Driven by pure adrenaline, Michael took point and with deadly perfect aim, took out every guard he encountered. He was like a phantom, moving through the shadows, a score of bodies in his wake. Another 120 yards and he would reach Nikita's cell. The schematics of the warehouse had been accurate so far, and he was well ahead of his team. Not proper procedure, but Michael didn't care. He was focused solely on his personal mission to rescue Nikita. They had been through too much, been apart too long, to let it end here in this desolate place.

Michael took cover behind an upturned table. He didn't want to stop, but his training forced him to prepare for the final assault. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, reloaded and checked his weapons, all in only a few seconds. Closing his eyes, he visualized his route to Nikita.

Birkoff's voice broke his concentration, "Michael, we have hostile movement to the north of your position."

"Send Team 3. Team 1 should reach me in seconds. Is the perimeter secure?" Michael was all business now, but the edgy tone in his voice was not lost on Birkoff.

"Confirm. Perimeter secure."

"Okay. I'm going in." Michael moved with athletic grace, his powerful legs pumping in long, smooth strides. He covered 80 yards in less than 15 seconds, in full field gear, and despite the convoluted route mapped out by Birkoff. The final corridor lead straight to the cell door. He stopped; every sense attuned to his surroundings. Finally, convinced that all was quiet, he contacted Birkoff, "Scan the cell for heat signatures."

"Only one, center of the room." Birkoff knew Michael was anxious to get to Nikita, so he made his responses short.

"Do we have containment?"

"Yes. Warehouse is secure."

"Good. Tell Simpson to keep Team 1 outside the cell. I don't know what condition she's in. No interruptions. Got it?"

"Got it. And Michael.... good luck."

Michael approached the door to the cell and looked through the small window. Nikita sat lifeless in a wooden chair in the middle of the tiny room, her arms appeared to be bound behind her, but Michael's attention was drawn to the dried blood at her left temple, dark and matted in her pale hair. He checked the door for booby traps, but could find none. Taking out a small tool kit from his vest pocket, he extracted a file to pick the lock. Just as he felt the tumblers fall into place he noticed the red dot of a sniper's rifle flash across his hand. He dropped to the floor as the bullet impacted in the door. As Michael hit the concrete, he rolled and fired in the direction of the shot. He watched as the black clad figure fell from the metal girder above. Motioning for the operative closest to him to check it out, Michael sent three others to scout the area for more snipers. Simpson was left to guard the cell door.

Slowly entering the cell, Michael scanned the room for other access points, finding none. All he really wanted to do was run to Nikita, but he had to make sure the room was secure. Satisfied with his inspection, he dropped his rifle and knelt before Nikita's bound wrists. Once her hands were freed, Nikita slid from the chair in her unconscious state. Michael scrambled to catch her before she hit the hard concrete floor.

"Nikita, I'm here. I'm here," Michael fought to keep his voice calm, but when he pushed the tangled strands of hair from her face he could barely contain a gasp of panic. Her face was badly bruised, and there was a wide gash through her left eyebrow; her eye was swollen shut. Her cracked lips were and rough to his touch as Michael passed his thumb lightly over them. Her wrists were chaffed and blistered from the ropes; her right ankle was twice its normal size and probably broken.

Although fearful of what more he might find, he had to know if she had any further injuries. Her shallow breathing alarmed him and he gently lifted her shirt. Her stomach was stained with purple bruises. He reached down to feel for broken ribs and as he did, Nikita winced in pain, enough to awaken her.

"Nikita. Beautiful Nikita." Michael's voice was soft and comforting.

"M..M..Michael?" She stuttered.

"Yes Nikita, it's me," he whispered, grateful she was somewhat coherent.

"You came for me. . . ." Nikita mumbled, almost inaudibly. She wasn't even sure she had said it out loud, her beaten body and broken spirit were screaming in pain inside her head.

But then he responded, "You knew I'd come...didn't you?"

"But I'm *dead*...to Section, and I thought, to you."

"Never to me, Nikita, never to me." He kissed her gently on the forehead.

