NC-17

The sounds against the hard cold floor made by the crutches and followed by the muted irregular gait of the handsome black clad man were harsh in unmistakable polarity to the imposing quiet of Section One. His soulful exquisite emerald green eyes quietly followed the progress of the equally clad woman donning a floppy, even silly, black hat. He could feel her anguish from across the room and he could see her sorrow. Michael wanted to make it all go away.

Nikita was walking out, exiting the world she hated so, once again despondent because of its awful eventualities. Jurgen was dead. Such a short time, such a short moment - was it only in this hell that futility abounded? Jurgen had preferred to end his life rather than… stay with her.

Jurgen had told her once that he could learn to love her. At the end he proved he could live without her but not without the life style he had forged for himself. Walter had been right, Michael had been right, as always she had been disillusioned and …she needed more than a month off.

“Kita, Jurgen trained me when I first came to Section…” when Michael Samuelle finished his remarks about Jurgen Nikita was feeling worse than when he’d started. Michael had respect for the deceased man; Nikita on the other hand now felt only contempt and disillusionment. Where Michael always saw the silver lining; Nikita only saw its oxidation.

Here was this soft spoken, introspective man, a man that even Jurgen had said loved her and couldn’t live without her, once again comforting and loving her in the only way he knew - genuinely. What had she repeatedly done? Alienated Michael, not been patient, nor trusting or loving to this reverent man before her. And the world continued to revolve around Nikita.

She nodded and whispered something inane about missing Jurgen. How the hell was she going to miss a man she hardly knew; who used her, if for nothing else than to get back at Michael. Learning that Jurgen had trained Michael had helped Nikita figure out why things had developed as they had - the teacher was jealous of the student’s unprecedented success. Nikita had been the ill-gained trophy. God … what was his last name?

Michael always put Nikita first; her well being was his priority, even Nikita could attest to that. He didn’t care if he relegated his own reality to the back burner. Time after time she struck out at the man, and time after time Michael pulled her ass out of the fire.

Jurgen had been a coward - “Michael let me, I am not going to make it.” And then he shot the Team Leader hurrying to his suicidal demise. Hundreds of Section people lived daily with their destinies, never running away. She knew what it was to wallow in self-pity, she had come close to seppuku. But suicide was a selfish craven, even to Nikita.

Suicide was not the norm especially at Section were the cloud of abeyance hovered noticeably overhead. Michael had misread her; she was disconsolate because her choices had proven again to be shit. The fucking fork on the road always slowing her progress and she fought the set route thinking she knew best - instead of listening to Yogi Berra and just ‘taking’ that fork.

She resumed her exit but came to a sudden stop when Michael asked, “Want to go for coffee?” Mirroring the invitation she had made to him when Michael lost his beloved Simone for the second time.

“Why not” her succinct answer. He closed the distance in two long, if not difficult steps.

Still looking down she added, “How is your leg?”

“I’ll be fine.” He said and thought to further tell her, but counseled himself better ‘You know Nikita I also have some downtime because of my injury.’ Boarding the elevator that would take them to the street access and to the cool and wet Parisian night the sometimes lovers fell unto a quite familiarity.

She smiled a sad scorched smile and looked at him, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “I am sorry Michael.”

“Kita no…” he interrupted.

“Let me finish… I am sorry, again I didn’t listen to you… Jurgen was not what I thought. I tend to feign… I don’t listen…” She said.

Their conversation now taking place inside the warm plushness of Michael’s Mercedes. Nikita’s exhaustion making her speech slurred. “I have a tendency to act before thinking, you asked me to be patient, to not trust Jurgen, why can’t I just let it be, why can’t I get over it?”

Michael smiled a rare but inestimable smile and took her hand in his gloved one. The car’s soft hum while making its way through the traffic filled evening in the City of Lights, further exacerbated her tired state. She was hardly keeping her eyes open.

‘Because I adore that part of you - all angry and impetuous.’ Michael thought.

She was confused, her head foggy. She was hardly conscious because she wanted desperately to sleep. She had asked Madelyn for a soporific and the brunette beauty had given her just one. So Nikita exhausted softly told Michael. “Forget the coffee…take me home.”

“Once more Kita, please trust me, close your eyes relax, it is a long drive.” He saw she had rested her head on the seat and quickly fallen asleep. He whispered, “Rest.”

///

After a two-hour drive, the long and winding road took them to an area Nikita would not have recognized if she had been capable of opening her eyes. The exhaustion of the past few days and the sedative had taken effect almost immediately after she entered the car. He turned the vehicle unto a long driveway passing all kinds of unidentifiable security checkpoints.

Michael drove slowly instinctually pausing to have the undetectable watchers recognize him. Nikita slept soundly, her mouth a bit opened making the sounds of a deep sleep. She was totally oblivious to her surroundings, to the plane trip and to Michael’s loving ministrations. The destination was obviously not a Parisian coffee bistro.

Nikita woke up in an elegant enormous bedroom. The antique opium bed was king sized and covered in a shimmering gold silk down comforter, decorative pillows and feather mattress. She sat up in the bed and confused tried to determine where she was, her head throbbing - damn she should have never asked the Queen of Darkness for pharmaceuticals.

The room was painted a frambuesa red and the wood was polished lacquer in deep Brazilian zebrawood. The heavy wooden French doors opened unto an interior patio that gave the appearance of a tropical island. The small pond, with its waterscape had beautiful carp swimming in it. Nikita’s panty clad body padded across the room and tried several doors before coming to the one she wanted, the bathroom door.

She washed her face, her teeth, tinkled and washed her hands; she combed her hair and decided to explore the rest of the room. In the dressing room she found a closet containing clothes that fit her so she put on jeans, a periwinkle sweater set in the softest lamb’s wool and black penny loafers.

Nikita had done what every good Cold Op would have done - investigated her surroundings, gathered Intel and a way to egress. No listening or monitoring devices were detected; the doors and windows were not locked and the television, stereo and phones worked. In the sitting area she found newspapers and a table set with silver, crystal and fine china service for one.

The fresh squeezed orange juice, the basket of fresh warm pastries and breads, the fruit and the tea service made Nikita smile for the first time since she woke up. The newspaper’s date showed that she had been sleeping for two days. A soft knock on the door startled the woman who was now feasting on a jam and cream covered brioche. She answered to come in with a mouth full of pastry.

“Good morning Nikita, are you finished with the breakfast service?” A pleasant looking woman in her early 60s and wearing gray asked.

“Yes thank you. May I leave this room?” Nikita asked.

“But of course.” The woman answered, “and when you are ready I can take you outside."

“Michael?” Nikita asked a bit confused and having trouble remembering how she had gotten there. The woman ignored her question busying herself with the retrieval of the breakfast service. “ I am ready, let’s go.” Nikita said as she wiped her mouth with a linen embroidered napkin.

“Nikita, you must put on warmer clothes, it is in the teens outside.” The woman said and handed her a white cableknit sweater, wool socks and hiking boots. She changed, applied some blush lip-gloss and followed the woman out.

The wide hallway, about 25 feet across, was eclectic and very elegant. It had perhaps 10 sets of double doors similar to the ones Nikita left behind. The architectural details were stylish and almost italianesk. The furniture and art were ornate, yet comfortable. Once out of that particular hallway Nikita realized she was indeed being taken outside.

