Nikita yawned on her way to Michael's office and wearily brushed a strand of wayward blonde hair out of her eyes. She had gotten little sleep this week and the prospect of getting a chance to rest soon seemed unlikely after the briefing late last night.

In a few days they would be going live to intercept a rogue group that had been hijacking nuclear triggers from arms dealers. The details were sketchy, but the unknown group had somehow known where the dealers stock-piled their wares and had been taking them even before an exchange could be made. So far, four major dealers had been hit and at least ten nuclear triggers had been taken.

The thought of that many dangerous weapons in the hands of this unknown group was unacceptable. Operations had ordered Michael to gather the intel and come up with a mission profile in forty-eight hours. Nikita was ordered to help him.

Michael had told her to go home and rest for a few hours and come back the next morning. Reluctantly, she had obeyed. She had gone home and slept like the dead, collapsing on the bed still in her clothes, too exhausted to undress. It had been only five hours since the briefing last night, and now she was back in Section.

It seemed all her days were like this lately,under pressure to perform, running on adrenaline and what sleep she could get, always under stress. The memory of her last free day seemed very long ago.

Since being promoted to team leader, Operations had called on her frequently to help plan missions as well as execute them as a player. Overall, he seemed pleased with her work-- she liked to think it was because she was actually good, if not great, at her job. She wanted to think that Operations chose her because she was getting better at what she did, that he was pleased with how she handled herself for Section, and not just because, with the ever-growing shortage of trained personnel, he was just making do with what he could get.

Nikita shook her head. I must be getting more dedicated, she thought. Here I am, worried about what Operations thinks. She laughed a little, then sobered.

But what she really cared about was what Michael thought, whatever that might be. It had always been that way, it seemed - she wondering, he remaining a mystery.

At least, he had seemed a total mystery until that moment after their last mission to trap Armel three weeks ago, when he had stunned her with the admission that he had feelings for her.

Up until that time, everything he had said or done, even his fervent love-making, could have been interpreted as "just doing the job". Another Section manipulation. But this last admission had rung too true. She allowed herself a small glimmer of hope, let a small light of happiness start a warmth in her heart.

She let herself smile in anticipation as she rapped perfunctorily on the half open-door to his office and, without waiting for a response, pushed it all the way open and entered.

"Michael, I...."

She stopped, coming up short before she automatically plopped in the chair in front of his desk that she considered "her" spot in his office. There was already someone sitting there.

Michael raised his eyes from his computer screen to look at her. It was still very early in the morning; and despite the perfect grooming, the shadows under his eyes told Nikita he had been working all night.

"Come in, Nikita," he said in a level tone, focusing soft gray green eyes on her.

The occupant of "her" chair, an attractive young female, turned and focused her gaze on Nikita as well.

"Hi," the girl said shyly, standing up and extending her hand to the tall blonde.

Nikita looked at her. The girl was lovely. She was a slender red-head, her hair that particular shade of subtle mahogany shot with gold that was unmistakenly natural and not from artifice. Her creamy skin was pale, and devoid of any hint of freckles. Her expression was warm, her smile genuine, reaching the thoughtful gray-blue eyes and lighting up the classically beautiful features of her heart-shaped face.

Nikita recognized her as one of the new batch of recruits. She took the extended hand in her own and shook hands with the other woman. "Hi," she said, smiling back. "Kira, is it?"

"Yes," the girl said, blushing. She seemed pleased that Nikita remembered her name.

Kira's rather modest and self-effacing demeanor was somewhat memorable in Section, her quietness standing out among the usually aggressive and brash ways of the large majority of operatives.

Almost like Michael, Nikita thought.

"Here, sit down," Kira said, offering Nikita her seat. "I'll just go and check and see if Birkoff has that intel for us yet.." She looked up at Michael for confirmation before she moved to the door.

He nodded at her, smiling slightly. "Fine. Go."

Kira flashed them both a smile and left, leaving the door ajar.

Nikita sat in the vacated chair and gave Michael a challenging look.

He looked back, saying nothing. After a moment, Nikita realized no explanation would be forth-coming, and she tried again.

"Kira's very pretty," she drawled, feeling angry at herself for her jealousy, but unable to stop herself.

One side of Michael's mouth turned up ever so slightly at the corner.

"Yes. She is," he said. "Very pretty."

***********

"Yes. She is. Very pretty," said Michael.

