possibly, I will not turn my back on him. Not when this profile is complete...not ever.

The two of them had come and leapt on top of me as I sat on the ground, breaking into my somber thoughts. After we had returned home, Elena had insisted on packing my suitcase for me so that I could spend some extra time with Adam before I left. Guilt pierces my heart now at the thought of the carefully packed suitcase sitting unused and unopened in the trunk of my car, but I had let her do it, unable to refuse her this one small thing.

Elena bade me farewell with a lingering kiss, and my last view of her was with Adam on the front steps, waving furiously as I turned out of the driveway. I didn't look back.

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, knowing that with this journey I am embarking on a course of action that will, in all likelihood, have unimaginable consequences. And yet...from the moment I was able to pinpoint Nikita's location, the thought of going to her has never once left my mind.

Six months of not knowing whether she were dead or alive.

Six months of feeling as though my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

Six months of feeling like a stranger in a world that I had made my own for the last seven years.

Mixed in with the almost painful longing to see her is a healthy amount of anger. Why didn't she let me know before now that she was alive? Why did she wait until I had seen with my own eyes that she was alive before deigning to reply? What was she afraid of?

I think again of the fact that she was on site at the research lab, moments after the Freedom League ambushed my team. There's no way...I know her too well. She would not...I hesitate, my thoughts pulled in a dozen different directions. I thought I knew her better than she knew herself...but perhaps that is no longer the case.

No. I refuse to believe that Nikita would have cooperated with an enemy of Section One. Her actions at the lab only confirmed my gut feeling that she was only there by accident, rather than design. It's a stretch of the imagination, but it's far preferable to believing that she would have let herself become entangled with a known terrorist group...especially the Freedom League. Not after what they did to Shays.

I study the co-ordinates once more, realizing that Nikita's location is somewhere along this stretch of river, perhaps on the harbour. The blood begins to thrum through my veins, nervous anticipation pricking my skin like a heat rash. Every moment brings me closer to Nikita, and with a dull shock I realize that I truly have no idea what I will find. If she hasn't already fled, how will she react to my sudden appearance? Nikita stayed silent for six long months, only replying to my message when there was clearly no point in hiding her existence from me any longer.

The river suddenly comes into view on my right and I turn off the main road, following the dark street cautiously as it narrows, winding its way along the waterfront. I catch sight of the dozens of boats moored in the harbour and my heart begins to race. Nikita's last known position was only thirty metres from here, and it stands to reason that she has found refuge on one of those vessels. I drive slowly down to the dock, ease the car into the shadows of the waterfront buildings as best I can, and turn off the engine.

I get out of the car and start to walk along the waterfront, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Feeling uncomfortably as though I am standing on a cliff top with one foot poised to take that final step off into nothingness, I begin to look for Nikita.

~*~*~*~*~

hanging by threads of palest silver
I could have stayed that way forever
bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me
nothing could ever seem to touch me
I lose what I love most
did you know I was lost until you found me?

I check my watch one more time. Only eight o'clock. I've done nothing all day...how can I possibly be tired? The good news is that I'm finally used to the sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the boat, and I no longer feel the need to check the perimeter every five seconds.

Despite the chill in the breeze coming off the water, it's warm inside my temporary home. Feeling slightly stifled, I shrug out of my jacket and toss it on top of the duffel bag that is sitting beside the bed, repacked and ready for an early departure tomorrow morning.

It took me all day, but I finally made a decision as to where I will be next hanging my hat. In the morning, I'll be heading for Florence. Maybe it's due to my enforced caffeine deprivation, but I feel that I'm prepared to put up with men pinching my backside if it means I can have fabulous coffee on my doorstep. Not to mention the pasta, I think longingly.

My stomach growls determinedly at the thought and I reach for the last of my peanut butter crackers. I eat it slowly, trying to make it last. The fruit is long gone, and although I still have a few chocolate bars, I just can't bear to look at them, not after having three of them for lunch. I never would have thought it, but it's true. You can have too much chocolate.

I stare up at the full moon through the slightly murky window and let my mind wander. I'm leaving France in the morning, leaving Section, and Michael, far behind...and to my dismay I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. Not the part about leaving Section eating my dust...just the part about leaving Michael. I'm such a fool, I think in despair. Why can't I just leave it be?

Despite being immersed in such gloomy thoughts, I can't hold back the sudden yawn that nearly splits my jaw in two. I'm so tired, but if I go to bed now, I'll be awake again in two hours. I turn down the wick of the kerosene lamp until the room is filled with a dull burnished glow and ease my gun out from under the mattress. I may feel safe here, but it doesn't mean that I am safe. Making sure that the safety is on, I throw a few cushions from the bed onto the floor in front of the pole supporting the ceiling and sit myself down, cradling the gun in my lap. Leaning my head back against the pole, I close my eyes, trying to think of anything but Michael...and failing miserably.

