Saturday morning and Nikita knew she should have been at the Section, running Felicia through her paces, but she'd passed the duty off to Cross for the day, figuring that she needed at least one day off. She had involved herself in all aspects of Felicia's training once the girl had been passed on to her and for the last month she had spent nearly every waking moment striving to do her best to prepare Felicia for her life with the Section. She wasn't Felicia's first trainer but unlike the situation with Karen, she had good words from her previous trainer and even a psychological work-up to help her along. Apparently this time she was to truly train a recruit, go through the whole process rather than spend a week evaluating and passing judgment.

Walking through the park, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun, she shoved her hands in her pocket as she watched a couple go down the sidewalk, the woman pushing a stroller, head turned to look at the man, laughing at something he said, and the man putting an arm around her shoulders as they continued to walk. Watching them she was reminded of times spent in surveillance here, of walking along that same path with Michael, and with that memory came the old stab of pain.

Hard to believe that it had been more than a year since the mission in Chernya, she mused as she walked. A mission to determine a possible location for one of a half-dozen nuclear warheads gone missing after the collapse of the Soviet Union had taken them to the state of Chernya and while penetrating a seemingly inocuous warehouse that built furniture, they'd gotten a file identifying the locations of three warheads. Michael had been the one to gain entrance, posing as a worker, and gain the file, rendezvousing with the team at a prearranged location to pass the disk, but from there it had gone terribly wrong.

Despite Michael's precautions, an alarm had gone off and he'd barely managed to escape, missing for nearly a day before the planned rendezvous. Even as he'd arrived to pass them off the disk, soldiers had appeared and in the ensuing gunfight, Michael had gone down. She'd managed to crawl over to him, trying to drag him back and out of the line of fire, but he'd given her the disk and told her to go. Gunfire around her and Taylor shouting at her to fall back, crying as she held Michael's hand, watching him as he struggled for the breath to tell her again to go, all over blood, too much blood. And finally she had left him to crawl back to the others, watching as the soldiers came forward, her last sight of one standing over Michael's still form and as she had turned away, she had heard one single shot.

His death had left a void in the Section it had taken Operations and Madeline months to fill, a succession of operatives to be tried out and discarded before they had found Zachary. And there had been a void in Nikita's life as well, the loss of Michael affecting her far more deeply than she had thought it would. Until he was gone, she hadn't realized how much of a buffer he had been between her and the Section, how in his own strange way he had been her ally in the hostile, uncertain world of the Section. And on a far more personal level she missed him. His successor Zachary was quite not simply not Michael. From the beginning her relationship with Zachary had been strained and seeing him for the first time in Michael's office, cementing himself as Michael's replacement, had brought home to her the reality of her situation here. That--outside of Walter and Birkhoff--she no longer had any real ally here, that her continued survival in the Section depended on her ability to adapt and if she were to continue to live, she would have to learn to bend so that she didn't break. A painful concession to make but once it was done, it seemed easier to make others, to accept what she did as necessary...

She kicked at a stone in her path, shaking her head a little, whatever enjoyment she'd been able to find in this reprieve from the Section gone. Over the last year her involvement had intensified and bit by bit the Section had wormed its way into her life, into her thoughts, so much so that, as she walked, she started to scrutinize passerbys, filing faces away in her memory. Paranoia starting to seep in, to pervade her waking moments and her dreams, and it took an effort to pull herself out of mission mode, to smile at the two children that ran past her on the path, their harried-looking mother following in close pursuit.

Glancing down at her watch, she saw she still had more than an hour before her lunch with Carla and decided to spend it browsing through the dress shop located next to the their favorite cafe. Maybe if she bought herself something feminine and terribly expensive she could shake this mood...smiling at the thought she spun on her heel to go back the way she came, a little more spring in her step as she walked.

Heading back to her car, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, half inside the car, eyes falling on a figure that stood beside a park bench, hands in pockets, watching her. Frowning, she found herself standing once more outside her car, one hand holding the door as she stared at the man in turn, started to take a step towards him but he was already turning away, hands in the pockets of the green Army coat he wore. And within a few seconds he had disappeared, lost behind a knot of tourists, leaving her to stare after him, puzzled by a nagging sense of recognition.

Shrugging it off she got into her car and drove away.

*************

Nikita stood just outside the workout area, arms draped across the railing and leaning forward as she watched Felicia spar with the sensei. Winced in sympathy as she went down hard on her back, the sensei reaching down to pull her up and saying something to her, Felicia nodding in response and moving back to a guard position. An improvement there--a week ago and she would have been thrown herself at the sensei without thought of the consequences, spitting mad. Instead this time she blocked his attack and put him down on the mat, a victory even if she did stand there, grinning like an idiot, long enough for the sensei to sweep her feet out from under her and pull her down to the mat with him, rolling over to place his arm across her throat. "She's coming along well."

Nikita glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Madeline's voice and then back at Felicia, watching as she managed to evade the sensei's attack and get one good blow in before getting tossed down again. "I think it comes natural to her." Even from the first time she'd seen her, Nikita had known Felicia was a born fighter and that spirit would help her to survive in the Section...if the Section didn't break it. And Nikita was determined to see to it that her spirit was *not* broken.

"You've done a good job with her." Nikita turned her head to look at Madeline as the older woman came to stand beside her, watching Felicia as well, and narrowed her eyes a little as she tried to gauge the other woman's sincerity. "You've instilled in her a sense of discipline, given her a focus."

"Did you think I couldn't do it? Couldn't train her properly?"

Madeline smiled, brown eyes softening as she shifted position to regard Nikita. "I have no doubts as to your abilities--I never have." The smile didn't fade as Nikita made a sound of disbelief, turning back to her study of Felicia, Madeline examining Nikita in turn, remaining quiet for a few moments. "So...how are things with you and Zachary?"

