"Why do I always have to be the one that does this with you?"

She knew she sounded like a petulant five-year-old, asking her mother why she had to take a bath, why she had to go to bed so early, but she didn't care, staring up at Michael through the fringe of her bangs, one foot swinging impatiently. Another mission, another role to play, man and wife--it wasn't as if they'd never done this before but it was far easier for Michael to play the role than her, to be charming and affectionate one minute and then the cool Section operative the next. Turn it on, turn it off, like he was a goddamned faucet...

"Because you have all the qualities that are needed to present the right image. Elegance..." She stuck a finger in her mouth to pull at the wad of gum, stretching it out and winding it around her finger, rolling her eyes.

"Sophistication..." Leaning her chair back Nikita put one foot up on the briefing table with an audible thump, Michael wincing a little, closing his eyes briefly as if striving for patience. "And we work well together."

"Can't you work on someone else for a change?" she asked nastily.

Michael stared at her coldly. "It's you and me, Nikita--deal with it." And turned on his heel to stride out of the room.

Feeling childish she stuck her tongue out at his back and then let her foot fall off the table, giving the leg of it a kick and doing no more than hurting her foot. Pushing herself up to her feet, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and sighed, head bowing briefly, knowing exactly why she was so angry at him. Easy for him to pretend, to play the role, but playing his wife hit a little too close to home for her--while he could perhaps be attracted to her and yet remain detached from that emotion, she had yet to reach that state where she could manipulate her own emotions with such finesse. And it was her very attraction to him that made her so vulnerable to his manipulations...

This time she was *not* going to let him get to her.

I wonder how they'd react if I kneed him in the groin and left him on the dance floor, thought Nikita grimly, lips stretched wide in an utterly false smile, light blue eyes shooting daggers at her dance partner.

Michael seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much as he guided her across the dance floor. One hand held hers and the other was placed against her lower back, stroking bared skin in an idle caress, sending shivers down her spine. The red dress was cut low in the back, nearly down to her waist, the bodice of it cut low as well, a slit up the skirt to expose long leg, very revealing; she was proud of her body and had no qualms about showing it off but now...now she felt exposed and...cheap somehow, the feeling not helped by Michael's constant attention, pulling her close to him, so open and obvious about it that it took all her control to not just slap him and walk away.

He smiled at her, seemingly oblivious to her irritation, the knuckles of his hand brushing against her breast, lifting her hand to press it against his lips. Warm and soft against her skin, teeth nibbling on her knuckle, watching her with dark gray eyes for her reaction, his arm curling around her waist to pull her closer, pressing himself against her. She put up her hand to keep some space between them, palm against his chest, her other hand still captured in his, sliding her hand down his stomach and to his groin. Ears burning she snatched her hand free and had her hand raised to give him a well deserved smack when the music stopped and the guests around them clapped politely.

An announcement that the band was taking a break and the guests dispersed, gathering in groups to chat, make business deals, drink champagne. Nikita pulled her elbow away as Michael's fingers started to close on it and strode up to the nearest waiter to grab a glass of champagne from his tray and take a gulp, turning on Michael as he touched her on bare shoulder.

"Having a good time, love?" he asked, running his hand down her arm.

Nikita contemplated tossing the champagne in his face and from the warning glint in his eyes he saw that in her expression, settled instead for giving him a saccharine sweet smile. "I'm afraid that I have a headache."

"Then you'll have to go to bed right away." he said, taking the glass from her hand and giving her a devilish grin, set the glass down on the nearest table and took her arm to guide her out of the room, stopping to make their apologies to their host.

First I will cut off his fingers and then his toes and then I will cut off his... thought Nikita as they left the ballroom to go upstairs and to the guest rooms.

Once in the bedroom, Nikita stalked to the bed and her opened suitcase, grabbed the first thing that came to hand and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Kicking off heels one by one she slipped out of the dress, forcing herself to go slowly and not tear the material, letting it pool down around her ankles. Shaking out the garment she had taken from the suitcase, she stared at the long white satin nightgown, dire thoughts of what she would do to Madeline once she got back running through her mind. Slipping it on over her head, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and thought, God, I look like I'm on my honeymoon!

Scowling at the woman in the glass she tugged the skirt of the nightgown down, thankful that it was at least long, affording her some modesty, the gown looking not nearly as bad as she thought it would. It clung to her curves but the bodice was modestly cut, the style of it almost...virginal. As if, she snorted and left the bathroom.

