it was the sweetness of your skin
it was the hope of all we might have been
that filled me with the hope to wish
impossible things

Restless, I fumble for the sheet, pulling it tighter around my neck. Stretching languidly, I let myself doze, caught halfway between warm sleep and cool wakefulness. After a little while, an odd feeling of having too much room to stretch out slowly begins to filter into my sleep-hazed mind. Sliding a hand toward the edge of the bed, I find nothing, my fingers that long to brush against warm skin clawing at empty air.

I'm alone.

Confused panic floods my mind. Has he already left? My heart begins to pound unsteadily as I raise my head, anxiously searching the darkened room.

A few seconds later, relief sweeps through me in a delicious rush as my eyes find what they are desperately searching for.

Michael is standing at one of the small portholes, staring out into the harbour. He is as naked as I am. Oh...my... I let out my breath shakily as my eyes drink in the sight of him. The blood starts to buzz in my ears, my skin flushing with uncomfortable warmth as my breasts tighten with sudden desire. My breathing growing shallow, I lie alone in the tangled sheets and stare at him, my eyes tracing every line, every hard curve.

I feel as though I have never really seen him before, even though I have just spent hours exploring nearly every inch of that beautifully sculpted body, my hands and mouth now achingly familiar with every contour, every smooth muscle. But as distracted as I am by all that bare skin, I also see the tense set of Michael's shoulders, the hand at his side curled into a loose fist.

He is staring out into the night as though searching for answer to questions only he knows, and my heart clenches with sadness. He seems so lost in thought...and I have no doubt that his thoughts are not peaceful.

Neither are mine.

Despite my longing to be near him, I sense that Michael needs this time alone. God knows my mind is a complete muddle...I can only imagine what issues Michael is trying to work through.

Does he regret what has happened here between us? Is he staring out that window, wishing now he had never found me?

Is Michael, like me, now wondering if it would have been better not to have had this small taste of freedom? Nervous anticipation twists low in my belly as I let my gaze devour him once more. Or is he...like me...marveling at the ease with which we came together, the instinctive erotic fusion of our bodies?

Swallowing hard, I close my eyes as the now familiar ache of desire pulses between my legs. My body grows warm and restless as I think of how Michael had trembled against me before he took me for the first time, as though he could scarcely believe it was real. The sudden feel of him inside me, so hard and urgent, had sent a rush of sexual ecstasy through me, a shock of pleasure so intense it was almost too much to bear.

But it's not just the sex, as incredible as it was. Despite all my vows to be strong, Michael has taken my soul along with my body. In three years, he has allowed me to see inside his heart precious few times. Tonight...I feel as though I really, truly know him...and now the thought of never seeing him again is tearing me apart.

Enough. If this night is all I will ever have of him, then I'm not going to waste any more time wringing my hands over what should or shouldn't have happened. This is real...it is happening between us now, and I'll be damned if I'm going to waste another second of what little time we have left.

I gaze at Michael again, and he suddenly seems too far away. Finally giving in to the desperate hunger to be close to him, I toss the sheets back and silently leave the bed. Despite my good intentions, I can't give him any more time alone. I need him now.

~*~*~*~*~

When all but hope is lost
You believe at any cost
In things that make the living lighter
And when the shadows fall
The promise of it all
Is lying in the bed beside her

I stand and watch the small vessels bob gently in the habour, their white hulls stark against the inky black of the water. As a small child, I became obsessed with boats. I would tell my parents at every opportunity that one day I was going to live on one. They would usually just smile indulgently, but they never discouraged my simple child's dream. Watching boats and ships on the water is a pastime that I have indulged in ever since I can remember. It soothes me, helps me find a sense of myself in the life that I must lead.

Tonight, I can find no peace of mind.

Where can we possibly find shelter? I almost shake my head at the sentimental thought. Where the hell did that come from? And yet...it's quite true. Nikita and I are refugees from the storm, clutching at each other in desperation.

I close my eyes and finally give my tangle of thoughts free rein.

I was able to find her...who is to say that others won't? If Section were ever to suspect that she was still alive, they would find her. She would be extracted and cancelled. The longer I stay here with her, the more dangerous it is for both of us. I should leave before it gets light. To stay any longer is only prolonging the inevitable. I should leave now.

The soft tread of footsteps on the wooden floor breaks into my thoughts. Having woken and found me gone, Nikita has sought me out. I turn to her, but have to look away quickly. Like myself, she hasn't bothered to dress. I struggle to control my body's reaction, but it's a battle I am destined to lose. My heart begins to pound unsteadily against my ribs as she reaches out and trails her fingertips lingeringly across my chest, the simple gesture making my pulse race.

She smiles at me with a thousand promises in her eyes, and I already know that I will not be leaving before it gets light.

"Everything okay?"

Her voice is husky with sleep, but she shows no other sign of weariness. The moonlight dances across her skin, turning it to smooth glowing ivory. With a supreme effort, I keep my hands by my side and my churning thoughts to myself.

"I'm fine."

She gives me another small smile, and I feel an answering smile tug at my own lips. We've been together for four hours, and these are the first real words we've spoken to each other.

"So...where does Section think you are?" The word section sounds rusty on her lips, as though she hasn't let herself say it for a long time.

"Gathering intel."

Nikita raises her eyebrows slightly at my reply, a small smirk curving her mouth as she turns to look out the porthole. Despite my earlier thoughts, I fight the urge to smile as I realise what must have amused her. 'Gathering intel' is quite an interesting phrase to describe our activities over the last five hours.

I study her profile, the guilt I have managed to suppress for hours finally breaking free. Section thinks I am gathering background information on the Freedom League. They also think that I will then be going home to my wife and son...the wife and son who think I am at a conference in Brussels.

Pushing these thoughts away, I make a decision. This brief time together will be over all too quickly, and I refuse to spend one more second of it regretting my actions. Not, I think with a pang, when I'm sure that there will be more than enough time when I return to Section to face the ramifications of this night. If these few hours are all we will ever have, I want to let them burn into my memory so deeply that the scars will stay with me forever.

Nikita gazes serenely through the small window, and I wonder at her thoughts. It seems that she has grown quite accomplished at hiding her feelings while she has been on the outside. I reach out, wanting to touch her again as much as I want to re-establish the connection between us. Nikita half turns her head, a tiny smile hovering on her lips as I trail my fingertips down her back, drawing invisible circles on the smooth skin of her shoulder. She still says nothing, and I can no longer hold back the question that has been my torment for the last six months.

"Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

She starts almost imperceptibly, and guilt flashes like lightening across her pale face. I wait, feeling my pulse quickening with every passing second, watching as she takes a deep breath before replying.

"I almost did..." Her eyes flick to my face and then away quickly. "...once." She stumbles slightly over the words. Looking into her eyes, I see the truth. It was more than once.

Nikita shrugs, uncertainty etched on her delicate features. "I don't know why I didn't." Another lie, I think silently, knowing that her fear had held her captive...just as my own had compelled me to seek her out.

"I put everything out of my mind." She finally turns to me and leans into the touch of my hand on her shoulder, smiling almost shyly, her eyes lingering on mine.

"Even the things I didn't want to forget."

Despite my resolve to keep my emotional distance, my spirit soars at her words. I try to speak, but my mouth is suddenly dry, my throat raw. We look at each other in silence for a long moment before Nikita sighs softly, her voice low and rough with an emotion I can't quite define.

"Do you know..." Her face tightens as she puts her chin in the air, her gaze locking with mine. "...that for three years all I did was dream about getting out of Section?"

I say nothing, sensing that this is difficult for her. Unable to keep from touching her, I caress the nape of her neck, long soothing strokes. She shivers and takes a deep breath as though gathering the strength to continue.

"When I did..." A look of intense sadness washes over her face as she looks away, and I know that she is relieving memories in which I have no part.

"...it wasn't what I expected."

Nikita's eyes suddenly glitter with unshed tears as she lets out a shaky breath. Her voice drops to an anguished whisper as she shakes her head sadly...almost angrily.

"This isn't freedom."

~*~*~*~*~

Operations caught sight of him as he hovered outside the open door, not wanting to interrupt the low conversation that the older man was conducting with Madeline.

"What is it, Ackerman?"

Ackerman walked slowly into Operations' office, avoiding Madeline's speculative gaze. He looked at Operations and held out the disk.

"Birkoff just pulled this off an open channel. He believes it's a transmission from the Freedom League."

