There was a knock at Michael's office door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened and Nikita came in. She stood there looking at him with fear in her eyes.

Not Nikita. Michelle. Michael closed his eyes.

Nikita had been gone three weeks on vacation. He hadn't heard from her and didn't know when she would be back. Michelle was the operative sent from Section's East Coast substation to replace Nikita on this mission.

Michelle had the same deep blue eyes and beautifully curved mouth. It was uncanny how much she looked like Nikita. They could have been twins. Michael found her presence unsettling.

"Yes?" he said, in his most distant voice.

"I can't do this mission!" she blurted out. She walked forward and leaned her arms on his desk. "It won't work...."

Michael fixed her with his cold stare. "Just follow the parameters. You'll be fine."

It was a dismissal.

"No! It will not be FINE!" Michelle bit her lip and leaned closer. "Michael, do you believe in intuition? Gut feeling?"

"No," he answered, his voice barely audible. He was lost in a flashback of when Nikita had asked him that very question when she was evaluating Karen.

"Well, I do!" Michelle retorted.. "And right now, my guts are screaming this will all go down wrong..."

"Get over it. Just do the job." Michael didn't mean to sound so harsh, but having her near seemed to bring out the worst in him, like when he was with Nikita.

He closed his eyes. The memories of Nikita in his arms, and of Nikita with Jurgen were too fresh.

Michelle flinched back at his words. She thought about slinking out now with what was left of her dignity, but the will to live was stronger than her fear of humiliation.

"Michael, help me, please.."

He looked up at her, realizing she wasn't done yet and that she wasn't leaving.

"Sit down," he said.

She sighed and took a seat in front of his desk. "Tell me about you and Nikita, how you feel about each other.."

Michael stiffened, offended. "You have the background summaries that Madeleine gave you.."

"I've got SQUAT," Michelle said, frustration showing in her voice. "Look at me, Michael. I look like Nikita, but I'm not her. I don't have what I need to do this mission."

"And that is?"

"A connection with you." She leaned forward and spoke earnestly. "I don't want to pry into your personal business. I'm not digging for gossip. This is about SURVIVAL. And what you and Nikita had is what kept you alive...."

Michael's jaw clenched. Could she see his pain that clearly? Was it that obvious that Nikita was his life-line?

"What do you mean?" he asked, stone-faced.

Michelle forged on. Michael wasn't making this easy for her. "Look, you trained Nikita. You've known each other for over three years. You've gone on missions together, saved each other's lives..."

She looked at Michael. "Madeleine told me you might have been lovers. I don't care about that. My point is...."

"You have a point?" said Michael rudely.

Michelle took a breath. "Yes, I do. You and Nikita could read each other's signals. You had each other figured out. She probably knew what clues you were giving her on a mission without you having to say anything."

She sighed. "You had a common history, symbols, code words, a look, something. You could communicate on a whole different level than usual, just like any two people who've known each other a long time..."

Michael looked away from her gaze. What she said was partially true. But he had used the symbols against Nikita so often that she didn't trust him any more. He had made sure that she didn't figure him out.

"What do you want, exactly?" he asked.

"I want you to not assume that I automatically know what you want me to do, that I can read the signals, because I can't! To me, you're a total enigma. I don't have a clue to what you're all about. To me, you're just one scary, intimidating..." She stopped herself.

Michael was typing quickly on his laptop.

She felt the tears sting her eyes. "Oh, never mind. Forget it..." she said, standing up.

Michael stood quickly and grabbed her wrist, at the same time spinning the monitor toward her so she could read the screen.

NOT SAFE TO TALK HERE.

MEET ME IN 15 MINUTES AT YOUR CAR.

ACT ANGRY AND STORM OUT.

Michelle looked at him, surprised, then nodded.

"Good," said Michael,curtly, "I will."

"And don't be late to the briefing tomorrow," he added. "Ten a.m."

"Yes, Sir! Of course not, Sir!" she said insolently and kicked the chair out of her way. She slammed the door on her way out.

Michael smiled. She picked up on the signals O.K., he thought.

He turned off his computer and waited a few minutes before heading for the parking lot.

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

In the parking lot, Michelle sat on the hood of her car, long legs in jeans stretched out, arms folded across her chest. It was a warm Spring day and she tilted her head back, her face upturned, to capture the warmth of the sun. Her hair streamed in soft waves of gold down her back.

Michael's breath caught when he saw her, thinking how lovely she was.

She heard his footsteps and slid off the hood, walking toward him.

"I'm sorry," said Michelle. "I didn't realize it wasn't O.K. to ......"

Suddenly, Michael kissed her to stop her from saying the rest. He held her face in his hands, but that was not what kept her immobile. She was stunned by the onslaught of sweet sensation, the shock of the feel of his mouth on hers. It was bliss.

She recovered after a moment and put her hands on his chest to push him away.

"Michael..." she gasped.

He pulled her head back down onto his shoulder with one hand and held her against him, the other arm around her waist. Into her ear he whispered, "It's bugged here, too."

She nodded and he released her. She looked around for cameras and then stopped herself. She pulled out a set of keys from her pocket and dangled them from the key-ring. "Want to drive?" Michelle asked, smiling.

He drove her to the Falls. It was a weekday and they had the entire park to themselves. Sunlight glimmered through the tall trees, their leaves the freshest green of Spring.

The sound of rushing water roared loudly in their ears as they hiked the path to the waterfall.