After turning a corner she saw people talking, walking, working - everyone dressed in varying shades of gray, speaking a multitude of languages. It looked like a futuristic version of Section, if that was at all possible. The feeling of the place, even though serious and businesslike was less oppressive than Section I.

Michael spotted her and stood up from his table in the arboretum. He was reading the paper, but his drink of choice was coffee. Some men, including twins wearing goatees, stood to the side inconspicuously guarding him. An elderly woman, not wearing gray could be seen cutting roses from an incredible bush with multi-colored petals.

Michael was wearing gray corduroy jeans and a thick equally colored sweater. His unbelievable good looks and charisma were as always present. But Michael looked - serene. “Kita good morning, you look well and rested, how are you? Did you eat?” He asked her.

“Michael were are we?” No other acknowledgment, she looked around still acting like a cold op and taking it all in.

The panoramic view of the grounds through the outside patio was truly breathtaking. In the distance spectacular mountains were capped with pristine snow. Closer in - a lake its surface sparkling like diamonds. She could hear horses, see gardens, pools, tennis courts, a hockey rink and a glass building were Agents trained in marshal arts.

“Hello to you too Kita.” He smiled, “What happened to the trust issue?”

Approaching Michael, biting her lip and touching his shoulder. “You are right…Good morning…were the hell are we?” She whispered.

“Center my dear.” The woman who had been cutting the roses joined them. “Aren’t they lovely…here Nikita smell their fragrance, relax, wait until Mr. Jones arrives.” Serving her a cup of tea and continuing a banal line of conversation, which Nikita followed at Michael’s obvious encroachment.

Eventually Nikita got into the conversation, soon enough they were talking about Michael. There was no way not to be interested, she was learning about the gorgeous super agent - the enigma. Every morsel of information about him that she could learn pleased her. The ambiance filled the blonde beauty with a peace she hardly ever felt.

When Nikita had been a street rat she had never felt secure, just as she never felt protected in her mother’s home. Then Section happened and of course that was also not conducive to peaceful living. When Michael had set her free she never felt peace. But in Michael presence - he had the ability to make her feel at peace, safe and to a point normal within the hell they lived in.

Michael’s sexy soft accented voice distracted her from her thoughts. He had said the word “vehicle” in some context and this halted all logical thought. The man’s accent was a magnet. “Sorry?” She asked.

“I said we could take an all terrain vehicle and explore, do some re-co-no-ssance.” Michael repeated wicked smile on his face.

“Nikita, if you promise you won’t ask questions until Mr. Jones can fill you in, you and Michael can go around the property now.” The woman said.

“I am Michael’s material I know him well” Nikita commented, “he would not answer my questions anyway. Notice I have not even asked your name.”

Michael smiled and then said. “She knows me - pause - Adrian.”

“Touché Michael” Adrian said, picking up her basket and walking away.

Michael stood up, grabbed Nikita’s hand and pulled her, tucking an errand strand of hair behind her ear. He softly ran his index finger along the contour of her bottom lip and whispered “Let’s go” just to send shivers up and down her spine. He didn’t release her hand and then unexpectedly put his arm around her shoulders and asked if she was cold, for she had quaked when he touched her. She smiled, “I was but just warmed up real fast.”

“Let’s take a heavier coat anyway.” And as if by magic one of the guards brought each one of them a leather nutria fur lined coat.

/////

Hand in hand they strolled in the shadow of the magnificent mountain range. Their snow-covered peaks seem to disappear in their majestic heights. The lake water sparkled, the ground bare but for frost crunched under Michael’s cumbrous recuperating walk. He stopped by a large pine with its branches heavy with the new fallen snow.

Michael was quiet, his face not as acerbic as before, but yet very austere. His upper lip being stroked in contemplation, his green eyes sparkling with something that Nikita had learned to admire - determination. His gloved hand caressing her hair, willing his love to heal her bruised spirit.

Michael was debating how to tell her about some horrid Section assignment. Nikita could feel the battle his being was waging. He approached her and kissed first her cold rosen cheek, her brow, her hand and finally her lovely head.

“Kita, what is going to be revealed to you in the next few hours is going to be…trying. I could tell you now and risk our future, or I could hope that you realize with certainty that I have your best interest at heart and trust me. Believe me it is convoluted but absolutely irreversible. It will be difficult at times, heart breaking most moments, but in the end - ”

He had continued playing with her hands without being aware he was doing it. His nervousness was not Michael-like and Nikita was frightened. She had tears in her eyes and released his hand so she could embrace herself, as if guarding from what was to come. She didn’t answer, moved a couple of steps away and rested on a boulder.

“Filling you in now will put us both in great jeopardy no matter what the outcome to this Mission is.” He quirked his lips at the sudden look on her face. A realization that whatever it was - just a ‘mission’ - didn’t change the blonde’s deportment.

She again approached him and stroking his shoulder said, “I do trust you Michael…you don’t mind if I keep on repeating that as my mantra?”

Surprised he said, “That will be fine.” Again he put an arm around her shoulders and continued in a susurration. “Do trust me Kita, I know it is hard to ask you to blindly believe in me…you have asked me to talk to you and sometimes I can’t for our own good.” With this he kissed her forehead and softly guided her back through the snow covered trail as the white cold precipitation resumed its task. Michael was afraid Nikita’s shoulder chip would need to be knocked off once more to keep her alive.

Not another word on the matter was discussed, they walked along in silence. As strange as it was the quietness was companionable, they were communing. She smiled to herself thinking that this comfortable wordlessness said so much about whom they were.

“Going back to what I learned from Adrian, tell me about this ice hockey expertise, or is it passion or both?” Nikita said as they spotted the mansion, a warm smile on her face, her head resting on his strong wide shoulder.

“You are my passion Ni-ki-ta.” He said and waved to an older man standing by Adrian, Nikita assumed that was Mr. Jones. She made a mental note to ask Michael about the incredible statement he had just made. He had the uncanny ability to make declarations of his feelings for her when there was an impending interruption.

///

“Greetings Michael. And this has to be Nikita.” Michael nodded moving towards the elderly pair. “Have you enjoyed the surroundings?” The man further asked.

Michael and Nikita chatted with the older couple about the beautiful grounds, the mountain range on the horizon, the reason this compound was in Andorra and the benefits of using winter sports for exercise. The couple was charming and full of English gentility and she saw how much they respected and admired Michael. Could she see love being shared between the three of them?

She was becoming comfortable with the knowledge that Center was not Section’s buggy man - nonexistent, but ready to be conjured up when the need arose. Center was real. A reality that hopefully kept the pure evil side of Section in check. It assured her that after all the ends did justify the means. But the constant apprehension Nikita felt was ever present - thank God Michael was with her to assuage her nervousness.

“Shall we?” The older man asked raising and pointing his walking stick towards a beautiful set of mammoth French doors. Michael, Adrian and Nikita followed - as well as the guards, including the Goatee Twins. Michael guided Nikita with a firm hand to her back, reassuring her of his presence.