Nikita lowered her eyes, feeling uncomfortable. She wished now she hadn't said anything.

Michael paused, then took a deep breath, adding, "She is also one of Section's most promising analysts. She scored very high on tactical planning and mission profiling...."

He sighed wearily and leaned back in his chair. "I have less than two days to plan and prep for this mission. Kira will be helping me... helping US.. to get ready. She is still a recruit, but a gifted one. And with the shortage of personnel around here, I'm lucky to have her..."

Nikita nodded. She understood, but in spite of that understanding, she still had felt somehow threatened and unsettled by the girl's presence. Michael had seemed so kind to the girl, smiling at Kira, speaking gently... And now this almost effusive praise of her....

Feeling her confidence ebbing, Nikita let her insecurity speak for her again. "Is she your.. material now, Michael?" she asked tensely.

"No." Michael looked out the window of his office, his voice almost... sad? Nikita thought. "She belongs to Wilcox," he answered.

"Oh!" Nikita was stunned for a moment. Kira and Wilcox seemed a most unlikely match. She was obviously quiet and gentle; he was one of Section's most aggressive and bad-tempered trainers with a reputation for violence, standing out even among the extraordinarily violent personnel of Section One.

Nikita felt suddenly grateful she had "belonged" to Michael when she was recruited. "Why?" she said.

"Why what?" asked Michael.

"Why Wilcox?"

Michael frowned and rubbed his hand across his chin thoughtfully. "The shortage of trainers made some reassignments necessary."

He stared out of the window again, lost in another reverie. After a moment, he sighed and turned back to his computer screen.

"Can we forget about Wilcox and concentrate on the mission?" he asked.

Nikita, relieved that their discussion of Kira was over, readily agreed.

"Yes, by all means," she said, picking up a file from his desk. "Let's forget him."

***********

Kira, walking happily down the Section hallway back to Michael's office from her errands, was content to forget about Wilcox as well. She would rather think about Michael. She had been intimidated and distressed when she had first got the summons to go to his office yesterday. As a lowly recruit, she had had little contact with Section's best operative before then. She wasn't sure why he wanted to see her; the chilling speculation that he would be the one to carry out her cancellation crossed her mind. The thought made her voice shake when she had reported to him.

But instead of wanting to get rid of her, Michael had seemed pleased that she was there. He had politely offered her a seat and explained what he wanted, giving her access to the other lap-top on the desk on the opposite wall from his, as well as the stack of files scattered around the office.

Then came the best part. Michael, lapsing into a companionable silence, had ignored her, letting her work entirely, blissfully alone.

Kira sighed. It had been wonderful, really, after weeks of the intense scrutiny of Wilcox's unrelenting attention always on her, to be left to herself, unmolested...

Kira came up short in her thoughts. Wilcox hadn't exactly molested her. Not really. Just with his eyes, perhaps. He was always there, standing too close, being too interested, touching her unnescessarily, invading her space....

No, Wilcox hadn't crossed the line, per se. But Kira had found his choking possessiveness suffocating. There was no room to retreat, no place she could breathe...

Except now. In Michael's office. She smiled, thinking with pleasure of the respectful but distant manner in which he had treated her. She was not unaware of his attractiveness, by any means. But after enduring Wilcox's unwanted nearness and attentions every day, she found Michael's polite indifference incredibly refreshing in contrast.

Perhaps indifference wasn't quite the word. When she had asked a shy, anxious question, he had smiled and answered her readily, seeming not to be angry at her interruption, as Wilcox would have been. They had worked comfortably then, mostly in silence, but she knew he was there to help her if she needed him.

Gradually over the hours she had been in his office, Kira realized that his attitude toward her was that of one colleague to another, friendly and respectful.

Sighing, she thought to herself that no wonder she had enjoyed being with Michael. So far she had been treated in Section as "material", a commodity, a thing to be used. Or, by Wilcox, as an object to be desired.

Friendship and respect were two things that her life in Section had until now been totally devoid of, and Michael had given her both.

Hurrying down the hall, she was glad that her efforts to help him on the mission had borne fruit. She was anxious to get back to tell him the good news. She shifted the bundle in her arms, knowing that what she carried would be very welcome to the her new friend.

Smiling widely, she bore her packages through the open door of the office and deposited them triumphantly on Michael's desk, on a spot in front of Nikita.

Michael and Nikita, both bent over their reports, looked up at her.