Michael held her hand, helping her over the rough spots on the trail. Neither spoke until they were just at the edge of the Fall. They were at the bottom, where falling water met calm pool in a delicious white froth of bubbles, sound, and swirling movement.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Just a little further..." coaxed Michael.

He took her hand again and and they stepped from rock to rock across the shallow pool in front of the Falls until they reached the space behind the curtain of water. There was a recess there, almost like a small cave. They could stand there, perfectly dry, while the water thundered down just a few feet in front of them.

It was world of their own.

Michelle laughed in delight. "Well, this is private enough!"

She looked at Michael, who had taken off his jacket, revealing a black T-shirt underneath. He had spread the coat on a large rock and was sitting on one side of it. He indicated the spot next to him.

"Have a seat," he invited.

He looked inviting, indeed, with his hair curling around his face from the moisture in the air and a friendly expression in his green eyes.

She sat down on the rock next to him, their shoulders touching.

Michelle sighed. "I'm sorry I was so clueless. I guess I proved my point about not being able to read your signals," she apologized.

"I have a way of blocking the surveillance in my office for a short while, but I don't like to use it too often.." Michael explained.

Michelle nodded. She was beginning to think the approachable, warm person she was with now was the real Michael, and the cold and callous person she encountered earlier was a facade he put on in Section One.

"No wonder you developed that unreadable exterior, with someone watching you every minute..." she said.

Michael smiled but said nothing. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, enjoying the peace.

She got up and tossed a pebble from the cave floor into the water fall's pool. The splash was barely audible above its roar.

The light shining through the waterfall created a nimbus of golden light around her head, a halo in which several small rainbows were caught. Michael's gaze softened.

Michelle saw how he was looking at her, and knew that the tenderness was not for her, but for Nikita.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" she said.

Michael look startled, and his gaze became guarded and wary again.

"Does it show that much?" he asked, ruefully.

"No, not really. You hide it well under your Mr. Stone Face exterior.." she said kindly.

"Not well enough," said Michael.

"Maybe I'm just learning to read your signals.." Michelle paused, then seeing his discomfort, went on. "I'm sorry, Michael, maybe I shouldn't have said anything..."

"No, you were right before," he said. "You do need to know the signals. But not the signals between Nikita and me.." His gaze held the tenderness again, his expression open and vunerable.

"We need to establish signals of our own, build the bond between us..." he said. "Make our own connection.."

Michelle hesitated to break the spell of his words, but decided it was necessary to bring up Nikita again.

"But don't I need to know about her for this mission? Become her? How well does Collins know Nikita?"

"Only superficially," Michael answered. "He knows she's my girlfriend, but not much else."

Collins was their target, the arms dealer that Michael and Nikita, posing as buyers, had dealt with last year. He had been used to lead them to bigger fish. Since then, Collins had graduated to being a big fish himself, his inventory of weapons now expanded from firearms to nuclear triggers. At his next trade with Section, they would take him out.

"It will be simple," he reassured her. "We meet him, exchange money for arms, and then we take him. Your involvement will be brief."

Then why does my intuition say everything is way more complicated than that? she thought.

"So what's our story?" she asked, trying to shake off her bad feeling.

She came back to Michael and sat down again, this time on his lap. "Did you charm me and woo me at the romantic Falls and now we get along, or do we still act angry at each other?"

"Which do you prefer?" he asked, his breath a little more rapid from her nearness.

"You're putting me in charge?"

He looked up at her. She was so close that some of her hair fell on his shoulders. "Yes," he answered. "Anything you want."

She caressed his cheek. "You can charm me," she said softly. "Entice me.."

She leaned closer. "You can give me what I want.." Closer, her lips almost brushing his.

"What do you want?" Michael breathed.

She kissed him quickly and lightly on his cheek.

"FOOD! You can buy me lunch," she said, standing up. "French fries! Cheeseburgers!" She grinned at him. "C'mon.."

Michael laughed. It was the most light-hearted he had felt in a long time.

Grabbing up his coat, he followed her back up the trail to the car.

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

"That was great," said Michelle, pushing her almost empty plate away from her. There were a few crumbs of hamburger bun left, accompanied by one lonely french fry.

"Satisfied?" Michael asked.

"COMPLETELY, thanks." She laughed.

"Are you sure?" he said, reaching for her hand.

She looked up at him uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

He caressed her fingers with his, his touch warm and gentle, and to Michelle's dismay, surprisingly thrilling.

His eyes all innocence, he replied, "Most women need more than that. They need... real fulfillment, overwhelming pleasure....."

He brought her hand to his mouth and very slowly and deliberately licked the back of her hand.

"Let me give you that pleasure now..." he said.

Michelle closed her eyes, afraid to speak.

Michael snapped his fingers at the waiter, who nodded and set down the huge frosted glass of chocolate milkshake in front of them. It was topped with mounds of whipped cream and a cherry. Two straws stuck out of the top of the frothy concoction.

"Thank you," Michael said to the waiter, who smiled and left.

Michelle shook her head, not knowing whether to be pleased or angry at his teasing. His innocent look remained, accompanied by a shy smile. She relented.

She smiled back. "O.K., I guess I deserve this after my "you can entice me with lunch" comment..."

She took a sip through the straw. "Ohh, yeah, Baby, I'm groaning with pleasure now..." she said.

Michael laughed. He was enjoying being with Michelle. Everything was so straightforward and uncomplicated with her. It was pleasant to be able to be this lighthearted with someone. He hoped he wouldn't have to lie to her too much..