The room they entered was a contrariety of what Nikita had seen so far - an extremely futuristic stainless steel and glass nerve center but with a personal fringe. This area was 22nd century as opposed to the 21st century environment the other side sported. Nikita’s heart was beating at a staccato rate and Michael thought her eyes looked three times bigger than usual.

A surrealist round table sat in the middle of the room, chairs around it - obviously for the Knights of the Realm. Screens about the room with Agents working at them and wearing charcoal uniforms but she could see - camaraderie. The scene reminding the blonde beauty of a television show she used to watch standing outside an appliance store window. ‘Beam me up Scotty’ she whispered to herself as she sat on one of the chairs.

The thought of disintegrating into thin air pleased the woman and she smiled. Michael saw the smile and put an inconspicuous hand on her knee. Thus promising her that ‘Bones or Spock’ or better yet ‘Captain Kirk’ was there to protect her against the ‘Klingons.’

“Nikita” Mr. Jones said, “what you are going to learn here, needless to say cannot be repeated. Divulging any of this information to anyone will be grounds for immediate cancellation. This is Oversight. Center, the area we just left is also part of this compound.” The elder man advised her.

Michael squeezed her knee again. Nikita was almost catatonic. Michael’s caress was not felt. She was perched to volt - run, escape, disappear - why wasn’t Scotty beaming her up?

The man continued, “That said…My name is George Jones, this is my wife Adrian - and Michael’s father was the first Mr. Jones. I am the 3rd Chair of Oversight, a four member Board which commands Center and all Sections. I am your father’s successor…” with this Nikita perked up, “he was the previous Chair, however let us say that some of his ways were not…too adept…”

“With all due respect Mr. Jones, could you please…” Nikita was confused, upset, overwhelmed…about to have a stroke.

“George I think that you should start at the very beginning, she deserves the story in its entirety.” Adrian - Vice-Chair of the Committee interrupted.

Michael’s eyes darted between those present, but his entire body language seemed to scream ‘Nikita -be smart’. She was receiving tons of information, which was overloading her terrified mind. He could see in his mind’s eye the block being knocked off the blonde’s shoulder.

“Alright my dear. My wife Adrian, Michael’s parents, your father and I were friends from childhood. Here is your fairy tale. Your father was the illegitimate son of a laundry maiden and some Lord who lost all his inheritance backing up the wrong side during WWII. Your Grandfather committed suicide and your Grandmother died at childbirth. Michael’s family took the young Victor in and our friendship was born, Michael’s mother was my step sister and we were all neighbors. Adrian always had this strong desire to start an organization such as this. Her plans were meticulously laid, set, calculated, worked and reworked. Your father and I assisted Adrian and Michael’s father. Finally one day - after Adrian and I married, Michael’s father inherited enough money to start the concern and your father killed the jealous husband who caught him inflagrante, we became ghosts and here we are.”

“A jealous husband?” A teary Nikita asked.

“Your mother’s first husband, Victor always said he deserved to die. Your father Victor was quite the lothario. A handsome man who women loved…women were his greatest weakness.” Adrian said.

“Your father was told repeatedly he was not to draw attention to himself, he had to be responsible, a gentleman, this warning went unheard. When Michael’s parents died in the automobile accident your father became Mr. Jones. We then found out that he had continued the affair with your mother, got her pregnant, abandoned her and when we made him go back and make right his indiscretion - he exacerbated your mother’s drug habit, again abandoned you both and never looked back. This behavior, in addition to all the insurmountable problems we had with him forced us to make decisions that we had prayed we wouldn’t have to make.” His long soliloquy continuing. “When we found out about you and realized he had been purposely and continuously deceiving the Committee, we confronted him and demoted him. He was our ‘brother’ so we cajoled the other Committee members to spare him. Result: we were to start the Gelman process - have his memory altered, mind scraped, and monitored release. We later found out he was desperate, the terrorist entity had threatened you, so he took off and before we could find him, he betrayed the terrorists.” Jones droned on, Nikita sobbed quietly and Michael, not caring anymore stroked her hands in his.

“Dark Moon ordered Victor to kill the policeman you found dying in the alley. After the knife fight and the slaying, your father was killed by Dark Moon. He took his last breath thinking he had saved you, but not knowing who you were. You happened on the scene by accord. We don’t believe in coincidences though and had Michael investigate. Your arrest came while housekeeping was removing your father’s body.” George continued, Nikita intently listened.

“We had not found out about your tragic arrest until we were reviewing the ‘recruitment pool’. We had found you again and realized we had to take you out of the mainstream or you would be a liability for us. A team was sent in to get you. We couldn’t let you know what was going on until you were trained and proven yourself. The Dark Moon organization, a splinter group of Red Cell was destroyed by the Agency.” He took a zip of his tea.

“We didn’t realize you were going to be such a controversial - handful. Michael has been working hard keeping you alive. If it was up to Operations or Madelyn or for that matter the Committee, you would be dead.” Jones continued.

“Do they know?” Nikita shyly asked.

“No. The way the Organization works is simple. There is the Committee, there is Michael and Center and then the Agency and the Sections. Operations and Madelyn think I am just George the head of Center and they think Adrian - the Mother of Section - is dead. They think Michael is just their Level 5 Operative - the best of the best, and not the real Chair of Center” He answered.

“Why is Michael here and not his sister? Nikita decided to find out.

“Michael’s unimaginable sense of duty got him into Section. His youthful indiscretions were conscientiously done to force us to recruit him. His sister is free, their father was tremendously rich. Michael had asked the same for you, but your father made sure that could not possible. Michael has his hands full, Madelyn and Paul are even a bigger problem than you are. However they are very necessary but need to be controlled.” Adrian proudly talked about Michael, the child she never had. “Nikita you seem to have a false bravado about you…you don’t fully understand what we do here. What you mock, the sacrifice of the one for the good of the many is a necessary malignancy. This is a bad world, with even worse people, and by whatever means necessary we are here Nikita to save the majority from the injurious acts that surround free loving people.” Adrian added. “And with all the hats Michael wears he doesn’t have time to police Section and it needs policing or it will become a place of pure evil.” Adrian continued.

“Michael has suggested we assign a new post to you. You are to become our person in Section, our eyes and ears. You will be Center’s Mole. What happens in Section I, which affects all other 18 sections, will be reported to us. You can refuse, in such a case you will have your memory scraped of what you have learned here, you won’t be set free though. We’ll be honest, we believe Michael is desperately trying to protect you, to keep you alive in spite of your reckless disregard for our set patterns. He wants you - he deserves that much from us. Nikita in all honesty, you are a pain in the ass.” George finished.

“Don’t think that you have any privileges because you are the daughter of our dear friend. Michael doesn’t have privileges and he holds the purse strings. We too have someone to answer to. You at times have acted like a spoiled brat and not very smart - like father like daughter. Michael has seen your potential. You need to learn from him what you have refused to learn so far. Now, go back to your room with Michael, discuss this briefly if you want and you will have dinner with us - dress formally.” Adrian said, standing and obviously bringing the briefing to an end.

Nikita thought of a conversation she had with Operations during her First Mission - he had said she thought she was the ‘lonely beacon of decency in an insane world.’ She had answered…“No feelings, compassion or love, we die so that Section can live, I can’t accept that.” She castigated herself after she had said it and was again doing so.