Michael was stretched out on the bed, clad only in black silk pajama bottoms, hands tucked behind his head. He turned to look at her as she came to stand beside the bed, raising his eyebrows as his eyes moved over her. In turn she found herself studying him as well, the way his brown hair curled around his face, a lock of hair falling across his forehead, begging to be brushed back, the pose pulling the muscles of his chest taut. Eyes traveled down his flat stomach and then to the silk pajama bottoms, jerking back up to look into amused gray eyes.

"You are not sleeping on the bed with me." she said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sitting up on the bed, he said quietly, "Once everyone is asleep, we need to check downstairs. You might as well get what rest you can."

Touch me and you draw back a nub, bucko, she thought grimly and strode over to the bed, plopping down on it and laying down, keeping as far away from him as the bed allowed, arms at her sides, body rigid. A creak of the mattress and she turned her head to see Michael lying on his back, an arm over his eyes, rolled over onto her side and punched her pillow, hugging it tightly with one arm, back still rigid. Little by little she relaxed, unable to hold onto the anger, finally falling into sleep.

She was warm and comfortable and she didn't want to wake up.

"Nikita," Michael whispered, his breath soft against her cheek. He had been watching her sleep for a good four hours and it had taken a lot out of him to stay on his side of the bed. No matter what she thought, he had only been doing the job. They needed to give the impression of madly-in-love newlyweds with eyes only for each other. She'd been so angry with his crudeness on the dance floor and he thought about apologizing...but that would be futile. And besides, her anger kept her distanced and the way he felt right now, that was a good thing. She seemed to think that pretending with her came easy for him-- but she was wrong.

He gently brushed her hair from where it lay against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn't open, the pale blue shadows beneath them attesting to her state of exhaustion.

"Michael..." she mumbled softly in her sleep, and nestled her body closer to his. Michael closed his eyes briefly, allowing and absorbing the softness pressed against him. Being so close to her on missions...it was getting more and more difficult.

"Nikita, it's time to wake up." How he'd regretted having to say that, but they had to search the house. He'd been playing the *nice executive* for months now and he really didn't want it to go on longer. It seemed Mr. Sandridge had a nasty habit of confiscating papers he had no business having in his possession. Section was not thrilled at having to bail out a high level politician, but favors had been cashed in, strings had been pulled. The papers Sandridge had swiped were quite damaging to quite a few power players and they weren't happy. Now, after months of sidling into Sandridge's good graces, Michael and his *new bride* Nikita, had been invited to his vacation home for a weekend holiday getaway. It was three o'clock in the morning....they needed to go find those documents.

"Nikita," Michael whispered, his face inches from hers. Her eyes opened, disorientated at first, and then clearing with recognition as she realized where they were. "I'm ready." she whispered hoarsely and sat up, rubbing her eyes as she pushed the covers off.

Michael slid out of bed and crept to the door. Opening it soundlessly he listened for any movement in the hallway. Hearing nothing, he turned to Nikita, to be sure she was ready, and slipped out into the hallway.

Nikita followed, her ears sharp and body alert even after just waking up. Life in Section did that to you. She was somewhat uncomfortable in the nightgown, but they had already decided that they'd search the house in their nightclothes, pretending they were hunting for the kitchen and a late night snack in case they were spotted.

Silently they made their way down the stairs and to the landing. Michael motioned with his hand and they parted ways. She would start searching the study, since it would take the longest, and Michael would cover the rest of downstairs. Nikita made her way to the study, eyes peeled for any movement. She opened the heavy oak door and slipped inside.

Michael found nothing in the kitchen or storage rooms. The servants' quarters were occupied, but he knew Sandridge wouldn't hide the papers in there anyway...not where they could be stumbled upon by anyone. Sandridge was dangerous and conniving, but he wasn't stupid. Michael crossed the landing and slipped into the study to join Nikita.

"It's me" he whispered into the darkness. Nikita moved from behind the door and crossed back over to the bookshelves she'd been going through. Michael came up beside her and almost soundlessly asked if she'd found them.

"No, Michael....so many books, they could be anywhere." She'd already searched the desk and all its contents without luck. There were no safes behind any of the paintings or hidden compartments within any of the furniture or wall panels. The only other things in the room were books, lots of books. And the papers could be in any one of them...

They both stilled simultaneously. The loud thump sounded directly above them and although it wasn't terribly loud, it was deafening inside the quietness they'd been searching in. They waited for several heartbeats and just when they were about to continue the search, it sounded again, louder. Swiftly they made towards the door and, after listening for movement outside, slipped out and onto the landing. They had to cross over to the kitchen in order for the failsafe plan to work, but it didn't look like that was going to be possible. Voices at the top of the stairs were drifting down to them, and they'd never get across without being spotted.