He leaned forward and took a sip from his straw. She took a sip from hers, their foreheads almost touching. Their eyes met, Michael's green gaze unsettling her.

She broke the gaze first, leaning back in her seat. "You win, Michael. You are much better at this mind-game stuff than I am. I'm strictly an amateur."

"But a very talented amateur," he said smiling.

She grew serious. "Talented enough to fool Collins?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it," he told her.

Michelle looked at him thoughtfully. "Speaking of mind-games, I'm sorry about being part of the one Section is playing with you."

Michael's eyes narrowed. "And what game is that?"

She sighed. "My being here, I mean, looking like Nikita and not being her. It can't be easy for you. I know you must miss her...."

She put her hand on his. "I'm sorry, Michael."

He stretched his free hand out to take hers, so that they were holding both hands across the table. They leaned forward in unison and took simultaneous sips from the straws, looking into each other's eyes.

The waiter returned, slipping the check on the table. He smiled at them. "First date?" he asked.

Both of them laughed. "Yes," said Michael. "How did you know?"

"I can tell," said their waiter. "Here's a souvenier for you of your visit here," he said, indicating the tray with the bill. It held two Cracker-Jack type rings in garish pink plastic. Both were stamped with the image of a milkshake with two straws on the top.

Michelle laughed. "Look! It's our symbol, Michael!" She paused. "Unless you brought HER here, too..."

"No, never. Only you," said Michael.

"Good answer!" the waiter said, laughing, and left.

Michael, glad that things had turned lighthearted again, slipped the ring on her finger. She did the same for him.

Michelle batted her lashes at him. "Does this mean we're going steady? Are you going to ask me to the Prom?"

Michael laughed. "Definitely," he said. "And we'll dance all night."

"ALL night?" she said, pouting. "Don't you want to spend some time with me in the back seat of your car?"

"Michelle!" He shook his head, pretending to be shocked.

"Am I getting carried away?" she asked.

"Yes," said Michael, standing up and throwing some money on the table. "Let's get out of here before you start picking out bridesmaid dresses...."

In the parking lot she put her hand on his arm. "Thank you, Michael. I had a wonderful day. And I don't feel so scared anymore."

He smiled at her.

It was the truth. She wasn't frightened of him any more. But what she didn't tell him was that her bad feeling about the mission was back, stronger than before.

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

Michelle asked Michael to drive again. In the car, she was quiet - too quiet.

She leaned her head against the door and had both arms crossed across her chest, hugging herself. Michael glanced over at her, noting how pale she was. She twisted in her seat and moaned.

"Stomach ache?" he said, smiling.

She didn't laugh. She sat up, groping for her purse. The movement made her gasp and she fell back against the seat again.

Michael quickly pulled over to the side of the highway. It was a country road, two-lane and deserted.

"Michelle!" Michael leaned toward her, unbuckling both their seat belts. "What's wrong?"

He pulled her arms away from her sides. She resisted.

"It's nothing," she said, panting. "I just forgot to take my pain meds..."

Her answer alarmed him more. He held both of her hands in one of his, pinning them in her lap. With the other hand he reached for the hem of her loose shirt.

"Michael, no!"

"Shhh, easy, let me help you..."

He pulled up the shirt. The bruises spanned all across her midriff.

"Broken ribs?" he asked.

"No. Michael, please.."

He pulled the shirt a little higher. That's when he saw the scars. They were fresh, underlining each breast in a thin red line. The bruises rainbowed across the incisions, from yellow, to purple, to black.

The sutures were recent, some of the stitches still visible where they had not yet dissolved. He knew she had had surgery. Plastic surgery.

Michael froze, staring. Despite the disfiguring bruises, he could tell that when she was healed and the scars had faded, Michelle would have the identical, perfectly shaped, pink-tipped breasts as Nikita.

"Michael, please, let me go," Michelle said quietly. She had stopped struggling because it hurt too much. Her head was turned away from him, her voice quivering a little from her pain and embarrassment.

Michael came to himself and released her hands. He pulled down her shirt for her, careful not to hurt her. Picking up her shoulder bag from the floorboard, he looked through it and pulled out a small bottle of spring water and a vial of white pills.

He watched her take the medicine. He couldn't keep his eyes off her face. Nikita's face. Madeleine had told him only that the woman he would work with looked like Nikita, a Doppelganger. He had assumed it was an accident of genetics, not the deliberate result of surgery.

I should have known, Michael thought, kicking himself. She wasn't real. Maybe her charm and openess weren't real, either.

Michael was surprised at the wrench of pain he experienced at the thought of Michelle using him, deceiving him. He had no idea it would hurt so much.

"You look surprised," she said, resting her head back against the seat. "Didn't Madeleine tell you how recent the last surgery was? I've only been out of MedLab three weeks..."

She sighed and turned her head to look at him. "That's why I wanted you to drive. The pills make me drowsy."

"What did you look like before?" Michael asked tightly.

"Look in my wallet...."

Michael fumbled in the purse again and flipped open the wallet. The picture was of a pretty blonde with sapphire blue eyes. Her build was similar to Nikita's, tall and long legged, but her nose, mouth, and chin were her own, not Nikita's.

It was a stranger's face that looked back at him from the photograph.

"I'm still not used to looking in the mirror and seeing someone else," said Michelle.

