They walked the cold streets towards the little coffee house they went to on the rare occasions Michael found the need to talk. Nikita had preferred not to take him to her apartment, sensing it was too soon. His place was out of the question, the rooms were filled with traces of his grief: Adam's image frozen on the TV screen, the cello... The coffee house sounded like a good compromise.

She knew she had to be careful around him. He wasn't quite himself and his vulnerability frightened her more than she could say. And not just because his attitude could have him cancelled. She wondered if it was within her power to mold him into the man he used to be, for Section's sake, or into a new direction, for hers. She was aware of the impact this little break from Section could have on their future relations. She tried not to expect too much of it. She only hoped it would bring him a little comfort. And maybe she would understand him better after that.

Michael was still very much the mystery man she had first seen in the White room. She knew he wasn't an empty shell or the machine Section used, but she couldn't quite explain who he really was. She wasn't sure even he could answer this question. She wondered when was the last time he had allowed himself to have a personal desire he had acted upon. *The night on the boat*, she suddenly thought. *He had fulfilled his desires that night with me*. She quickly glanced at him, feeling uneasy at the rush of warmth these memories brought. His face gave away nothing as usual but she noted his eyes kept the pale grey-blue color she had never seen before he lost Adam. The color of pain. *Be his friend,* she chastised herself. *Not his frustrated lover, he doesn't need this right now.*

With a sigh, she pushed the coffee house door and entered the place. She gestured at a table in a corner, far from the other customers. He nodded and they sat down in front of one another. A waiter quickly took their order and was fast to come back with a black coffee for him and a cappuccino for her.

He kept silent, lost in his thoughts and Nikita knew she had to start the conversation at some point. She decided to distract him with a mundane subject.

"So do you have a place to sleep," she said. From the inquisitive look he gave her she realized it was a bad start and she mentally kicked herself. "I mean, a bed, furniture, you know", she babbled. "Your place looks really empty."

He nodded, finally understanding her. "I'm sure Section has already taken care of it," he said.

Nikita was startled. "But don't you want to choose your own surroundings," she asked, remembering how she had made a home for herself.

"This is not a home, Nikita. This is where I live that's all," he stated, sipping his coffee.

Nikita swallowed the lump in her throat. *Oh my god*, she thought, *home was where Elena and Adam were*.

"I know you miss your home, Michael, but you must start to make a new life for yourself," she whispered.

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "I haven't had a home for the last 14 years, Nikita, not since I joined Section."

Nikita looked at him slightly shocked. She considered her apartment like home. It was Section's, but it was the safest place she'd ever had. She suddenly realized he probably had a real home with his sister before Section. A better life than hers. The difference must have been awesome when he was first recruited. She remembered he had confided in her one day that it had been difficult for him to adapt.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "When you gave me the apartment after my training was over, it was the closest thing to home I ever had. I still look at it this way. I didn't know it was different for you."

"You tend to forget I'm as much a prisoner of Section as you. Level 5 or not," he stated matter of factly.

She bowed her head. He was right, she often forgot this.

Michael scolded himself, he didn't want to sound as if he was blaming her.

"I'm not accusing you, Ni-ki-ta. It's not my point. All I'm saying is that my hands are tied. Maybe tighter than yours. The well being of a lot of people still depends on my behavior," he added with a dreamy gaze.

Nikita lifted her head and stared at him.

"Is Section blackmailing you with the life of Adam and Elena?," she asked worriedly.

"They don't need to," he pointed, looking away from her.

Nikita sighed. Section owned him, all right. He really never had a choice.

"You'll never be free of Section," she stated out loud.

He looked at her with a tired smile on his face.

"I gave up my freedom a long time ago. You still hold on to yours. And maybe there's hope for you," he lied.

Truth was he dreaded the moment when she would comprehend there was no escape. He wondered if she could survive it.

"I've been in Section for 14 years," he continued. "A lot has happened that you don't know about. You're pretty much the same person you were when you were recruited. I'm not. I changed. I had to."

Nikita wondered how she would be in 10 years. Would she protect herself the way he did? Could she survive another decade of lies, deceit and murder? Did she want to? It was not thoughts she wanted to dwell upon.

"You did what you had to do to survive, Michael. I see that now, but the way you choose to do it is up to you," she said. She couldn't accept the fact that he had given up hope. She hadn't, she still had dreams. And all of them included him.

"You still believe in free will. I don't," he answered.

She found the strength to ask him the question that had been burning her lips ever since she met him : "How do you manage to go on then?"

He was silent for a long time and Nikita held her breath. She thought he would never answer but he was just assessing her question.

"I just don't think about it," he honestly replied.

Nikita tried to read his face, an eyebrow lifted with suspicion. He saw her distrust and smiled ironically.