Nikita smiled slightly, then moaned in pain as Michael inadvertently tightened his embrace, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I thought I'd never be in your arms again."

Tears shimmered in Michael's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Her words made his heart lighter than it had been in three months. He almost choked on the emotion surging through him, "I can't ever let you go again," he whispered, but Nikita had lost conscientiousness.

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

Michael paced back and forth outside the door of Medlab. Section physicians were examining Nikita and they had ordered him out of the room. He fought tenaciously to stay because he didn't trust them not to cancel her. That had been the original order, after all. Knowing how twisted Section was at times, he was beginning to believe there were extenuating circumstances surrounding this whole situation, but he was too concerned about Nikita to give it more than a fleeting thought - for now.

He whirled around defensively when Madeline put a hand on his shoulder. "I need to talk to you, Michael."

"Later," was his one word reply. It wasn't said politely.

"You aren't doing Nikita any good out here, and you can't see her right now. I want to explain the. . . .situation to you." Madeline's voice was soothing, but stern.

"I'm not leaving here, Madeline. I don't trust you. Not after this. Not after the last three months." He had Nikita back, and Section be damned, he was not letting her out of his sight.

"She won't be cancelled, Michael. I promise you that," Madeline said softly, reading his mind.

"Your promises mean nothing," Michael growled.

She ignored his rudeness, but was growing more impatient with his insolence, "I am not going to have this conversation out here in the hall."

Realizing he could not avoid the eminent confrontation with Madeline, Michael offered an alternative, "I'll meet you in the Medlab observation room in five minutes. It's neutral ground and I can still observe Nikita's treatment from there."

"Agreed. Five minutes." Madeline turned and walked away wondering if Michael would accept the explanation that she had planned.

Michael continued his pacing as Birkoff and Walter watched from a safe distance. All of Section was abuzz with the return of Nikita. Speculations were being offered in every quarter, but no one knew the truth, just rumor and innuendo. Finally, one of the doctors emerged from Nikita's room, and Michael turned anxiously to face her.

"She has a concussion, multiple lacerations and bruises, and a hairline fracture of the right ankle. But she will be fine. She's a very tough lady."

"I know. Thank you." Michael whispered, closing his eyes in what seemed like a thankful prayer. "No broken ribs?"

"No, Michael," the doctor reassured him. "She will be very sore for a week or so, but no broken ribs. You can see her in an hour or so, she needs her rest now."

"Of course," Michael repeated.

The relief Michael felt was palpable; he sunk against the wall in relief. Nikita was back and recovering -- that was all that mattered to him at this moment. A rare smile teased his lips as he looked up to see everyone staring at him. Catching his gaze only instantaneously, they quickly returned to their work.

Michael strode confidently into the Medlab observation room, feeling invincible and ready for whatever Madeline had to say. He was rejuvenated by the doctor's prognosis and nothing Section could throw at him could take that away -- or so he thought.

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

"All right Madeline. What is so important?" Michael challenged.

"I'll get right to the point, Michael. These last three months, you and Nikita were being tested. We had to know how deep your loyalties to each other were. We wanted to know just how far you would go to save her. You didn't disappoint."

"A test?" Michael was incredulous. "After all my years here being your perfect little operative, after all I've endured, you saw fit to *test* me? I don't believe you, Madeline."

Expecting his reaction, Madeline continued, "Actually Michael, you haven't been 'the perfect little operative' as you put it, since Nikita came here. You have protected her, covered for her. . . ."

". . . .lied to her, betrayed her, even ordered her killed," Michael interrupted, "and for what? The greater good, for Section? You had no right to do this." Michael was furious. He spoke through clenched teeth; his eyes flashed jade fire.

"That may even the score in your mind, Michael, but not in ours. Commitment to Section is paramount. Commitment to. . . .Nikita must come second, unless we can combine the commitment."

Madeline's last comment never registered with Michael, as he was already formulating his response. "I tried it your way, Madeline. And Simone died -- twice. You may as well cancel me now. I won't betray Nikita again." He was defiant, determined, and Madeline knew he meant every word.