~*~*~*~*~

There is one boat moored slightly apart from the others, almost obvious in its isolation. I stop fifteen meters away and study the vessel carefully, my eyes straining to detect any signs of life. Its location matches the coordinates of the signal trace almost perfectly, and yet I can't quite bring myself to believe that I have found her so easily after so many months. I take a few steps closer and realize with a start that the yellow glow shining feebly through the small porthole closest to me isn't a reflection of the moonlight but a lamp burning inside the cabin.

Blindly putting one foot in front of the other, I approach as if sleepwalking, no more able to turn away from her now than I have ever been. In the weeks leading up to the Shays mission, I felt as though Nikita and I were approaching our own ground zero, inevitably journeying toward a destination from which neither one of us could escape. As I near the darkened boat, the feeling grows stronger than ever, as though everything that we have struggled through, both together and apart, for the past three years, has brought us here, tonight.

I step on board and slowly walk toward the main entryway. There is a small window at eye level, and tension tightens my senses as I glance inside the cabin.

She's there.

I stand and stare at Nikita through the porthole, my mind once again assailed by the fear that I am only imagining her. She's sitting on the floor, her back against a metal pole, dressed only in light street clothes, a gun casually resting in her lap. Her eyes are closed.

Quiet anger flares to life inside me. This boat is not secured, and despite the fact that Nikita is armed she is completely unaware of my presence. Damn her, I could be anyone! Has she grown so careless of her own life that she no longer worries about looking after herself?

Miserably aware that my rising anger is misplaced and yet unable to quell the rush of emotion that has me in its grip, I reach for the door handle and twist it hard. With the sound of metal screeching against metal ringing in my ears, I push open the door almost violently and step inside.

~*~*~*~*~

I wish you would
bring me back to life
kiss me blind somebody should
from hollow into light
things don't have to be this way

Standing in the darkness, unable to tear my eyes from her, I watch silently as Nikita leaps to her feet in a panic, training her gun on me with a trembling hand. Her eyes widen in shocked recognition as I step into the pale glow of the lamplight, but she doesn't lower the weapon. The door slams behind me with a loud bang and she starts nervously, the hand holding the gun trembling violently.

My heart hammers unsteadily against my ribs as I begin to walk toward her, my eyes searching the darkened room. She's alone. We're alone.

I keep advancing even as I scan the cabin, feeling Nikita's eyes on me. I can almost taste her fear, hear her ragged breathing in the stillness of the cabin. It is as though everything that I feel for her is trapped inside my chest, clawing at my heart, strangling my voice. Visibly unnerved by my silence, Nikita takes a deep breath and slowly retreats, moving backward until her back is against the wall.

With nowhere left to run, Nikita lifts her gun higher, the barrel pointing squarely between my eyes. My control cracks and splinters, pushed too far by a potent combination of lust and grief, anger and resentment. In what will always remain a blur, I reach out and seize her hand, knocking it roughly against the wall behind her, crushing her fingers around the gun she is holding. Nikita lets out her breath in a soft grunt of pain but determinedly tightens her grip on the weapon, her face tight with anger.

Hot fury sweeping aside the last shreds of my restraint, I take hold of both her wrists, my fingers digging into her soft skin. Unable to stop the fierce momentum of my emotions, I cross her arms over her chest and push her against the wall, trapping her hands between our upper bodies. Her eyes locked on mine in a furious stare, Nikita braces herself against the wall at her back and tries to push me away. Anger twists inside me and I shake her hard, almost slamming her against the wall behind her.

The gun drops to the floor with a dull clatter and something dark inside me breaks free. The blood roaring in my ears, I grip her arms tightly and pull her away from the wall, taking her with me as I spin around. No longer thinking, only feeling, I shove her backwards, pushing her down onto the bed behind her.

Pinning her body to the mattress with mine, I stare at her, unable to speak. Nikita glares back at me, twisting angrily, her eyes filled with hostility and fear...and something else. Inevitably, my body tightens with awareness, all too conscious of the intoxicating feel of her beneath me. We stare at each other for a long moment in silence, and I drink in the sight of her, my eyes hungrily devouring her face, her eyes. Her mouth.

My heart jerks and crashes against my ribs as I finally give in to my overpowering need to feel her...to remember her. I see Nikita's eyes narrow with suspicion, and then my senses blur and tremble as I take her mouth in a violent kiss, the world dissolving into languid heat around me.

~*~*~*~

Michael throws me down onto the hard bed, knocking the breath out of me. Before I can roll away, he is leaning over me, pushing me into the mattress with his legs, his hands, his hips. My heart feels like it's going a million miles an hour as our eyes meet, and I still can't quite believe that he is really here. It's as though I have conjured him up through the sheer longing of my thoughts, and yet the man holding me down with the weight of his warm body is dangerously real.

Fear.

Anger.

Anticipation.

Need.

My body at war with my head, all I can do is stare at him pleadingly, paralyzed by my own indecision. His eyes rake my face hungrily, lingering on my mouth. I see the intent in his eyes and my body suffuses with heat. His eyes locked on mine, Michael dips his head and kisses me.