Operations raised an eyebrow at him as he took the disk. "Birkoff believes?" He shot a quick glance at Madeline before turning back. "What do you think, Ackerman?"

Ackerman stiffened at Operations' almost disdainful tone, before he clasped his hands behind his back and looked him in the eye.

"I believe that Birkoff is correct. "

Neither Operations or Madeline made any reply to this statement. Ackerman watched as Operations picked up a small remote control and activated a large screen on the wall. He then loaded the disk into a small drive beneath the screen. There was nothing but static for a few seconds, and then an image appeared.

His heartbeat suddenly picking up speed, Ackerman found himself staring at one of the most amazing looking women he had ever seen. Tied to a chair, she was only wearing what looked like thermal underwear. He heard a small sound of shock, and turned his head to see Operations and Madeline staring at the screen in disbelief.

Zenga's voice was suddenly loud in the room and Ackerman felt disorientated, as though the two halves of his life had suddenly slammed into one another.

"As you can see...we have one of your operatives."

Ackerman watched avidly despite his increasing wariness, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman on the screen. Even disheveled, she looked incredible. <>I>So this was the famous Nikita, he thought as he took in the tousled blonde hair, the luminous blue eyes. He smiled to himself as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. No wonder Michael was so out of it. How come my recruits never looked like that? His pleasant musings were interrupted by Zenga's voice once again.

"No latex, no special effects." The Freedom League leader held Nikita's face steady, his fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to look into the camera. "She's been very cooperative." At that, the blonde tried to jerk her head away, raising her eyes to the ceiling almost imploringly, as though silently trying to deny the accusations.

The transmission ended abruptly, and Ackerman turned to the two people beside him, anxious to suggest a connection between Nikita and the Lyon incident. Thanks to Blondie, he would soon be completely above suspicion.

Operations, however, didn't give him a chance to say a word.

"That will be all."

Undaunted, Ackerman tried again. "This would suggest that she has been..."

Operations shot him a hard stare that had his words dying in his throat. "That will be all, Mr Ackerman."

As Ackerman watched Operations walk away, Madeline smiled at him as though to soften the sting of the head of Section's curt dismissal.

"Good work. Let us know when you get a lock on the location."

~*~*~*~*~

Tonight I'm learning how to fly and I surrender
I've traveled all this way for your embrace
Enraptured by the recognition on your face

"This isn't freedom." Finally admitting to myself...and to Michael...what I've been denying for six long months is too much. I feel my eyes prick with tears, and I stare resolutely out the window. I don't want to cry all over Michael...and I'm afraid that once I start, I won't know how to stop.

But Michael won't let me hide from him. I feel his hand on the back of my neck before he slides his fingers through my hair. The subtle pressure of his touch is enough to keep me from moving away, but I still can't look at him as despair suddenly overwhelms me. If this isn't freedom, where can I possibly find peace?

Michael can't stay here with me much longer...Section will miss him very soon if they haven't already. I can't go back. He can't stay here.

I feel Michael's hand curling around the nape of my neck, reaching around to stroke the side of my face. His touch is like nothing I've ever known before, and I can feel myself dissolve into his caress. Now that I know how this man can make me feel, the thought of having to let him go a second time is almost more than I can bear.

What am I going to do? Hopelessness washes over me, the illusion of control splintering under the painful weight of sorrow. I shake my head in despair, hardly able get the words out.

"This isn't freedom."

Michael pulls me gently towards him as I give in and let the tears come, and the tenderness of his embrace is like a salve to the raw wounds that have scored my heart. We stand locked in each other's arms for what seems like an eternity, his neck wet from my tears. He says nothing but just keeps stroking my hair, running his hands down my back in a way that means to comfort, not seduce.

After a long time, Michael gently disengages, bringing his hands up to cup my face. He looks at me in a way that makes my toes curl and my heart thud unsteadily against my ribs.

He presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss before gathering me in his arms again. I hear him sigh heavily, his voice rumbling low in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Nikita."

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms tighter around his waist. "What for? You saved my life, Michael."

He says nothing, and I pull back to look at him. In the moonlight, his features look more sculptured, more defined. Michael returns my gaze steadily and I see the guilt darkening his eyes.

Suddenly impatient with him, I reach out and touch his cheek, stroking my fingertips lingeringly down the face that I thought I would never see again. Swallowing the thick knot of emotion stuck in my throat, I give him a shaky smile. "You gave my life back to me, Michael. It's not your fault it's not what I thought it was going to be."

He stares at me intently. "What did you think it was going to be?"

Taking a deep breath, I look at him and shrug. "I'm not sure. I thought I'd be happy."

"And you weren't?"

I shiver as Michael trails his hands down my back, his fingertips dancing down my spine. This time, his touch doesn't seem strictly meant to offer comfort. I shake my head and fight the urge to wrap myself around him. If I never see him again, I want to make things right between us...I owe him that much. But it's so hard to put how I'm feeling into words, and I feel as though I'm the only one doing the talking here.

Pulling myself together, I look him straight in the eye. "Sometimes I was. Sometimes it almost felt as though I had dreamed those three years...it was the weirdest sensation. I made friends. I worked. I lived in places you wouldn't believe people would be allowed to charge rent for."

He frowns at this last piece of information, and I continue hurriedly, unwilling to let him dwell on a past that was said and done. "I would forget for a little while...and then the smallest thing would bring it all rushing back."

I lean into him, loving the feeling of his warm bare skin next to mine. My chest feels tight with emotion as I think of how little time we must have left, and I rub my cheek against his, the light stubble on his jaw sending a shiver across my skin.

"I'm nowhere, Michael." He pulls me a little closer, but says nothing.

"I didn't belong in Section...I don't seem to belong out here anymore. I don't belong anywhere." I bite my lip hard as I feel the warm pressure building behind my eyelids again. I sound like a petulant child, but I can't help it. I've never been able to talk to Michael like this before, and now the words have started coming, it's like a dam has burst.

I feel his hand stroking my hair before he clears his throat lightly. "So, what have you been doing?"

I can't help smiling at his casual tone, at his obvious attempt to distract me from my melancholy thoughts. Drawing away, I smile into his eyes. "Do you want the long or the short version?"

~*~*~*~*~

"Walter!"

Walter looked at Birkoff with amusement and pushed aside the infrared headgear he had been tinkering with. The kid looked like he was about to explode.

"What can I do for you, amigo?"

Birkoff glanced around him, scanning the immediate area. Walter waited patiently until the younger man had apparently satisfied himself that they were alone. He leaned toward Walter, his eyes dancing behind his glasses as he whispered dramatically.

"We just got a transmission from the Freedom League."

Walter looked at him curiously. "I see. And how does this change my life?"

"It's about Nikita."

At the sound of her name, Walter felt the familiar jolt of sorrow shake his old heart. He blinked and reached for the headgear, hearing his voice turn brusque and unhappy as he answered.

"What about Nikita?"

Birkoff leaned even closer, his face pale with excitement. "She's alive." He leaned back, a beaming smile nearly splitting his face in two.

Walter stared at Birkoff, feeling dangerously light-headed. "What do you mean, alive?"

"It's true! I saw the transmission!"

Walter put his hands up in protest, his head spinning with a million different thoughts. "Woah! What does a transmission from the Freedom League have to do with Nikita being alive?" Despite his confusion, a little thrill of joy went through him as he said the word.

Alive.

"Okay, here's the deal. From what I could make out, the Freedom League must have caught up with her inside the base just before the explosion." Birkoff shook his head in disbelief. "It must have been a pretty close call. There wasn't much time for anyone to get out of there before the whole building went up."

Walter frowned as what Birkoff was telling him hit home. This was not all good news. "So, the Freedom League have had her all this time?"

"I guess."

They stared at each other for a moment before Walter cleared his throat lightly. "How bad was it?" Walter heard the tremour in his voice and took a deep breath as Birkoff shook his head at him slowly.

"I didn't see much. She didn't look too happy, I know that."

Walter felt his heart clench with angry helplessness. "So...why did they wait until now to let us know?"

Birkoff shrugged, seemingly uninterested in the finer details of his story. "I have no idea. All I know is that as of yesterday, she was alive." He looked over his shoulder quickly before turning back to Walter. "Look, I gotta go...keep this under your hat, okay?"