"Oh it won't come to that, Michael. You're too valuable to us." Madeline's smugness further enraged Michael and it took all of his self-control not to smack her.

"You see Michael, Operations and I have been working on a change to our regulations, regulations regarding relationships between operatives. We knew you would save Nikita during the Shays mission. We didn't know how you would do it, only that you would manage somehow. As I said, you didn't disappoint us."

"Go on." *This is getting better by the minute,* Michael thought, he still didn't believe a word Madeline said, but he was willing to listen -- for awhile longer, at least.

"After Simone was taken by Glass Curtain, and you shut down, we banned all relationships between cold ops. That was probably a mistake, hindsight being 20/20. You and Simone were a valuable team, and we should not have separated you for that mission. Had we sent you in together, the results would probably have been quite different."

Michael visibly stiffened and shifted nervously, turning his back to Madeline to hide his reaction. He knew it was futile, but he did it anyway. *Damn her, she knew all the buttons to push.*

"I suppose you've had Birkoff run symms to make that determination," Michael tossed back sarcastically.

"Well, yes, actually. But the bottom line is, when two operatives demonstrate an affinity, a synergy, if you will, as partners, we have decided to encourage that relationship rather than fight nature."

"You're serious?" Michael was incredulous yet again.

"As I said, it is a test. You and Nikita will be the first team to have this 'privilege'. If it works well with you two, then perhaps future partnerships can be established between operatives. Where indicated, of course."

Suddenly feeling like a lab rat, Michael turned back to face Madeline, "Of course, where indicated," Michael spat back.

Unaffected by his outburst, Madeline continued, "you can confirm this with Operations; he has already given his endorsement, albeit reluctantly."

"Oh that won't be necessary. I'm sure you both have your stories in sync. Just how far does this little test of yours go? I mean. . . ." Michael suddenly lost his train of thought, hearing Nikita mumble his name over the observation room intercom.

"Go to her. We'll continue this later."

Michael didn't need Madeline's dismissal. He was already opening the door as she finished the sentence.

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

Quietly Michael opened the door to Nikita's room and walked over to her bedside. His eyes caressing her as he examined the doctors' handiwork. Her head wound was bandaged, the stitches in her eyebrow were tiny and probably wouldn't leave a scar, but the left eye was still badly swollen. He didn't care; she still looked beautiful to him. He kissed her lightly on the lips, and Nikita stirred. Michael didn't want to wake her; he just wanted to be near her, touch her. The three months apart had seemed like an eternity to him.

He sat in the chair beside her bed and took her hand in his, holding it gently as he rubbed it against his cheek, then cupped it in both of his. He sat like that for some time, thinking about his earlier conversation with Madeline, hoping it was true, but still filled with doubt. Would he and Nikita finally be allowed to be together; would Nikita want it? He wasn't sure. They hadn't really talked since she left. She had never responded to any of his pages. All he could cling to was her last comment during the rescue that she wanted to be in his arms. He closed his eyes and relived the feeling from that moment, tightening his grip on her hand.

"M. . .Mi. . .chael," Nikita mumbled his name, still only semi-conscious.

"I'm here, Nikita, right here." Michael stood up and leaned over her, smoothing her disheveled hair away from her face. He kissed her forehead tenderly and continued stroking her hair. "How do you feel?" He asked quietly.

"Like I lost a back alley fight," she tried to smile, but her cracked lips wouldn't allow it. "You know I never did, right?"

"I know," Michael smiled, "The toughest lady I know."

"Don't feel too tough right now. Back in Section, I see. Well, I didn't like waitressing all that much. The tips were bad."

Michael marveled at her glibness. "You're in Medlab. You'll be here for a few days. Do you want to tell me what happened, how you got captured?" Michael didn't want to push too hard, but he needed details if he was going to confront Madeline again. He sat back down in the chair and waited for her reply, never letting go of her hand.

"It was strange, Michael. I was walking home from work, and I was grabbed and thrown into a van, a Section van." Nikita was fighting the sedative they gave her, so this truth came out matter-of-factly. Michael, however, was shocked and angered by this revelation.