Their only option was to duck back into the study, but if someone came in, there were no hiding places to avoid detection. Operations had made it clear that Sandridge was *not* expendable. It was a get in and get out job. No one the wiser, no one got killed.

Michael turned and noticed the door next to the study, the hall closet. Grabbing Nikita's hand he pulled her with him. Opening the closet door, he was in and she slipped in right behind him, closing the door soundlessly in their wake.

The closet must be the only thing in this gigantic house that wasn't, well, gigantic. They stood pressed together, nothing but the sounds of their adrenaline induced breathing echoing softly in the tight space. Voices drifted in from the stairs, muffled. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Sandridge weren't getting along.

"Will you shut up already; you're going to wake the whole damn house!" Lucy Sandridge's stage whisper was heard clearly.

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Sandridge was clearly enraged, "If you don't like what I have to offer, then get out."

Lucy's footsteps traveled across the landing and Nikita held her breath. "Fine, I'll sleep down here on the sofa then--" The footsteps stopped directly in front of the closet, "--and you can go straight to hell!"

"Jesus Christ, whatever!!" Sandridge's voice faded away and was followed by the slamming of an upstairs door.

The sound of soft weeping floated into the closet. The sobbing grew gradually louder and then faded as Lucy moved from in front of the closet to the sofa in the living room.

Nikita slowly released the breath she'd been holding and became aware of the hard length of Michael's body pressed up against her. She tried in vain to shift position, to find some bit of unoccupied space, but succeeded in only brushing against him.

"Now what," Nikita whispered in quiet exasperation.

"We wait her out," Michael murmured, his breath brushing across the nape of her neck. It was going to be a long night.

She couldn't stand pressed against the door for much longer. She shifted her back away from Michael and pressed up against the side of the closet, sliding down to a sitting position. As she moved, Michael attempted to accommodate her, but ended up doing the same thing, sitting with his back against the opposite side. Their legs were bent and it was a tight fit, but it was better than standing. Nikita smoothed her nightgown over her legs and leaned her head back against the wall.

Lucy's sobs were still clearly heard and Nikita felt herself feeling sorry for the woman. She knew what it was like to fight with someone you loved. Nikita sighed, shaking those unbidden thoughts from her mind. She didn't love him. No way.

Hearing Nikita's sigh, Michael raised his head from his folded arms to look in her direction. The closet was pitch black, but he could picture her frustrated face in his mind's eye.

"We wait for her to fall asleep and go back to the study." His husky voice reached across the close space and rolled over her senses. "We can't leave without the papers."

"Yeah," she answered and leaned her head back against the wall. Maybe sitting wasn't such a great idea, she thought. Their legs were pressed together and the warmth of his skin was coming in loud and clear through the silky mesh of her nightgown. She tried shifting her legs to get just an inch or two away from the pressing of his, but her muscles in the cramped space rejected that idea.

Nikita sat up, gasping softly as her hand flew to her calf muscle only to collide with his hands.

"Let me." His hushed voice soothed what his hands had yet to. She leaned back and tried to control the feeling the softly spoken request elicited. His hands wrapped around her lower leg, squeezing gently, kneading softly, his long fingers stroking her tired muscles through the nightgown.

Michael was having a difficult time concentrating. The gentle scent of Nikita's perfume...or maybe just Nikita...was crashing over him. The feel of her skin, even through the gown, seemed to burn his hands and send electricity vibrating through him.

Nikita felt his hands move down to her ankle and slowly push the material aside, allowing his hands to slip under it and close around her ankle. She almost shuddered at the feel of his warm hands on her cool skin. His fingers continued to stroke up and down her calf, one hand going up and behind her knee to gently squeeze and tantalize the sensitive spot.

Nikita caught her breath, "Michael, the cramp is gone." Her voice sounded unsteady even to her and she tried to control the stammer as she added, "Thank you."

Michael's hands drifted down her leg and out from under her nightgown. Nikita felt suddenly chilled at the loss of contact. She could hear Lucy nearby, still sobbing and talking quietly. Nikita pressed her ear to the door. "She's talking to someone."

"He's such a bastard sometimes." Lucy's voice was wet with tears as it drifted through the door, "Yes, I know, but why does he do that?" Her footsteps shuffled past the door and back into the other room.

Nikita sighed, "Michael, she's on the phone....we're never going to get out of here." Nikita's voice raised a bit in her frustration.

"Ssshhh.." Michael whispered, "Patience, she'll get off eventually."

"Patience?" Nikita snorted, "Not only am I weaponless and in a semi-psycho's house, but I'm trapped in a bloody closet in a nightgown at three o'clock in the morning with you!"