Nikita's back stiffened at the mention of Zachary's name but her eyes remained on her recruit. "What has he told you?" Their last mission together had not gone well--Nikita hadn't always done every thing Michael had told her but she had respected his ability and devotion to his team's safety, whereas she didn't think Zachary had that same concern. And had told him so, in full hearing of the rest of the team when he wouldn't let her take him aside...

"He has told me that you are a good operative, conscientious, and that you hold the lives of others before yours." Nikita flushed at the calm delivery, detecting underneath it a faint tone of censure, but held her tongue, waiting for Madeline to continue. "I understand that you were...fond...of Michael, Nikita, but *you* have to understand that the Section must continue. The work we do here is vital--we are responsible for the safety of millions of innocent lives. When placed up against those millions, one life is nothing."

A year ago such a comment would have drawn an impassioned speech about the sanctity of even one life but now...now Nikita remained silent, thinking of that one life lost, of how Michael had given everything for the Section and in the end gave them the one thing they had not taken from him. His life...

"He's not Michael, Madeline." she said tightly.

Madeline smiled sadly. "I know he's not. But he doesn't have to be your enemy." No response from Nikita, her head turned resolutely away, mouth a thin line, and Madeline touched her briefly on the shoulder. "Think about it." And was gone, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor echoing back to Nikita in the sudden silence. Letting out her breath in a ragged sigh, she closed her eyes, seeing in her mind's eye Michael standing up here and watching her as she'd trained. Always watching her, guiding her, standing between her and the Section, acting the guardian angel--in his memory she would do the same for Felicia.

Straightening she went down to the sparring area to greet her recruit.

*************

The next week flew by, a blur of training sessions and prepartion for a mission she would have to lead. Simple mission, just surveillance, and she considered taking Felicia along but knew it was too soon for her to go out of the Section. Saturday was spent doing surveillance, trailing the target--an arms dealer from Brazil--from restaurant to night club, and the plan had been for the surveillance to continue on Sunday but Mendes ended up spending the day in his hotel room, recovering from the excesses of the night before.

With the day free and Carla off visiting her mother, Nikita had puttered around her apartment for a few hours before deciding she needed fresh air and left the apartment. Not in the mood to shop, too restless for it, just wanting to feel the sun on her and watch other people go about their normal lives and so she went back to the park again, stopping to buy a bag of popcorn from a cart, popping a few kernels in her mouth as she slumped back against the bench.

"Spare some change, ma'am?"

Lazily Nikita turned her head at the sound of a man's voice, hand lifting to shield her eyes from the sun as she studied the man that stood beside the bench. Dressed like any one of the dozens of people that lived on the streets--worn, faded jeans and T-shirt that were loose on his thin frame, an oversized Army coat, scuffed boots--and she dismissed him as harmless after a moment's consideration, lowering her head as she opened her purse to look for a few dollar bills to give him. No matter how much time had passed she'd never forget what it was like to be on the streets...

His hand caught her arm and she looked at his hand, raising her eyes from his hand to his face, blue eyes glinting dangerously, lips parted to deliver a scathing remark, only to have the words die on her lips as she saw him for the first time.

Wavy brown hair fell past his shoulders, allowed to hang down into his eyes, rather than the old way he had of combing it back, a neatly trimmed beard adding to the change, face thinner than it had been a year ago, but it was the same somber gray eyes that looked back at her, his hand falling away from her arm. Michael took a step back from the bench, eyes flicking briefly around, and she got up quickly, extending a hand to touch him, to assure herself that he was real, lowering her hand just short of touching his cheek.

It took an effort to regain control, to force a dry smile, tilting her head a little sideways. "How about I buy you something to eat instead? You look like you could use it."

Michael inclined his head. "That would be kind of you."

"There's a cafe not far away...c'mon." Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she led the way out of the park, glancing continuously over her shoulder to make certain that he was still behind her, that he had not slipped away, wraith-like when her back was turned. A thousand questions to ask but she would wait until they reached the cafe...

**************

Given the time of day, after breakfast and before lunch, the cafe was virtually empty, just a few hangers-on from the breakfast crowd, and Nikita automatically asked for the booth in the back, against the wall and the front door easily viewable. Michael took the seat against the wall and Nikita slid into the booth across from him, waiting for the waitress to take their orders; for Nikita coffee and a croissant, for Michael a full breakfast--eggs, toast, hash browns, and bacon--and coffee, the waitress leaving a pot of coffee for them at the table and returning fairly quickly with their orders.

Tearing off pieces of her croissant and popping them in her mouth, Nikita watched Michael as he ate; it had been shocking to see him standing there, alive after all this time, and on the walk here she had kept thinking that if she looked away he would vanish like a mirage, had wanted to touch him, to hug him and kiss him, tell him how glad she was to see him alive. But she was as aware as he of potential watchers, had kept herself from touching him with an effort, just satisfied herself with a smile now and then. Underneath the joy was a vague sense of foreboding that she would not allow herself to acknowledge...

"So--where have you been all this time?" she asked casually, lifting her coffee cup to take a sip, watching him intently for his answer.

Taking a bite of his toast he stared down at his plate, pushing hash browns back with his fork. "Where I was left--Chernya." His eyes met hers briefly over the rim of his own coffee cup as he drank, not even a hint of accusation in his grey eyes but that didn't ease the stab of guilt she felt.

"I...I thought you were dead. If we'd known..." She trailed off, knowing how weak an excuse that sounded, remembering Klodno and leaving him behind that time as well.

He continued as if he hadn't heard her, speaking between bites. "They had orders to take one of us alive--otherwise they would have shot me. Instead they took me to a hospital, where the doctors managed to keep me alive. I was told...afterwards...that I was clinically dead for three minutes before they revived me. Spent a month in the hospital and once I was strong enough, I was transferred to the local prison. Two weeks there while they tried to convince me to tell them who I was, where I came from, who I worked for." A slight shrug of his shoulders. "When they realized I wouldn't tell them anything, they put orders through for my execution."