"What's all this?" asked Michael, eyeing her offerings.

Kira almost giggled in pleasure. "Coffee and danish to celebrate," she said teasingly.

Michael let a slow smile spread over his face. "Celebrate what?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

Kira grinned back at both of them, holding up a disk in a jewel case in one hand. She waggled it playfully.

"This," she said. "We hit the jackpot."

Kira leaned over and handed the disk to Michael. "Here's that mission profile you wanted, Sir," she said sweetly.

***********

Michael, still smiling, loaded the disk in the drive and and brought up Kira's program on the screen. Nikita moved around the desk to perch on the edge of it next to Michael to get a better view.

Kira took up a position on the other side of Michael and, between sips of coffee, explained her plan, now and then pointing out things on the screen.

"We looked at the intel, what little there was, from every angle, and just dead-ended--- there was nothing to tell us who the hi-jackers were, or anything linking the arms dealers to each other. All the hits seemed un-related, until...."

Kira clicked a mouse-button, bringing up a new screen. "Until I looked at it from a new angle. A personal one. What did the four arms-dealers who got ripped off all have in common?"

Nikita's blue gaze absorbed rapidly what was on the screen. She gasped in surprise. "Looks like they all went on vacation right before the hits..."

Kira nodded. "All of them went to a resort for the weekend with their wives or girlfriends just days before their supplies were stolen."

"But this looks like they were all in diferent locations," said Michael thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Yes, all different hotels, but with some things in common," said Kira. "The resorts were all in the same region of the country, and when I pulled up the billing records, all the weekends had been paid for by the same credit card number, listed as a "business expense". "

Michael's eyes widened. "What name were they charged to?"

"Some outfit called Boswell Enterprises," said Kira.

Nikita and Michael looked at each other. "The Alliance," they said in unison.

"You know them?" asked Kira, looking curiously from one to the other.

Michael nodded. "Yes. We thought they were inactive. But we still have some contacts we could use to renew our......acquaintance with them."

"Apparently when they made the deal with the sellers, the Alliance offered them the resort trip," commented Kira. "That's how they found out the location of their stockpiles before the actual deal."

Nikita nodded. "It would be easy to bug the rooms and listen for the pillow talk to get around to the money end of things. The girl-friends were probably curious why they were there, what the deals were about..."

"Good," said Michael. "We can use their scenario against them. We'll feed them a location, make them come to us..."

Nikita finished his sentence. "And when they arrive to rip us off, we'll take them."

Kira smiled. "It's perfect! All you need now, Michael, is...." She gestured toward Nikita.

Michael looked at the blonde and smiled as well. In a soft, seductive voice, he finished Kira's sentence for her.

"All I need now is for you to be my wife," he said, looking into Nikita's eyes.

***********

The hours that had dragged on before now flew by. Nikita sat at a work-station near Birkoff's, finalizing the mission plans. Kira worked quietly and unobtrusively at her side, a friendly atmosphere between them.

Michael was still in his office, renewing his contacts with the Alliance. He would be posing as an arms dealer with three nuclear triggers for sale. The ambush location had already been selected and prepped.

Operations had been pleased with the scenario. When he had stopped by their work area to get an update on their progress, he had puffed happily on his cigarette and smiled at the two women, telling them "Good work."

Operations wasn't the only one who was pleased. Nikita tried not to let her heart soar too high or her pulse-rate quicken too much at the thought of being with Michael again, but she couldn't help herself.

A little smile played unconsciously over her lips as she worked. He had asked for her. He wanted to be with her again in as intimate a situation as they could manage in Section One. If you could call be video-taped and listened to "intimate", Nikita thought. Still....

Although shorter than the Armel assignment, the parameters of this mission would be the same. They would be together again, posing as a couple, sharing a bed.....

Nikita blushed and shook her head.

Stop that! Focus on the mission, she told herself sternly.

Even so, she was unable to control the erotic memories that flooded her head, visions arising spontaneously of the last time they had been together as "man and wife"---- Michael, resplendant in his sweat-sheened nakedness, straining in the the throes of desire....

She looked up from her daydreams to see Michael coming down the corridor toward them. She paused in her work to admire the confident male walk, the grace of his body as he moved....

Before he could reach their work-station, someone came up behind Michael and stopped him with a hand on his arm. It was a powerfully built man, shorter than Michael, but just as muscular. He was about thirty years old, with sharp, but handsome features and short black hair.