"No problem." Walter watched as Birkoff dashed off, feeling almost as though he'd just been knocked over the head. She was alive. It wouldn't take long for Birkoff to trace where that transmission came from, he was sure of it. Then they could take out the Freedom League and bring back his Sugar...in one hit.

He reached for the infrared equipment with hands that weren't quite steady and hesitated. How can I possibly concentrate on that junk now? Glancing upward to Operations' office, Walter wasn't surprised to see the man himself and Madeline deep in conversation by the window. From the grim looks on their faces, they'd already heard the news. I bet that's thrown a spanner in your works, he thought with great satisfaction.

He began to work on the equipment once more, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ackerman appeared at the bottom of the stairs to Operations' and stalked across the main floor of Section, his face as black as thunder. Someone else isn't too happy either.

Walter felt his thoughts click into place as he remembered someone who definitely would be pleased. Michael was out in the field...wasn't due back until late tomorrow morning. Would they even bother to let him know, Walter wondered. He thought of Madeline and his thoughts soured.

Knowing her, she'd wait until she could tell him in person, just so she could study the look on his face.

~*~*~*~*~

"How the hell did this happen, Madeline?" Operations barely waited until Ackerman had left the room before he turned to glare at the woman beside him. "The Freedom League discovered her before the explosion? She's been their captive these last six months?"

Madeline gazed at him calmly, but he could see the anger flickering at the back of her eyes. "So it would appear."

Operations pointed the remote at the dark screen and the images flickered to life once more. They watched as Nikita sat stony faced, her eyes filled with despair as the Freedom League operative pawed at her, and Operations felt his temper flare.

"But it doesn't make sense!" He shook his head and stopped the transmission, unable to watch it any longer. "If they've had her for six months...why send this now?" He glanced at Madeline and saw the same doubt reflected in her dark eyes. "What do they want?"

Madeline folded her arms and looked thoughtful. "It would seem that they plan to negotiate with us for her return."

Operations stared at her, finding it hard not to laugh in the face of the ludicrous irony of the situation. "They want to ransom Nikita to us? For us to pay to have her back?"

Madeline raised an eyebrow and gave him an almost weary smile. "I would say that is exactly what they intend to do."

He shook his head. This was unbelievable. Nikita was alive...and in the hands of the Freedom League. Damn it! They canceled operatives every single day...how the hell had they failed with this one? Instantly, his mind swung around in an alarming direction, his pulse quickening.

Michael.

Operations looked down on Section, his mind racing. Had Michael deliberately failed to cancel Nikita? Had he known all this time that she was alive? That she was being held by the Freedom League?

Even as he considered the various possibilities, he dismissed them. Michael's behaviour over the last six months completely contradicted any such suspicions. Operations would bet his life on the fact that Michael believed Nikita had died in the explosion at the Freedom League base. He had been mourning her death, damn it! Not plotting to track her down, or rescue her from the Freedom League.

No...there had to be another explanation. And he was going to find out what it was.

"Where is Michael?"

Madeline was nodding as if she had anticipated his question. "He checked in a few hours ago...from South Africa, I believe. He informed Birkoff that the line wasn't secure and that he would prefer to debrief on his return in the morning."

He glanced quickly at Madeline. She looked at him for a long moment before she raised an eyebrow and gave him a slightly mocking smile. "It's quite an interesting development."

"Oh yes...the question is..." Operations looked down on Section as a myriad of possible scenarios flashed through his mind. "...what do we do about it?"

~*~*~*~*~

It's the dark night of my soul
And temptation's taking hold
But through the pain and the suffering
Through the heartache and trembling
I feel loved

Although I have spent more hours during the last three years than I care to admit watching her, I have never before had the luxury of seeing Nikita like this. She is stretched out full-length on her stomach, her head propped on her hands, looking up at me as I sit on the bed beside her. Neither of us has bothered to cover ourselves with anything more than tangled sheets, but there is no awkwardness between us.

Nikita has come alive, her eyes dancing with amusement at her own expense as she tells me of her flight from a Berlin nightclub, the places in which she has lived, the people she has met. Her eyes soften as she speaks of the owners of the café in Lyon, the place where she was working when the Freedom League found her. In a slightly trembling voice, she tells me some, but not all, of how they took her, and how she escaped.

I don't press her for details, knowing that she will tell me only what she needs to. Unable to be so close and not touch her, I trail my hand down her back, lightly tracing the smooth line of her spine with my fingertips. Momentarily distracted, Nikita gives me a heated smile before continuing her story.

"The last thing I overheard was that the ambush was to take place in Lyon...so, um...that's where I went."

Our eyes hold for a long moment. Nikita flushes and looks away, as though realising that her simple words convey much more than she intended.

I feel my heart jerk against my ribs as I begin to understand exactly what it is that she did for Section...for me, and my mind reels at the enormity of her actions.

"Why?"

Nikita looks at me with surprise. "Why?" She reaches out and rests her hand on my thigh, her fingers drawing tiny patterns on my tingling skin. I sense that she is stalling for time, but I don't push her.

She finally gives me a weary smile. "Old habits die hard, I guess." She runs her hand lightly along the length of my thigh and I struggle to keep my thoughts focused. "The League weren't exactly careful about me overhearing their plans. I knew that Section was their intended target, and that it was going to happen that night in Lyon." Nikita shrugs. "I couldn't let Section be ambushed. I had to do whatever I could to warn them." She looks at me, her eyes glowing in the dimly lit room. "I still can't believe I actually did it."

I slide my hand up her back to cup the nape of her neck, feeling her shiver as I gently thread my fingers into her hair. "I'm glad you did."

She gives me a quiet smile. "So am I."

With that, Nikita rests her head on her crossed arms, sighing wearily as she shuts her eyes. I can only imagine what the last six months have been like for her, and my heart contracts painfully as I think of her sad insistence that she doesn't belong anywhere. If only I could...I close my eyes briefly as the same hopelessness that seemed have Nikita in its grip takes hold of me.

What can you do? You can't possibly take her back to Section. They would cancel her in a heartbeat. Isn't that why you set her free in the first place...to keep her alive?

But she's not alive...not really. As for myself, I know that I have felt more among the dead than the living for the last six months. Panic flutters through me as I glance toward the portside windows, noticing for the first time the change in the night sky. In a few hours, I will have to return to Section and for her own safety, I will never see Nikita again.

I suddenly become aware of the change in Nikita's breathing. Turning to her, I can't help smiling. She is asleep again, almost as though she dozed off in mid-sentence. Shaking my head, I can't resist the temptation that the opportunity presents. She murmurs something in her sleep as I crawl across the bed to lie beside her, wrapping my arms around her warmth and pulling her firmly against me.

I close my eyes and, to my relief, I don't feel the cold caress of fear that has tormented my mind for the last six months. All I feel is Nikita.

~*~*~*~*~

I dreamed about you again last night
You never have the same face twice

The Freedom League base camp is dark, and the dank air nearly makes me gag. Stanley is here. I know he is. Why can't I find him?

As I run down the twisting hallways, gasping for breath, I become more and more disorientated. Where is he? I dart through an open door and slam into someone and a mist of a spicy perfume that is all too familiar wafts past my nose.

We stare at each other, Madeline and I, for a very long time.

"Let me pass, Madeline. We're running out of time."

She shakes her head and smiles at me. "You won't find him."

Furious, I step up to her. "What have you done with him, Madeline?"

"You will never find him, Nikita." She leans forward and touches my face. "You will never be free from the Section, Nikita...why can't you just accept it?"

I pull away from her. "No. You're lying." I turn and start to walk away from her, and then I start to run. My heart clenches in recognition when I see the tall figure standing motionless at the end of the long hallway.

"Michael!"

He turns and walks away, disappearing into the darkness.

"Michael, please!"

Dry sobs tear at my raw throat as I run after him, and I can feel the heat from the flames that now roar behind me. I run down hallway after hallway, no longer looking for Stanley but for Michael...searching for him in the darkness until the acrid smoke starts to sting my eyes. I can't find him.

He's left me behind.

I drop to my knees in despair as the pain of betrayal rips through my heart. I can't do this alone. Please...please....Michael...

~*~*~*~*~

Something hits me in the face, very hard, and I react without thinking, still half-asleep. I come awake with a jolt as I hear Nikita's cry of pain and open my eyes to find that I have grabbed hold of her hands and am gripping them too tightly. I release her and sit up quickly, my heart pounding. Nikita is tossing and turning, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she battles whatever demons have claimed her in her dreams.