His eyes widened in disbelief, "a Section van? Are you sure?" This 'test' of Madeline's was getting more outrageous by the minute. Michael flexed his shoulders and let out a cleansing breath, trying to remain calm for Nikita's sake.

"Yes, Michael. Definitely a Section van. I think I recognized one of the men that nabbed me. I think he was Section, too."

Michael beat the side of his thigh with a clenched fist, then ran his fingers through his hair. Madeline had gone too far this time, too far. "Nikita, get some rest, I'll be back in a little while." He kissed her again, and placed her hand back on her stomach.

"Promise?" she asked sleepily.

"I promise."

Michael stormed into Madeline's office, not waiting for the automatic door to open fully. He had never been this out of control, not around Madeline, or anyone in Section. Seething with anger, his whole countenance burned with unchained fury. "You sent Section ops to do this? For a 'test'? Why? Tell me, Madeline."

"It was necessary," was all she would rely.

"Necessary? I will never forgive you for this. You or Operations."

"Your forgiveness is not required, Michael, only your duty to Section." Madeline's voice was sickeningly controlled. "We are not making this possible regulation change known until we see how you and Nikita handle it. We had to convince you, and everyone else that Nikita was captured and tortured to make a believable scenario to bring her back in. It worked beautifully."

"Damn you, Madeline. Damn all of you! There was no reason to inflict such pain for a test."

"It's mostly superficial, Michael. Nikita caused the ankle injury herself trying to get away, that wasn't intended."

Michael fought to gain control, but the more Madeline purred her responses, the more he wanted to strangle her. "Wasn't intended! What did you expect her to do? You are a heartless bit. . . ."

"Careful Michael, even you can push me too far."

"I doubt that. . .but I'd like to try," Michael muttered under his breath.

Madeline ignored him. "We do what we have to do, Michael. You know that better than anyone here."

Having his own words thrown back at him incensed Michael beyond all reason. And in that moment he swore he would never say them to Nikita again.

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

A week had passed since Michael brought Nikita back to Section. Her recovery was going smoothly, she had even been up briefly to test the walking cast on her ankle. It was time to go home, and a part of Michael was dreading it. He still had not told her about the 'privilege' for which they had singled out. Nikita had begun to question him, but Michael put her off, saying they needed to talk away from Section. This, more than anything, had Nikita ready to leave Medlab, that and the constant monitoring; she had gotten little restful sleep in the past week.

Michael was careful to limit Nikita's visitors, and only allowed Walter and Birkoff access, with strict orders to keep the conversations light and no prying into the particulars of her brief freedom flight. They had accepted Michael's reasons, that it would remind her of what she had lost, and wouldn't help quicken her recovery. He left it at that, and thankfully, Walter and Birkoff knew better than push him for details. They were just grateful to have their friend back in the fold.

The circumstances of Nikita's return would have to be kept secret, as would the testing of Madeline's partnering theory. Since Michael and Nikita had been on many missions together in the past, no one would question their teaming up again. The opportunity to have a condoned relationship would also have to remain between them, giving Madeline and Operations the test case they sought. That galled Michael as much as anything. He would rather have taken stolen moments with Nikita to reestablish their relationship instead of being observed like a lab experiment.

Michael hated the way Madeline had set them up, but there was little he could do about it now. He still didn't know how Nikita would react to all this, but he was about to find out. He took a deep breath and entered her room in Medlab.

"Ready to go?" He asked as cheerfully as he could muster.

"You bet. Get me out of here." Nikita flashed Michael a big smile and hopped off the edge of the bed.

"Careful. You're still not a hundred percent."

"I can take you on though." She laughed and tickled Michael in the ribs as she passed him. He sighed, ignored the challenge and followed her out of Section, wondering how long this good mood of hers would last. It wasn't long.

As soon as he closed the door to the car the barrage of questions began as Nikita's mood turned decidedly dark. "Okay Michael, what's going on? I haven't been gone long enough to forget the drill. What are you NOT telling me this time?"

"You aren't going to like it." Michael was stalling for time, trying to put the best possible light on what he had to tell her.