"How...?" No intervention from the Section, they would have cut all ties to him.

"A contact I made, before the mission. She was a clerk for the government. She arranged for the papers to be...changed...from execution to internment in a prison camp. I was there for six months, until the local partisans helped me to escape. They hid me for about a month, till I was strong enough to go out on my own--in exchange I helped them. Made my way to Switzerland, from there to Paris and then Quebec. Then...here."

"You didn't attempt contact." she stated, frowning as she watched him.

"No." he said evenly, gazing steadily back at her as he set his fork down and sat back. The sense of foreboding had risen from a vague background buzz to a steady hum.

Calm, too calm, no attempt to dissemble, just a straight foward admission...and that was not like Michael at all. Nor was it like Michael to not attempt some kind of communication with the Section...something had happened to him.

"How long have you been in town?" she asked casually.

He was silent for a long moment then said quietly, "A little more than two weeks."

Two weeks...the admission was like a slap in the face. "And only now you've contacted me?"

Michael reached across the table to touch her hand and she snatched it away before his fingers could touch hers, angry and hurt, knowing it showed in her face and her voice and not caring. She had cried and cried over him, had nightmares about seeing him shot, nightmares where she could hear him calling her name as she searched through endless corridors of the Section for him...and all along he had been alive.

"I had to be sure it was safe." he said, leaning forward a little, an earnestness in his voice she had never heard before, a desire for her to believe him.

"Safe?" she repeated, a chill going through her at his words, the suspicion now given a firm foundation.

"I'm not coming back, Nikita."

*************

Now...now she could see what was changed in him. He had always had a certain quality of stillness, a calm rarely disturbed, but the shadows were gone from his eyes, the darkness there faded away, showing her the person he must have been before his induction to the Section. A serenity about him, a new-found peace, as if he had finally come to terms with who he was..."Why?" was all she could think to ask, genuinely wanting to know what had happened to him in the last year, that he could change so profoundly, could turn his back on everything in his life.

"When I was in the camp...all I could think about was what I would do if I was free."

Huddled on the bunk, aching and too exhausted to sleep, certain that he would never feel warm again, all that had kept him going was that thought of elusive freedom...and her. "A long time ago I did something terribly wrong. Innocent people died...women... children..." He trailed off, staring down at his hands, hands that had dealt death for so long it had become second nature, as reflexive as breathing and requiring as much thought.

"Being in the Section, doing the things they asked of me, I saw it as atonement. In my mind I deserved to be in the Section, to give my life and soul to them as payment for the lives I'd taken. I became what they wanted me to be...and I lost who I was, I...died. Simone--and then you--breathed life back into me, made me...feel again. But it took being there--being completely apart from the Section--to make me realize that only I could change myself. And that the only way I could change myself...was to forgive myself."

He spoke with a quiet passion, a fervor in his eyes she had never seen, and she could have wept with relief, to see him finally achieve peace, to see the possibilities in himself that she and Simone had both seen...and that the Section had done its level best to bury. But there was more at stake here than his peace of mind...there was his life.

"Why come here? Why risk it?" she asked with a shake of her head.

Michael smiled, a sweet smile that made her heart ache. "There were so many times that I wanted to quit, to just lie down and die, and I'd hear your voice, see your face... it would give me strength to continue. Thinking about you, here, alone, I just couldn't let go."

Again he reached for her hand and this time she let him take it, staring into his eyes, seeing something shining there that she'd never thought to glimpse. The love he had said once he wasn't sure he could feel, or something close enough to it...

Raising her hand he brought it to his lips to bestow a kiss on her knuckles, finger rubbing the back of her hand. "I came back to ask you to come with me." Nikita could only stare dumbly at him, stunned by his pronouncement.

*************

Michael watched Nikita for her response to his question and she dropped her eyes, running her finger along the edge of her coffee cup, stalling for the time to draw her scattered thoughts. Seeing him alive again was enough of a shock and to have him baldly state that he wasn't going back to the Section twice a blow...add to that his request that she come with him and it was too much to take.

"Do you actually have to think about it? Have they changed you that much?"

Nikita lifted her head at hearing the pain in his voice and gave his hand a squeeze, forcing a wan smile. "It's just...such a shock to see you. I need...time." she said lamely. He regarded her steadily for a long moment then released her hand, slowly rising from the table, looking suddenly very tired. "I'll be in town for another week. I'll contact you before I go." Picking up his coat he pulled it on and dipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a bill and dropping it on the table.

Before he could turn away Nikita rose from the table to catch his arm and pull him around, steeling herself against the weary sorrow in his eyes. "Tell me where you're staying. Please," she added with a little hitch in her voice.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a little white business card and gave it to her. "Room 112." His hands went up to cup her face and he leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead, allowing his forehead to rest briefly against hers. "Think about it...and let me know." One hand gave her cheek a parting caress and she felt an emptiness inside her open a little wider as he turned away, hands shoved into his pockets and head bowed as he left the cafe.

Monday morning and rather than take out her frustrations on her recruit, Nikita was attacking a punching bag, delivering sharp jabs and kicks to the bag, dressed in black sports bra and shorts, long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Wisps of hair had escaped from it to frame her face and she blew one strand out of her eyes as she hit the bag with a flurry of blows, dancing back as it rocked violently and darting back in to deliver a high kick.

All night she had tossed and turned, what little sleep she managed to get punctuated by dreams. Through her dreams she passed through the four years she had known Michael, her psyche tossing up every painful memory, every betrayal, as if seeking to rationalize a decision she had not even made. Eventually she had given up the attempt to sleep and gone out for coffee before heading into the Section and her punching session.

"Got anyone particular in mind when you're punching that bag, sugar?"