Michael leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Nikita's upper arms, startling her, "What, Nikita," His voice had a ring of danger in it, "is so wrong with me?"

"Michael..." Nikita wrapped her hands around his wrists. "You..." her words were abruptly halted by the sudden closeness of his breath across her lips.

He had reached his limits. Suddenly his entire body began trembling with the depth of his feelings. The floodgates had opened and his hunger for her crawled forth. He wanted to say so much, but ended up just giving into his need.

He took her mouth hungrily, crushing her parted lips to his. His hands relaxed on her arms, one moving up to slide around the nape of her neck. Her scent slowly filling him, sinking deeply into his awareness. He moaned low in the back of his throat while his lips forced hers to part wider, allowing his tongue to plunge into the softness of her mouth. He pressed her against the wall of the closet, his mouth slanting over hers, softening a bit to tease and provoke.

Surprised at his sudden assault she put up her hands to keep him at a distance, her palms encountering the bare flesh of his leanly muscled chest, fingers pressing against his warm skin. Her senses were whirling with the onslaught of uncontrolled emotions. In one burst of uncertainty, she broke away and hugging the wall, slid up to a standing position. Sucking in great breaths of air she whispered, "Michael?"

Slowly Michael rose and extended a hand to run the back of his knuckles down her cheek. "Do you think I am playing a game with you?" he asked softly, taking a step closer to her, stroking a long lock of hair back from her face. She shivered at the feel of his fingers and closed her eyes.

Oh God...what was happening? Her entire body was shaking and her mind was clouded. The heat from his closeness was seeping into her, making it hard to be rational. "Nikita," his voice flowed over her like a warm cloak. An arm wrapped around her waist, angling across her back to bring her hips into his, the contact making her catch her breath. His lips were a breath away, his face was so close that he barely spoke, but she heard him, "You taste like heaven."

Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to touch his cheek, letting her fingers trail down his cheek to his lips, tracing the line of his mouth. He kissed her finger, one hand catching hers, turning her wrist up so that he could place a kiss against her pulse. Slowly his mouth moved up her arm, placing light feathery kisses on the way up to her shoulder, nipping at her flesh. His tongue came out to run a tantalizing trail along her collar bone, stopping to slowly swirl around the pulse at the base of her throat. Nikita's fingers threaded into his hair as she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the wall, allowing him access to the line of her throat. His teeth scraped lightly along her throat, sending a shiver down her spine, hands coming up to thread fingers through her hair, drawing her head down so that her lips met his.

Gentle was his kiss this time, a soft pressure against her lips, hands sliding down to the bodice of her nightgown. Who'd have thought such a delicate bit of material could be so utterly maddening. Michael's hands glided down over her hips, the silk sliding between his fingers and her body. He clutched a fistful, wanting to rip it from her in one smooth motion, to finally feel her hot flesh pressed against his, but Nikita's hands on his chest paused his thoughts. Her fingers splayed across him, exploring the muscled contours. When they brushed across a nipple Michael felt his control slip another notch and he took a deep, steadying breath.

All thought of what lay beyond the door was gone. The only thing that mattered was the moment, that they were here together, away from the watching eyes of the Section. Free to cross the boundaries placed between them, to explore the bond they shared. All the doubts, all the hesitations had fled. For a long time Nikita had dreamed about this moment, a time when Michael would stand before her, stripped of his mental armor, open and bared to her eyes. A smile curved her lips at the thought of more than that of him bared...

Michael stroked a hand slowly up her ribcage to encircle a breast. Nikita moaned low in her throat and Michael continued the caress. Her nipple thrust against the palm of his hand, begging for his touch. His pressed against her, rubbing gently, thumb teasing her nipple erect. Cupping a breast in one hand, he lowered his head to her nipple, an almost electric shock going through her as his mouth enclosed it, teeth pressing briefly against it through the silky material. Nikita moved restlessly beneath the heat of Michael's open mouth, wanting more. She pressed her lower body closer to his, feeling his arousal heavy against the heart of her. Sensing her need, he slowly circled his hips, rubbing against her, a taste of what was to come.

"Tease." she whispered and slid hands around his back, down to his buttocks, pulling him against her. She lifted one leg, the silk nightgown sliding down her thigh with a faint whisper, and rubbed it teasingly against his thigh, nightgown riding up to expose silken panties. Only a thin barrier of silk stood between them as she pressed against him and ground her hips.