Unable to bear witness to her distress, I reach out a hand to wake her. I touch her shoulder lightly just as she throws her head back against the pillow and calls out my name. My blood freezes at her terrified cry. What the hell is she dreaming?

"Michael, please!!!" Her whole body tenses as she begins to sob, the tears streaming down her face. This is unbearable. I take her by the shoulders and gently shake her, keeping well clear of her flailing hands.

"Nikita..." She jerks away from my touch violently, her hand coming up to push mine away. Tightening my grip, I shake her again, desperately wanting to retrieve her from the dark place in which she seems lost. "Nikita, you're dreaming...wake up..."

Her eyes snap open and she stares at me in a way that chills my heart...as though she has never seen me before. Then her face crumples and her quiet tears become something more...a wretched sobbing that twists my heart. Unsure if she is truly awake, I reach down to touch her face. Her sorrow suddenly explodes into violence and she lashes out, slapping my hand away, bringing both her knees up to push herself away from me. When she lands a glancing blow on my jaw, my patience comes to an end. Gripping her wrists roughly and pinning her to the bed, I kneel over her, trying to keep a cautious eye on her thrashing legs and feet.

As suddenly as it began, the storm is over. Nikita begins to weep quietly, and I am again struck by the certainty that she is still asleep. I let go of her hands and slide down to lie beside her, my heart in my mouth as I put my arms around her. Instantly, Nikita rolls over onto her side and hooks her leg over mine, bringing the warmth length of her body flush against me.

I hold my breath as she rests her forehead on my shoulder, her breathing unsteady as she continues to cry, her tears pooling warmly on my skin.

"You left me behind."

~*~*~*~*~

we're living in a world full of illusion
everything is so unreal
my mind is in a state of confusion
but I can't deny the way I feel

"You left me behind."

I feel my skin flush first hot, then cold. She's still asleep,I tell myself quickly. Tightening my arms around her, I desperately try to remember what the doctor had told me early this month when Adam had suffered from night terrors. Just talk to him soothingly...don't alarm him.

Stroking Nikita's hair gently, I manage to answer her, but my voice cracks dangerously with emotion. "I know."

A shudder goes through her, and she starts to struggle against my embrace, her body tensing beneath my hands. Nikita lifts her head to look at me, her eyes clear but confused. She blinks and touches her face, feeling the wet skin.

"What...?"

I press my lips to her cheek, my pulse leaping in my throat at the salty tang that her tears have left behind. "You were dreaming."

Nikita frowns, her eyes searching mine. "Did I say anything?"

"Yes." I stroke her back, feeling her breathing slowly return to normal.

She rolls onto her back, and stares at the ceiling, her eyes brimming with tears. Without looking at me, she takes a deep breath. "Tell me."

I hesitate. For all that has happened between us tonight, this is will take us into much deeper waters than we have ventured into before...but I have no wish to lie to her.

"You said that I left you behind."

Mortified, Nikita puts one hand up over her eyes, but she can't hide her tears from me. Her pain is more than I can bear to watch. I reach for her, hooking my hands around her waist and pulling her over to lie on top of me. She shakes her head, unable to speak through her tears, as I take her face in my hands and begin to kiss her, desperately wanting to soothe her anguish. Her face is cool and wet...the saltiness of her tears an aphrodisiac.

She kisses me back for a few seconds before pulling away to look at me, her eyes dark with remembered pain. She hesitates for a few awkward seconds before her words tumble out, a question that I suddenly realize must have haunted her for the last six months. "Why didn't you..." Her voice fades away, her face twisting in a vain effort to keep from crying.

"I couldn't tell you." I press my lips to her closed eyelids, to the corner of her lush mouth, my tongue licking away her tears. "There was no time." Every word I utter is like a tiny release...a glorious absolution of guilt. "It was the only way. " She shivers as I kiss her neck, then her jaw, feeling her pulse leap to life beneath my lips. "They would have known." I hear the betraying ache of loss in my own voice, and Nikita's heart begins to thump unsteadily against mine as I finally kiss her mouth softly. "They would have cancelled you..."

A sob hums at the back of Nikita's throat as she slips her hands around the back of my neck and kisses me lingeringly. I can hardly breathe as she rubs against me like a cat, the tips of her breasts brushing my chest. My hands feel unsteady as I slide them down her back, my whole body tightening with agonized expectation.

Nikita sighs softly into my mouth as she breaks off the increasingly heated kiss, breathing shakily. She reaches down and traces the outline of my lips with a trembling finger, our eyes meeting in a long look of silent understanding. My breath catches in my throat at the sad resignation in her eyes, a sorrow that she is desperately trying to hide.

We both know that there is too much left unsaid, and that every touch...every kiss...will only make our inevitable parting more difficult.

Is it selfish to want this one last chance to feel alive? When I know, far better than Nikita, the consequences this night will hold, how can I ask this of her?

As though sensing my hesitation, she bows her head to kiss me again, this time fiercely, her mouth slanting across mine hungrily as her fingers dig into my shoulders almost painfully...and I know that I am not taking anything from her that she does not wish to give.

There is no way I can leave her now...not when my body and heart are trembling with longing, silently crying out from the sheer need of her.

When Nikita pulls away, I hold her eyes with mine, reaching out to gently caress her face. My fingertips trail slowly over the strong line of her jaw, my thumb brushing softly over the fullness of her bottom lip. She sighs unsteadily as I touch her hair, my fingers tangling themselves in the luminescent strands before dropping to trace the gentle curve of her collarbone.

Shivering, she puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes her body into a sitting position, slipping a knee down on either side of my hips. I clench my jaw, almost in agony, as she moves over me, the warm heart of her body teasing my fierce need for her. She lets out a soft gasp of pleasure as I shift my hips slightly to press up against her, the bittersweet rush of desire making me too impatient, too greedy.

Outside the window, the sky is streaked with the first signs of dawn, the horizon pale as the night dissolves into day. As the knowledge that I must soon leave her slices through my soul, I close my eyes and let sensation wash away the pain one last time.

~*~*~*~*~

I'm hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Will I always be here
In your room

Not enough time.

Desperately, I wrap myself around Michael as through trying to slip inside his skin, but it's not enough. It will never be enough...and I don't know if I have the strength to let him go.

I was right to be afraid when Michael touched me. In one final moment of clarity, I had tried to pull away, the sense of reaching the point of no return suddenly so terrifying that I froze. I was afraid...not of Michael, but of my own feelings. I was afraid of the morning that would surely follow the night that we would have together.

Perhaps it would have been better never to have know that he could make me shiver with one touch of his hand, that his kiss could ignite a heat inside me that burned so brightly that I could hardly stand the pure joy of it. Then I feel his hands on me and heat suffuses my body, dissolving all rational thought.

Michael touches my face and hair, his hands stroking my body slowly, deliberately...as though he is trying to learn me by heart. I close my eyes in quiet despair as he caresses my face, unable to face the dark longing that I see in his eyes, knowing that it is only a reflection of my own sorrow.

Without speaking, I begin to mimic his movements, touching his face, kissing the warm column of his neck, outlining the contours of his chest with my trembling fingertips. I want something to remember, I think fiercely, blinking away the tears that suddenly sting my eyes. Threading my fingers through his unruly hair, all I know is I want to feel something apart from the gnawing emptiness inside me for the rest of my life...and I no longer care if it makes the stark reality of daylight twice as painful.

Michael is watching me through hooded eyes, his breathing harsh and unsteady. He feels it too...this sense of time slipping away. I hold his eyes with mine and put my hand on his chest to steady myself as I move over him. Beneath my splayed fingers, his heart skips a beat then starts to pound urgently as I rock against him. My breath seems to get stuck in my throat as his hands reach out to rest lightly on my hips, his thumbs stroking my stomach gently. Slick heat pools in my groin, an aching rush of molten fire. Michael's breath is a hiss between tightly clenched lips as I grip his body with my knees and press myself against him.

His fingers dig into my thighs, but Michael doesn't rush or try to guide me. I don't want to rush...not this time. If this is the last time... I lean down to kiss him hungrily as my body opens to his, my head swimming with desire as I feel him, rigid and hot between my own damp heat. Michael cups my bottom in his hands, lifting his hips. A shudder ripples through his body as he slowly enters me, the hard length of him filling the emptiness inside me so completely that I hear myself gasping out his name, overwhelmed by the fierce rush of heat.

