Carla opened Nikita's apartment door with her key and entered, carrying a casserole dish and a shopping bag.

"It ain't no joke
I'd like to buy the world a Coke
And teach the world to sing
In perfect harmon-y...."

sang Carla off-key, as she carried her burdens into the kitchen.

"Hello," said Michael, from where he had been sitting back out of the light at the glass-topped breakfast table.

"AAAHHHH!!!" Carla screeched. Her grip on the casserole loosened and it clattered onto the counter.

"Oh, you scared me!" she said, her hand clutching the top of her overalls. She caught her breath and looked at him. His thick, wavy hair spilled onto his shoulders. She noted green eyes with long lashes and the full, beautifully shaped mouth. He was muscular without being Conan; his body spoke in an understated way of leashed power completely under his control.

Sigh. He was her type. MALE.

He stood up and walked to the end of the counter. "I'm sorry I startled you. I'm Michael, and I'm ...um..." He paused.

She looked at him, one hand on her hip. "I'm Carla, Nikita's neighbor. And I know who you are."

Michael's eyes widened in shock. "What did she tell you about me?"

Carla started to put away groceries in the cupboards. "What did she tell me?" said Carla. "She didn't TELL me anything, not directly. But I can read the signs."

Carla went on. "She sits home all day, waiting for the phone to ring. She goes on these sudden trips, and when she comes back, all she can do is cry all day. She's lonely and depressed."

Carla looked at him appraisingly. "I'm not STUPID. You're the guy. It's you, isn't it? You're the married man she's seeing."

Michael hung his head and closed his eyes in relief. Thank God, he thought. Carla and Nikita won't have be cancelled. "Carla,..." he began.

"SHUT UP!" Carla yelled, her anger flaring on Nikita's behalf. She grabbed a spatula off of the counter and shook it at him. "You need to quit jerking her around! If you mess with her anymore, I swear, I'll hurt you," she threatened.

"I'm sorry," Michael said. "I don't mean to hurt her. I want us to be closer..." "That's better, " said Carla, lowering the spatula. "Look, I'm sorry, too." She relented a little; he did look very contrite. Also very cute.

"Michael, let me give you some advice. I see you're here early for dinner with Nikita tonight."

She looked around the kitchen. "Get this straight. Nikita made that casserole herself from scratch. It's your favorite. It's the most delicious thing you ever had. Same goes for the bread and the salad." She looked at him. "Got it?"

"Got it." He smiled. "Where is Nikita now?"

"I think she's out shopping for a dress to impress your sorry butt. Excuse my French." Carla looked him over for a few moments. "O.K., maybe not so sorry." She smiled at him. They both laughed.

Carla moved toward the door. "O.K., I'm going now. You didn't see me, right?"

"Right." Michael walked her to the door."I'll behave myself." He reached out and took one of Carla's thick braided pigtails in his fingers, caressing it. He dropped his hand to her shoulder and looped his fingers under one strap of her overalls. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "Carla, thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance."

"Uh...oh...er....sure..." stammered Carla. She blushed. "Bye, now," she managed to say and fled.

After she left, Michael sat down again at the table, his head in his hands. Carla was right. He inflicted pain on Nikita because of a previous committment. But not to a wife. To Section One. Perhaps tonight could be a new beginning for them.

Suddenly, from down the hallway he heard Carla scream.

************ The Threat

Michael drew his gun and opened the door. The hallway was empty. He ran. As he reached the outside door, Michael saw Carla being shoved into a car by two men. One of them looked familiar. The doors slammed and the car peeled off.

Michael realized he was too late to stop them. He looked back up the street and saw Nikita on the sidewalk approaching the apartment building from the opposite direction. She had seen the car leaving. Flinging her shopping bag aside, she ran towards him, drawing her gun.

"CARLA!" Nikita yelled. As she moved to run after the car, Michael grabbed her arm.

"I know who did this. We'll be contacted soon."

Nikita holstered her gun and stood with tears welling in her eyes. "Who? Who took Carla, Michael? Why?"

"Benko," he answered.

Nikita looked shocked. "Benko's dead."

Still holding her arm, Michael responded, "Not Illya Benko." He paused. "His brother. Piotre."

Piotre Benko dialed the number to Nikita's apartment. Michael and Nikita heard the ringing from down the hallway. Dashing in the door, Nikita ran to the phone and answered it breathlessly. "Hello? Hello?"