"I already don't like it," she snapped. "I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop since my head stopped pounding three days ago. C'mon Michael. I know they aren't going to cancel me. Even Section isn't ridiculous enough mend me just to kill me. Why bother? So what's going on? I'm not going to ask you again."

"If I could only believe that," Michael tried to say under his breath, but Nikita heard him and punched him in the arm.

"Look Michael, I've been snatched off the street and beaten to a pulp by Section, and locked up in Medlab for seven days trying to put a bright, clueless face on for Maddy the Mindbender. I've had enough!" Nikita tried to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. They were a weakness she hated to display, especially in front of Michael, but they burst forth nonetheless.

Michael pulled the car off on the shoulder, and reached for her, but Nikita did not want to be comforted; she wanted the truth. Taking a small pad and pencil from the side pocket in the driver's door, he wrote the following note -- "Car is bugged. Will tell all at destination. Please, trust me."

A husky, sarcastic laugh erupted from Nikita, and then she slumped back against the window, looking anywhere but at Michael. Resigned to her bad demeanor, Michael stroked his chin, then steered the car back on the road. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Nikita wrapped her arms around herself, sulking in the passenger seat, her jaw set in determined fashion. Michael drove on silently, taking only brief glimpses at Nikita when he could manage them.

They reached a small cabin in a forested area about an hour's drive from Section's underground bunker. It was isolated, rustic and totally not what Nikita expected. The beautiful surroundings were already softening her mood; she leaned against the car, taking in the natural beauty of the area, while Michael took their few belongings into the cabin. After depositing his burden inside, Michael walked over to a worn path entering a copse of trees on the northern side of the cabin. He looked back at Nikita, and extended his hand. "It's a good path, you can handle it in your cast. Let's talk down here. I want to show you something."

Nikita hobbled toward him and took his hand. Her angry outburst in the car was not really directed at Michael, but at the situation they were in, at being back in Section, at the unknown. They walked hand in hand, reaching an outcropping of rocks near a gurgling brook. The rivulet spilled into a small pond under a canopy of old oaks and maples. A patch of cornflowers and clovers added a touch of color to the grassy area beside the rocks.

"It's beautiful here, Michael, just beautiful." Nikita smiled at him, and he cherished it.

"I thought you'd like it. It won't change what we have to discuss, but at least it's bug free."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Nikita teased, pointing at several six-legged creatures as they skittered beneath the rocks.

"Very funny. At least you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"What have I lost, Michael? Besides my so called freedom?" Nikita asked, changing the tone of the conversation, "talk to me."

"What do you mean, so called freedom? Weren't you happy outside, away from Section?" Michael really wanted to know. It was a question he had waited to ask until she gave him the opening.

"Freedom is relative you know. I thought I could have a normal life, whatever that is, but after three and a half years in Section, the world just doesn't look the same as it used to. I couldn't trust anyone. I looked at every person I met like they were a potential terrorist, or I wondered if they were. It just wasn't what I imagined." Nikita sighed heavily and leaned against the rocks.

Michael turned to face her, his eyes reflecting the pain he felt for her, "I'm sorry, Nikita, I really am."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about, Michael. You didn't send me into that alley or put that knife in my hand. It was fate, or stupidity. Probably both." She laughed, but there was no joy in it. She continued resignedly, "you have to play the hand you're dealt. I've accepted that now. Madeline was right, damn her. The only real relationships I'll ever have are in Section -- as ridiculous as that sounds."

Her words affected Michael more than he imagined possible. He had truly hoped she had enjoyed her time away. But as she revealed herself to him now, he knew that wasn't the case.

Nikita noticed the sad, soulful look in his eyes as he watched her, and tried to put a brave face on -- for him. "Enough philosophizing. Start at the beginning and tell me the tale."

The time had come for complete honesty, and Michael got straight to the point. "We were set up. Operations and Madeline ordered your cancellation, knowing I would try to save you."

Nikita looked at him with raised eyebrows, "go on. . . ."