He kisses me in a way that I have never allowed myself to imagine. His mouth is hot and hard, and for a split-second I freeze, suddenly afraid that if I close my eyes, he will disappear. But I begin to kiss him back, and I feel his breath catch in his throat as the tip of my tongue touches his.

Michael tears his mouth from mine and pulls back, his eyes glittering darkly in his pale face, his bottom lip swollen. We stare at each other almost in disbelief, our unsteady breathing the only sound in the room. I watch him swallow hard before he speaks, his voice a roughly whispered confession of need.

"I thought I'd lost you."

The joy that surges through me at his words is tempered by a bitterness that swiftly grows to anger.

I was never yours to begin with.

I reach for him, grabbing the lapels of his overcoat and pulling him down to me. His belt buckle presses against the bared skin of my stomach and lust writhes low in my belly.

He stares at me with watchful eyes as I bite out a furious denial. "You...never...had...me."

One last show of defiance. Pointless really, when my whole body feels as though it's going to burst into flames from just that one kiss.

I watch his pupils dilate as the unspoken challenge behind my words hits him hard. My skin feels hot and itchy where his hands are touching me, and as he lowers his mouth to mine, my only thought is that if he doesn't kiss me again, I actually might die.

~*~*~*~*~

tame me with your tenderness

and break my brittle heart

easily and elegantly

tear my world apart

You never had me.

Four words. Four words that send a rush of animalistic lust roaring through my blood, the need to possess, to claim what I have craved for so long obliterating every other impulse in my body. Nikita lifts her head to kiss me, meeting me more than halfway.

Madness.

Her mouth opens hungrily under mine, and I feel her teeth nip at my bottom lip. A shock of lust hammers through my veins, my body flushing and tightening as it calls to hers. Her hands grip the front of my jacket hard, pulling me down. I can feel the heat of her body through her thin clothes and it makes my head swim.

We fall clumsily onto the bed and I taste her mouth again and again, threading my fingers through her hair, cupping my hand around the back of her neck as we kiss. It's not enough. Her skin is soft beneath my urgently searching hands as they slide up her back and around to her stomach. Nikita moans softly against my lips as I touch her breasts through her shirt, cupping the warm weight of them in my hands. Her nipples grow taut against my palms, and a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold dances down my spine.

I've waited so long, I think in desperation, marveling at the sensations rioting through me, my body roused to a fever pitch of desire. Hunger for her is blurring my vision...I can see nothing but Nikita. Breathing heavily, she breaks away with a gasp, pushing my overcoat off my shoulders with unsteady hands. I shrug the coat off impatiently and come back to her, sliding my thigh between her knees as I lean over her. Her hands slip under my sweater, dancing up my abdomen to my chest. Nikita's fingers skim lightly over my nipples and I bite at her lips, the moan I can't suppress sounding low and desperate in my throat.

We twist against each other as our hands and mouths seek, touch. Desperate to taste all of her, I push her shirt up and put my mouth to her bare breasts, biting and teasing, her nipples beading and tightening beneath my tongue. Nikita whimpers throatily as I reach down a shaking hand to cup the heat between her legs.

With a low moan, she takes my face in her hands and kisses me again, her tongue touching mine in an erotic caress that turns my bones to water. The hunger to feel her skin against mine overwhelms me. Pulling reluctantly away, I yank the jumper over my head and toss it aside before taken her mouth in an almost savage kiss, my hands dipping inside the loose waistband of her trousers.

Nikita makes a faint noise of protest and clutches at my hands, making me look at her in surprise. Her hair is a wild tangle, her lips red and swollen, her eyes an iridescent blue in the dimly lit room. I know that I have never wanted anyone as much as I want this woman.

Her eyes are closed, her body rigid with tension. I wait, my breath burning my lungs, the blood pounding in my ears. She opens her eyes to look at me, and I see it in her face. She's afraid, despite the naked hunger in her eyes. Her fear wins and she tries to pull away, crossing her arms over her half-naked breasts.

"I can't..."

We stare at each other for a few seconds, the spectre of our past burning the air between us. She's afraid of me, I think with despairing clarity. She's afraid of how much she wants this. What she doesn't realise that I am fighting the same fear...a fear that has tormented me for the last six months.

Desperate need overcomes the fear. I take her face in my hands, covering her mouth with mine and pushing her back against the coarse bed linen. Nikita claws at my back and shoulders, her hips jerking beneath mine. Her anger only serves to rouse my senses further, and I press her down hard into the bed, slanting my mouth across hers in a carnal tangle of lips and tongues. Nikita gasps into my mouth as my bare stomach slides against hers, all thoughts of denial forgotten.

The blood rushes downward, my pulse beating painfully between my legs as we tumble and roll on her makeshift bed. I pull her shirt over her head, my heart almost stopping at the feel of her naked breasts straining against me. Nikita's hands drop to clutch my hips, a sob catching in the back of her throat as I press myself against her. She is shaking, but no more than the answering tremors I feel shuddering through my own body.