Nikita noticed that he was scowling, glaring angrily at Michael. She recognized him-- Wilcox.

A short, but tense argument ensued between the two men. They kept their voices down, so that their words were undecipherable to Nikita, but their tone was clear- both were furious and each despised the other.

The fight ended abruptly when Wilcox made a threatening comment and Michael stiffened and paled. Wilcox stood glaring after him as Michael stalked off.

Nikita heard a gasp behind her and turned. Kira was staring at Wilcox, her mouth open, fear glittering in her wide eyes. She shrank back from his gaze, moving to stand behind Nikita as if seeking her protection.

From behind her, Nikita heard Michael's footsteps as he strutted angrily toward them. She looked up at him, his eyes blazing with fury and... fear? His chest was heaving, and he struggled to control himself.

"Michael?" Nikita put a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"

Michael's green eyes softened for a moment as he gazed at her, and he put his hand on top of her own, letting it linger there for a moment. He let out a sigh and turned to Kira.

"Report to Madeleine for your wardrobe," he told her.

Kira looked puzzled, as well as anxious. "Why?" she said. "I don't understand...."

Michael dropped his hand from Nikita's and stared at the floor, his mouth in a grim line.

"The mission parameters have changed," he told them, almost forcing out the words. " Nikita, you will run the mission from here. You won't be going out in the field.."

Nikita gasped and looked at him. "Michael!"

Michael raised pain-filled eyes to hers. "I want Kira to pose as my wife," he said softly.

***********

Kira stood, frozen, a look of shock on her face. "B-But, Michael..."

He cut off her protest with a sharp command. "Go," he ordered.

With one last look of hurt puzzlement, she obeyed, scurrying past them to Madeleine's office.

"Nikita, please," Michael said, turning to her. "I can explain..."

Nikita stiffened her back and tried to control the tremor in her voice. "Don't bother," she said angrily.

Jealousy stabbed through her like a knife. She was deeply hurt by his abrupt change of heart. He had essentially dumped her for the other woman in as public and as humiliating a way as possible.

She bent her head and went to leave, trying to flee his presence before he could see the tears that had sprung, stinging, to her eyes.

He caught her arm before she could make her escape. He sighed and spoke in a low intense whisper. "It's not what you think," he said urgently, leaning his face toward hers.

"I have my reasons for taking Kira on this mission. But it has nothing to do with the way I feel about you...."

"Really?" she said acidly. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"Yes," he answered, his eyes pleading. "Nothing."

She locked tear-filled blue eyes with his. "Good," she spat out. "It's good to finally know just what you feel for me, and now I do. NOTHING."

She jerked her arm angrily from his grip and ran off, desperate to find a place to choke out her sobs of pain in private.

Michael hung his head and closed his eyes. "Nikita, he whispered, anguished as well. "Nikita, I'm sorry...."

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

Agitatedly, Michael paced in front of Walter's station, waiting for the weapon's specialist to give him his comm equipment.

Walter noticed Michael's nervousness and decided to tease him.

"Relax, Kid," he said, with a leering smile. "It's not like you've forgotten HOW since the last time..."

Walter had not actually seen the tapes of their love-making, but he had certainly heard about Michael's stellar performance in his role as Nikita's husband in the Armel mission.

Michael glared at him. Unperturbed, Walter went on. "Yeah, I hear you and Nikita were VERY convincing as two people in love...."

Michael clenched his fists at his sides. "Nikita's not going on this mission," he said tensely. "I'll be with Kira..."

Walter looked startled, and then laughed. " Kira, is it? Well, I've got to hand it to you, Michael, you sure have excellent taste...."

Michael cut him off. "Has she been here yet? Have you seen her?"

"Who? Kira?"

"Yes," Michael hissed. "Kira."

Walter smiled. "Last time I saw her she had wandered off with that guy, what's his name.... You know, her trainer..."

"Wilcox?" gasped Michael.

"Yeah, that's him," nodded Walter. "Wilcox...."

"Merde!" swore Michael. He gripped Walter's arm in a painful grasp. "Where did they go?" he demanded.

"OW!" yelped Walter. "To her quarters, I think..."

Michael paled. "Tell Nikita to meet me there. NOW!" He ordered, shouting.

Walter watched as the handsome young man ran full speed down the hallway. He shook his gray head and chuckled to himself.