Breathing a little hard, forearm wiping sweat from her forehead, Nikita smiled wanly at Walter as he stood behind her, arms folded over his chest and eyebrow upraised. "Just working a few things out, Walter."

"Well, you're sure giving me a work-out." said Walter with a leer, running his eyes over her, admiring exposed sweat-dampened skin.

Nikita grinned. "You're such a tease, Walter. I bet you'd fold before it came down to anything...physical." Reaching out she grasped a handful of his shirt and pulled him close, giving him a long kiss and drawing back just as she felt him start to respond.

Laughing at his flummoxed expression, she went to grab a towel and started to wipe herself off. Recovering, Walter smiled ruefully as he said, "Brat." Nikita gave him an impish grin as she wiped the back of her neck and Walter shook his head at her. "Don't lead old men on, sugar. We can't stand the excitement."

Nikita tossed the towel at his head and he reflexively caught it. "Oh, I bet you could." she said teasingly. "So--what's up?"

Walter sobered as he remembered the purpose of his visit. "Madeline wants to see you." Letting loose a sigh, Nikita nodded and left the practise area for Madeline's office, feeling a flutter of anxiety deep in her stomach.

************

Sitting cross-legged on his hotel bed, Michael regarded the items spread out across the bed, rubbing his forehead wearily. At his right side lay his gun, within easy reach, and before him papers and IDs he had amassed over the last two weeks. Working with the Section it had been necessary for him to establish his own contacts and he'd even had the foresight to set aside money, place it in a Swiss bank account for easy acess, providing him with the funds necessary to get forged IDs and passports.

It had been a long journey to return here and now he feared that it might have all been in vain. Nikita had...changed, he could see it in her eyes, her voice, and it hurt him deeply to think that she might have finally become the proper Section operative. A part of him had wanted to attempt contact, back when he had first managed to escape the camp, but his experiences had been too fresh in his mind, too traumatic, for him to make the attempt. In those first few days, when he had come to that realization about himself, his new-found peace had been too fragile, his mind balking at endangering it by contacting the Section.

He didn't know when exactly that decision had been made, to remain apart from the Section should he survive; he supposed it had been a slow process of thought, a sub-conscious process, and something he might very well have been working towards for a long time. And as much as he wanted Nikita to come with him, if she didn't come... then he would go on his own.

Stretching out a hand Michael picked up the passport he had purchased for Nikita and sighed as he studied the picture for a long moment before carefully laying it down. Ironic that he had finally come to accept what she meant to him, to acknowledge that what he felt was love, and now she was the one balking...

A knock on the hotel room door and he picked up his gun before sliding off the bed to pad over to the door, looking cautiously out through the peephole, gun held tight in his hand. Relaxing as he saw it was Nikita--alone--he went to the bed to sweep IDs and passports together, dumping them in the top dresser drawer, before returning to open the door.

Nikita smiled at him as he opened the door and stood there, clad in a light-blue strapless dress that clung to her slim curves, the skirt coming down to mid-thigh, golden hair falling in gentle waves down past her shoulders. She stepped inside as he opened the door wider to allow her admittance and turned as he shut and locked the door, one hand going up to stroke his hair back from his forehead.

"I've missed you." she said softly, leaning forward to give him a kiss, arms twining around his neck to draw him closer. Stiff with a momentary surprise, he relaxed at the feel of her lips against his, her tongue darting out to give his lips a flick, and slid his arms around her waist to pull her against him.

Her hands ran down his back and under his T-shirt, breaking the kiss to tug at his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Slipping his arms out of the sleeves he dropped it on the floor and turned his attention to the bodice of her dress, fingers plucking at the buttons. With a wicked grin she let her hands go down his back and cupped firm buttocks, pulling him forward as she rubbed himself against him, grin softening as she felt him hardening.

With one hand working at the buttons to her dress, his other hand slid up her thigh and between her legs. Nikita arched against him with a pleased sound, half-growl, half-moan, and he discovered to his surprise that she wore no underwear, the core of her already wet with anticipation.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked softly as she spread her legs as much as the tight skirt would allow, to give him more access.

Nikita laughed, a little breathless sound, and placed her hand between his legs, carressing him through his jeans. "Have you wanted to do this as long as I have?"

"Longer." He groaned as she squeezed him and pressed against her hand, breath coming a little quicker, leaving the bodice of her dress to tug her skirt up off her hips. Guiding her back to the bed, he pressed his lips against the side of her throat, hands squeezing her breasts through her dress, and she in turn worked to get his jeans unzipped and down off his hips, dragging down briefs as well.

By mutual unspoken consent their first time was quick, clothes half off, like teenagers making out in the backseat of a car. Jeans and briefs down to his ankles, her dress up to her waist, he went into her, Nikita arching against him with a groan. Her legs went up to wrap around his back and draw him deeper into her, moving in tandem with him, climaxes coming on the heels of each other.

Breathing hard Michael collapsed onto the bed beside her and she turned to put her arms around him, rubbing her head against his chest. "Worth the wait..." she said with a sigh, letting her hand trail down his chest and stomach to his cock, lifting her head to regard him in surprise, finding him already half-erect. "So soon?" she teased.

"Training." he said succinctly and drew her up for a kiss, hands sliding up her thighs to tug her back down on him, pelvis thrusting up at her, giving a teasing feel of his hardness against her. The tip of him nestled against her and straining for entrance nearly broke her resolve but she shook her finger at him, moving back.

"Pants first." On hands and knees she moved down the bed to tug his jeans off his legs, running a hand up his calf, placing a kiss against his knee. He lay still, eyes closing as her hands moved up his thighs, mouth trailing behind. An arm slid behind him and under him, lifting him slightly, winding around his buttocks to hold him still as he squirmed at the feel of her warm breath against him.

