I have to write this down before it goes away.

My sense of reality has been twisted lately. And this memory looks like a dream. Like the best times of my life always do. But it happened. I know it did. The only reason why I could doubt it is because it all looks like a fantasy. But it was real, not a dream. At least, no more than Lyon was.

We were on a mission. We, me and Michael. Another bogus home, another fake marriage, morning kisses from a complete stranger at dawn and awkwardly tender embraces before sleep at dusk. This wasn't us. This was Michael and Nikita from Section on a mission. "Whatever it takes".

Do you really want to know if we made love during that week? You're wrong to ask. Section Michael and Nikita can't "make love". They perform. For the cover and for the cameras. Whatever happened between them is irrelevant. It doesn't really count. I learnt it the hard way after the Armel mission.

What happened between ME and HIM, whoever we truly are, is a different story. I may not know who he really is and sometimes I can't remember who I am, but the only thing I'm sure of is that we're not Section when we're US.

We weren't that night. "We" existed on two occasions. On the boat in France and during a few hours on the bathroom floor of this Section rented house. I didn't think we could exist during a mission, I thought only freedom could bring us together, but I was wrong.

How did it start? I was "home" alone. My "husband" was away for the night. I don't want to talk about the target or the job, the only thing important for the continuation of this story is that I knew I was being watched. The bad guys were spying our "couple" and so was Section. The cameras were everywhere in the house. No escape. That's why I was convinced we wouldn't be able to make love here. I didn't really know if he wanted to.

Did I want it? It's not a question of "want" with Michael, MY Michael, not Section's. I don't "want" him, I just can't fight it. Not because I'm weak or lustful. I'm not. But the Earth may not wish to revolve around the sun, it still does! Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to love him. If I had a choice I probably would turn down the offer. It's not like it's the best thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes, I think it's the worst. But there's no escape. Trust me I tried. I still do. The craving never goes away, it hurts like hell. And don't go thinking our two times together are worth all the pain. It's not a bargain, it doesn't compensate for the hurt. The price to pay to love him is high, too high for me, I can't afford it. But it's inevitable. I don't know how he feels about this but I bet he doesn't have a choice either. He's maybe better at fighting it than me though, he sure is better at hiding it!

So there I was, alone for the night. I had taken a long hot bath. It was dark, I had placed several candles in the room because I didn't like the crude light coming from the ceiling. I knew they watched. I have lost most of my modesty in Section, God knows everybody must have seen me naked or revealed in the most prosaic positions over the years, but still, I like to keep a false sense of privacy. Like Walter would say "You gotta know when to lie to yourself". I was relaxing, making believe noone could see me. I was so caught up in it that when I got out of the tub instead of drying myself, I just stood in front of the large mirror opposite the door. It was a long rectangle just hanging on the wall. I could see my whole body in it, from head to toe. I stood there examining myself, naked and dripping. I let my hair down wondering who this person was. Was it Nikita or Joséphine? Were we the same person? And who was I anyway? A framed innocent, a killer struggling with her conscience, an alley rat in disguise, the ugly little duck turned into a swan bathed in blood? I'm still asking myself the same questions now. But that night, Michael came up with an answer. I was the woman he was watching in the mirror with hungry eyes.

I caught his reflection, he was standing behind me, in the door I had left open. I didn't turn around, I just drank in the sight. He's always stunning. The broad shoulders, the clear and dreamy gaze, the sensual lips, the perfectly muscled body, the soft curls of his hair... I took my time watching him, I can never get enough. I don't know if it lasted a few seconds or several minutes. But I didn't hide anything of what I was feeling, because the man I was watching was not the fake husband who had said goodbye to me this morning with a chaste peck on the cheek. He was not Section Michael either. There was nothing cold, calculated or guarded in the way he was devouring me. There was only passion, longing and undeniable love in his eyes. I had seen that look, that man, only once. And he had come back to me.

I could have said "What took you so long?", but I didn't. He could have returned the question. I'm not exactly the same woman he found struggling with her emotions on a barge 18 months ago and he's a changed man too. So many things have happened. Happened to them, Nikita and Michael, Section operatives. For between "us", it's always the same, it's always this urge boiling below the surface, waiting, craving for an opportunity to arise and explode. We never know when it's gonna happen or what could trigger it... There's no way to create the right situation and we can't even hope for it. But we know it's there and that eventually, the inevitable will happen. As long as we're alive, there's no way to stop it. Sometimes, I think death couldn't either. Sometimes, I believe death is the only way "we" can be together.

We don't need to talk, explain or apologise then, we don't need anything. So, I didn't speak and I didn't move for a while. I didn't know if it would last more than a few seconds and if we would touch each other. But his eyes were dark and his chest was heaving, his fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides and his bottom lip was trembling. So I raised my left hand in front of me to the man in the mirror. The man I loved. The man I always love. I invited him to join me, caress me, love me. He read it all in my gesture and in my eyes and he reached for me.