"Nikita? AND Kira?" Walter laughed again. "Menage a trois, maybe?"

He sobered suddenly, remembering Michael's stricken expression when he had told him Kira was with Wilcox.

Swiftly, he dropped the soldering iron he was holding and pressed the intercomm button to alert Nikita that Michael needed her.

***********

Coming back from her meeting with Madeleine, Kira had encountered an angry Wilcox in the hallway. He clutched at her hand, almost crushing it in his.

"Come with me," he ordered.

"I.. I can't. I'm... going out soon," she protested, her voice quivering, and tried to pull free of his grasp. "On a mission..."

Wilcox tightened his grip, painfully. He leaned in close to her face, eyes blazing. "We're going to have a little talk first," he hissed. "This way."

Her wrist in his implacable grip, Kira had no choice but to be led down the hallway by her intensely angry trainer, her fear escalating with each step.

As soon as they had entered Kira's quarters and the door was closed behind them, Wilcox caught Kira roughly by the shoulders and shoved her up against the wall.

He glared fiercely at her, his face inches from hers.

"So, you think you can escape me, do you, BITCH!"

"Nooo...." Kira whimpered, struggling to free herself from her trainer's painful grip. She had seen him angry many times before, but nothing like this. The intensity of his rage truly alarmed her.

"You're MY material, do you understand?" Wilcox ranted, shaking her. "MINE! I OWN you..."

"Please...." she cried, as he slammed her against the wall again, the pain making her see stars.

"Mine! NOT Michael's! MINE! Do you hear me?" Wilcox slapped her hard across the face and Kira went reeling to the floor.

Dazed, Kira had no time to recover from the blow when a second later she felt him lift her easily in his arms and deposit her on the bed.

In a moment, he was on top of her. Kira screamed and tried to sit up. Wilcox slapped her again. Holding her down by her wrists to the bed, he pressed his body to hers, hips grinding against her.

"Nooo..." she sobbed, trying to twist away from him.

"You're MINE," he said hoarsely, thrusting himself against her again. "THIS," another thrust, "IS MINE..."

Kira sobbed in panic and made another effort to break free. Her attempts to get away seemed to incense him more.

With an angry groan, Wilcox tore her blouse open and groped both breasts roughly, squeezing hard. "THESE are MINE....," he said, moaning. "For ME, not Michael..."

Kira, gasping, hands free at last, raked his face with her nails.

Wilcox let out a sharp cry of pain and clutched his hands to his face. Kira, panicked, body shaking, tried to scramble up from the bed.

"Bitch!" he yelled, recovering a second later. He caught her by the arm before she could get all the way off the bed and threw her, face-down, back on it.

She screamed again as he twisted her arm painfully up behind her back.

"Now I'm going to take what's mine," he said in an intensely cold, quiet voice that frightened her more than any of his shouting had before.

Gasping, helpless, she felt him pulling up the back of her skirt as he knelt between her knees, pushing them apart.

"No.. no... please...." she cried, body trembling violently. "No..."

Suddenly, she felt Wilcox grunt in pain and his weight lifted from her; she was free.

She raised her head from the bed and looked up, her eyes meeting the soft green gaze of her new friend. Michael reached out a hand to caress her cheek gently. "You all right?" he asked.

Dazed, Kira nodded dumbly, and then turned in the bed to see the room behind her. This time her gaze met not green eyes, but sparkling blue.

Nikita stood with one booted foot on Wilcox's neck. He lay, quiescent, stretched out on his back under her, a large cut on his forehead and a stunned expression on his face. He didn't move. Nikita's gun was pressed firmly into his groin. He whimpered.

Nikita grimaced in disgust at Wilcox and shoved the gun harder into his flesh. He whimpered again.

Nikita looked from Kira to Michael.

"Do you want to dispose of this piece of slime, Michael, or can I?" she asked eagerly.

***********

"I'll do it," said Michael softly.

Nikita sighed and lifted the gun from the twitching, sniveling Wilcox, her boot remaining firmly on his neck. She held out the gun, butt first, to Michael.

"Here," she said, offering it to him. "Be my guest."

Michael closed the distance between them in a few short steps and accepted the gun from her. Niktita stepped back, a look of expectation on her face.

She was usually not keen on killing, but in this case, she was looking forward to the quick dispatch of someone she felt needed to be removed from this earth. Wilcox was no innocent to be protected. He was a violent predator, a rapist, an animal....