Time seems to slow, thinning down to a minute pinpoint of exquisite agony as we make love for what we both know is the last time. We writhe together in a slow dance of need, touching and taking. I can already feel the cold tendrils of daybreak clawing at the cocoon of warmth that we have created and I push them away in a despairing panic. I need to imprint this man onto my body's memory if I am to find the strength to let him go.

Michael kisses me with growing desperation, his mouth hot and insistent as he begins to thrust into me more urgently. The spark of release catches and flares to life in an instant, simmering along my veins as I feel his rigid heat push deeper inside me with every thrust of his hips. Michael mutters something in French under his breath, and draws me down to him, taking the aching tips of my breasts into his mouth one by one.

I close my eyes, completely overwhelmed by the wave of sensation buffeting my body. Then he touches me, his warm fingers slipping inside me with devastating accuracy, and I am lost. I jerk against him as the first delicate ripples of warmth begin to spread, my blood seeming to thicken and swell as it rushes through my veins. Michael lifts me higher, his hardened arousal stroking deep inside the trembling cradle of my body again and again, his fingers caressing the fevered ache between my legs until the ripples become waves of release that tumble me over the edge of the world.

I hear myself cry out, and Michael's hands are on my shoulders as we roll and fall together. The bed is suddenly beneath my back, Michael's breath hot and harsh in my ear. He takes me hard, pinning me against the mattress as his body surges into mine in desperation. No longer gentle or slow, Michael kisses me almost brutally, his tongue sweeping my mouth urgently.

When he trembles against me in the split-second before his climax claims him, I feel the answering shudder deep inside me and thrust up against him. Michael slants his mouth across mine in another hungry kiss as he begins to shake, moaning my own name into my mouth as his body begins to pulse hotly inside mine.

We cling to each other as the storm crashes down around us, alone together in a world that is rapidly disintegrating. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I press my lips to his skin and inhale deeply, trying to memorize his scent, the warm taste of his skin.

After what seems like an eternity of listening to the hypnotic sound of his heart beating against mine, I feel Michael's hand underneath my chin, lifting my head to look at him. His eyes are darker than usual, passion warring with sorrow in their green depths as he studies me lingeringly.

I swallow hard and bite back the words that I long to say, suddenly afraid that he has already seen them in my face. Closing my eyes in despair, I feel his mouth on mine...a soft warm kiss that feels achingly like a goodbye.

~*~*~*~*~

you are everything
i've no safety net
and I accept I'm addicted to this kiss
breathless and intense
you consume me
like you've found a growing space
and I have no defense
my radar sends a warning
trying to numb my soul
trying to keep control
but I'm falling
the resistor has been broken down
inside me

Outside the window, the sky is streaked with the first signs of dawn, the horizon pale as night dissolves into day. As the knowledge that I must soon leave her slices through my soul, I close my eyes and let sensation wash away the pain one last time.

Nikita caresses my face, her touch light and heartbreakingly tender as she leans forward, her mouth hot on my neck. Her soft hair brushes my face as I stroke my hands down the smooth skin of her back and I inhale instinctively, the warm scent of her making my head swim. The sudden sense of having come home is overwhelmingly, shockingly real and my chest tightens with dread. My undeniable fear of what tomorrow will bring should have curbed my passion, but instead I find myself wanting her more now than I ever have before. Feeling her weight shift as she leans back, I open my eyes to find Nikita watching me, her eyes a blue shimmer.

The need for her sharpens my senses, my skin feeling tight and brittle, as though it could be abraded by the slightest touch. I can feel her hunger calling to mine, a siren's song that I fear I will never be able to answer again.

I should have been strong enough for both of us. It's my last coherent thought as Nikita dances her hips against me, her hands trailing down my chest, fingertips lightly tormenting. My breath burning in my lungs, I bite back a groan as she pushes against me fiercely, all thoughts of being strong suddenly disintegrating into a confused, euphoric kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations.

Although I sense Nikita wants to lead me through this, the craving to feel her skin beneath my hands becomes too much. I reach out, sliding my hands up her smooth thighs to rest on her hips. The blood pounds in my veins and the throb of lust grows heavier, my erection painfully taut, straining against the heated flesh between her thighs. Nikita moves over me slowly, creating a sensual friction that steals away my self-control in a heartbeat.

My hands tighten on her body involuntarily as I desperately fight the urge to shove her onto her back and take her quickly, roughly. With a supreme effort, I push aside the dangerously primal hunger, knowing instinctively that it is not what Nikita wants from me in this moment. I am not the only one who knows that our time together is nearly done, that the real world is waiting to claim this night from us. She wants to take as well as give...her need is no less than mine.

As I struggle with my own demons, Nikita's eyes meet mine, and I am awed by the implicit trust on her face. Not looking away, she shifts her body slightly, and I feel the hot embrace of her sex, seeking, inviting. Swallowing hard, I slip my hands beneath her bottom, lifting her, needing her too much to wait any longer. My vision blurring with lust, I push against her heat, a shudder of pure ecstasy shaking my body as she takes me in, her body wet and tight around me.

Nikita gasps my name softly as I bury myself deeper within her, the primitive cry making me even harder, my heartbeat pulsing inside her warmth. She puts her hands on my shoulders and lifts herself slowly before pushing down against me, riding my desire, riding her own need.

We kiss, a heady tasting, and lust burns beneath my skin, searing bone deep. Stroking the gentle slopes of her breasts, I cradle the warm weight of them in my unsteady hands. Her flesh grows warmer as I bend my head to take her into my mouth, her nipples hard and wanting against my tongue. Nikita gasps quietly as my teeth nip at her, closing her eyes in erotic defeat as her release stalks her.

Slipping my hand between her legs, I touch her gently, stroking, coaxing. Panting shallowly, Nikita trembles against my questing hand, her thighs tightening around my hips almost painfully. I watch her face, slack with pleasure, and I can no longer hold back the tidal wave of hunger. I begin to move against her, my heart crashing violently against my ribs as I thrust deeper, heavy and hard inside her, my fingers curling inside her slippery heat.

Nikita stiffens, waiting, as though poised on a sensual precipice. I dig my fingers into her thigh and jerk her down onto me, hard, fast. She shudders and cries out, a throaty moan that makes my blood boil in my veins as she rocks against me, helpless in her passion.

Her turbulent pleasure makes me savage with wanting, my whole body aching with the need to take her, without gentleness, without tenderness. Pure, desperate desire streaks through me as I hook my arms around her, tumbling her onto the bed in a heated blur. Burying my face in the warm crook of her neck, I thrust into her almost brutally. Without hesitation, Nikita meets me stroke for stroke, wrapping her legs around me, pressing her heels against the small of my back, a low keening cry trapped in her throat.

I had not wanted to push her too fast, but any lingering doubts have rapidly dissolved, melting away to nothing in the firestorm our bodies are creating. Nikita rakes her fingernails down my back and I know that this is what we have both craved...this dark, violent possession of each other's bodies and souls. Pressing her deeper into the soft mattress, I kiss her roughly, swallowing every breath, every soft moan.

Blindly, we twist and roll, advancing and retreating in a voluptuous dance I know will forever haunt my memory. Nikita's mouth is warm and soft, her tongue seeking mine hungrily as she rocks her hips against me. A shiver dances across my skin, a rolling wave of acute pleasure that makes my whole body stiffen in anticipation, craving release and yet filled with the desperate need to never let this end. Nikita chokes back a quiet sob and writhes beneath me, her hands on my hips urging me on.

I take her mouth in a furious kiss, cupping her breasts in hands that are no longer gentle, my need making me reckless, rough. Shuddering against me, Nikita returns my kiss with almost violent passion as her body's slick embrace begins to ripple around me, completely shattering what little control I have left. The blood thundering in my ears, my body surrenders helplessly to the erotic onslaught.

I hear myself cry out her name against her lips as my release crashes over me, her demanding mouth stealing the very breath from my lungs. Nikita's fingers dig into my thighs, pulling me deeper into the trembling hollow of her body as she twists beneath me, lost in her own surrender. Hot pleasure floods my senses as I drop my hands to her hips and jerk her hard against me, plunging into her brutally as the throbbing ache in my groin burgeons into a blistering rush of heat.