"I didn't know anything about it, Nikita. I didn't." Michael was pacing in front of her now, "the Shays situation had to be contained. I barely had time to come up with a plan to get you out of danger, much less analyze Section's motives for ordering your cancellation so suddenly." Michael turned to face her, his eyes pleading with her to understand.

Nikita just looked at him, her expression unreadable, "So if they really didn't want to cancel me, what was the point? This doesn't make any sense to me, Michael."

"It didn't to me either. Then Madeline told me the rest, the day I brought you back to Section."

"Okay, so what's 'the rest'? Why did Section grab me and give me the beating of my life?"

"The beating was a cover, so everyone would think you were taken by terrorists and tortured. It's all part of the plan. Madeline has convinced Operations that relationships between operatives may be acceptable in certain circumstances, but they want to test the theory." Michael left it at that, waiting to see Nikita's reaction.

"So what are we, a science project? Oh this is too much, even for those two!" Nikita pushed herself away from the rocks, but her cast slipped on the moist grass and Michael rushed to catch her as she lost her balance.

The electricity that surged between them was undeniable as Michael held her in his arms. They had been apart too long, and the power in their touch overwhelmed them both. As if on cue, they each moved together, meeting in a devouring kiss that left them both breathless.

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

Neither of them wanted to talk anymore, as the heat of the moment swept them away. Panting and hungry for each other, Michael released Nikita just long enough to take off his long coat and spread it on the ground while she removed her parka. As their eyes met again, the intensity of their desire was reflected back to the other as if they were looking in a mirror. Michael bent down to gently lift Nikita into his arms and she wrapped her left leg around him. Her fingers threaded in his silky curls as she pulled his head up to look at her; he had the most genuine smile on his face Nikita had ever seen.

He carefully laid her down on his coat and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Nikita embraced him with all her strength, wanting him as close to her possible. Driven by raw, unbridled passion, Michael pulled her sweater off and then discarded his own. Nikita rubbed her hands down his sculptured chest; his skin was smooth and taut. Her raspy breathing warmed him and he released a satisfied groan. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her arms on either side of her face, as his tongue traced a trail up to her neck and shoulders.

No longer able to deny their powerful emotions, they succumbed to each other under the leafy umbrella of the tall trees surrounding them. Hearts and bodies in perfect rhythm, they finally quenched the fire that had been burning for the last three years.

In the aftermath of their passion, Nikita laid quietly against Michael's chest as he tenderly caressed her. They were silent for a time, as the sounds of nature filled the serene setting. The wind rustled in the treetops and dozens of orange and yellow speckled leaves drifted slowly to the ground around them; those than landed in the small pond floated leisurely downstream.

"Nikita. . ." Michael whispered against her pale hair.

"Hmmm. . ." she sighed, snuggling closer under his chin, her eyes lightly closed. She reveled in the closeness of his warm body as the slight chill in the air went unnoticed by both lovers.

"I thought I'd lost you," Michael continued.

"You never had me. . .until now, she grinned slyly, "why did we wait so long to do this?" Nikita asked, looking up at him.

He smiled that genuine smile again, "our timing was off, I guess. Doesn't seem to be a problem now though."

"Everything happens for a reason, Michael. I think we can make this little test of Madeline's work to our advantage. It will be fun trying, anyway."

They both laughed out loud. The thought of working a Section plan against Operations and Madeline was just too inviting, especially if it meant more trysts like this one. Reluctantly they got up and dressed. Nikita's stomach growled loud enough for Michael to hear, so they headed back to the cabin.

"We have a couple days here. Sanctioned by Madeline, of course," Michael added, a smile twinkling across his handsome face.

"Oh, of course, Nikita grinned. "Maybe we should call her Madeline the Matchmaker."

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

Epilogue

Over the next two days, Michael told Nikita all the details of his conversation with Madeline, and what had happened during her three-month sabbatical. They also discussed their plans to thwart Madeline's prying observations and how they would handle the gossip that was bound to result among the rest of Section's operatives. Of two things, however, they were quite sure, they would use this test to strengthen their relationship, and if successful, Section One would never be quite the same again.

-finis-

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