A teasing flick with her tongue and then she engulfed him, letting her teeth scrape lightly across him before she started to suckle. His fingers dug into the blankets under him, head falling back, breath coming in rapid gasps as she slid her mouth up and down him, working him until she felt him start to shudder and then releasing him to sit back on her heels. Pulling her dress up over her head she tossed it aside and crawled on top of him, hands twining with his and pulling them up over his head before she lowered herself on him.

She rocked against him, taking it slow, withdrawing and letting him slid nearly out of her when he sought to increase the rhythm, sinking back down on him as he went still. Her movements were deliberately slow, to increase the pleasure for both of them, and finally Michael threw a leg over her, rolling her onto her back, their fingers still linked. Smiling in triumph she let him take control and was soon moaning with his hard thrusts. Fingers parted, his hands going under her buttocks to pull her up as he pushed deeper, hers roaming down his back to grasp his buttocks in turn.

One last straining movement against her and he was done, his climax setting off hers like a chain reaction. Spent he laid his head against her breast and she curled her fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, stroking his hair until the change in his breathing told her he was asleep. Laying her cheek against his head, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her as well.

*************

With Michael's arms around her and her head against his chest Nikita was reluctant to give up her hold on sleep but a part of her mind knew time was short and dragged her up out of sleep, to the feel of Michael idly stroking her hair. She lay there, eyes closed, wanting to extend the peace of the moment, but Michael seemed to know she was awake and was the first to speak.

"So...will you come with me?" he asked, voice oddly hesitant, as if he knew her answer and dreaded hearing it.

Nikita lifted her head from his chest and gave him a wicked smile. "I thought I just did." He kissed her on the forehead, hand tucking blond hair back behind her ear. "That's not what I meant."

Nikita sighed, wanting to lay her head back down and avoid the question, not go so quickly into the heart of the matter, but Michael was nothing if not tenacious and would not be so easily brushed off. "It's...complicated, Michael." she said, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look him in the eyes.

"A year ago you wouldn't even have to think about it." he said quietly.

"That was then--things have...changed." Until he was gone she hadn't realized how much Michael permeated her thoughts, how she had taken him for granted, that he would always be there. And hadn't realized how much his abscence would affect the Section. Or how--despite his protestations to the contrary--integral he was to the Section.

"How?" he asked softly.

"I have a recruit now." Nikita allowed herself a small smile. "To actually train--not one to just pass judgement on. I have the opportunity here to affect the way an operative sees the Section, how they think, and how they act. It's...a heady feeling."

He remembered oh so well that feeling, the first time he had been given a recruit, but his training in the Section had been different from hers...as he himself was different. While she had managed to hold on to her ideals and morals with a fierce tenacity, he had allowed the Section to sweep over him, absorbing all they had to offer him and hiding that core of himself that managed to survive the indoctrination. Working in the system--and using the system--to achieve his own goals...rather than buck the system as she had.

"That's not it, Nikita."

"Not...entirely." she confessed, drawing in a deep breath to prepare herself, knowing how he would react to her proposal. "It hasn't been the same since you...died. It hasn't gone well in the Section." Losses that could have been avoided, missions gone wrong, and on top of it his replacement Zachary was not at Michael's level. Did not have Michael's ability, his control or resourcefulness. Until his loss she had only thought of his complete calm as irritating, even inhuman--and then she had worked with Zachary, seen him unravel when a mission went bad. And there were so many other little things...

"The Section needs you, Michael." She winced inwardly, not intending to present it so baldly, but the words were out and couldn't be retrieved, she could only watch him for his reaction.

A flash of anger in his eyes and something like fear, an arm coming up to brush her away as he rolled out from under her, rising from the bed to retrieve briefs and pants. Nikita sat up, blanket pulled up to her, and turned to watch him, a sharp stab of sorrow as she saw the anger still in the rigid line of his back, saw as well for the first time scars there, the long thin lines of a whip.

"Michael--" Scooting forward she extended a hand to him but he had already moved out of reach, pulling on pants with an angry jerk, half-turned from her.

"I'm not going back, Nikita. Don't ask it of me." His voice was cold, clipped, as he bent to pick her dress, slinging it on the bed.

"Listen to me, Michael." she commanded and despite himself he turned to face her; seeing him, looking oddly vulnerable, anguish in his eyes and a defeat as well, Nikita felt her resolve falter but recovered, pushing down the guilt. "We can affect the direction the Section goes in--at the smallest levels. I can see that, as I train Felicia--I can alter the way she thinks, the way she perceives the Section and its policies. I can show her--and others--that there are different ways to accomplish an end, that the means do not have to be so cruel. Someday--someday you will be Operations, you will be sitting up on that throne and you will BE the Section. You will have the power to change the Section."

Michael shook his head wearily. "Nikita, you have no idea of the Section's scope. The glimpses you've had of the hierachy...they're just that, glimpses. You haven't seen the Section and its innermost workings, not as I have. The Section is constant, the Section does not change, not even with the leadership. It pulls you in, strips you of your covering, of your illusions, and it...changes you, at the most basic level. Every part of you that it doesn't consider useful...it discards. Your morals, your ideals, your...human-ity--if it does not fit into the Section's code, it is stripped from you."

"I've kept mine."

"Have you?" he asked intensely, moving forward to kneel before the bed, reaching to take her hands. "Listen to yourself--you've never defended the Section before. How often have you contemplated escaping the Section? How many times have you laid awake at night thinking...what if? What if I could be free? And now...you have the opportunity--and you will pass it by?"

She had done that very thing more times than she cared to admit, even to herself, lying awake and planning strategies that were discarded in the light of day. If not for Michael, she might have fled the Section with Eric...and died with Eric. And she had always thought he'd had a part in taking the video she'd made of Operations, his confession that Stephen Wolfe was his son. But then he had also been the one to give her the warning about the suicide mission, to tell her to run...even if she had eventually returned.

************

"You're not going to come with me."