With one last gasp, I shudder against her as we collapse in a tangle of sweat-sheened limbs. Even as my body revels in the sanctuary it has found in hers, the thought of losing her all over again spears my heart, tingeing my soul with an anguished sorrow that is almost overwhelming. Too soon...too late...too much...never enough.

Gathering Nikita to my heart, I roll onto my back, exhausted in both body and spirit. She stretches out by my side, hooking one leg over mine, resting her head on my shoulder. As she buries her face against my neck, I can feel her heart fluttering madly against my skin. I close my eyes, feeling my own heartbeat gradually return to normal, the waves of sexual release slowly receding, leaving behind the lethargy of pure repletion.

And regret.

It's not remorse for what I have done here tonight. Not matter what the consequences, I would not turn back the clock on this night. It is a miserable feeling of regret for every day I must now spend without her, my body and heart crippled by the knowledge of what could have been.

After a few moments, Nikita takes a deep breath and shifts against me, curling an arm around my waist. My right arm is under her neck, and I begin to stroke the damp skin of her back, feeling her shiver at my touch. She doesn't look at me, almost as though she is afraid to meet my eyes. I take her chin in my hand, tilting her head up so I can see her. We stare at each other for a long moment, my breath hitching in my throat as I see what is flickering in the depths of her eyes.

Need. Sorrow. Desire.

All my words fail me, dying on my lips as we see the truth in each other's eyes. With speech impossible and far too dangerous, I bow my head and kiss her gently, my mouth lingering on hers, a soft kiss that seems to burn my lips. Nikita swallows hard and looks away, and I see her eyes fill with tears before she buries her head once more in the crook of my neck.

The cool night air washes over us as we lie together, holding each other as dawn slowly lightens the sky. Exhaustion claws at my body, demanding to be acknowledged. I give in, pulling the sheets up over our entwined bodies, unable to deny myself this one thing to take with me...the memory of Nikita falling asleep in my arms.

~*~*~*~*~

I remember when you left in the morning at daybreak
So silent you stole from my bed
To go back to the one who possesses your soul
And I back to the life that I dread.

So I ran like the wind to the water
Please don't leave me again I cried
And I threw bitter tears at the ocean
But all that came back was the tide

The dawn that follows the night is inevitable. I know that. And yet I can't escape the aching sadness that threads itself through my soul, as I lie, unable to sleep, watching the cabin gradually become lighter. Next to me, Nikita stirs in her sleep, rolling over languidly and fitting her warm body against mine. Closing my eyes, I desperately pray for the strength that I had always taken for granted.

I look down at her and sorrow floods my heart. I have to go.

At this thought, I immediately want to turn my back on everything outside this room, to stay and lose myself in the woman beside me again and again. Knowing that this is not possible does not stop me wishing for it for an intensity that unnerves me completely.

Not wanting to wake her, I gently ease my arm out from its position beneath Nikita's sleep-tousled head, my breath catching in my throat as she murmurs my name in her sleep and rolls onto her stomach, sliding her arms beneath the pillow. I sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, just looking at her, my mind knowing that I must go, my heart unwilling to leave the warm sanctuary of her presence.

Was this a mistake? I'm not sure...I only know that last night was the inevitable conclusion to a journey that Nikita and I had begun the day she was brought into Section.

Knowing that delaying my departure will only make it more uncomfortable for both of us, I leave the bed and walk to the chair where Nikita, at some stage during the night while I was sleeping, has put my clothes in a neat pile. This simple gesture is almost my undoing, and it takes all the willpower I possess to turn my back on her and walk silently to the tiny bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I find myself dusting off my overcoat, trying to remove the more obvious signs that it spent most of the night on a dusty wooden floor. The memory of how it came to be there is so instantly, painfully arousing that I know I have already stayed too long. Despite this, I stand beside the bed and watch Nikita sleep for a few more precious seconds, knowing with a dull certainty that the peace between us will be shattered the instant I walk from this room.

I don't want to leave without speaking with her, and yet the thought of waking her, having her reach for me sleepily, her hands curling around my shoulders...it's far too tempting. Closing my eyes in a futile effort to dispel this enticing image, I leave the cabin, making an abrupt decision to wait above deck for Nikita to awaken. The fresh morning air stings my eyes, brushing coldly against my face. I slip my bare hands into my pockets and walk slowly to the bow of the boat, scanning the immediate area more out of habit than anything else.

Staring out to the horizon, my thoughts once more turn to the sleeping woman below deck, and I am saddened slightly by the thought that I have no inkling as to her plans, or even her next destination. Do I even have the right to ask? We have spent the night together, indulging ourselves in a mutual passion that even now astounds me. Hours spent pleasuring ourselves, and each other, and we never once spoke of the future.

The thought of life in Section without her is almost unbearable, and yet I know that I cannot ask her to return. Nikita doesn't belong in Section...she never did. She is a true innocent, snatched from life and thrown into a deadly situation that she never deserved. I close my eyes in despair, torn between what is right and what I want.

~*~*~*~

I'm cold. Why am I cold? Eyes tightly shut against the rudely intrusive light of day, I roll over and reach out an exploring hand, coming awake with a jolt when I find only cool air and even cooler sheets. I sit up, wincing, as every muscle in my body seems to protest silently. Not wanting to dwell on just why I'm so sore, I toss the bedcovers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

I can't believe this...he's left without saying goodbye? How could he do that after...my face flushes hotly as the memories of last night come flooding back in a heated rush. Groaning, I bury my face in my hands, silently berating myself.

Well, what did you think would happen? One night only...you knew that as well as he did. As amazing as last night was, there's no way it can happen again.

No matter what I tell myself, it doesn't make the pain go away. Miserable, I climb out of bed and half-heartedly begin to rummage through my bag, searching for clean clothes. There's no way I can face putting on the clothes that I let Michael tear off my traitorous body last night...the thought of smelling his now familiar scent on my shirt all day is enough to make my tummy quiver with lust. I can't bear it.

As I pull long pants and a slightly crushed sweater out of the depths of my duffel bag, the sound of footsteps over my head sends a chill right through me...until I realize who it must be. Bloody man, I think resentfully as I toss the clothes onto the bed and rush to the water closet. I splash cold water from the tiny basin onto my face in an effort to rid myself of the sea hag look I appear to be sporting, if the image in the little cracked mirror is any guide, and run my fingers through my hair, smoothing out the worst of the tangles.

Now that my ears are attuned to the sounds above me, I can track Michael as he walks. He almost sounds as though he's pacing, I think with a dull pang. Oh god, this is going to be so awkward. Maybe it would have been much easier if we had woken up together, instead of this 'meeting fully dressed in broad daylight' business. But then...walking up together presents its own dangers. Forcing my mind away from such thoughts, I dress hurriedly, my fingers turning clumsily into thumbs as I tuck in my undershirt. My God, just look at me...I'm shaking like a leaf. Why am I so afraid?

Sitting down on the bed with a thud, I pull on my socks and slip my feet into my boots, already knowing what is causing the fear fluttering inside my chest. I knew that I would feel like this afterwards...why am I letting this situation get to me?

I get to my feet and start to walk slowly toward the side stairs that lead above deck. Michael is going back to Section, and I am going to Italy. That's it...end of story...finito. No more PDA messages, no more contact. As goodbyes go, last night was spectacular, but that's all it was.

I'm still arguing with myself when I reach the upper deck, my heart sinking with every step I take, knowing that this is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I've walked away from him before. I can do it again.

But when I reach the top, I see Michael and all those carefully prepared arguments fly out of my head. I pause for a few seconds, allowing myself the luxury of looking at him one last time. He's standing ramrod straight at the bow of the boat, his back to me, staring off into the distance as though waiting for something.

I take a deep breath and walk toward him, my pounding heart feeling as though it's leapt up into my throat. I know what he's waiting for...he's waiting for me.

~*~*~*~*~

All I need from you
And that's all
Regardless of whatever you do
And that is that you understand
That I'll never turn my back on you

I feel the vibration of Nikita's footsteps a split-second before I hear them, and the empty feeling of loss grows heavier in the pit of my stomach. Forcing myself to turn and meet her eyes, my heart clenches as she gives me a hesitant smile before sitting down on one of the wooden benches. The silence between us is painfully awkward and the connection that existed between us under the cover of darkness seems very far away.

Nikita busies herself tying her shoelaces with unnecessary care and attention, her manner brusque. I take a deep breath and watch her face as I ask the question that has been niggling at me for hours. "What will you do now"?