We don't speak. To speak would be to think, and thinking is beyond both of us in this moment, as though neither of us can bear to risk shattering the madness that has us in its grip.

Nikita gives me a tremulous smile and takes my hands, putting them on her hips. I press my forehead to hers and slowly pull her khakis down her thighs. I feel her shake her head against my face and hesitate, but she only puts her hands over mine and brings them back up to her waist. Our eyes lock as she closes my fingers over the scrap of material that still hides her from my eyes. I press my lips to hers in a lingering kiss as I slide the white briefs over her rounded hips. After a few seconds Nikita begins to help, twisting her hips and finally kicking the clothing off impatiently.

She pulls her mouth away from mine, kneeling on the bed, pulling me up with her so that we are flush from mouth to hip. Dropping her hands to my belt buckle, she hooks her long fingers over the waist of my trousers as she undoes my belt and snaps the button, kissing me fiercely. I close my eyes, barely able to breathe as I feel her hands on me, caressing, stroking. A low moan hums in the back of my throat as I rock instinctively against her hand, my erection straining almost painfully against the material of my trousers.

The violent need to get closer, to be inside her is a demon too strong to resist. I rip the rest of my clothes away from my body, uncaring of where they fall. Nikita clutches at my shoulders as I reach for her, pulling her hard against me. We kiss again and again, our hands frantically exploring each other with a desperation borne out of three years of wanting and never having.

I cup her breasts in my hands and bend to take them in my mouth, marvelling anew at her beauty. Nikita closes her eyes and leans back, pushing herself against me with an urgency that matches my own.

Lowering her backwards onto the bed, I slide my hands along her smooth thighs to her knees, nudging them apart. Nikita gasps as I lower my body flush onto hers, her hands clutching at my shoulders. I watch her as she bites her bottom lip, her teeth white against the redness of her swollen mouth and my hunger for her spirals out of control.

I've waited three years. I can't wait any more.

~*~*~*~*~

My bones call to you

In a separate skin

I make myself translucent

To let you in

My heart feels as though it might jump right out of my chest, but I don't think I'd even notice if it did. Michael's hands are everywhere, touching and stroking, bringing the blood rushing to the surface of my skin. I feel hot and restless, and I wriggle under him slightly, desperate to feel all of him against me.

Michael dips his head and puts his lips to my neck as he runs his hands up my thighs, and I feel his teeth on my skin, scraping and biting.

Oh god.

I can't believe this is happening. But it is...and it is far better than any dream that I could have ever conjured up. Michael's skin is warm and smooth beneath my fingers, and I can feel the muscles on his back tense and ripple as I slide my hands down his spine to hold him to me. He's more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

Michael's kiss is hot and intoxicating, his lips hard and soft at the same time. He slips his tongue into my mouth and a hot shiver shakes my whole body. He tenses as he shifts slightly and I feel him, hard against me. My hips lift of their own accord and he slips his hands under my bottom, bringing me flush against him. A low keening moan leaves my throat, my body shuddering as he presses himself to me, rubbing and stroking.

It's not enough.

Sex has meant many different things in my life, but it has never meant this. This total meltdown of the senses...this primal hunger to have one other person take over your body. I want it. I want him.

And Michael wants me, very much. His erection is rock-hard against my belly, and I can no longer fight the urge to touch him. He groans softly as I reach down and take him in my hands, stroking my fingertips along the hard length of him. I hold him, hot and heavy in my cupped palm as his heartbeat pounds beneath the warm silky skin. Michael mutters something in French and kisses me almost violently...the kiss of a desperate man.

My pulse beats an unsteady tattoo as Michael runs his hand down my thigh, his breath catching in his throat as I hook one leg over his hips, letting the hard heat of him slip between my damp thighs. Michael tears his mouth away and rests his forehead against mine, his breath now coming in ragged gasps, and I know that he is as overwhelmed as I am by what is happening between us.

Although I sense Michael is about to come apart at the seams, it's as though he is waiting for some signal from me, and my heart clenches at the thought. An acute hunger to have him take me, to feel him inside me is shutting down everything else...everything but the feel of him lying between my thighs, his hands on my body, his mouth again exploring mine with a devastating thoroughness.

Frustrated tears sting my eyes. I kiss him back hungrily, my voice sounding like a stranger's as I gasp against his lips.

"Please...now..."

Michael makes a low, dark sound of need before taking my mouth in a bruising kiss, his hands lifting me. My whole body clenches with the agony of anticipation and I close my eyes as the aching need pulses hotly between my legs, liquid fire licking along my veins.

"Look at me." Michael's warm breath drifts across my eyelids, and I open my eyes to find him staring at me in a way that turns my bones to hot water. He holds my gaze as he rocks his hips against mine, and through the fog of pure sensation I watch his eyes darken as he pushes into me.