Nikita lifted her eyes to his, pain flashing through her as she watched him withdraw, slide back off the bed, looking very tired and hearbreakingly defeated. She reached for him but he wouldn't allow her to touch him and she could only watch as he made the painful struggle to recover his old calm, putting distance--physical and emotional--between them. The prick of tears in her eyes but she wouldn't give in to them, even if she was losing him again--she had to reach him somehow.

"Matthias."

Shirt over his head and pulled halfway down, he halted abruptly as she said the name and then tugged the shirt down with an angry motion, turning away from her, back straight. Nikita moved down the bed to the foot of it, blanket still around her, and made her tone calm, neutral, presenting her case in as logical a manner as she could.

"Matthias is active again. So far he's been responsible for three bombings--and the deaths of 212 people. The last one...twelve of them were children." She let a note of horror into her voice, remembering those photographs. "This time we have a locale for him and in two days we move on him. From the intel we've received he's planning another bombing, a big one, but we don't know where."

No reaction, no sign that he was listening to her, but she continued all the same. "In two days we enter his compound. He'll be more than ready for us--it's his territory--and the sims tell us that we'll suffer 70% losses...but we have to go. We can't let him continue. If we can take him out...it'll be worth what losses we suffer. We need you, Michael. You can take the team in and bring them out with minimum losses--you know Matthias, you know how he thinks. I need you, Michael."

He stood with his back still to her, absolutely silent, minutes dragging by, and then slowly turned, giving a small regretful shake of his head, eyes calm. "I can't, Nikita. If I go back...I lose everything I've regained. I can't live like that again."

Nikita rose from the bed, blanket wrapped around her, and went to him, a hand going out to caress his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss. "I understand." He shut his eyes, as if in pain, and she went to pick up her dress, shedding the blanket to pull it on, combing fingers through hair. Once dressed she gave him a hug and said softly, "Goodbye, Michael."

His arms tightened around her, not wanting to let her go, and for a moment she thought she might have reached him but then he released her, hands smoothing her hair back from her face as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Goodbye. Be safe."

Nikita hesitated, contemplating one last bid--to tell him that she loved him--and finding it impossible to force those words past her lips. No matter that they were true, she would not use such a weapon against him. And so she just smiled and left the hotel room, brushing at her eyes, telling herself it was the sunlight that made them water.

*************

Over the next two days the team chosen to enter Matthias' compound trained steadily, pouring over maps and satellite photos, reading and rereading reports in between drills. Zachary was to be in charge and Nikita second in command, between them laying down the plan of attack; they would split the team of twenty into two units, Zachary taking the team that would storm the front and Nikita the one that would hit the rear.

One look at the map detailing Matthias' base was sobering enough; it was located on a small island off of Greece, the landscape gently sloping, covered with grass and boulders, no trees for cover. Approach would have to be made by sea and even that was chancy at best, the beach easily viewable from the old temple ruins that Matthias had chosen to live in. From there they would have to go up the beach to the ruins, where Matthias was no doubt heavily fortified, penetrate his defenses and take out all the members of his group...while sparing Matthias, if it was at all possible.

Piece of cake, thought Nikita sourly as she looked over the plan of attack. Providing that the beach was not defended, it would take five boats coming at different angles to convey all the members of the team onto the beach; once they gained land, they would split into the prearranged two units to make the approach. Or at least the survivors would...Matthias would at least have some sentries watching the beach. Zachary had proposed a parachute drop but it had been immeaditely vetoed by Operations, citing the possiblity that Matthias might have radar technology and adding in a sarcastic tone that they might like to have something in the way of the surprise element working for them.

Nikita turned her head to look at it from another angle, as if that way she could find something she had missed before, and straightened with a sigh. Inevitably she thought of Michael, no doubt packing his belongings, preparing to go back out in the world, and regretted her decision. He hadn't known how close she had come to going with him, how very tempted she had been, but in the end her sense of duty had bound her to the Section...as she had hoped Michael's would bind him. But now...now it looked like a suicide mission, that if they managed to take out Matthias at all, it would be at the cost of their own lives.

Running a hand through her hair she turned away, heading off to Walter to make certain that their packs were together and ready to go. And after that it would be to bed...they had to head out early, so they would land at the Athens substation in time for their night assault on Matthias' base.

3:07 AM and the team was assembled, going through the attack plan one last time before taking the transport out, Nikita listening with growing dismay as Zachary made some last minute changes, pointing out the route his team would take. Straight up the beach and practically up to the front door...she would have spoken up but over Zachary's shoulder she saw Walter give a slight shake of his head and closed her mouth, rubbing her forehead wearily.

From the unhappy looks on Zachary's team they knew the assault was foolhardy but training had told them to keep silent and so nothing was said as Zachary gave his outline. "We split and move up the beach, half will go for the front and the other half to the east, alongside the temple..." He traced the intended route with his finger, head bent over the map.

"A frontal assault would be suicide."

Nikita's head lifted at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice, heart leaping in her chest as she saw Michael come striding up to the table, ignoring the looks of shock and murmurs of the operatives around him. The beard was gone and the hair combed back, dressed all in black, wearing the Section mask of old but with something behind his eyes she could not quite decipher. As he passed Walter, he touched the older man briefly on the arm in greeting and a huge grin split his face as he patted Michael on the shoulder.

"Matthias will have gun emplacements...here and here." Leaning over the map Michael placed his finger on the southern and western points of the temple. "He's had enough time to fortify himself and he'll be ready for an assault." His head turned to regard Zachary. "What's the approach?"

Staring at Michael, Zachary gave himself a little shake and turned his attention to the map. "By sea, right after dusk."

Michael nodded. "Boat is the best way...try a jump and they'd cut you down before you hit ground." His eyes lifted briefly as Operations and Madeline came up behind Zachary and then he refocused his attention on the map. "Five teams of four, do a soft approach--night vision goggles, tranq darts for the perimeter guards. Want it to be as quiet as possible."