Nikita finishes tying her laces with a snap and straightens up, leaning her elbows on her knees. She won't look at me as she answers, her voice flat. "Keep moving."

The thought of losing her again is suddenly and painfully unacceptable. And yet what excuse can I give to convince her to maintain contact? Unable to stand still any longer, I walk behind her to the other side of the deck, my eyes drinking in the sight of her.

"Let me help you." My tone is casual, but I hear the betraying urgency behind my words.

Nikita bows her head slightly and stares straight ahead. "Michael..." She hesitates, as though gathering up courage. "It's better if you don't know where I am. " Her voice hardens slightly. "Better for both of us."

I know the truth in her words better than she does, but last night...I looked into her soul when I held her in my arms. I saw the feelings that she was trying to hide. Nikita doesn't want this any more than I do.

I take a deep breath and do what I have spent six months swearing I would not. "Come back to the Section." My heart starts to thump unsteadily against my ribs as I struggle to sound impassive. "Let me bring you in."

Nikita answers so quickly that it's obvious that the thought has already occurred to her. "Even if I wanted to...how could I?" Her tone is angry, defensive. Despite all my good intentions, my pulse quickens as I sense her reluctance to totally dismiss the idea.

She sighs heavily. "Michael, they would know you'd helped me." Nikita shrugs slightly, weary defeat tingeing her voice as she turns to look at me briefly. "It can't be done."

I know that what I am about to say will only complicate what is between us even further. I also know that I'm unwilling to examine my motives too closely, but I can no longer keep this from her.

Moving closer, I look down at her bowed head as I speak. "After the explosion..." Nikita stiffens at my words, her whole body tensing. "I started to believe that you hadn't made it out in time." The simple words cannot possibly convey the horror of believing that I hadn't been able to keep her alive.

The remembered misery of the last six months comes rushing back with a vengeance, and I struggle to keep my voice steady. "I thought you were dead." Nikita shifts restlessly, twisting her hands together nervously.

"When I saw you in Lyon...it brought me back." Nikita still says nothing, her body language that of someone who is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Unable to bear watching her fearful expression, I look away before taking a deep breath and listen to myself tell Nikita that which I never thought I would...the truth of how I feel about her.

"I never knew I needed you so much."

~*~*~*~*~

It's better this way I said
Having seen this place before
Where everything we say and do
Hurts us all the more

"What will you do now?"

I can feel Michael's eyes on me as he crosses the deck behind me, but I don't turn around. What I'm about to do is going to be hard enough...maybe it will be easier if I don't look at him.

Silently cursing the fact that I can't draw out tying these damn shoelaces any longer, I clear my throat lightly and try to sound as though I have this sort of intense conversation all the time.

"Keep moving."

Michael doesn't reply for a moment but when he does, all my determined plans for being strong come completely undone.

"Let me help you."

Oh god...if only you realized what you're offering me. But then I think of life in Section and my mind baulks at his words. Gritting my teeth, I answer him brusquely, not quite able to believe what I'm saying. "Michael, it's better if you don't know where I am." A little flicker of loneliness creeps into my heart but with an effort I manage to ignore it. "It's better for both of us."

There is a tense little silence before I hear Michael draw a long breath. His voice doesn't quite sound like his own.

"Come back to the Section."

Despite my warm clothes, a cold shiver dances down my spine in reaction to Michael's rather unemotional plea. Unsure as to whether I'm angrier with him for suggesting it or myself for even considering it, I stare blindly at the horizon as his words echo inside my mind. How can he ask this of me?

When I don't say anything, Michael quickly lays another scrap of temptation before me. "Let me bring you in."

Don't do this to me, Michael...please don't ask me to do this. I shake my head slightly, my words coming out sharp and angry. "Even if I wanted to...how could I? Michael, they'd know you'd helped me." I shrug and turn to look at him, desperately trying to get a grip on my rapidly weakening resolve. "It can't be done."

Michael says nothing, and I turn back to stare at the horizon. After a few seconds I hear his footsteps right behind me as he comes to stand at my shoulder. I stare resolutely ahead, determined not to be put off by his closeness, my hands clenching on my thighs in an effort not to reach out to him.

He starts to speak, his voice low and not quite steady. "After the explosion, I started to believe that you hadn't made it out in time." Guilt floods my heart at the quiet pain in his voice. If I had found the courage to reply to his first message, I could have spared him this.

"I thought you were dead." I open my mouth to speak and then close it again. What can I say now that can possibly make amends for the heavy burden of guilt that my long silence seems to have laid on his shoulders?

"When I saw you in Lyon...it brought me back." My heart flutters at his words and I long to tell him that I know exactly how he felt that night. But I can't. I can't do this...I can't let him see how much last night meant to me...not when I'm trying to cut all ties and move on. It's too hard.

Michael hesitates, as though unsure he should continue. He sighs unsteadily and my pulse quickens, an odd feeling of anticipation making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

"I never knew I needed you so much."

His quiet confession punches me right in the heart. A bittersweet joy bubbles up in my chest, as though someone has popped a bottle of champagne inside my belly. After what feels like a lifetime of floundering in uncertainty, so sure that there can never be anything between us, I feel as though Michael has just thrown me a lifeline, and I want to grab onto it so badly that it frightens me out of my wits.

The urge to say yes is almost overwhelming, and I can't believe that I'm even contemplating doing what he asks. I feel completely knocked off balance by his quiet declaration and a tiny flame of suspicion flickers into hesitant life. I've been down this road with Michael one too many times. Is that his intention, to knock me off balance? Dangle hope in front of me until I can't think straight? Tell me he needs me so I will do what he wants me to do?

I don't know. All I know is that I no longer have the strength to fight my feelings for him. Last night was the first time I had felt something other than despair in over half a year. After six months of just floating through life, feeling half alive, I finally felt something. I can't cut myself off from him again. I barely survived last time, and that was before...I try to shut off my thoughts but it's already too late. My mind is reeling with images of our lovemaking, my body quickening as I remember how he made me feel.

The thought of never seeing Michael again is almost too painful to bear, and yet how else can this end? The very idea of willingly strolling back into Section makes my stomach shake with nausea, but I still open my big mouth and ask the question.

"So...what do we do now?"

~*~*~*~*~

Strange compulsions that I can't control
Pure possession of my heart and soul
I must live with this reality

"I never knew I needed you so much."

Hearing myself say the words is somehow less of a shock than the rush of relief that sweeps through me as I unburden this truth to Nikita. Holding my breath, I wait, unsure as to what answer I want her to give. Life in Section will be far from ideal, and yet what kind of freedom has she found for herself out here?

Nikita stares straight ahead for a long moment, and I have the feeling that she is waging a silent internal battle, fighting the fear she has lived with for so long. Suddenly, as if coming to a decision, she takes a deep breath and brushes the hair out of her face.

"So...what do we do now?"

Whether Nikita's use of the word 'we' was conscious or otherwise, it still sends a quick thrill of euphoria through me, a rush of triumph that is quickly tempered by the dull certainty that trying to bring Nikita back into Section and keep her alive at the same time may well prove to be impossible.

Nikita's question only serves to make me uncomfortably aware that, at this moment, I honestly have no idea how her return could be orchestrated. It may be unwise to admit this to her after I have spent the last ten minutes trying to convince her to return to Section, but I don't want to lie.

"I don't know."

She says nothing, and the heavy knot of sorrow tightens in my chest. Glancing toward the sky, I know that I have delayed my departure as long as I dare. Section will tolerate its operatives being off the grid for only so long. I have to go.

It's the last thing I want to do. What I want to do is to walk over to Nikita, take her by the hand and lead her below deck so that I can find my soul again in the warmth of her embrace. But that is something I can't allow, and for both our sakes, what happened between us last night can never happen again.

"I've got to go back."

With these words, I turn to look at her one last time, unsure as to whether the sudden hollow ache in the pit of my stomach is guilt over what I have just asked Nikita to do, or an intense longing for her to ask me to stay.

Nikita bows her head and says nothing. Swallowing the disappointment that thickens my throat, I turn and force myself to walk away from her, desperately trying to convince myself that this, as Nikita pointed out, is better for both of us. My inability to keep my emotions in check has completely unnerved me, and it's not an enjoyable sensation. I have nearly reached the edge of the deck when I hear Nikita move, then her voice behind me, hesitant and unsure.