I can't stop myself from crying out as he brings our bodies together, the sudden feel of him inside me almost shocking. For a split-second, Michael stays motionless, as though he's also trying to cope with what he is feeling. He starts to move against me slowly, but that's not what I want. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I press my heels against the small of his back, wanting him too much to wait. The fear that had gripped my heart has fled in the face of desire...dissolved by the heat of a pure hunger I can no longer hide from Michael...or myself.

~*~*~*~*~

I surrender all control
To the desire that consumes me whole
Leads me by the hand to infinity
Lies in wait at the heart of me

"Look at me." I can hardly hear my words above the frantic beat of my heart. Nikita opens her eyes and gazes at me with a look of wonderment, as though she cannot believe this is real. She cannot realise that I know exactly how she is feeling. I have come alive after six months of being half-dead. I need to lose myself in this woman and I can barely stand another second of not being inside her.

Nikita lifts herself to me, her eyes flashing in mute appeal. Now. My breath staggers in my throat as I feel her body open up to me, her hands at my hips urging me on. Time seems to slow as we move together, and I have to bite back a cry of triumph as I slide into her body's hot embrace. So long...I've wanted this for so long...

Nikita throws back her head and lets out a throaty moan, curling her long legs around me, her heels digging into the small of my back, silently demanding more. I gasp as the pain of primal sexual pleasure surges through my body, the sensation of her tight warmth almost pushing me over the edge. Too soon...too soon. But my heated arousal can find no respite as Nikita moves restlessly beneath me, raising her face to mine for a kiss. Her mouth slants across mine in a lush tasting, my pulse leaping violently as I inhale her scent, the spicy smell of skin flushed with desire.

Time stretches and blurs as we twist against each other, mouths and hands tasting and exploring, our hips thrusting and retreating in an exquisitely erotic dance. We roll on the untidy bed, all sense of restraint shattering under the sheer weight of this scorching sexual energy.

I find myself on my back, the rough linen sheets scratching my skin as Nikita reaches up and takes hold of my wrists, holding them above my head. Panic flutters through me...a horrible sense of unfamiliar vulnerability. But the feeling is forgotten as Nikita puts her lips to my neck, kissing down to my collarbone and lower. Her mouth skims hotly across my chest, and my erection jerks rigidly inside her as she flicks her tongue over a tight nipple. Her breasts brush my chest, and I rip my hands out of her grip, unable to bear not touching her.

A slow sensual grin curves Nikita's mouth as she puts her hands on my shoulders, her breasts gleaming white and smooth in the dimly lit room. She leans forward, as though offering herself to me. My hands gripping her hips tightly, I take her into my mouth, feeling her grow hard between my lips. She murmurs my name under her breath in a husky whisper and I bite down gently, feeling her body shudder with pleasure.

This is what I have dreamed of for three years, dreams that filled me with self-loathing the next morning...dreams that made me fearful I would cry out Nikita's name in my sleep.

She grips my shoulders tighter, lifting herself up then coming back to me, taking me into her slick heat again and again in a teasing dance of erotic torment. I feel myself pulse violently inside her, and know that this dance will not last much longer. I have dreamed of this for too long...I will not let it slip through my grasp so quickly. Threading my hands into her hair, I pull her down to me for a searing kiss and roll her onto her back.

Her body is hot to touch, her nipples flushed with colour and hard against my chest. The sweat trickles down my back, and I taste the saltiness of her skin as we frantically caress, clumsy in our desperation.

Nikita's legs tighten around my back, pulling me even deeper into her. She is moaning, a low keening cry that calls to the furious hunger inside me, struggling to break free. I hesitate, not knowing if I can control the madness if I let myself release it. Almost as though she senses my hesitation, Nikita runs her nails roughly down my back before locking her hands behind my neck and pulling my face close to hers. She bites my jaw, my lips, her mouth hot and aggressive before she pulls away, her voice rough with desire.

"Please..."

My control dissolves into frantic passion, my skin tightening and shivering as I plunge into her again and again, our bodies straining to find completion in each other. Nikita shudders under me and I know that she is close to the edge. I slip my hands under her and pull her harder against me, slamming myself into her heat over and over. She is gasping softly with every thrust, a singing sigh of desire. My blood quickens as I feel her body grow rigid beneath me, her legs tightening around my hips.

Nikita cries out, throwing her head back as the climax claims her. She bucks and twists beneath me, her body calling me to follow. I clench my teeth and slow my movements, pinning her in her exquisite agony, feeling the pull of her orgasm as the waves of release pulse through her.

Slowly, I begin to move again, thrusting into the hot wetness of her body, my erection heavy and aching for release. Nikita takes my face in her hands and kisses me, her tongue seeking mine urgently as she pushes up against me. The madness then takes us both, hunger for each other sweeping aside every thought, every deed that has gone before.

Nikita sobs my name against my lips, tears spilling from beneath her tightly closed eyelids. I tear my mouth from hers and follow her into the abyss. Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I smell her scent all around me as my whole world starts to shatter, her warmth tightening around me a second time.