Michael and Nikita left the room together. Quiet, not a word exchanged, but both secure in the knowledge they had just received their final warning. A warning that could obviously cause Nikita her life and as a result given Michael/s reaction to her absence, his death would also come.

“Kita are you alright?” Michael asked as they approached her room. “I think you should be alone, when you want me, I am in the room across the hall.” He kissed her hand and did his famous ‘back step ¾ half drop hip turn’…this move threw all objectivity out the window…ah Michael!

“Michael wait, I need to speak with you please.” The blonde beauty whispered.

“All right, where, want to go for a walk?” He asked.

“No, let’s go to my room, we can be alone.” Raising an eyebrow she winked.

“No…my room, no monitoring devices.” He pulled her towards his door.

“But…I checked…I…” Nikita stuttered.

“This is Oversight Kita.” Michael finished and unlocked his door by entering his code on the keypad.

////

Michael’s suite was bigger than Nikita’s. His foyer floor was covered in the richest black marble, the walls covered in a lavish camel colored suede. The sitting room was anchored by an antique Oriental area rug and furnished in plush leather sofa and chairs. The balcony actually reflected the outdoors and the Jacuzzi was on a raised platform. Even among the neoteric mode, there was an air of antiquity to the environs and Michael looked and felt at home in it.

He threw his keys in a captain’s table serving as a desk that looked to be 400 years old. He picked up some envelopes, his mail and went through them quickly, as well as reviewing his email and voice mail messages. She stood by the door a bit shy, he smiled, asked if she wanted something to drink and asked her to sit down.

She said no to the drink and sat in a deep comfortable chaise, she continued to look around as he went into the tiny kitchen and fetched a bottle of Evian he swallowed in what seem to be one gulp. His desk had a beautiful framed photograph of a boy Nikita guessed it was Michael’s nephew and another one of a blonde little girl. Nikita let out a gasp - it was her. “Michael” Nikita said stroking the picture and smiling, her crying having subsided somewhat, “want to talk about the assignment, it sounds daunting or perhaps your parents, your life?”

He brought her a tea anyway and chastely kissed her, handing her the cup. “I can’t discuss the mission Kita, you heard them. But the rest… I don’t care anymore I want to tell you about one of the hats I wear as Adrian put it. Long and complicated, I have wished everyday I could have told you…but instead I asked you to be patient. Before explaining I want you to know, not only do I need and want you - I cannot live without you, it was proven to me before I saw you in Lyon.”

“Thus the passion statement.” She whispered to herself, he heard and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Michael sat next to a mesmerized Nikita. He held her hand in his and looked out at nothing in particular. Her heart was breaking, this man was grieving and his angst was insurmountable. Michael’s plans could be for not if Nikita didn’t accept his explanations. It was perhaps this realization that bothered Michael, he knew Nikita was volatile at best.

He was getting ready to divulge to her a secret mission he had been carrying through for the last 5 years. He hoped that showing her that everyone in the Organization lived with a burden equal or greater to hers would make the chip on her shoulder fall down without the use of brute force.

“It’s so much more… Before you were recruited, a year before I lost Simone the first time, I was assigned to a deep blood cover. I was ordered to marry Sallah Vacek’s daughter E-le-na.” He quickly looked at her; she had started to silently cry.

“Marriage? Did Simone know?” She quickly asked averting her eyes away from him.

“It is not a real marriage, it is Section ordered. Yes Simone knew although we never spoke about it.” He continued. “Then you came along…” He fell quiet, his beautiful eyes now gray with the weight of his grief.

“Michael?” Nikita said, now looking at him and putting her arm around his shoulders. She was crying for Michael, for herself and for this Elena Vacek.

He stood up, his magnificent physique spectacular under the jeans and sweater. “Her father is our most important target…am sorry Nikita. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to take advantage of you and I never meant to betray...”

She interrupted, she was angry now. She pawed at her tears and stood next to him, turning his body to face her. “Betray? Do you feel you betrayed your marriage bows? Do you consider our night together a mistake? Are you going to tell me you are sorry about our feelings?”

Michael had let her vent for this was the Nikita he loved - fiery. He held her by both shoulders and brought her to him, kissing her lips. The kiss was soft, wet, long, voracious and it seemed to go on forever. Their tongues battling for dominance, their hunger evident, their need desperate.

“God Kita, I love you so much.” He whispered into her mouth, breathing his desire into her. She stopped, disengaged and sadly smiled. She then continued allowing Michael’s attack on her vulnerable psyche. She let her hands feel his very intense arousal.

“…Do you Michael … do you love me?” She asked, a naughty girl exuding want.

“Kita…” He allowed her to continue her assault.

“I have to stop” she said, “How much can I take?” She was weeping but was still in his embrace. “Why did you bring me in…”

He quickly interrupted by deepening the soulful kiss. “Let’s take what we can.” Michael said realizing they were entering into dangerous territory, for no one else knew he had set her free - the knowledge would have been grounds for instant cancellation.

Michael walked her backwards to his room. He had a sprawling sleigh bed made of rich dark wood and dark leather with brass nails around the perimeter. The bedding was all natural Egyptian cotton, monogrammed and luxurious. The feather mattress softly deflating as her body was carefully placed on its surface.

His gifted fingers pulled her sweater over her head and she fumbled with her waistband as Michael removed his own sweater. His eyes clouded with the desire that constantly built within. He was overwhelmed by his urge for this woman and was aware he had no right to drink in this cup of love.

Her magnificent body wantonly calling to him and she couldn’t help but touch him, so she abandoned her jeans and stroked his very hard member through his fly. He let out a small whimper afraid that the long awaited contact would make him prematurely ejaculate and he stopped her hand, working diligently in removing her remaining garments as well as his own.

Michael and Nikita now both naked looked like gods in their splendor. Their physical beauty was tremendous. His was manly and hard and spectacular. How a man this beautiful could appear to be so ruthless. Her beauty was all woman, soft curves even in her well-defined muscles. And their eyes were perhaps the most glorious of all their attributes.

Nikita parted her legs and allowed him to lie between them. She could feel his raging boner on her stomach and she sighed searching his mouth. He stopped and looked at her, his eyes worshiping the woman he loved so very much. He kissed her eyes, her ears, nuzzled her neck and devoured one round pink tipped breast as his hands caressed the other.

Michael was speechless, his mind incapable of reasonable thought. His only desire to make this magnificent woman his own. So he held her gaze with his and painfully slowly started moving his hand down her stomach, pass her navel, her pelvic bones, to softly stroke the tender skin leading to the mound of pale hair.

Nikita was holding her breath, floating over the luxuriating comfort of Michael’s bed and embrace. His strong powerful body caressing hers, playing havoc with her senses. Nikita continuously whispering his name - like a prayer. Michael now replacing the stroking fingers with a stroking tongue.

Nirvana, absolute and total perfection, nothing could stop the mounting fervor. His tongue slowly was approaching her soft moist lips and soon after the golden clit. Michael’s cell phone rang, at first no reaction from either of the lovers, but then it shrilled again.

Michael dutifully moved to find his phone in the discarded mound of clothing. His eyes shuttered and his breath slowly escaped his lungs. She turned her face and starred unto the down pillows, embarrassed of the thoughts trapped in her lust filled soul.