"So...uh..."

A warm flush of hope steals through me, despite my renewed determination to keep my feelings under control. Controlling my physical reaction proves to be less difficult, and I turn around slowly and stay where I am, resisting the temptation to walk back to her.

Nikita puts a hand up to shield her face from the bright morning sun, her eyes narrowing as she gazes at me. We look at each other for a long moment, the air between us filled with everything we haven't said. Finally, Nikita blinks into the sun, her expression concerned.

"Who are you gonna say gave you the information about the Freedom League?"

~*~*~*~*~

While every line speaks the language of love
It never held the meaning I was thinking of
And I can't decide over right or wrong.
I guess sometimes you need the place where you belong

"I've got to go."

They're the words I've been dreading, the words I've been waiting for Michael to say for hours. I knew that this moment would come...so why do I feel as though I've just been punched in the stomach?

I can feel him watching me, almost as though he is waiting for me to speak. I can't. There's no way I can explain to him how last night turned my entire world on its head...that the thought of watching him walk away now is almost more than I can stand.

So I say nothing, and after a few tense seconds, he turns to leave, the soft tread of his footsteps moving away seeming to echo hollowly inside me. Staring miserably into the distance, a thought suddenly occurs to me, taking me quite by surprise. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier.

"So...uh..." I hesitate, a little unsure of how to phrase the question without sounding as though I'm stating the obvious. Or, even worse, giving him the impression that I'm desperate to keep him here, just a little bit longer. Which wouldn't be too far from the truth, I think with a slight pang of guilt.

Michael freezes before slowly turning around to look at me. The sun is shining right into my eyes, and I put up a hand to block it out, hoping that Michael can't see my hand shaking ever so slightly. He waits patiently for me to speak, and I know I don't imagine the faint flicker of hope in his eyes. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the almost overwhelming urge to beg him to stay with me.

"Who are you gonna say gave you the information about the Freedom League?"

Michael stares at me, disappointment flashing like lightening across his face before he can hide his reaction to my words, and I know it wasn't what he wanted to hear. I know that it wasn't what I wanted to say. His eyes never leaving mine, Michael takes a few steps toward me and stops a few feet away. His eyes are now guarded...his expression carefully smoothed of all emotion.

"I don't know. It's my problem. Not yours."

I stare at him. It's as though the man I spent the night with has suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced by this empty-eyed stranger. Stung by his casual dismissal of my concerns, I put my hands on my hips and glare at him.

"So that's it?" Try as I might, I can't stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth...it's as though suddenly seeing Michael in Section mode has loosened my tongue in the worst possible way.

"Michael, you ask me to come back into Section, then you say you don't know how it can be done?" His eyes narrow slightly at that, but I don't care. All my tangled emotions are pushing their way out and there's nothing I can do to keep them from coming.

"Then you just walk off, with no thought as to how you're going to explain how you managed to find the location of the Freedom League base in only 12 hours?"

Michael's face tightens with anger and he takes the two short steps to my side, his hands shooting out to grasp my forearms tightly. Startled into silence, I look at him in confusion, my heart pounding madly, his touch burning the skin beneath my sweater. We stare at each other, and I watch his pupils dilate, his suddenly heated gaze dropping to my mouth, and I know that he feels it too...this unbelievable magnetic pull.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Unable to be so close to him without wanting to reach for him, I wrench my arms away from his grasp and take a step back, needing to put some space between us. Eyeing him carefully, I clear my throat and try again, glad to hear that my voice sounds almost normal. "What are you going to tell them?"

Michael presses his lips together in a thin line, as though annoyed by my persistence, but I see a faint gleam of admiration in his eyes. "I have several contacts that would have been able to provide the information...eventually." He looks over my shoulder, at the horizon, then finally at me, his eyes meeting mine in a gaze that warms my blood.

"If I can find a way to make it happen, will you come back in?"

Oh god, I can't think straight...I don't know what I want any more. "I...I don't know."

Michael searches my face, moving closer as he speaks. "You said yourself that this wasn't freedom."

I look away angrily. Damn you, Michael. I can't do this... Even as I think the words, even as I tell myself that there is no way in hell that I will go back, I hear myself answering, my heart in my mouth.

"Yes." I dart a quick glance at him, wanting to see his reaction. "I'll come in."

An odd expression flashes across Michael's face, a strange mixture of relief and apprehension, but he only nods, infuriatingly unfazed. "Keep the PDA on." He looks at me calmly. "I'll contact you when I can."

Trying to ignore the utter panic that grips me, I fold my arms across my chest and nod back. "Fine."

We stare at each other for a few seconds in silence. Finally, Michael turns away and takes two steps toward the dock before spinning around to face me, his eyes dark with emotion. Barely remembering how to breathe, I don't move away as he takes hold of my elbows and tugs me forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He takes my mouth in a bruising, almost angry kiss that steals the breath from my lungs, turns on his heel and walks away.

~*~*~*~*~

You have bound my heart with subtle chains
So much pleasure that it feels like pain
So entwined now that we can't shake free

As I reach the outskirts of Paris, I still can't shake the feeling that I have left half of myself behind in Grenoble, and anger and guilt are haunting me in equal measure. There is no argument that will ever justify my actions of this morning, and yet that is precisely what I have been trying to do since I left Nikita.

She is unhappy with the life she has made for herself on the outside. It's as though she is caught between two worlds, unable to find peace in either of them. And I wanted her to come back into Section. I pushed her. I felt her wavering and I pushed harder.

What gave you the right to make the decision for her?

Heated memories flicker through my mind, a private screening that makes my breath catch painfully in my throat, my pulse quickening. I had every right.

She had reluctantly, angrily agreed to return to Section, glaring at me with so much fire in her eyes that I felt the heat between us ignite once more. Angry triumph had surged through me, making me reckless. I had been no more able to stop myself reaching for her than I could keep from asking her to return to Section.

In the split-second before I pulled her toward me, I saw the wariness in Nikita's eyes, but it only served to fuel the fire of my need. Pulling her close, I had kissed her hungrily, tasting her mouth fiercely one last time. She had gasped, her body trembling against mine, her splayed hands on my chest covering the frantic beat of my heart.

Now, five hours after leaving Grenoble, I still have no idea how I was able to walk away from her. I press my foot a little harder on the accelerator as my mind and body become awash with sensual memories of the woman I have just left. Her scent is on my clothes, the taste of her still on my tongue, my hands aching to cup and caress every smooth curve of her glorious body.

In an effort to bring my rebellious thoughts to heel, I drag my mind back to what lies ahead. I need time to orchestrate Nikita's return to Section, and time is not a luxury I possess...not when my wife and son are expecting me to come home this evening. I have to call Elena. Taking a deep breath, I dial the familiar number. The phone at the other end rings once, then switches to voicemail. The line is engaged. I sigh and disconnect the call without leaving a message, my mood darkening. It's not hard for me to understand my sudden reluctance to speak with her.

Guilt.

I have carried out many Valentine operations since my marriage to Elena. Every one of them has left me feeling unsettled for a day or so afterward, creating some distance between Elena and myself. But the feeling soon passes with no lingering aftereffects.

Today, however, things are very different. I feel weighed down by the burden of betrayal...a betrayal that I desperately wanted...an infidelity that I willingly sought out. Having sex with a target on Section's orders is one thing. Seeking out Nikita, and spending the night making love with her, is quite another thing altogether.

Hoping, more than anything else, to shut off my mind to thoughts of Nikita, I dial my home once more. The tone peals several times before the receiver is finally lifted.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

Elena's delight is obvious. "Michael! Where are you?" Without giving me a chance to reply, she continues, her voice softening. "I've missed you so much."

Stabbed by guilt, I make myself smile into the receiver as I reply. "I miss you too, but I'm afraid that I'm still in Brussels." Elena sighs sadly in my ear, and my discomfiture increases.

"This is going to drag on for another day or so, so it looks like I won't be home now until Friday."

That gives me three days to cover my tracks and work out a profile to bring Nikita back into Section, as well as coordinate the search for the Freedom League base.

Elena sighs again, but when she speaks it is with her usual air of patient understanding. "Is it going well?"

"It's going well. The investors are pleased."

"That's wonderful..." Elena suddenly sounds almost distracted and the reason quickly becomes clear. With a sinking heart I hear her call out to my son. "Adam! Adam! Daddy's on the phone...do you want to say hello?"