The blackness dances in front of my eyes as we frantically bite and claw, trying to burrow beneath each other's skin. Gasping out her name, I shudder against her helplessly, the heat spilling from my body into hers as we both go up in flames.

~*~*~*~*~

Here it comes again
the burning in the blood
The pounding in my brain
the rising of the flood
Every night I pray
begging sleep to come
But it's so far away
way behind the drumbeat of your heart

I open my eyes with a start, shivering slightly as a cool draft washes my skin. The flush of release has faded away, and I lie still for a few seconds, my mind momentarily unable to cope with the incomprehensibility that I know is reality.

Michael is lying behind me, his arm draped across my breasts, one leg hooked over mine, our feet tangled beneath the sheets. His breathing is low and steady, but I get the feeling that he's not asleep. I ease myself away slightly, and my suspicions are immediately confirmed as he slides his hand down to rest on my hip, pulling me back against him. His breath is warm on the nape of my neck, and my breasts tighten in anticipation of his touch, goose bumps skittering across my skin. I close my eyes as he rocks against me, desire shooting like an arrow straight to my groin.

Reaching down to pull his hand up to my mouth, I bite down gently on the fleshy part of his palm, just below his thumb. Michael sighs low in his chest and I feel his teeth on my neck, my shoulder, as though in retaliation. His hand clutches mine and gently tugs, pulling me slowly over to face him.

The room is quite dark, and the only thing I can hear is the gentle lapping of the waves against the side of the barge. I meet Michael's eyes and suddenly feel horribly awkward. What happens now?

Michael seems to read the silent question in my eyes and reaches out to touch my face almost reverently. His fingertips are warm and slightly rough, and I shiver as he explores, trailing his fingers across my forehead, running his thumb over my eyebrow. He drops his hand to my jaw, and brushes a thumb across my lips. Swollen from so many kisses, they tingle beneath his touch and I can't hide the shudder that shakes my whole body.

Michael smiles and catches my hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kisses the inside of my wrist, his mouth hot on my skin. Biting down gently, his teeth press lightly on the veins in my wrist, and I feel the blood beneath the skin leap into life as though he has summoned it. The breath catches in my throat as I watch him, realisation dawning. It's as though he is reassuring himself that the blood is still surging through my veins...that I am indeed alive.

Guilt slashes through my soul as our eyes meet, and for a split-second I see the fear that has been his shadow for the last six months.

"Michael...I..."

He drops my hand and slides his arms around me, rolling onto his back so that I am lying above him. The heady feeling of his bare skin against mine is still too new, and I gasp as he brings me flush against the length of his naked body. He threads his hands into my hair and pulls my face down to his, murmuring against my lips.

"Not now..."

We kiss languidly but the heat between us instantly flares again, warming my blood. Michael's thighs clench tightly around me, and I feel the hot rush of desire between my legs as I rub myself against him. He moans softly, closing his eyes as I run my hands down his body, feeling the hard muscles tense under my light touch. I kiss him again softly before sliding down his body. Michael tenses as I brush my lips against his stomach and his eyes fly open, burning into mine in the darkness. Holding his gaze, I press a lingering kiss to his flat stomach, tasting the salt of his skin on my tongue.

"Nikita..." My name is an agonized plea on his lips. Wordlessly, I shake my head and kiss him again, trailing my lips from his navel downwards. His erection presses hard against my breasts, his whole body clenched in anticipation. Raw desire swamps my senses as I watch him, knowing that I have made him feel like this...that he has given himself over to me. Driven by the need to taste all of him, I lower my head and take him between my lips.

Michael cries out, a low guttural moan that sends a quiver through me. I cup him gently, caressing his heat with my lips and tongue. His hands slowly snake into my hair, threading gently through the tangled strands. I hold onto him, my hand on his hip, inhibitions dissolving in a blur of heated sensation, the musky scent of his arousal making my head swim. I taste him roughly, craving the violence of his hunger as he thrusts against me, his body shuddering beneath my hands and in my mouth.

His hands tighten in my hair, urging me back up his body. I resist for a few seconds, wanting...needing to take him to the brink of madness as he took me. But he persists, and I give in, knowing that I can no longer resist the call of his body to mine.

Michael takes hold of my shoulders, pulling me up the length of his body in a sensuous slide that knocks the breath out of my lungs. He kisses me hard, his mouth hot and insistent on mine as he slips his hands down to my breasts, cupping and lifting them in his hands. I moan into his mouth as I feel the rush of blood, the tender ache of my nipples pressing into his warm palms.

Again, we don't speak. It's as though the spell of our wanting is too fragile, as though a single careless word could shatter it into a thousand pieces. I close my eyes in sensual defeat as I feel Michael's thigh between mine, reveling in the weight of him as he rolls me onto my back, pressing me deep into the mattress. He takes my hands in his, holding my arms close to my body. His mouth is warm on my breasts, his teeth gently tugging and tormenting. I try to pull my hands free but his grip is too strong.