“Oui?” Michael answered, his eyes still closed. She saw him cringe, a small shift of his powerful shoulders, an exhalation a bit too long. “E-le-na? Are you ok? You sound winded, what is wrong? This delivered in soft French. Michael listened for the answers. Nikita’s eyes shut tight, his looking at the floor.

“Your father’s letter shouldn’t affect you so… It is your decision, not his…Tell you what why not sit down and answer…well when you come back then, sit down answer the letter and call me back to read it…then E-le-na there is no problem, no address makes your decision easier, you wait until he contacts you again…I am in Egypt now, will rest today and tomorrow will be going to the dig…”

They chatted for a while; Nikita finally stopped crying got up and dressed. He followed her movements with regret filled eyes and started to dress also. He bid his mission wife good-bye without much reverence and without uttering a word kissed Nikita’s nose and walked her to her room.

He hugged her to him and kissed her ear whispering, “I am sorry, I do love you.”

////

Nikita’s heart was shattered like a pane glass window, a million pieces of soul lying before her. She rested her back to the massive doors and she felt Michael doing the same on the other side. She would try to take a short nap, but first she would shower and wash her aching head and perhaps some of her sorrow.

So much information in one day was enough to drive a sane woman crazy. Here she was totally insane to begin with - and coming from a maniacal situation. She didn’t need this - didn’t know how to deal with it.

The scalding hot water hitting her throbbing head was at least inserting physical pain in the equation and making her clenched fists relax. The raw essence she now experienced was not only constructed by Michael. Or was it? Did she have a hand in this mess, other than as an innocent?

Before she came along, he had existed, surviving in this convoluted house of cards, whether by his own making or not, and now…She needed to disengage, separate, look at this without the anchor of her experiences. Michael had tried desperately to keep her out of harms way and like a worm she had burrowed herself into his psyche, into his heart.

In the cages during the War he had said she was the only one with a soul. She had made his dreary existence full of light. He didn’t know what love was anymore and she had showed him. But had she been selfish in doing so, had she thought of Michael, or only of Nikita? She had allowed the blessed kiss while she lay recuperating and had not allowed him to see her reaction because she had wanted his suffering - if she only had known.

So borrowing a bit from Michael’s book she went down the path of least resistance. Zen! Making the water a bit less intrusive, she sat in the marble shower seat and breathed deeply. Gaining access to her feet she started massaging and manipulating her soles in an attempt to concentrate her hands on something mundane.

Her brain was ethically and very methodically listing the information she knew from before and that which she had just learned. Things started to make sense and behind her closed eyelids she could see the light. Something clicked.

Michael was an honorable man - this was a statement of fact. Michael would have never taken advantage of her, put his own feelings and needs before hers. And most importantly Michael would have never done anything without making her best interest and safety his priority.

Michael had set her free for heaven sakes. He had ripped his own heart out and held it pulsating in his hands to allow her this need to seek her freedom. He had suffered in raw public pain her absence.

Her life had not been better out there where she longed to be. The absence of Michael destroyed her last bastion of hope. Life without Michael had no rhyme or reason.

Suddenly, she came to a conclusion and smiled - her headache gone. An existence without Michael, barred whatever rules, was not worth living. Michael was freedom - wherever they were - Michael was her freedom.

She turned off the water, wrapped herself in a warm thick towel and sat in front of the vanity to comb her hair. She wanted to tell him - she wanted him to know. She would wait, and if in the waiting he had to stomp on her heart one more time, she would know.

Michael loved her and he was doing the best he could with an indescribable situation. He was an unending source of hope. Michael was that steadfast path at the end of the fork on the road. He’d been wrong, the only one with his soul intact was Michael. And Scotty finally beamed her up.

///

Nikita dressed for dinner. She found draped over a chair and wore a midnight blue velvet sheath lined in luxurious silk, high neck and low bare back. She swept her hair into a chignon that hugged her neck and looked for matching pumps in the well-stocked closet.

Inside her shoes she found a folded handwritten note. She inconspicuously took the paper into the toilet with her. She knew this place was never monitored, so she sat on the toilet and read the note. It was from Michael, in his unique elegant penmanship.

“My dearest Kita: I know I am repeating myself, trust me please. I don’t want you to think I am being arrogant or taking you for granted, I just need you this much. This is the only way I can keep you safe…and I need you safe my love. M”

Nikita was tempted to keep the note instead she tore it into tiny pieces and flushed it making sure every piece disappeared into the bowl. “OK Michael, I’ll go along.” She thought as she washed her hands and stepped back into the bedroom.

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie and she commanded whomever to enter. The same older woman from the morning carrying sapphire earrings, ring, bracelet and necklace - all very elegant, marched into the room. “Adrian sends you these, says you can borrow them for tonight."

She assisted Nikita with the jewelry, chatting amicably about the music playing - a cello concerto in D Minor by the Boston Philharmonic. Michael stood at the door taking in the image before him. The blonde was a far cry from the mangy girl he had seen so long before. However, her beauty had been evident even then and she had stolen his empty heart. Now she was a woman.

“Hi” he whispered in that seducing way Michael has.

Both women smiled. The older woman excused herself leaving the room so that Michael could help Nikita with the necklace. His hands warm and at the same time rough caressed her long neck.

“This was one of my mother’s favorites.” He told her, the remark escaping Nikita who was transfixed on the image she saw reflected on the mirror. Two beautiful people, happy and in love. The shadows of Elena Vacek Samuelle absent for a while.

He kissed the top of her hair, stroked his hand down her bare back and draped the wrap around her shoulders. She melted into his strong hard chest and whispered “You look ravishing.” He smiled and led her out of the room.

“Michael, I trust you.” She whispered.

And in the twilight of the evening light Michael’s stoic face relaxed. His complicated psyche at peace. For now she was safe, she was his and she was light.

///

It always astounded Nikita that in the middle of the mayhem they called their lives, there was luxury, there was fantasy and there was elegance. This night, if it were not for the place they existed in, would have been considered magical.

The ballroom was lit with hundreds of candles, casting a warm glow around the perimeter of the ornate and grand room. The tables set with fragrant centerpieces, the chairs draped with silk, the place settings made up of exquisite china, silver and crystal.

The staff elegantly uniformed, the 24 or so guests jovial and well dressed. Jubilant everyday people who looked important, rich and well bred. Michael held on to her elbow and smiled with recognition at all those who addressed him. They made their way to the reception line.

“Michael?” Nikita called and he immediately acknowledged her, so very attentive. “Who are these people, are we in the middle of a Mission, is there something I should know?”

He smiled, softly stroked her face and pulled her to him. “These are our parents friends - the members of the Collective. No it is not a Mission and all you should know is that I love you.” Kissed the tip of her nose and approached George and Adrian, who in turn kissed each of her cheeks, making her feel welcomed.

George said “Nikita we want you to know that these people, the members of the Collective accept their lot in life, they have a job to do, they live and still take that globally necessary responsibility at faith. They just do the job.”

“Enough now. My dear, you look beautiful.” Adrian said and conspirationally “Those were Micheal mother’s favorite sapphires, you can keep them - I am sure Michael would love for you to have them.”