I didn't turn my face as he caught my lifted hand from behind and placed it on his head. My fingers caressed his hair as his hands came to rest on my waist. We were still devouring each other with our eyes in the mirror. I watched as his fingers trailed upwards until they circled my breasts. I only closed my eyes when we kissed. Who did it first? Does it matter? Did I turn my head towards him in need or did he steal my breath away after his lips found their way from my cheek to my mouth? Who cares. Our reflection was showing our perfectly matching thirst for each other.

We didn't lose ourselves in the kiss, we found ourselves. Can words describe our lovemaking? Should I even try to? I have replayed the scene in my head a hundredth times with perfect clarity. Oh, I don't recall when or where we touched, which part of us we stroked or how long we did. I only remember the sensations, all of them, and the looks, gestures and feelings that stirred them up.

I don't recall undressing him but he must have shed his clothes at some point. I just know we never stopped touching each other while he did. Our connection didn't cease for an instant as if we were two inseparable magnets. One second we were standing up kissing, with him fully dressed, and then the next, we were laying on the floor, my back on a towel, him naked on top of me. The feel of his body crushing me nearly made me come. Our wanderings hands touched wherever they could reach, our roving eyes caressed and admired without blinking. I remember exploring his body inch by glorious inch. And he explored me too. In and out, with his lips, tongue, teeth, breath, hands, nails and sex. There's no part of me he didn't touch with each of these.

There was no teasing, no hesitation, no shame or boundaries. We didn't care who was watching. There was noone else but us. We never speak when we love each other. Words are so often our undoing. But the language we share then says it all.

It speaks of the pleasure we give and take from one another. Of the indescribable desire coursing through us. Of complete and pure adoration and acceptance of everything that made us who we are. We don't want to change anything in our lives or in the other that could risk compromise what we feel when we're finally together. How we lose control, how we moan and sigh in longing and fulfilment.

Do you need statistics? The number of times we came, how many kisses, the positions we chose... Let me tell you : everything was a shared orgasm. My fingers roaming in his hair, his ragged breathing against my heart, my calves locked on his curves, my inner walls feeling the accelerating beating of his pulse with more intensity than my mouth at his neck as he entered me... After that it's a wonderful blur. We were shaking, quivering, moaning on our journey towards bliss.

The place we reach when we're together it's softer than silk, brighter than lightning, warmer than the sun, it's peaceful and cataclysmic, it's familiar because we belong there and foreign because we can never stay long enough. I'd cancel us immediately if I was sure we would return there after we die. We go there everytime we touch and then we climb together, higher and higher, until we reach the clouds.

He led me there and when I called his name to follow he came. The expression of delight and wonder in his green gaze is imprinted in my mind forever, I know it mirrored my own. We floated among the clouds locked in our embrace and neither of us wanted to leave.

We decided to try and stay for a while even if we knew it couldn't last forever. I laid on my back on the towel with him on top of me, his head on my heart, my fingers stroking his hair soothingly. We fell asleep on the bathroom floor without a word or even a look. Our slumber was peaceful and I didn't dream.

When I woke up he was gone. He wasn't even in the house. Next time I saw him he was Section Michael and I acted like Josephine should. We completed the mission and didn't talk about that night. I was glad he didn't apologise and I couldn't broach the subject with him. What for? An explanation? I don't need any. The reasons why we can't be together despite what we feel for each other maybe? I know them already. Nothing has changed. Section prevails.

If you think I dream all this, if you want some tangible proof, go check the video archives in Section. There must be a trace somewhere. They never throw anything away. As for me, I don't need evidence, but I know the memory will fade. Don't get me wrong, I won't forget, how could I? I didn't write this down because I wanted to store every detail in case I would lose track of this event. It's embedded in me, more certainly than the genetic code in my cells. No, I too need to be reminded that I didn't dream. That I didn't write this down after a wonderful fantasy at night. I need to do this because it seems too good to be true and I'll end up believing it wasn't real. I still doubt Lyon at times. I know you'll make me doubt this too, Michael.

So I have to write this for me, for later, when your next rejection, your next betrayal will reawaken my doubts :

REMEMBER NIKITA IT HAPPENED, IT WAS NOT A DREAM.

Remember you fool, how perfect it felt, how right it was to love him and to be loved by him. Yes, "loved", you know he does. You always knew. As you know deep inside of you that the moment will come again. Someday... when you least expect it. All you have to do is wait, and yes, that's the hardest part. You can blame everyone for the injustice of it : him, Section, you. It doesn't change the truth. It's inevitable. Better deal with it. You have no choice anyway.

And you, Michael... You, irresistible, inescapable, unfathomable, you. I hope you'll remember it too. I hope it haunts you right this minute. I want you to stay awake as I am and be tortured by the beauty of our lovemaking. At the moment, I don't think you're more patient than I am. You can't wait, can you?

Don't fall asleep Michael. Don't push the memory away. It will eat you alive anyway. Don't regret and don't you forget. Remember US. I do. Even if I don't want to, I will. "We" are inevitable.

THE END

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