Michael stood close behind her, listening.

"I've got your friend."

"Why? Why take Carla?" Nikita swallowed hard. "She has nothing to do with what Section One did to your brother."

"Ahh, but I don't care about revenge against Section One. This is personal," Piotre hissed. "I care about making you and Michael suffer."

Michael took the phone from Nikita. "What do you want, Benko?"

"I want the two of you to come to me. Alone."

Michael looked grim. "Where and when?"

"I'll let you know," said Benko. The phone went dead.

Carla looked up at her captor from the chair she was tied to. "What the hell is Section One?" she asked.

At great length and in minute detail, Piotre proceeded to tell her.

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

"Here's what we know so far," said Operations, clicking on the viewscreen. Piotre Benko's image floated suddenly above the briefing table.

"Benko's brother was not directly involved in Benko's activities--bombings and beheadings among them, as you all know."

There was a moment of silence. Everyone was familiar with what had happened to Lang.

The gruesome "op in a box" jokes--an attempt to cope---had yet to die down in Section.

Operations continued. "Piotre is strictly an amateur. He has no first-hand experience, other than what he has been told by his brother and his cronies." He smiled widely. "That, and maybe what he's gleaned from watching James Bond movies."

He finished. "Apparently, he paid some of the cronies for information about us."

"He has the Directory?" asked Michael, alarmed.

"No. Just the part of it that he wanted: information on you and Nikita," said Operations.

Madeleine looked at the faces around the table. "Fortunately, due to Michael's foresight in placing a tracker on Carla just before her abduction, we all ready have a location."

"WHAT?" said Nikita, shocked.

"I'll explain later," Michael said, looking guilty.

Nikita shot him a look before turning to listen to Birkoff.

"Benko's holding her here, in an old warehouse," said Birkoff, indicating the new image on the screen. "It's not heavily guarded, as far as we can tell."

"This should be simple," Operations said. "Michael, take a team and get her back."

Nikita grabbed Michael by the arm as he got up from the table. "I want my explanation. NOW," she demanded.

"O.K. In my office..." he said, almost sheepishly.

The door was shut and they stood facing each other across the desk. "Well?" said Nikita.

"I planted the tracker and comm-unit on Carla this afternoon in your apartment. I ran into her there when she...er..." Michael stopped.

"I know. Carla cooked the dinner for me," Nikita said. "I can't cook. That's my guilty secret." Nikita took a step toward him. "Now let's hear YOURS. Why did you track Carla?"

Michael couldn't look at her. "I know she is your friend, your confidante," he said in a low voice. "I thought I'd get to hear some feedback after our date tonight.." Nikita sniffed. Smiling slightly, she said, "How straight-forward of you."

"I'm sorry." Michael hung his head.

"Don't be. Your usual sneaky, controlling ways just might have saved Carla's life," said Nikita. "Let's go."

"There's something else," said Michael as they walked quickly down the hallway to the waiting van.

Nikita stopped and looked at him.

"If Carla learns about Section One, if there's been any exposure, she'll have to be..." Michael paused.

"I know, Michael." Nikita's mouth set in a grim line. "She'll have to be cancelled."

They looked at each other for a long moment, then entered the van.

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

Michael and Nikita entered the warehouse cautiously. The large, open space in the center seemed empty. "Michael," Nikita whispered, "The readings show Carla should be right here..."

Out of the shadows behind them came Piotre Benko's voice. "That's far enough! Get your hands up!"

Both operatives slowly raised their hands to their heads. "Please, let us see Carla," said Nikita.

Benko came out of the darkness into their line of vision. He held Carla by the arm, positioning her in front of him as a shield. The gun he held was pressed to her temple.

"Let her go, Benko," said Michael. "We're here. We'll do anything you want."

Piotre grinned maniacally and gave an hysterical laugh.

Michael and Nikita stared at him warily. He was obviously on the edge. It was apparent that he had a very loose grip on sanity.

"Oh, no, no, no. I have no intention of letting her go." Benko's grip on the gun tightened and his voice became louder. Shrilly, he said,"She's going to DIE. But first, I'm going to kill the two of you.." He aimed the gun toward them.

"NIKITA!!!" Carla yelled. She twisted herself in front of Benko as the gun went off.