Nikita squeezed Michael’s hand. Adrian was Michael’s mother at heart. There may not have the same blood cursing through their veins, but Adrian loved him like a mother - a resemblance, at least in the deportment and demeanor - Adrian was grace personified, so was Michael.

People were coming up to them and talking as if Nikita was part of the family. As if they knew her, although they had just met her. Everyone laughed and enjoyed the festivities. Michael’s bemusedly smiled at seeing his beloved so enthralled in his other life.

“Michael could you get me a drink?” Nikita asked the handsome man who was regaling a friend of George’s with a story about some fishing trip in the Amazon. The man and Michael moved towards one of the bars to get her a glass of Crystal.

Nikita stood by herself, taking in the grandiousness of the place when a beautiful red haired, weird hair cut woman wearing too many jewels and too much perfume approached her. Her beauty cheap as compared to Nikita’s. Michael from the bar watched and asked for the drink now totally frantic.

“Nikita is it?” The woman sized her up. “I have heard so much about you, I am sure Michael has mentioned me to you - I am Andrea.”

“No I am sorry, he never has…” Nikita answered, and winked at Michael who had just approached the pair, sans the drink.

“Oh sorry Andrea, this is Nikita.” He said, Nikita controlled her inquisitive look.

“A pleasure…” She gave her a smile and turned to Michael. “Where is my drink? I’ll go with you…”

Michael smiled, bowed a bit at Andrea and put his arm around Nikita’s waist. “She is one of my Center profiler.” He whispered in her ear and then kissed it.

“I don’t care, you are mine. Maybe it is time we tell your … fans.” She whispered back and kissed him quickly on the lips “I wonder how your mother and father would have felt about me?”

“Wherever they are Kita I am sure they love you, almost as much as I do.”

The night was the other side of the coin from the day she had spent. Her feet hurt from dancing with Michael, her head buzzed from the exquisite spirits, her taste buds waltzed from the food and deserts, her senses over loaded. And her heart was constricted from the love for the man and the sorrow for his situation.

They were dancing to a slow tune his nails raking the soft exposed skin of her back. The dress Nikita was wearing had produced a strain in Michael’s imposing manhood. The top of the dress just covered her front; the sides of her breasts, her back, her neck were all exposed and allowing him great spans of velvet smooth skin to lovingly worship.

Michael was kissing Nikita’s face and neck, he had been whispering to her in French and his mind was concentrating solely on her. Nikita on the other hand was thinking how awful Elena would feel if she knew of her husbands duplicitous undertakings. She wondered how Simone had lived with the knowledge of the marriage and how incredible a woman she really must have been.

“Kita you want to go to the patio and be alone?” Michael whispered and kissed her.

Nikita castigated herself for she just couldn’t ‘just do the job.’ Her thoughts, although she was trying hard to rein them in, were starting to go that sinister way, for example these thoughts: ‘He had to feel something for his mission wife.’

Sometimes she thought Michael was psychic because as if she had telepathically communicated with him, while strolling in the covered patio adjacent to the grand ballroom, Michael said “Elena is a good woman Nikita that is what makes it so hard.”

She took his hand in hers and said “Tell me about her Michael, if you want.”

Michael stopped and sat, bringing his Nikita to sit next to him in a stone bench. “She thinks I am an Archeologist- so I can go for long periods of time to my “digs”. Her father is a Russian Mafia kingpin who has made his fortune by masterminding terrorist acts all over the planet. He is Red Cell - if there is a lunatic somewhere with misguided goals, Vacek’s hands are into him. She doesn’t know him, never did. He left her mother before Elena was born, accusing her mother that the child was not his. Her mother a strictly religious woman from an aristocratic Russian exiled family brought Elena up, the father has never taken an interest or contacted his daughter…” Michael went on and Nikita interrupted.

“But I heard, he sent a letter…”

“Section sent a letter Nikita. Everyone has this theory that Vacek is going to approach his only child, his daughter … and we are going to capture him. The problem Kita is that even if we do take him, do you think that will put an end to his rule of terror?” Michael said.

“Of course not Michael, someone else will pick up the baton.” She added.

“Exactly… Now they want me to have another child, the powers that be insist this will be an incentive for Vacek to come…” Michael said and he heard Nikita’s intake of air.

“Another child?” She whispered so low that Michael didn’t hear her.

“A child that I don’t want, for I will loose him or her in the end as I did Alan.” Michael added, drowning in the blue gaze of his love.

“Michael…” Nikita’s heart constricted further.

“Thank God E-le-na has not conceived. I think she doesn’t want anymore children but since she thinks I do she tries. As you learned during the War we lost Alan, that left her empty. I don’t care what anyone says I think Section did it…I don’t want to talk about that now… And then they tried to poison her, to no avail, Vacek did not come, so at least they abandoned that route.” Michael continued.

“Who is in charge of the Mission Michael?” Nikita asked.

“It was Operations and Madelyn’s brain child. Of course the Committee wants Vacek and they agreed, by whatever means necessary. I was chosen, against Adrian and George’s protest, but majority rules.” Michael went on.

“Michael, I was thinking about Simone. She must have been an incredible woman.”

“She was Kita. Simone came to Section with Operations. She was older than I by 10 years. Simone always put the mission before us she was steadfast in her resolve. She understood that the Vacek mission was extremely important and when we were told that I was to marry Elena, Simone told me - ‘let us not discuss the mission Michael’ and we never spoke about it again. She was killed, or taken and I had to go home to a stranger who I had to pretended to love…Yes Simone was an incredible woman.” Michael fell silent.

Nikita moved closer and kissed his forehead. “You are an incredible man. You know Michael, enough information for one day. Lets forget about everything and go finish what we started this afternoon. When you are not within mission parameters - I am your woman”

“You are always my woman Nikita. Let’s say good night and go.” He smiled.

////

Nikita entered Michael’s suite holding his hand, the handsome couple desperate to consummate their much-anticipated coupling. The moment they crossed the threshold Michael drew Nikita to his body and covered her mouth with his. They fumbled for the couch and Michael laid on her. He removed his jacket, her wrap and their shoes.

The kiss was infinite. First it started as a desperate act. His mouth covering hers with force and his tongue battling with hers for control. He then surrendered to his lady, he allowed her to set the pace. So softly, wet, lightly, he was floating to a far away star being guided by this incredible woman’s hand.

She took tiny little bites of his lower lip, she sucked that same lip into her mouth, his eyes half lidded because he didn’t want to miss a second. This was the first time Nikita and Michael could really enjoy their loving union. She moved to his strong chin and bit and licked and kissed. Then his neck, the Adam’s Apple being particularly stroked.

He pulled her up and carried her to his bed. Her mouth seriously at work on his luscious one not loosing contact for a single moment. He placed her, one more time, gingerly on his bed, he knelt above her and started a sensuous strip tease, first his tie, then his half opened shirt pulling it slowly out of his pants.

Nikita’s hand was playing with Michael’s crotch. Her face concentrating purposely on his lips. She moved one of her hands to his flat male nipples and raked her nail over both of them, but her other hand quickly massaged his burgeoning heat.