"So who's in charge here?" asked Zachary, sounding a little belligerent, and Nikita shook her head wearily. Always the same from him, more concerned about his own authority than the people beneath him...

"Michael is the team leader." That from Operations, giving Zachary a hard look as he turned to face the older man, eyes raking over the other operatives. "He will be the supreme authority on this." Visible looks of relief passed over some of the older operatives at the news and Nikita suppressed the urge to grin and stick her tongue out at Zachary. "Transport in twenty. Get your gear together." The operatives filed from the briefing room, Zachary stalking out ahead of them, and Nikita lingered as Michael faced Operations, the two exchanging a long look before Operations turned away and strode off.

Madeline came up to lay a hand on Michael's arm, smiling warmly at him. "We're glad you're back." she said simply. No reply from Michael, just a glance at her hand on his arm, and she removed her hand, the smile fading as Michael walked away without so much as a glance at her. Brushing past Madeline, Nikita hurried to catch up with Michael, finding him at Walter's workstation, assembling his own pack.

"I'm glad you're here." she said simply.

"I couldn't leave you behind." His eyes met hers briefly, sad and defeated, before he lowered them, shoving items into his pack, the motions short and almost angry. "But you knew that, didn't you?" Shrugging the pack onto one shoulder, he picked up a Kevlar vest, almost as an afterthought.

"Michael, I--" But he was gone as soon as the words left her lips, striding down the hallway. From the workstation she could see Madeline watching her and she felt an intense wave of hatred for the older woman, letting it show in her eyes before she went after Michael.

************

The transport was quick and uneventful, Michael sitting off by himself, as if to remove himself from them, cold and uncommunicative, almost like his old self. Nikita didn't attempt to draw him out, her conscience unable to bear the wounded look in his eyes, a look he must have seen more than once in her eyes, and so she sat by herself, reviewing last minute details.

In Athens they boarded the boats that would take them to the island base and made landfall, seperating into teams of four as Michael had directed. Nikita's team moved north and east, circling around the temple, the link silent as they made their way up off the beach and onto land, reaching the temple without incident.

Crouched under a window, hand pressed to her ear so that she could hear the others on the link better, Nikita listened as team two and three reported successful penetration, hearing after a few moments' time Zachary announce his team was in place. From Michael--in charge of team one--there was no sound and minutes dragged by as she huddled with her team, torn between the need to hold position and the need to ascertain that Michael was alive.

A burst of gunfire shattered the quiet night and then she could hear Michael shout over the link, "All units, move in!" Shouldering her gun, Nikita rose as there was the sound of running footsteps and opened fire on two men clad in camoflauge green, cutting them down just as they reached their position. A shout from the interior of the temple and she gestured for the others of her team to cover her as she slipped through the window, dropping down to her haunches, the goggles giving her a perfect view of men stumbling in the dark, trying to reach weapons.

Easy targets and she opened fire, cutting them down, hearing behind her the other members of her team scramble through the window, providing her covering fire as she moved closer inside. Through a doorway and off to her right a man was tugging a tarp off a machine gun set up just before the window, a large caliber gun, maybe a Gatling, and she shot him without a second thought. And immeaditely ducked for cover as fire came from the doorway leading into the main area of the temple, huddling under the bulk of the gun. A yell from behind her as one of her team went down but the others moved quickly forward to take down their attacker, Nikita scrambling up to join them as they hurried into the main area.

It was there that the bulk of Matthias' force had retreated, using hastily erected barriers as protection, managing to keep the Section teams at bay for several long minutes, gunfire cutting the numbers on both sides. A tossed concussion grenade in their midst soon took the fight out of them and from there it was a mopping up operation, execution of those that wouldn't surrender and even Matthias falling under the exchange of fire. With it done, they set out to retrieve dead and wounded. Zachary joined Nikita, a bandage applied to his forehead, and Nikita grabbed the arm of a member of Michael's team, pulling the man to a halt and demanding, "Where's Michael?"

"Outside." said the operative, looking uneasily from her to Zachary and then back. "He went down on the approach--he was point--" Letting go of his arm, Nikita headed out of the temple and to where two operatives were gathered by a third, sitting with his back against the wall and legs stretched out before him.

The sole female among them--Dina--looked up as Nikita stopped beside her, expression carefully controlled. "He told us to stay behind, wait for his signal--he took out the guard. We...we didn't know he was hit till he collapsed..." Nodding, Nikita pushed Dina aside and kneeled before Michael, reaching out to take his hand. He was slumped back against the wall, an arm pressed against his ribs, and in the dim light of a lantern she could see the blood on him, see where the bullets had struck him in chest and midsection.

"You had a vest, I saw you take one..."

Michael managed a smile, his arm tightening against his ribs as he coughed, blood coming up over his lips. Stripping off goggles and mask, she pressed the mask against the worse of the wounds, laying her hand on his cheek, telling herself that it was cold out here, that was why he felt so cold. He rubbed his cheek against her hand and whispered, "I didn't put it on."

Nikita felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes. "Oh, Michael..." Tapping her link, she said tersely, "Area's secure--I need a transport stat. Michael's down." Confirmation from the backup team and she returned her attention to Michael, easing him down onto the ground, using her pack as a pillow for his head and slipping out of her coat to lay it over him. His hand caught hers and held tight, not loosening even when his eyes closed, she still holding his hand as the chopper arrived to take him away.

**************

For six hours Nikita waited, alternately pacing the short hallway of the Athens substation's Medlab and sitting in a chair, drinking the coffee brought to her by the other members of the team but not waving away any food brought. Her hands were still marked by Michael's blood, drying now, and she stared down at them, thinking that it was appropiate--she had dragged him back in, his blood was on her hands, figuratively... and now literally.