"What happened?" Michael asked. His muscles in his shoulders and back were tensed and both hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles showed white.

"I was on a mission to blow up a weapon's factory. The charge I planted had a defective timer. It ignited early...."

Michelle closed her eyes, shuddering. "My face, my chest... I was burned... I was ..."

She paused. "They wouldn't let me look in any mirrors then. There were several surgeries - reconstruction, skin grafts. When the bandages finally came off, I was.. Nikita."

She lifted her head up and looked at Michael. He was staring at her, his mouth set in a grim line, his jaw clenched.

"When was that?" he asked gruffly.

"The explosion? A little less than eight months ago."

Eight months ago, when they had gone on the Shays mission. The mission meant to eliminate Nikita.

Michael's mind raced. Section One had created a replacement for Nikita. What was she doing here now? How would they use her against him?

Michael might have kept control if he had not felt so wounded by Nikita's recent betrayal. This new deception stung him into anger.

He grabbed the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her head back roughly so that she was forced to look up into his eyes. The anger blazing in them frightened her.

"What were your orders?" he demanded. "What did they tell you to do?"

Michelle was frightened and unsure of what to say to calm him. " The only orders I got were about the mission to get Collins..." she said as calmly as she could.

Michael stared into her eyes for a moment. "You're going to tell me what's going on," he hissed, his face just inches from hers. "What kind of game are they playing with me?"

Michelle looked back at him. "Michael, I swear to you, I wish I knew. I was hoping you could explain it to me..."

He realized she was telling the truth. If she was being used against him, it was without her knowledge. No one would volunteer to go through what she had been through.

"I'm sorry," he said, and released her.

Michelle sighed in relief and looked at him. "At first, I didn't question it too closely, the fact that I looked exactly like Nikita. At that point, I was grateful to have any face at all."

"What did they tell you the reason was?" Michael asked quietly.

"They said a valuable operative had been lost on a mission and someone who looked like her would be needed to replace her on some upcoming missions." She paused and twisted her hands in her lap. "This mission to get Collins seems so straightforward. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I can't believe it's that simple."

She dared to smile at the still tense Michael. "I wish I did know what's going on. I'm the clueless peon, remember?"

"What were your orders .... concerning me?" he asked. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

Michelle was touched by his vunerability. Tentatively, she reached out and stroked a strand of his hair.

"Michael, they didn't order me to like you, if that's what you mean. I figured that out on my own...." She smiled shyly at him.

Michael believed her. Relief flooded him as he realized her affection was genuine, that he could trust her.

He brushed his hand very carefully across her cheek. "Michelle, I'm very sorry if I hurt you." He kissed her gently.

"Will you forgive me?" He kissed her again.

She smiled demurely but her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Maybe," she said. "Under two conditions."

Michael's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "What are these conditions?" he asked cautiously.

"First, tell me you're still my best Beau and you don't want your ring back." It was Michelle's turn to look vunerable. "Are we still going steady?" she asked.

Michael laughed. "Yes, definitely."

She sighed. "Good."

"And your second condition?"

Their eyes met. "You have to kiss me again," she said.

He bent his head and blended his mouth with hers. If their first kiss had been blissful, this one was pure magic, Nirvana. His mouth moved gently, yet hungrily, over hers. His exploration was respectful, almost reverent, as if his lips and tongue were humble but eager seekers, and she was the source of all wisdom.

It was Paradise. Michelle moaned deeply.

He pulled back from her. "Are you O,K.?" Michael asked, afraid she was in pain again.

"I am very, very fine," she said, her eyes dreamy.

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Exhausted from her full day and groggy from the pain medication, she slept.

Michael carefully buckled her seatbelt for her and started the car. He pulled out onto the highway. He enjoyed the feel of her cheek against his shoulder as she slept all the way back.

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

After they got back and he had escorted a still drowsy Michelle to her quarters, Michael went to see Madeleine.

"Yes, Michael?" she said, looking up from her desk. "Did you and Michelle have a nice outing?"

"She's only recently had surgery. She's in no condition to go out on the mission." Michael tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

"That's not true," Madeleine answered calmly. "The only requirement we have of her is for her to hang on your arm and look ornamental, like Nikita did before. She'll do fine."

"Why was Michelle... Why did Section make her look like Nikita?" Michael said, his fists clenched at his sides.

Madeleine smiled. Michael was feeling protective of Michelle, like they had planned.

"Her accident occured about the same time we realized Nikita was no longer an effective operative," she answered. "There were several missions coming up, like this one now, where we needed Nikita to be in play. So Michelle's need for plastic surgery and our need for someone who looked like Nikita coincided, and it was done."

She didn't tell him they had almost thought of bringing Michelle in when he was having such a difficult time adjusting to Nikita's "death".

Michael said nothing, wondering just how coincidental and accidental circumstances had really been.

Madeleine went on. "When Nikita came back to us, unexpectedly, Michelle wasn't needed. Until now."

"Until you sent Nikita on vacation..." said Michael.

"She needed the break." Madeleine sighed. "If it's really over between you, as it appears to be, working with Michelle or Nikita shouldn't be difficult for you."

Michael said nothing.

"This isn't about hurting you, Michael," she said. "It's about getting the job done."

She paused. "How are you and Michelle getting along?"

"Fine," Michael answered.

"No problems?"

"No."

Madeleine smiled. "Then there's no reason the mission shouldn't go smoothly. Is there anything else?"

"No." Michael left.