He was hurriedly attempting to remove his pants, she was making it quite difficult with the distracting attention to his privates. He wickedly smiled and with his fingers he moved the cloth of her bodice to expose her perfect breasts. Her nipples were hard and pointy and he pinched them in unison so she released his crotch to put her fingers in his mouth.

Michael sucked her digits one at a time and rapidly finished removing his pants, he now was sitting on her naked hips. She wiggled beneath him and he bent to kiss her mouth. Her fingers still in his mouth, she pulled at his lips and continued her squirming bringing a blissful feeling to her very wet apex.

The grunting, the sex noises both lovers were making started softly and now were building to a crescendo. Michael had discarded her soft dress in one swift move. Nikita’s lower body was out of control she wanted him in her and didn’t hesitate telling him.

“Michael, I want you to f*** me now. We’ll do it slowly later…please.” She said and moved her hips.”

He again smiled, moved a hand to his manhood and guided into her center. His other hand found her clit and brushed it, pinched it and then proceeded to rub it in long soft strokes that quickly became steady. She threw her head back and closed her eyes.

“Look at me Kita…watch me love you.” Michael said and took her hand placing it around the base of his member.

Nikita’s eyes popped open and smiled a faint smile. She bit her lower lip and she moved her weight to her bent elbows. He moved forward and grabbed a nipple with his mouth, biting softly and sending electricity to her center.

The slow lovemaking took forever. He was embedded in her, rotating his hips counterclockwise as she rotated hers clockwise. He would pull out completely and let himself down slowly. He would not release her bud and continued stroking it relentlessly.

“Michael I’m coming, please, let go, I can’t take….ugh - Mykowl” she screamed, her eyes shut and she relaxed her hand, stopped moving and lay still. He smiled again and increased his movements.

He was no longer pulling out completely, he was moving around, deep, allowing his dick to touch the back of her cervix. He awoke her desire immediately, her eyes flew opened and she said “Mykowl…”

There was urgency now, he had felt her after shock as she came again. He wanted to come inside this woman he adored, he wanted to fulfill his need and hers. He pulled out, to her complaint and quickly turned her on her stomach, showing her he wanted her on her hands and knees.

He entered her from behind and covered her back with his front. He grabbed her clit and stimulated it until she could not stop coming, her screams reverberated in the quiet room. Michael felt her tremors initiate his.

“Je t’aime mon amour, vous c’est mon couer…” he was speaking in French burying himself deep within her so he could feel her all around as he came.

He was in heaven, never in his life had Michael felt this fulfilled. Not in a Valentine mission, not with Elena or Simone, no one was like Nikita. The intensity of his release made both Michael and Nikita cry. He was sure that if he died right now, he would not feel cheated.

He held her in that position grasping her breasts. They relaxed their legs and Michael still inside lay on her. She was tingly, Michael laid on his side taking her with him. He wouldn’t pull out, he reached for the blanket and covered their sated bodies.

“Sleep my love.” He said and kissed her hair, closed his eyes and for the first time, in a long time, he slept the restful sleep of a child.

///

When Michael awoke in the morning he found that Nikita had left during the night. At first he was upset but when his cell phone rang he was glad she was not there. His mask firmly in place allowed him to control his emotions. The call was from Elena, the conversation was that of a husband and wife - nonsensical and comfortable.

When Michael hung up he pulled on sweat pants, sweater and bare-foot knocked on Nikita’s door. “Come in” she answered.

Michael found the beautiful woman sitting at the table, wet hair wrapped in a towel, white terry cloth robe draped around her body. He could see she was wearing white lacey bra and panties. She smiled and put down the newspaper.

“Good morning my love” she said to Michael.

“Bonjour” kissing her and sitting across, grabbing a cup and serving himself some coffee. ”Why did you leave?”

“I thought it would look better if I was here when they brought the breakfast service.”

“Don’t ever leave my bed again. I miss you.” She sat on his lap.

“I don’t want to be reckless Michael.”

“Kita” he kissed her “we’ll have plenty of time to be careful when we go back to Section and…”

She finished “And you go back to your deep blood cover.”

“Didn’t you realize they had brought coffee, French newspapers, enough food and service for two?” Michael asked, she nodded “This is Center Kita, here I rule the roost, no one questions me. I am in Command. Next door in Oversight or in Section or the Agency, that is another story.”

“I am sorry Michael” she kissed him again. “What are we going to do today, or do I have to go train.”

“Voila” Michael said serving her orange juice and shifting her weight on his lap. “I have to go back by the end of next week, you’ll then have a couple of weeks left here to train. We are going to go have some fun, we’ll go shopping, we’ll be ‘normal’ for a while.”

With this Michael moved Nikita and stood up, he pulled her to her bathroom. “I know you took a bath already, but I want to take one with you.” So they did.

The tub was huge and marble, they hurried pouring all kinds of aromatic salts and oils into the bath. Michael put loads of rose petals from the flower arrangement next to Nikita's bed and poured suds producing liquid into the water. Nikita busied herself with lighting plenty of candles around the perimeter of the very big room.

They stripped and stepped into the tub allowing their hard muscles to relax. Michael sat with his back to the marble, Nikita between his legs. His arms around her immediately grabbed her breasts and softly fondled them. She smiled, turned to look up at him and found him distracted, not there, so she kissed him and turned her body to face him.

“Michael?” She sighed.

“Sorry Kita. I was thinking about my…what am I going to do about the pregnancy?

“Michael, what has the Committee said about the end of the mission?” She asked.

“Nothing, too early to even plan for this contingency, why?”

“Because, you could now put as a condition that the baby…”

“She doesn’t want to get pregnant again, she doesn’t want to even discuss the problem she is having…it is obvious, she is not getting pregnant and the Section doctors that have seen her can’t find anything wrong with her or me…”

“Section doctors?”

“Yes, she doesn’t know they are Section doctors. You know Kita she doesn’t even know her father is a terrorist. Her father, that is another one of those subjects we have trouble with.”

“Michael, how do you explain your wounds, the calls in the middle of the night.”

“The wounds are easily explained, the digs are dangerous and Medlab does an excellent job, you know that. The absences, even though she hates them are reasonably explained, again the digs are far away from France and so the calls are also easy, the time zones vary and Section tries real hard not to call me at ungodly hours.”

Nikita smiled while applying liquid soap to his chest “I get called…”

He kissed her and turned her so her back was again against his chest. “I said - they try, but I get calls also.” Michael again zoned out, she felt him slightly tense, and he let out a strangled cry. “What was hard to explain was my behavior during your six month absence.”

Nikita again tried to turn, but he trapped her with his legs and arms, holding her fiercely to his body. She could feel his pulse race. He kissed her neck and her shoulders and let out a long sigh.

“When you were gone I was a mad man. I could not sleep, I did not eat and I was obsessed with my PDA. I was not myself, the loneliness I felt was insuperable and the void was hopeless. I was a zombie, with everyone I was ruthless, with her…she saw the worse. I would stay at Section and she didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even use the set scenarios, I didn’t care.”

“Michael…”

“Promise you’ll never leave me again…You are my light Kita, for you I go on, without you…I can’t live without you.” With this revelation Michael turned Nikita and enveloped her lips with his. His tongue warmly caressed her and there was no urgency, just quiet reverence.