She wondered suddenly how many others besides Kira he had molested, how many other trainees he had decided to "own", to dominate, to defile.

Shuddering, Nikita was overwhelmed suddenly with a feeling of gratitude that she had had Michael as her trainer. He had been rough on her, demanding, sometimes cruel, but it had been to protect her, to ensure her survival in Section One.

The only times he had taken her, been with her in the most intimate way, were after her express invitation to do so. Both times they had made love, on the trawler and on the Armel mission, Michael had done so only after receiving her eager, insistent consent.

Whatever the mystery of Michael was, she knew one thing-- Even when he had the power and the opportunity to take from her anything he wanted, he had not done so. Michael was not a rapist.

Michael caught her look of gratitude and their eyes held for a moment. Then he lifted the gun. To her surprise, instead of aiming it at Wilcox and firing, Michael shoved the gun in his coat pocket and hauled the whimpering trainer to his feet.

"Michael, what are doing?" Niktia cried, dissapointed.

He looked from her to Kira, where the younger girl lay stunned and trembling, curled up in a ball on the bed, sobbing quietly.

"I'll take care of him, Nikita. But I can't do it now. We have a mission leaving within the hour...."

Nikita's eyes widened. "No!" she gasped, shocked. "You don't really expect Kira to go out now, not after..."

Michael looked grim, his eyes sad. "It can't be helped, Nikita."

They stood looking at each other for a long moment. In spite of the presence of Wilcox standing near-by and the sound of Kira's heart-broken crying, it was if they were entirely alone. Michael's eyes pleaded with hers.

"Please, Nikita," he said.

After a moment, she nodded. She decided she would trust him. "All right," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

Michael sighed, and gave her a grateful look. "I'll take Wilcox to detention. You see how you can help Kira."

"Right." Nikita crossed to the bed and gathered the weeping girl in her arms, rocking her. She shushed her, speaking soothingly as she stroked the rich auburn hair. "Shhhhh, it's O.K. now...."

Her eyes met Michael's one last time before he hauled Wilcox out the doorway.

"There's nothing to be afraid of now," Nikita said to Kira while she looked at Michael. "Michael's here."

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

Michael lay in the king-sized bed in the luxurious hotel suite, waiting for Kira to join him. She was still in the bathroom. Michael had heard the shower shut off several minutes ago, and he knew she could only be stalling for time, working up her courage to come out and perform the rest of their mission. He did not begrudge her her reluctance to do so.

Michael didn't know that he had the stomach for it either. He was painfully aware of the fact that the room was bugged, and the video-tapes were rolling. He, Kira, and their love-making, would be watched by both the Alliance and Section One.

And, most disturbing to him of all, he knew that Nikita, as mission leader, would be watching closely, too.

His thoughts strayed to Nikita and how she had helped Kira get through this ordeal so far.

Nikita had done wonders with Kira in the little time she had been given before the mission left Section. It was a tribute to the strength of both women that Kira had apppeared at van access on time, looking pale, but composed.

Skillful make-up had been applied to her bruised face and she looked lovely, if nervous, in the outfit Madeleine had chosen for her- a short black cocktail dress with a long coat over it.

Kira's lower lip had trembled a little when she took Michael's hand as he helped her in the van. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Nikita, standing in the hallway, had given her an encouraging smile and a small pat on her shoulder. "Don't worry," she told her. "You'll do fine. Just remember to trust Michael, O.K.?"

Michael had paused on the bottom of the van step, a look of surprise and shock on his face at Nikita's words.

Kira looked from one to the other, managing to smile tremulously back. "O.K.," she said softly. "I will."

Now Michael lay in bed hoping he could fulfill the trust placed in him by both women. He didn't want to hurt Kira. And he didn't want to inflict any more emotional wounds on Nikita, either. But he saw no way out of avoiding doing either. He felt trapped.

He startled as the door to the bathroom came open and Kira came out, standing at the end of the bed.

She wore a demure, long-sleeved gown made of a gauzy white material sprinkled with a pattern of tiny rosebuds. The empire-style bodice accented her figure and exposed, along with the curve of one tantalizing breast, the beginning of a large, angry bruise that showed just above the top of her gown.

Her eyes were down-cast and she bit her lip nervously. Michael could sense her terror. He forced a smile and pulled the covers back from his body, revealing that he was dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

"There you are, finally," he said, patting the spot on the bed next to him invitingly. "Come on then, Love," he said. "Come to bed."