Operations smiled at Madeleine as he entered her office a few minutes later.

"How's it going, my dear?" he asked.

"Quite well," she said, smiling back. "He's forming an attachment."

Operations was pleased. They would have what they needed, a Michael and "Nikita" who were in synch, able to read each other's signals, not the wary and suspicious pair that the original two had become.

"Excellent!" he beamed. "When will Michael be briefed on our real target?"

"This afternoon. Michelle will be out of the loop, of course."

"Does Walter have the tracker ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, beaming back.

"Good." Operations smiled in anticipation.

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

The next morning, Michelle was in her quarters, getting dressed for the mission. She pulled on her shirt and paused to look in the mirror over the dresser.

Nikita's eyes looked back at her. Michelle sighed. She had everything of Nikita's-- her hair, her mouth, her body, her face. Everything but what she really wanted that belonged to Nikita---- Michael's heart.

"You IDIOT!" she told her reflection. Was she really that pathetic, longing for the crumbs from her look-alike's table? Content to be a substitute, a surrogate, while he yearned for the real thing?

Michelle closed her eyes. No. She loved him in her own right. Despite her continued bad vibes about the mission and the whole situation, somehow, she felt secure, safe, knowing Michael would be there. It made no sense, but she trusted him.

Their life in Section held no guarantees, no certainty of the future. She had a chance for some brief moments of happiness with Michael, and she wouldn't let that chance pass her by, Michelle decided. She would take what she could get, and not be ashamed of it.

She was just about to button the shirt she had chosen, the biggest, loosest, men's shirt she could find, when the knock came at the door.

Michelle went to open it, pulling her shirt closed over her chest.

"Michael!"

"May I come in?" He was dressed as usual in black, this time wearing a short leather jacket instead of his usual long coat.

She stepped back and he entered, closing the door behind him.

"I brought you your comm-unit and tracker to wear," he said, placing a pair of glasses on the dresser.

"Thanks," said Michelle, suddenly shy after her bold decision of a few moments ago. She crossed her arms across her chest and held the shirt more securely closed at the neck.

His eyes flicked over her and he smiled. "Did you raid someone's closet?" he asked. "An old boyfriend's?"

He eyed the vest and tie laid out on the bed and then looked back at her shirt.

"Don't be jealous, Michael," she quipped. "I told him I couldn't see him anymore after you and I decided to go steady.."

Michael took a step closer to her and caressed a lock of her hair in his fingers. "I'm glad to hear that," he said softly.

His eyes roamed over her face and settled on her mouth. He bent his head and kissed her.

She felt again the onslaught of sweet sensation, overwhelming her. The kiss was slow, thourough, and devastating. Her arms came up around his neckand tangled in his silky hair.

The heat of his lips seemed to transfer to her and she felt a fire starting within her.

He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down her throat. His hands pulled the shirt open.

Michelle was up against the dresser and had no way of getting away from him, even if she wanted to. She tensed involuntarily in anticipation of the possible pain; everything was still tender and bruised.

"I'll be careful," Michael breathed on the hollow of her throat.

More gently than she could have imagined, just barely touching her, his fingertips made a feathery trail across one breast to her nipple. She closed her eyes and gasped.

Gently he lowered his head to the other breast and kissed her there. He licked the tender pink nub erect while the other hardened against his fingers in unison with its twin.

Michelle arched her back and rested her shoulders against the dresser, the piece of furniture supporting her as her knees grew weak.

Michael continued his adorations. Her knees grew even weaker and she staggered back a step against the dresser.

Michael's arms came up around her to support her. He lifted his head and pulled her into an embrace.

She moaned against his shoulder and said, "I guess you found my weak spots..."

Michael smiled. "They're my weak spots, too," he said huskily.

She clung to him, still breathing raggedly.

He kissed her softly. "Does it hurt much?" he asked.

She laughed. "Not when you do that..."

He pulled back from her and looked into her face. "I brought you something that might help with the pain."

Michelle shook her head. "Michael, I can't take anything. I have to be alert for the mission."

"It's not a drug. It's this.." he said, pulling out a a small tube of cream from his pocket.

"It's a new burn treatment they developed. It has a topical anesthetic. It should help the pain for a while," Michael explained.

He lifted an eyebrow in a question.

"O.K., I'll try it," she said, reaching for the tube.

"No, let me," said Michael, his eyes glittering.

Michelle felt suddenly breathless. She couldn't speak, so she only nodded.

"Lie down."

He helped her on the bed and she lay back against the pillows. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her and pulled back her shirt.

Michelle was suddenly shy and apprehensive. Michael squeezed out some cream on his fingers and very carefully applied it to the top of one breast.

The shock of numbing cold made her flinch and intake a breath sharply.

"It's O.K., I'll go slow," Michael soothed.

She turned her head away from him and clenched her fists, waiting for the pain. He spread more cream on her. This time, after the initial shock, the effect was soothing as the numbness spread across her nerve endings. The pain quieted and was replaced by a pleasant warmth.

Michael's hands were steady and gentle, handling her as if she were delicate china.

She closed her eyes and relaxed back against the pillows as he continued his careful application.

Michael finished and capped the tube again. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Better?"

She sighed. "Yes, thank you." She hadn't felt this good in a long time, physically or emotionally. He made her feel cherished; he made her feel alive.

He buttoned her shirt for her, slowly and carefully.

Michelle sat up and smiled at him. She put one hand on his shoulder.