"God.....Nikita, so long I've waited..." Michael groaned against the side of her neck. He moved to brush his lips across hers, his tongue coming out to lap just inside her mouth. One hand still held her breast, kneading gently, the other hand was slowly moving up her thigh, gliding lightly over her silken panties straight to her heat. "Michael..." Nikita gasped as a deep tremor shook her. His fingers slipped past the fragile shield of material, probing gently, and then, as if impatient with their lack of progress, withdrew to tug down her panties, dragging them off her hips and down to her knees with one rough movement. She lifted first one leg then another to free herself of them and then kicking them aside. Gasping, she rose a little on her toes, as his fingers returned to torment her again.

Nikita drew one hand down to Michael's abdomen, feeling the muscles there quiver in response. She slid fingers slowly down the front of his silk pajama bottoms to find him, hot and straining against the silky material. She curled her fingers gently around him, hearing his breath catch in his throat. "Yes," he moaned into her mouth, pressing himself forward, deeper into her palm while his fingers continued to move on her, drawing forth her wet heat until she was sure she was going to faint.

With a growl, she tugged his pajama bottoms down to bare him, hand stroking gently, arching against his hand as he did hers. By unspoken, mutual consent both ceased their caresses, Michael's hands going around her back to lift her. Her legs went around his waist as he hoisted her up and bit her lip hard to suppress a cry as he went into her, one hand cradling her head as she was pushed hard into the wall. For a moment they remained still, breathing hard as they listened for any sign that they had been heard. Leaning her against the wall, he moved one hand to grasp the edge of her nightgown and swiftly pull it over her head to land somewhere down with the panties and his pajama bottoms. Returning to grasp her around the waist, he bent to pull a nipple into his mouth as he pushed into her with a controlled force that had her nails digging into his shoulders and her mind losing its grip.

Her head fell back, a low sound escaping her, fingers knotting in his hair to pull his mouth closer to her breast, hips moving to his rhythm. The feeling of him in her was exquisite and she wanted more...crossing heels behind his buttocks she pulled him in, arching her back to draw him all the way in. He gasped in surprise, placing hands on either side of her, palms pressing against the wood. Head lifting from her breast he kissed her hungrily. He thrust into her, drawing out and slowly plunging back in again. Their rhythm was perfect, as if they had become one entity...one soul. "Michael, please..." Nikita rasped, the tension within her building to an unbearable level.

"Patience." Michael whispered breathlessly, his hips moving achingly slow, resisting her attempts to increase the pace. Watching her eyes he could see the beginnings of her orgasm, her lips parted as she panted, the tension in the line of her neck, her entire form stiffening with the impending explosion. And just as she reached it, when she would have cried out, he placed his mouth over hers to stifle the cry, swallowing the sounds of her passion, and starting to move faster towards his own release. Her body clenched tightly around him, her muscles clasping and drawing him deeper, he shuddered and surged forward into her one last time. His barely stifled groan of satisfaction reverberating deep in his chest.

Spent, Michael cradled Nikita in his arms, head pressed against her throat, and she stroked sweat-dampened hair away from his face, drawing his head up. Tenderly she kissed him on the cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"Doing...this hasn't meant anything to me in a long time--till now." he said quietly.

"For me too." She laid a finger across his lips when he would have said more and gave a slight shake of her head. "Don't. Let's just pretend a little longer..." He gave a nod of assent, kissing her finger, and she twined her arms around his neck to share a lingering kiss.

All of a sudden the door was pulled open and they both turned their heads to stare in shocked surprise, seeing Lucy standing in the doorway. In turn she stared at the two of them, Nikita with her legs wrapped around Michael's waist, both completely naked, bodies sheened with sweat. Before they could even move, Lucy rolled her eyes and said in disgust, "Newlyweds." Shaking her head, she shut the door firmly and they held their breath as they heard her stomping away from the door.

Turning her head to look at Michael, Nikita burst into giggles and after a moment he too started to laugh, both of them shaking with merriment, laughing until tears came to their eyes. Reluctantly he released her, lowering her so she could place her feet on the floor, and looked around for her nightgown. In the small confines of the closet, brushing against each other often, they managed to pull their nightclothes back on. Before stepping from the closet, Michael pulled her into a deep searing kiss. A kiss of passion, of promise....as if sealing their time together. They broke apart and Nikita brushed his hair back in a fleeting caress before opening the door and stepping out onto the landing.

The house was dark and quiet. Nikita peered around the corner to see Lucy sprawled across the couch, her chest rising and falling slow and regular, a half bottle of bourbon tipped over on the coffee table.

Nikita turned when Michael whispered against her ear, "One last look through the study." She nodded her agreement and followed him into the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

The End

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