His breath is suddenly warm on my stomach, and I feel the brush of his lips near my hipbone. Oh god. Michael moves down my body, his bare skin brushing against mine, and I know now why he protested. It's too much. I can't bear it.

And yet I do.

~*~*~*~*~

like a mixture in a bottle
like a frozen-over lake
Like a longtime painted smile
I got so hard I had to crack
You were there
you held the line
you're the one that brought me back

I lie and watch Nikita sleep, my eyes drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her breasts rise and fall gently with every breath she takes, and I have to clench my fists to stop myself from touching her. She looks as though she needs the sleep. I smile to myself at the thought and let my eyes drink in the sight of her.

While I imagined, many times, the sheer beauty of the woman lying asleep beside me, the reality far surpasses my fevered longings. Our lovemaking was incredible, and yet I feel as though I haven't allowed myself the luxury of really looking at her. I prop my head on my hand and let my gaze wander where it will, feeling my pulse quicken as I look at her.

She's perfect. The long legs that I have seen on display so many times...I now know how they feel when they are wrapped about my waist. Her hands, with their strong fingers and blunt nails...I know how it feels to have those hands on my body. Her face...even though she is pale from lack of sleep, nothing can hide her arresting beauty.

My gaze drifts, skimming over her body, studying the gentle slope of her breasts. My groin tightens with pure lust as I take in the smooth ivory skin, the darker nipples that have puckered in response to the cool night air. I swallow hard as I let my gaze move lower, lingering on the dark blonde curls between her thighs, the blood pounding through my veins as one heated thought breaks free.

I know how she tastes.

My breath hitches in my throat as I reach out a hand to touch her face. Nikita stirs but doesn't wake, and I close my eyes, my body hardening as I remember what has made her so weary.

I wanted it to be good for her. Letting go of her hands to stroke her thighs, my body remembered the feel of her lips on me when she took me into the warmth of her beautiful mouth, and my erection became almost painful. Pressing a final kiss to the soft skin of her inner thigh, I stroked my hand between her legs, lightly tugging on the tangle of damp blonde curls that hid her from my eyes. Nikita shivered and opened her eyes, finding me in the darkness. My breath caught dryly in my throat at the sudden rush of emotion that flooded my heart as we stared at each other for a heated moment, overwhelmed by everything that had not been said.

I put the palm of my hand flat against the warm heart of her body and Nikita gasped softly, her eyes locking onto mine. Pressing harder, I watched with satisfaction as her eyes closed in delight. The skin of her thigh was soft and warm under my lips, and I felt her shiver when I bit her gently on her stomach.

Looking up, I watched her. Head thrown back, skin flushed, eyes tightly closed, Nikita's whole body tensed as she waited for my touch. I had never seen her look more beautiful.

Sliding my hands up her smooth thighs, I bent my head and pressed a kiss to the soft curls between her legs, inhaling the scent of sex and desire. I felt a shudder wrack her body, and her low whimper seared my soul. I gently nudged her thighs apart with trembling hands, knowing that I was on the razor's edge of my self-control. That I was giving her pleasure was intoxicating, and I struggled to rein in the urgent hunger burning inside me. My need for her had not been sated...only stimulated to the point of sensual agony.

Slipping a hand beneath her bottom, I stroked her gently with the other hand and bowed my head. Nikita's soft moan reached me through a fog of lust as I touched my mouth to her, tasting her for the first time. The sweet tang of her on my tongue made me light-headed, my bones feeling as though they had turned to water. Nikita's thighs tightened around me as I caressed her, her hands clutching at my shoulders. Parting the soft folds of heated flesh with my fingers, I closed my eyes and tasted her again, kissing and biting her gently.

"Michael..." Nikita whispered my name, but it wasn't a plea for me to stop. Her breathing was shallow, and a faint sheen of perspiration shone between her breasts. I slipped my tongue inside her and felt her harden against me. Her body jerked beneath my hands, a shudder rippling through her and I increased the pressure. Unable to take it slowly any longer, I clutched her hips hard and pulled her against my mouth, drinking her in.

I could feel her blood pulsing beneath my tongue and knew that she was close to the edge. I wanted to push her over, send her crashing down so hard that she would never be able to rid herself of the memory of it.

Watching her now, sleeping peacefully, I feel the heavy ache of desire settle in my groin once more. Just when I thought that I had pushed her to the limits of her control, Nikita had reached down for me, her hands clawing at my shoulders in desperation. Please...please... Without hesitation, I had obeyed her urgent plea, joining our bodies with one swift thrust...and when Nikita had cried out and shuddered against me a few minutes later, she took me over the edge with her.

I reach out and softly stroke her hair, emboldened by the certainty that she will not awaken. Being here with her has already made me feel far too vulnerable, and I don't want her to see the confusion that I know is in my eyes.

Nothing looks the same in the light. The thought comes into my mind unbidden as I glance toward the small round porthole. It will be light in a few hours, and I will have to leave. The thought of never seeing her again is almost unbearable, and yet there is no other way. She is free, and I have no right to ask her to return to Section.