"WOW. That was great. Do you know any more pain therapies?" she teased.

He leaned toward her and whispered,"Yes. Hundreds. We'll try some later...."

He kissed her again, his tongue promising her things with its warm penetration and boldness.

The heat within her returned, along with the weakness. She was glad she was sitting down. She felt dizzy from desire.

His kiss became gentler and he finally lifted his mouth from hers. Michael sighed. "I'm sorry, Michelle. We have to be at van access in twenty minutes."

She caressed his cheek tenderly and looked into his eyes. "It's O.K., Boyfriend. Later sounds good."

Michael laughed and went to the door.

When he was gone she lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. God, she thought, I hope the rest of this day goes as well as it started out.

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

Michelle put her arm around Michael's shoulder and blew him a kiss.

"Here, Honey," she said, handing him the briefcase full of money.

They were just finishing the deal with Collins, who knew them as arms buyers Carrie and Pierre.

Collins smiled widely. "A pleasure doing business with you," he said, as he accepted the briefcase from Michael. Collins was a small, blonde man with glasses.

They were in the same location as before, an abandoned factory. Everything had gone smoothly, their interaction almost the same as it was when he had been here with Nikita instead of Michelle. But Michael felt there was something different this time.

It hit him suddenly what it was. Collins' smile. He was incredibly gleeful about something.

The hair on the back of Michael's neck stood up. He reached for his gun.

Before he could pull out his weapon, Michael felt the hard, cold barrel of a gun pressed into his back.

"Don't move," said a voice from behind him.

Michelle was pulled away from him by two men. One of them held her upper arm in a tight grip and pointed his gun at her head. The other man relieved Michael and Michelle of their weapons, and then stood with his gun covering Michael.

Collins, standing in front of Michael, still smiled. He looked over Michael's shoulder and addressed the man behind him.

"There you have them, as I promised." Collins beamed. "Carrie and Pierre, delivered to you on a platter. As I said, it's been a great pleasure doing business with you."

He picked up his satchel of money and left.

"You won't be needing these..." said the voice behind Michael. The sunglasses with his comm -unit were removed. Their captor walked in front of Michael, coming into his view.

"Jerry," said Michael.

Jerry was tall and lanky with reddish- blonde hair. His smile was as broad as Collins' had been. He dropped Michael's sunglasses on the cement floor and stomped down on them, crushing them under his boot.

Jerry turned his attention to Michelle. "Nikita!" he said, leering. "Glad you could join us."

He reached out his hand and touched her face. Michelle pulled back away from him as much as she could with a gun to her head.

Jerry laughed and pulled off her glasses, which received the same fate as Michael's.

He grabbed Michelle roughly by the hair and kissed her. There was no trace of respect or reverence in this kiss, as there had been in Michael's. This was a crude invasion.

Jerry put his other hand familiarly on Michelle's waist and groped at the zipper of her jeans.

Michelle whimpered, as much from frustration as from repulsion. She wanted to kick him, but was afraid to try anything as long as the guns were still trained on her and Michael.

After a minute, Jerry released her and laughed. "Don't worry, Sweetheart. We'll have plenty of time to get better acquainted later."

He turned back to Michael. "Cuff him," ordered Jerry.

The second henchman obeyed. After he pulled Michel's wrists behind him and snapped on the handcuffs, he again covered him with his gun.

Jerry walked up to Michael and punched him in the stomach, his attack viscious and swift.

"No!" Michelle cried. Michael was silent.

Jerry smiled again at Michael and slapped him across the face.

Michael turned his head back and looked at Jerry steadily. "Yes, that's your style, isn't it? Never a fair fight. You like to prey upon the helpless..."

Michael knew Jerry as a problematic Section operative with a big mean streak. That wasn't unusual in Section, but Jerry had the nasty habit of tormenting the new recruits, especially female ones. Once he had tried to rape one of them.

His behavior wasn't enough to get him cancelled, but when he began to target Nikita as his next victim, Michael had seen to it that Jerry was transferred to a remote substation where his predatory tendencies would have fewer outlets.

Jerry laughed. "That's good, coming from you, Michael." He eyed Michelle again. "It's not like you didn't take advantage of your position in Section to get what you wanted, too..."

Jerry stepped closer to Michael and stared into his face. "Tell me you didn't use your power to get the most beautiful woman in Section assigned to you, to bed her..."

"What do you want, Jerry?" said Michael in a bored voice.

"It's payback time. Payback for all the sh*t I took from you in training. Payback for getting me sent to that hell-hole of a substation."

Jerry laughed again. "You sent me out of your way, Michael, but not far enough."

Jerry gloated. "I still managed to keep an eye on you. I've been tracking you and Nikita and all your activities."

Jerry continued, his eyes gleaming. "Collins was bought off easily enough. But I've got even higher bidders lined up, fighting over you-- Section's most valuable operative..."

"No! Michael...." Michelle cried out.

"Shut up, Bitch," Michael told her. He looked at her and their eyes exchanged a signal between them. Michelle nodded slightly.

Jerry grabbed Michael by the hair and pulled his head back roughly.

"Wrong," he said, staring into Michael's eyes. "She's my bitch now."

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

"I'm going to enjoy this, Michael," Jerry gloated. He leaned in closer to Michael, their faces inches apart. "I'm not going to sell you to the group with the most money to offer..."

Jerry shook his head. "No, I don't want the money. My criterion will be who can think of the most painful, the slowest, and the most humiliating ways to break you..."