She collapsed against Benko and they both went sprawling on the warehouse floor. Michael leapt forward, wrestling the gun from Benko's grasp. He heaved him to his feet, twisting the other man's arm cruelly behind his back.

Section operatives emerged from behind them and moved to flank Benko.

"Take him," said Michael.

Michael turned to look at Carla. Blood blossomed from her shoulder. Nikita was holding her cradled in her lap.

He knelt beside the wounded girl. Carefully he unbuckled the strap of her overalls, pulling the material down away from her bleeding shoulder. Michael then ripped open her T-shirt and pressed his handerchief firmly against the bullet wound.

"Oh, Carla," sobbed Nikita, stroking Carla's hair.

To ease her friend's distress, Carla decided to take action. She looked up at Michael, trying to smile. Covering his hand lying above her breast with her own, she said,"I KNEW it! You DIG me!"

Michael smiled and Nikita almost laughed. So far so good.

Carla stifled a moan and continued. "Don't worry, Girlfriend, I'll share." She looked back up at Nikita. "Menage a trois O.K. with you?"

Nikita was laughing for real now. "You've got to meet Walter," she said.

"Walter, huh?" said Carla. She paused. "Is he cute?"

Nikita sighed in relief. Carla's obviously unabated interest in the opposite gender reassured her that her friend was indeed all right.

"Carla," Michael asked, "What did Benko do to you? Did he hurt you?"

Carla lifted her head to look at him. "No, he didn't do anything but RANT at me. For hours. About some place called Section One..."

Nikita stifled a scream. Oh, no, she thought. "What did he tell you?" Nikita asked, her heart sinking. She looked at Michael imploringly. Please don't kill her, she pleaded with her eyes.

"It's so totally STUPID," said Carla, bewildered. He said you and Michael were some sort of secret agents." She sat up. "Can you believe how weird?"

Carla shook her head. "I almost feel sorry for the poor crazy guy. What's going to happen to him?"

"I'm so sorry, Carla," said Michael. "I'm sorry he escaped to hurt you. We'll take him back to the mental hospital..."

"You're a shrink?" asked Carla. "And he's one of your patients?"

Nikita was perfectly still, holding her breath.

"Yes, he's totally delusional," Michael elaborated. "He saw Nikita and me together one time and couldn't stop obsessing about us. He built a whole fantasy world around us..."

Nikita looked gratefully at Michael, glad for once that he was so good at lying. I could kiss you, she thought. I WILL kiss you the first chance I get, said her eyes this time.

"Everything's going to be O.K. now," she said to Carla, squeezing her friend's hand. She smiled. "Everything's going to be all right."

Michael and Nikita helped Carla carefully to her feet. With their arms linked in mutual support, the three friends walked slowly out into the light.

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

It was a few weeks later, in Nikita's apartment.

"O.K., let's try this again, guys," said Carla, taking the large casserole dish out of the oven.

"My grandmother's lasagne recipe. Garlic bread. Salad. Red wine. Chocolate cake." She pointed at each item in turn, laid out on Nikita's kitchen counter. The table was already set, complete with candles and flowers.

Carla lifted the spatula playfully and waggled it in Michael's direction. "Remember," she said to him in mock seriousness, "You love everything. You adore Nikita..."

Michael nodded at her solemnly. He walked up to Nikita and looked deeply into her eyes, wrapping both arms around her waist.

Not taking his eyes from Nikita's, Michael answered Carla. "Yes, I remember. I love everything..." His voice, low and sensual, gave Nikita goosebumps. "I adore Nikita..." he breathed softly.

"Hmmm, well!" Carla cleared her throat and smiled. "I guess that's my cue to leave." Carla headed for the door.

"Goodnight, Nikita," she said.

"Goodnight, Carla."

Nikita was just leaning her face toward Michael's to be kissed, when Carla said from the doorway, "Hey, are you sure you don't want to invite Walter over for dessert? I'd love to meet him."

Never for a second taking their eyes off of each other, Michael and Nikita answered her. "He's gay," they both said at the same time.

"Oh," said Carla. Damn, she thought. Just my rotten luck. She shut the door quietly behind her and went slowly across the hall home.

Send suggestions and comments to ranma.
OR
If you would like to send a comment to Lorraine, click HERE!!