I ease myself away from her, unfamiliar tenderness flooding my heart as she mutters softly in her sleep and rolls onto her side. I stand for a few moments beside the bed, just watching her. My hungry eyes devour the sight of her beauty even as cold rationality asserts itself. The intimacy that we have forged tonight will not be able to withstand the cold light of day, and I sense that Nikita knows it too.

I pull the sheet up over her, noticing the light ripple of goose bumps dancing up the skin of her arms. The night is utterly still, the silence broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the hull of the boat. Made too restless to sleep by the kaleidoscope of thoughts hurtling through my mind, I leave Nikita to her rest and walk to the window, needing to put some distance between us.

Our desperate lovemaking seems now like an affirmation of a truth that we have both denied for so long. When Nikita touched me for the first time, my whole body cried out in recognition, a sudden jolt of awareness that shocked me to the core...and when I touched her, it was as though I no longer cared about anything that existed outside these walls.

Too dangerous.

I stare out the window, knowing that this night can never ever happen again. Desolation creeps into my heart. After this night, I will lose her forever. It's the only way it can be.

Section...Vachek...Elena...Adam. There is no room in my world for a life with Nikita.

I turn and look at her as she sleeps, barely resisting the urge to go to her. There is nothing for her in Section. Only more lies. More pain. Much better that she remain outside. Free. It's where she belongs.

I reach out and touch the cold windowpane that separates us from the outside world. If there were a way to bring her back in, I don't know that I could resist the temptation. Even now, the thought of walking away from her is almost more than I can bear. In despair, I close my eyes and think of all that is at stake, a vain attempt to stem the tide of emotion that is buffeting my thoughts.

I think of Nikita, of the honesty of her kiss, the warmth of her body. My breath catches hard in my throat as I think of what is between us, and my self-control stumbles and reels in the face of what could have been.

Perhaps it would have been better not to know.

~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell is this?" Birkoff stared at his screen in disbelief, not quite able to believe what he was seeing. He entered another command quickly, downloading the transmission that had arrived only moments before.

"Any luck with finding the leak?"

Birkoff started, so intent on what was on his screen that he hadn't noticed Ackerman beside him.

"Not exactly...but I did just find this." Birkoff hesitated, suddenly unsure whether or not he wanted to share what he had just discovered. He wasn't sure why...somehow he didn't want Ackerman to be the first to know. But it was already too late...Ackerman was leaning over his shoulder, peering almost anxiously at the screen.

"What is that? A transmission from the Freedom League?" Birkoff flicked a curious glance at Ackerman. Why is he so worried? Any contact from the Freedom League is good news. Birkoff shrugged and turned back to his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He only had seconds to perform a trace on the origin of the transmission, and thanks to Ackerman, he was going to be cutting it pretty fine.

"Damn it!"

Birkoff scowled at the read out, uncomfortably aware of the curious stares of several nearby operatives. He didn't normally yell out obscenities in the middle of Section, but this was an exception.

"What happened?"

Birkoff bit back a sarcastic retort and took a deep breath before turning to Ackerman. "I lost the trace...the signal disappeared before I could get a lock on it." He shook his head, still not able to believe what he had just seen. "I have to get this to Operations." He pulled the disk out of the drive and pushed his chair back hurriedly.

To his surprise, Ackerman put a restraining hand on the arm of his chair. Birkoff looked up at him, puzzled. "What?"

"I'd like to see it first."

Birkoff stared at him in exasperation. "It's nothing to do with Lyon. It's about Nikita."

Ackerman's brow furrowed as he looked down at the disk in Birkoff's hand, then at Birkoff. "Nikita? You mean Michael's Nikita? The one who died?"

Birkoff grinned to himself at Ackerman's look of confusion. "We thought she had been killed in the explosion that took out the Freedom League base in Germany last year." He looked at the disk he was holding and a wave of joy surged through him. Nikita was alive. If only I'd been able to get a lock on that signal, he thought with irritation. Another thought swiftly followed. I have to tell Walter and Michael. They are going to completely freak out about this.

"The Freedom League have her?" Ackerman frowned and shook his head, his expression grim. "Well...I guess that explains our leak."

Birkoff felt his temper flare at Ackerman's none too subtle accusation. He pushed his chair back hard, forcing Ackerman to release his grip. He stood up and looked the older man in the eye. "Operations needs to see this." It wasn't a request.

Ackerman took a step closer, his face tightening with anger as he held out his hand. "I'll take it to him."

Although he knew he could outwit this idiot any day of the week, Birkoff was also a man who knew his physical limitations. He handed the disk to Ackerman as he thought of Operations' and Madeline's reactions. If Michael and Walter were going to be pleased, then the other two were definitely going to be at the other end of the scale. Suddenly glad that he wasn't going to be the bearer of these particular tidings, he smiled at Ackerman pleasantly.

"Be my guest."