"Jerry," Michelle called in a throaty voice. "What about me? When can we be together?"

Jerry released Michael and walked over to Michelle. "So, Nikita, you want me, then?"

"I want any man who can get me free from Section, and from Michael." She smiled.

Jerry kissed her roughly again and put his hand under her shirt and fondled her crudely.

Michelle moaned from the pain.

"Don't worry," said Jerry, pulling back from the kiss. "You'll have me soon enough."

He looked at his henchmen. "Put them in the truck," he ordered.

Michelle and Michael were shoved into the cavernous back of a semi. Handcuffed, Michael was unable to stop his fall and landed on his side on the dusty floor.

One of the guards pushed Michelle toward him and then took a stance at the rear of the truck, holding the gun on them.

Jerry looked into the truck and laughed. "Enjoy your last moments together, you two!" He nodded at the guards. "Let's go."

The truck doors were slammed shut and and Jerry and the other henchman got in the cab. The engine rumbled to a start. They were on the move.

Michelle helped Michael sit up and then looked back at their guard. She was standing up, trying to keep her balance in the swaying truck.

The guard, unlike Collins, did not smile. He pointed the barrel of the gun at Michelle's heart.

"Sit down. Now," he said.

She obeyed. She looked at Michael, who gave her a look back. She understood his unspoken message to be that she should not try anything just then.

She settled next to Michael, and laid her head against his shoulder, burying her face in his collar.

"Oh, Michael.." she sobbed, pretending to cry. One of her hands moved to his wrists and touched the handcuffs.

"Don't," he said. "It'll be all right."

Michelle got his message. She raised her hand from his wrists to the back of his neck and continued to cry.

Michael rested his chin on her hair and said softly, "It will be over soon."

The guard laughed. "You got that right."

Michelle was encouraged by Michael's words. Section must be tracking them somehow. She was to do nothing and wait for their rescue.

She didn't wait long.

Gunfire sounded outside and there was a loud bang as the tires of the truck blew out. The truck lurched wildly, and the guard was caught off balance.

Michelle was up in a flash, kicking the gun out of his hand. She retrieved the weapon before he had time to reach for it. He raised his hands and lay where he had fallen, sprawled on the floor, while Michelle held the gun on him.

The truck fish-tailed and swerved, finally lurching to a halt on the side of the highway.

Everything was very quiet for a few minutes. Michael and Michelle waited in the tense silence. Then the door to the back of the truck was pulled open.

Michelle swiftly moved in front of Michael to shield him and pointed the gun at the doorway.

She lowered her weapon when she recognized the team of Section operatives. One of them removed the guard from the truck.

Through the doorway she could see Jerry standing on the pavement, handcuffed between two more operatives.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"You O.K., Sugar?"

She opened her eyes to see Walter climbing into the truck.

"Great stuff, wasn't it?" he said gleefully as he went to Michael. Walter took a key out of is pocket and turned it in Michael's handcuffs. He helped the younger man stand up.

"What stuff?" she asked, confused.

"The skin cream with the special something extra," Walter answered, smiling. "Led us right to you."

"What?" she said.

Walter elaborated. "Very high-tech. Incredibly small particles, nano-bits, suspended in an emulsion. We tracked you from the signature..."

Michelle stared at Michael. His face was unreadable again.

"Hey, Sugar," Walter offered. "If you need any help in the shower scrubbing it off, I'm available..."

"Shut up," said Michael.

Michelle sobbed, crying for real this time. She jumped down from the truck and they watched her stride quickly away down the road.

"Sorry," said Walter. "I keep forgetting she's not Nikita. I guess she doesn't like to be teased..."

Michael lowered his head. "No, I guess not," he said.

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

The next morning, Michelle paced restlessly in her quarters, feeling miserable. She stopped in front of the dresser and leaned against it, looking in the mirror.

Her eyes met Nikita's in the reflection. No, not Nikita's. A poor imitation.

"IDIOT!" she told herself. She thought she had been reading Michael's signals, but now she realized that she hadn't understood any of them at all. It had all been a Section mind game. And she had played her role, the same role she always played.

"That's you, Michelle," she told her reflection. "Clueless peon, par excellence."

There was a knock at the door, then it was opened slowly. It was Michael.

Michelle didn't turn around. Their eyes met in the mirror.

He walked up to her and stood behind her. "I came to apologize," he said softly.

"Why?" she said. "You were just doing your job, weren't you?" Michelle hated it that her voice quivered a little.

Michael looked at her intently. "It wasn't my intention to hurt you."

He sighed and went on. "I couldn't tell you everything, even though I wanted to. My orders were to keep you in the dark about the mission and the tracker..."

Michelle closed her eyes and lowered her head. "I see. And what about the rest? Our date, and when you....."

She turned around and looked at him. "Michael, just tell me, what were your orders.... concerning me?"

He looked at her tenderly and reached out to touch a lock of her hair.

"They didn't order me to like you, if that's what you mean," he said, quoting her. Michael smiled a little. "I figured that out on my own."

Michelle let out a small sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder, hugging him. Michael wrapped his arms around her and they stood like that, holding each other.

Her heart leapt, taking in the meaning of his answer. The love and the lovemaking had been real. It wasn't all a lie.

"Then you don't want your ring back?" Michelle said against his chest.

"Michelle..." Michael lifted her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. He said intently, "It's not that I don't care, it's that I... I CAN'T."