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

Kira gave him a quivering smile and, after a moment's hesitation, joined him on the bed. She lay down on her side close to him, but did not touch him. A small tremor shook her body.

Michael twitched the covers back up over both of them and reached for her, snuggling up against her. He held her loosely, and nuzzled his face in her neck.

"Mmmm, you smell good," he murmured. "Is that the perfume I gave you for Christmas?"

"Uh.. uh...y..yes," Kira stammered out. She was trying to relax into her role, but couldn't. She found herself becoming more anxious by the minute, her nervousness threatening to give way to panic.

She lay awkwardly in Michael's arms, body stiff. She didn't know where to look, where to put her hands. Her breathing became rapid, catching on little sobs in the back of her throat. Her mind trusted Michael, and her intellect understood the duty she must do. But her body, so recently abused and traumatized, screamed in protest at Michael's gentle touch.

He lowered his head and kissed her gently on the mouth. Kira flinched.

"Honey?" said Michael, lifting his head and looking into her eyes. He stroked a lock of her hair gently. "Anything wrong?"

"No, no..." she gasped. "It's just..."

"Don't you like the hotel?" he queried softly. "I thought you didn't mind going on this trip with me. I thought you were having a good time tonight..."

"I..I did. Dinner was wonderful. And the dancing. It's....it's ......" Kira paused. She couldn't think of an excuse not to go on with their charade. But she couldn't think how she was going to continue, either. She was so frightened.

Michael felt her shaking in his arms. He had to find a way not to hurt her. "Shhhh...." he said laughing. "Come here, then. Kiss me.."

He bent his head again and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply. Steeling himself, he placed his hand on one tender, bruised breast and squeezed, hard.

"Ahh!" Kira yelped in pain. Tears sprang to her eyes and she pulled away from Michael, one hand pressed against his chest.

"No! Please!" she sobbed. "I..I can't...."

"Shhh..." Michael said, and gathered her into his arms. He held her as she sobbed against his chest. "It's O.K., my little Shy One. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Kira lifted tear-filled eyes to his. "T... Tell you?"

Michael smiled. "Don't you think I know by now how you get right before your cycle?" He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "So weepy and sensitive..." He laughed and placed a very tiny, soft kiss on the top of the breast he had hurt before. "And these get so sensitive, too...."

Kira's eyes widened, realizing what he was doing. He had found a way out for her, for both of them. She sighed in relief and buried her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled against him, finally able to play her role. "I didn't mean to ruin your weekend..."

"Shhh, you didn't ruin anything," he said stroking her hair again.

"It's been a very successful weekend. I had a good time being with you," elaborated Michael. "And, business-wise, things went so well, I believe we'll be back here again very soon. I think it's highly likely they'll offer me another deal," Michael went on.

"Really?" asked Kira. Then she asked the question they had rehearsed as the set-up for feeding the Alliance the location.

"Isn't this place kind of far for you to come? I thought it would be inconvenient for you..." Michael met her eyes, and smiled. "No, no, it's not." He kissed her softly again. "I'll tell you a secret, O.K.?"

"O.K." Kira smiled.

"I've found a new place to keep my.... supplies. It's not far from here. An old warehouse on the edge of town, used to store paper goods..." He grinned. "I'm just letting them think it's really inconvenient for me to come here, so I can ....."

"Jack up the price a little?" Kira finished, laughing.

"Yes!" Michael laughed in return. "All part of doing business, My Sweet."

Kira looked thoughtful. "Speaking of business, just what kind of "supplies" are you selling them?"

"You don't need to worry about that," said Michael, kissing her neck again. "All you need to know is that we'll come back here again very soon, and...." He held her face in his hands and looked lovingly into her eyes. "...and the next time we're here, if you're moody and your breasts are sore, My Love, I'm hoping it will be because you're carrying our baby....."

"Oh! Darling!" Kira gave a little cry and hugged him tightly. He had done it. Michael had completed the mission perfectly, convincingly portraying a loving husband.

He had spared her any further humiliation and pain. She realized his behavior tonight was no different than how he had treated her before. He gave her what he had always given her, his friendship, bestowing on her nothing but dignity and respect.

She snuggled closer and kissed Michael on the cheek. "I love you," she breathed.

Michael turned off the lamp and then settled back again on the bed with Kira nestled close to his chest. He dropped a small kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, too," he said softly.