The door opened with a soft whoosh and she lifted her head to stare at the doctor, her fears confirmed in the slight shake of his head. "There's too much damage--we can keep him alive for a week at most but in the end...he's going to die. We've made him as comfortable as we can..."

"Is he conscious?" she asked woodenly, wiping her hands on her pants.

"Yes." Nodding she started to go into the room and for a moment she thought the doctor would bar her but then he stepped aside, shaking his head a little. Slowly she walked to the bed Michael lay on, the beeping of monitors loud in the quiet, and reached out a hand to brush his hair back from his forehead.

At the touch of her hand, his eyes flickered open, blinking for a moment, a slight smile curving his lips, a shaky hand reaching for hers. She took his hand, clasping it in hers, and asked softly, "Why?"

"Dead inside...so long...didn't want it...again. Better to be...truly dead." He closed his eyes briefly, as if against a sudden surge of pain, and his fingers tightened reflexively on hers, Nikita bearing the painful pressure stoically. Opening his eyes again he turned his head slightly to look at the monitors and then back to her. "Turn them...off?" he whispered, a plea in his eyes. Not wanting it to continue, just wanting it to be done...

Slowly, her heart bleeding, Nikita reached across him to shut off the monitors, lifting his hand to press it against her lips, her other hand stroking his hair back. "Knew...I was alive...before I made contact...didn't you?" Voice a little stronger, there wasn't even a hint of accusation in his eyes, just a weariness.

"We...suspected." she admitted, laying her hand on his cheek, and he turned his head away, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Gently she turned his head so that he would look at her and said softly, "What happened between us...that had nothing to do with your returning to the Section. I didn't do that because I was ordered to, I *wanted* to."

Before she had seen him for that first time, she had been called into Madeline's office to be told of her suspicions and to warn her that if she was contacted by Michael, she had to report it...or Michael might suffer the consequences. And from there she had been told that either she brought Michael back in--by whatever means necessary--or he would be cancelled.

"Changed...so much..." he whispered painfully.

"I'm sorry. They told me you would be cancelled if you didn't come back." She felt her own tears slide down her cheeks, thinking that it was better if he had stayed "dead", never attempted contact with her--at least he would be alive...

His hand squeezed her, a weak pressure, and she looked down at him, throat closing as she saw understanding in his eyes. "It's all right..." His eyes drifted closed, throat working as he swallowed hard, his hand going slack in hers, head turning into the pillow, and she stood frozen for a moment, looking from him and then to the silent monitors, placed her hands on either side of his head and gave him a shake.

"Michael?" she asked, voice rising, her hand sliding down to his throat to feel for a pulse. He stirred a little under the pressure, eyes opening halfway to meet hers, a small sigh escaping him.

"Tired..."

Throat burning, she stroked his cheek, blinking against the tears. "Rest." she said softly, taking his hand again, chafing his wrist, listening to his labored breathing. "I'll be here..."

He smiled wearily, making an effort to focus on her, to take her in for the last time.

The face that he knew so well, a love and affection he had never thought to see in her eyes--so much time lost, all because he would not acknowledge to himself what she meant to him...cold and alone for so long and all of it pointless, he should have let her in before this...

"I love you." he whispered. Too much of an effort to keep his eyes open and he let them close, allowing himself to be enfolded in the warm darkness that beckoned, promising a release from a life of pain.

"I love you too." she managed to say past a throat choked with tears, watching him as his chest rose one more time and then fell, hand going slack in hers. Leaning forward she kissed him on the lips and sat there for a long time, holding his hand, until she was sure he was dead. And only then did she rise to get the doctor.

***************

Wrapped in a long dark gray overcoat, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, blond hair whipping in the window, Nikita stood in the cemetery, staring down at the freshly made grave. It was here that Michael had been placed, beside the son he had lost so many years ago, and on the other side there would be a stone for Simone as well--the family that could not be together in life together in death. The funeral had been short, only a handful in attendance, a woman in long black coat and sunglasses, dark hair in a pony-tail coming to lay a flower on Michael's coffin as it was lowered into the ground and then walking away without a word.

The others had departed but she still stood here, not even able to summon any tears for him. Empty inside and cold too, the piece of her heart Michael had claimed shriveled and dead, feeling nothing at all. Soon she would be like him, shutting herself off from others so she didn't feel this great, aching void...

A crunch of footsteps behind her and she turned to see Walter standing there, looking awkward in his black suit, hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking somehow naked without his customary bandana. He cleared his throat and drew an envelope out of his pocket. "Michael--he asked me to give this to you. I wasn't sure if I should..."

Nikita took the envelope and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Walter."

Walter patted her on the shoulder. "If you want to talk..." She nodded, eyes already focused on the envelope, and Walter left her to her privacy, running a hand over his chin, feeling suddenly very old and tired.

Opening the envelope, Nikita drew out a piece of paper and unfolded it with great care, seeing his familiar handwriting, took a deep breath and started to read.

Nikita
So many things I wanted to say to you...
but I always lacked the courage to say
them. For a long time I didn't think I was
capable of feeling anything again...and
then you came along. You touched me,
changed me, made me feel things, I hadn't
felt in a long time. I was dead...until you
came. And through you I found the courage
to live again. No matter what happens...know
that I will always love you.

Michael

A sob escaped her as she finished the letter and she wiped at the tears now streaming down her cheeks, tears she hadn't been able to shed at the service, the letter crumpling in her fist as she closed her eyes tightly against the tears. She wanted to throw herself at the tombstone, to beat it with her fists and rail at him for leaving her, but she held herself firmly in place, pushing the grief down till it was at a managable level. Better to remember him as he had been, that smile rarely seen and all the more precious because of it, the peace he had found at last...

Carefully straightening the paper she folded it in two and stuck it in her pocket, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself as she left the cemetery, leaving Michael behind.

Fin

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