He caressed her hair. "I can't allow you to be my weakness. It's too dangerous. They would use our attachment for each other against us again. You would be hurt.."

Joy flooded her. Michael cared about her. About her as Michelle, not Nikita... She hadn't read the signals wrong, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She answered him by pulling his face down to hers and kissing him.

For a split second Michael froze, thinking he should stop her, that it would be easier on both of them to push her away. But he couldn't.

He didn't want to hurt her anymore. It surprised him how much he wanted this connection, wanted her touch.

He just wanted to stay like this, to hold her, to kiss her more...

He surrendered to the kiss, eagerly exploring her mouth, tasting Paradise...

He groaned and pulled her more tightly against him, his hands lowering to her hips. He thrust his tongue more deeply against hers, and at the same time did the same with his hips.

He was not the humble seeker now, but a bold conqueror.

Michelle moaned and kissed him back, as insistent on mutual discovery as he was. Her hands moved down his back and under his coat, exploring for herself the firm curves there. She caressed him, making sure his hips stayed tightly pressed against hers.

He began nuzzling her neck and kissing her throat. He placed one hand on her breast, rubbing softly, cupping her roundness in his palm.

She gasped. Michael pulled back, afraid he might have hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his hand.

Michelle pulled his hand back and placed it on her breast again, holding it there. Her eyes shone with desire.

"That's right, Michael. You're very, very sorry and you want to apologize. You want to apologize very thouroughly to my weak spots..."

There was no hesitation this time to her offering. Michael carried her to the bed.

Quickly they removed each other's clothes, only stopping a few times in this task to kiss again. He pushed her gently down on the bed and began kissing and caressing her, his mouth and hands again performing their rites of adoration.

He suckled each breast in turn, licking her nipples to hardness.

Michelle ran her hands down his chest and stomach, and then lower, until her fingers found and encircled his hardness.

Michael moaned against her breast, shuddering.

"What's this?" she asked in a teasing, but breathless, voice.

He looked into her eyes. "It's another one of my weak spots..." he gasped out.

"Hmmmm," she said. Michelle caressed him until he gasped again. She went on exploring his firmness.

"Doesn't seem very weak to me..." She pulled him toward her, wordlessly signaling her readiness.

In perfect accord, their bodies connected, his gliding into hers.

Each body felt overwhelmed by the sensation of the other; each heart melted, blending like their bodies into the connection. Their souls intermingled, fusing for a time on that level. From body to heart to soul, they were connected in their passion, linked from great heights to great depths, surrounded and overcome.

They were lost in mutual adoration and discovery, both laboring toward their goal of passionate connection.

At first, Michael's pace was slow and langorous, but after a time quickened, his body moving over hers ---eager, insistent, and determined.

Michelle arched her back and cried out as Michael's firmness penetrated her softness once again and sent her over the edge of fufillment.

A moment later, Michael's body arched over hers, all his muscles stiffening as he spasmed into sweet release, his weakness deep within hers.

They lay quietly where they had collapsed, recovering their breath and their individual identities that had merged for a time.

Michelle caressed his silky hair, stroking the damp curls on his shoulders. Michael traced the outline of her nipple lightly with his finger, his cheek resting against her breast.

She sighed contentedly and then laughed.

He lifted up his head and looked at her. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

Michelle grinned. "Actually, I was thinking about the bridesmaids' dresses..."

Michael laughed. "Oh, no..."

"No, no, wait! I have it all figured out..."

She paused before she laid it on him. "Picture this-- mini-dresses in fuschia taffeta, with peplums and big poofy sleeves..."

"Michelle, no," Michael said in mock horror.

"And huge shoulder pads...." Michelle elaborated.

"Please, no," moaned Michael.

"And on their heads..." she continued.

Michael froze. He was afraid she was going to say big floppy hats.

"and on their heads," she finished, "they'll have gaudy rhinestone tiaras in their bee-hive hairdos..."

They both broke out laughing.

"I have a idea, too," said Michael. He raised himself up on his elbows and kissed her neck hungrily.

"I want more of that overwhelming pleasure we had.." he said huskily. "That delicious fulfillment...."

"Oh, Michael," she moaned. "You're ready for more already?"

She looked at him questioningly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want more.." He grinned suddenly and kissed her. "Let's go back and get more ice cream..."

"Ohh, you tricked me again!" Michelle squealed. "All right. Ice cream it is. We'll go, but you owe me an apology for that one..."

"Promise?" he said, his gaze tender.

Michelle kissed him again. They stayed in her bed all afternoon and into the night.

They never did make it back for ice cream.

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

The next day, Michael returned to his office after seeing Michelle off at the airport. She was gone, but he couldn't get her out of his mind.

She had read his signals, responded to his unspoken cry for comfort. She had given him something he needed- a connection, a life-line, and the rarest things in Section, friendship and trust.

Michael had had no name for his pain, but Michelle had recognized his overwhelming loneliness.

Her affection had soothed his inner wounds, her presence had eased his pain, healed some place in his damaged heart, which he didn't realize until now had been broken.

Michael put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the the ring. He fondled the ugly pink plastic between his fingers. He closed his eyes, remembering. A smile crossed his lips.

After a minute, he put the ring back in his pocket and sat down at his desk. He turned on the computer and began to work on some reports.

Unconsciously, he began humming a song to himself. A song by Sarah McLachlan.

"Your love is better than ice cream.." he sang softly under his breath.

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