"That's the truth, Nikita. I live on a day to day basis. I don't plan ahead, except when a mission requires it."

He paused, judging the effect of his admission on her. She still looked puzzled. He was supposed to be a master strategist after all, and he wasn't surprised that she couldn't quite picture him as somebody who didn't neatly plan everything in his life. *But what life?*, he thought. He swallowed, trying to limit the tone of pain in his voice as he pursued.

"It's not that I thought it would be easy for me to lose Adam. The truth is, I never thought about it before it happened. There was no reason to. I knew from the start I would eventually have to leave. But I never realized how I would..." He seemed to search for the right word. "... feel," he finally uttered looking straight ahead of him at a mysterious place only he could see.

Nikita didn't even try to mask the surprise on her face. She was tempted to reach up and take his hands that were idly playing with the napkin on the table. But she stopped her movement and instead uselessly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His features exhaled pure sorrow. His gaze held so much pain she had to close her eyes for a moment. She ached for him. She dreamt of helping him carry the burden of his sufferings.

"You don't have to face it alone, Michael," she offered.

"Yes, I have," he whispered.

He looked completely lost for a moment and Nikita added.

"Please, I don't want to make it more difficult for you. I'm only trying to help you."

She took one of his hand in hers this time and he didn't flinch.

"You know you can trust me, let me be your friend," she said, thinking *Yeah, friendship. This has to be the understatement of the century, when just the touch of your hand in mine brings shivers down my spine*.

Michael slowly began to caress her palm with his thumb, carefully studying her response. Nikita swallowed, trying to keep a serene face but feeling herself blush. He let go of her hand with a sad smile. "We can never be friends, Nikita," he quietly stated.

Nikita hid her hands under the table. She felt aroused and angry at the same time. A feeling Michael always had the power to stir in her. It was a combination that threatened her ability to think.

"I'll be there for you Michael, and there's nothing you or Section can do about it," she warned, daring him to contradict her.

"Just give us time. We'll think of something," he promised.

To Nikita it sounded more like a threat and she was stunned. He stared at her calmly but she could sense the tension in his body.

"You don't have to do this, Michael," she pleaded. She hated the way this conversation was going.

"I'm being honest with you Nikita. There's a price to pay to be close to me. And it's not worth it," he insisted.

"I'll take my chances. I can take care of myself," she said lifting her chin in defiance.

Michael tried hard to suppress a smile. She was such a rebel. Just like the first day he had laid eyes on her in the White room. It was one of the many qualities that had attracted him to her. Even if it was the one he had fought the hardest during her training.

He studied her challenging face. He could name a hundred reasons to explain why he loved her. One for each smile she had ever granted him. One for each part of her irresistible body. One for each of those qualities that bind his once cold heart to hers. But he couldn't name one reason why she should love him. He had tried on her every betrayal ever invented by man. And still, she was there for him. It didn't make sense.

"I don't know what you see in me that make you say this. But I can promise you it's not there," he replied.

Nikita was torn between the desire to hold him and to slap him. How could he say that? She was tempted to remind him of all the times he had saved her life. Of all the times he had cared when nobody else gave a damn, including her. But she was sure he would remind her of all his lies in return. She sighed.

"Is this how you want to live your life? Alone?", she asked worriedly.

"There's no other way," he answered without looking at her.

*So we're back where we started*, she thought. She was momentarily distracted by the waiter offering them a refill. When Michael refused and paid the bill, Nikita knew she didn't have much time before he got up and left. She had to make her point.

"OK Michael. That's all right with me," she just said.

He observed her, searching her face for the familiar signs of anger and pain every time he rejected her. But he found none. Instead she smiled tentatively. She took his hand in hers again.

"You don't have to worry about me Michael, I'll be fine. Me on the other hand will keep one worrying about YOU. Because whether you like it or not, I CARE for you," she insisted.

Michael examined her little hand in his. He squeezed it once before letting go. He looked at her one last time before getting up and nodded silently. He waited for her to pick her jacket but she didn't move.

"I'm gonna hang around for a while. Go, I'll be fine", she lied. She needed time to replay the whole conversation in her head and decide where she had gone wrong with him.

He opened his mouth to say something but didn't. He didn't want to go "home", he didn't want to leave her, he didn't want to be alone. But he didn't feel he had the right. Sure, there was nothing keeping them apart now. The mission was over and he could be as honest with her as Section allowed. There was nothing stopping him. Nothing but the pain. And it was tremendous...

So he turned, heading for the door, convinced his love could only bring her sorrow. Nikita watched his dark silhouette retreat towards the shadows of the night when suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He turned partly before saying :

"See you in Section, then", it was almost a question.

Nikita offered him her brightest smile.

"I'll be there" and it was a promise.

THE END

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