Before long, in the dark, quiet room, the two operatives relaxed, and, still holding each other, slept.

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

A few days later, Nikita tapped on Michael's office door and then entered. This time he was alone. "Her" seat in front of his desk was empty, waiting for her.

"Here's the copy of the final report you wanted," she said quickly, before he could greet her.

Michael turned off his computer and looked up at her. "Thank you, Nikita," he said softly. "Please. Sit down."

Nikita sat. "We have total closure on the mission," she babbled nervously. "The stolen nuclear triggers have all been retrieved and the Alliance has been eradicated. They won't bother anyone anymore."

"Good," he nodded. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" said Nikita, a little anxious. "What did you want to talk about?"

Michael looked at her, his gaze softening. "Us," he answered. "And Kira." He removed the keypad from the slot in his desk and punched in a number code, deactivating the surveillance in the office.

"I wanted to explain... about Kira," he said quietly. "About what I feel for her..."

Nikita looked down, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Michael had been so sweet with Kira, so caring and gentle. And the girl was so stunningly pretty, she didn't blame Michael for having feelings for her. She didn't realize, however, that his words would hurt so much.

"You love her, don't you?" Nikita said almost in a whisper.

Michael sighed. "Yes. But it has nothing to do with the way I feel about you..."

Nikita jumped up angrily, tears welling in her eyes. "O.K. It's good to know where I stand...." She went blindly in the direction of the door.

Michael was out of his chair in a moment and took her in his arms. "Nikita, please. Please listen.."

Defeated, she stopped struggling to free herself and slumped against his chest. Michael held her tightly, the breath from his soft voice stirring her hair.

"I... I care for you, Nikita. I always have...." Nikita froze, stunned. She listened intently as Michael went on. "But when I saw Kira, I.." Nikita sobbed. "You fell in love with her, instead..."

"No," said Michael, pulling her closer. "Not "instead"..."

Nikita raised her eyes to his. "You mean, you love us.... both?"

"Yes, but not the way you mean..."

"Oh..." she gave an anguished cry, trying to pull away. She didn't think she could bear to listen to any more.

"Nikita!" Michael gripped her arms and forced her to look at him. "Try to understand. I wanted to take you on the mission, to make love to you again, to be with you...."

Nikita stared at him, breathless.

"But I had to take Kira instead. To protect her."

He lowered his eyes and released her. Niktia slumped against the desk, bereft, her soul screaming in pain.

The softly accented voice went on. "When I saw her the first time, her hair, her eyes, everything about her..."

Nikita stiffened, his words of praise for another woman raining like blows on her heart. ".... everything about her reminded me of my sister..."

"Your sister?" she gasped in shock.

"Yes. She was so quiet, so gentle, like my sister. I tried to take her under my wing, get her away from Wilcox...."

The meaning of his words registered. Michael cared for Kira, but it was only HER that he really loved; his heart was Nikita's alone. Nikita smiled, her heart soaring again, flying up from the cold darkness it had been dwelling in, up to the brilliant, warm light of Michael's love....

"We'll protect her, Michael," Nikita promised softly. "We won't let Wilcox hurt again."

Michael nodded. "Thank you, Nikita. I...."

A knock on the office door interrupted whatever he was going to say next.

The door opened and a shining head of red-gold hair emerged from around the edge of the door. "You wanted to see me, Michael?" said Kira.

"Yes. Come in."

Both women settled in their chairs in front of his desk and listened quietly, their eyes on his face.

"I was just about to tell Nikita that you are no longer Wilcox's material."

Kira looked up, startled. "Who owns me, then?"

Michael smiled. "Me," he said.

The three grinned happily at each other. "What happens to Wilcox, now?" asked Nikita.

"He will be sent to Level 2 for re-programing. He'll start over, with a new trainer. If he can't be re-habilitated, he'll be cancelled."

Kira sighed in relief. Nikita nodded.

"Who is going to be the one to re-train him, Michael?" asked the blonde.

Michael looked at her, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "YOU will...."

Both women whooped in delight and rushed to him, each taking a turn hugging him. Michael laughed and hugged them back, holding a lovely woman in each arm. He felt two soft kisses pressed to his cheeks, one on either side.

"I love you, Michael!" the girls said in unison. He smiled and opened his lips to answer them. But before he could reply, Nikita kissed him again.

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