To Michael Nikita was that bastion of immaculate naiveté that they longed to defend. She was pureness and innocence. She was a little girl full of dreams, a fountain of truth and love. To Michael Nikita was salvation.

With his loving caress and his careful embrace he brought her a release so sweet it made her weep. She was only receiving, he would not let her give. She didn’t need to, her release, her climax took him over…Nikita was salvation, his salvation and he was in her debt.

///

The next two weeks went by at breakneck speed. Michael and Nikita had to spend sometime within the confines of the Compound doing whatever was required of them. Loads of dinners like the ones they had attended when they first got there. But mostly their time was spent being one.

Operations thought that Michael was recuperating at a recently developed Medlab, which was somewhere in the north of France. A real establishment that had developed a new laser microsurgery and state of the art physical therapy to fix the types of wounds like the one that had been inflicted by Jurgen. All the repair surgery had been done within the first 24 hrs Michael spent there, his cover would be fine.

Nikita’s cover was also not difficult to believe. The blonde had been given a month to spend anywhere she wanted - she had contacted Section and told them she was in Andorra. The chip implanted in Nikita confirmed her position and so did the credit card charges being generated by a Center operative. Nikita had been called once by Madelyn to check on her and Nikita had said she was skiing and catching up on her reading. These things were true, however reading and skiing were not the only things Nikita was doing.

Michael and Nikita had discussed everything regarding their pasts. To Nikita most of hers was a mystery and she regaled in learning about her father who had been quite the Don Juan. She also learned about her grandparents and even learned about her mother looking for her - she was dry now, but Nikita was not to contact her.

Michael had returned to Section promising he would find a way for them to be together. His return to his convoluted existence had left both of the lovers in deep angst. He communicated with her daily while she remained and trained for her new mission as Center’s Mole.

The phone calls were actually therapeutic to both. Michael would laugh, as his four-hour drive to and from Section would be spent on the phone with Nikita. Things were pretty quiet and Michael was not going on any missions. She would tell him every detail of her day, he reciprocated; not a word was exchanged about the deep blood cover mission.

Adrian had been worried that she didn’t see much of an inner life with Nikita and helped her develop some interests. Michael had told Adrian he had already helped her with her passions. Nikita warmed up to the elderly couple once Michael left.

On her last day and night there Michael came back, he was to bring her to Section I. To check his reaction Paul and Madelyn had sent Michael to retrieve Nikita from her supposed vacation. They were sure that Jurgen’s death had severed Michael and Nikita’s love for each other. Sending Michael would further drive the wedge that Madelyn, not Operations, obsessed about.

Michael was happy to see how Nikita had taken to the elderly couple. She had learned from Adrian as well as from George. Each giving Nikita some asset to enrich her existence. This month had been a growth experience for the blonde beauty…and Michael saw it with proud eyes.

As they lay in their bed after languishly making love Nikita had once again noticed Michael disengage. She could see that he was preoccupied and she told him so, he kissed her mouth softly as they faced each other and Michael went on.

“I am sorry Kita, I have a hard time sharing, it has been a long time since I have been able to share with someone…especially since I am not supposed to be telling you…She is pregnant, found out about it the day I got back…”

“Michael…” she knew what was coming next.

“I can’t do this Kita. I can’t cheapen our love this way.” He said.

She sat up and rested her back to the bed. “What do you want to do…I understand…I do.”

“Kita…when Simone found out that Alan was going to be born she said what you just said. I could see the problems before they occurred in our marriage and especially in our work. Operations denied us the back up team…we knew it was a doomed mission. I have always suspected that he sent us in unprotected because he wanted the distraction that was Simone quelshed.” Michael said. Nikita moved to kiss him and he stopped her, so she grabbed his hand and brought it to her heart. This he did allow.

Michael continued “When Alan was born, 7 months after Simone had die…been taken, I stopped looking for her, my world became my son…you saw his picture on the desk he was a beautiful boy. He was smart Kita, he knew me, he wouldn’t go to sleep when I was in the house unless I played the cello for him.” He now rested his head on Nikita’s sheet covered lap.

“He was six months old when he died. The doctors said it was Infant Death Syndrome. I think he was too old for that. He had just learned how to say Pappa…” Michael wept openly, her heart constricted and she stroked his hair. She made silent deals with deities and cried for Michael and for his vast loses.

“Michael, I will wait. I promise I don’t mind, I love you so much I can’t bare to see you like this…You are my heart, I will wait even if it takes our lifetime.”

“Be careful Kita, everyone that loves me gets hurt. My sister, Simone, Elena…”

“Michael I follow the path of my own choosing, so did they.”

“What choice did Alan have?”

“You want this stopped, I respect your desire, but I am not going to stop loving you Michael, don’t ask me that…”

Michael picked up his head and kissed Nikita with a tenderness that finished breaking her heart. His soft caresses raking sobs out of the beautiful woman. He embraced her fiercely and lowered them both to the bed, he straddled her intertwining his fingers with hers and he entered her, perhaps for the last time as he rocked pushing his manhood deep into the only woman he had ever worshiped bringing both bittersweet release.

And the lovers turned their bodies, spooning in the night holding on for dear life. Their bodies as always in perfect fit. Their hearts as always beating in unison. Tomorrow when the sun came up their oddessy would continue. But until then their arms would hold them safe against the onslaught of anguish awaiting the new day.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Michael and Nikita returned to Section One. Each with their missions, each with their thoughts, each with their secrets. They both buried themselves in their work. They had reached an agreement - it was Michael and Nikita against everyone else. He now sat in his breakfast room table working on his laptop. Michael wore a blue shirt, collar button opened, silver chain still in place. His hair still moist from the shower, Elena was out jogging, Adam was sleeping nearby.

Reading Nikita’s first report, writing his own comments and editing the one he would turn over to Oversight he proceeded to turn the information into the proper format. After putting pen to paper, an archaic way to report to a state of the art concern like Oversight, Michael sat with his memories, some regretful, some cherished, most bitter sweet and reveled in retrospective thoughts.

The Armel mission painful - it threw the lovers into a myriad of what ifs. Michael and Nikita, after Madelyn’s suggestion, made love over and over again. They were in hog heaven - Section mandated marital coupling. And they both knew that their declarations of love were real, even though Nikita was troubled by Michael’s ‘conflicted’ statement.

But the Perez Mission, when Michael lost his memory, gave Nikita a look into the man she knew was in there - and he did love her. The scared, vulnerable, loving Michael, without the weight of the history, made him even more desirable to the thunderstruck blonde. And when they finally came together and made love, the strength of the coupling had almost been religious.

The double date with Lisa and David Fanning, in a way amused Nikita. The pretty woman could almost see Michael’s eyes rolling as Fanning held the knife to her throat and ordered him to look for his wife. Nikita remembered Michael’s description of Lisa the first time around when she had been jealous of the abused woman. “Kita, she is all hair and breasts and there is no other way to get to her - she is a bit of a nymphomaniac.” But when Michael suggested he could shoot Nikita and carry her back, there was proof he did have a sense of humor and that he loved “His Woman”. The they took their time to thoroughly love each other before returning to Section One.

As the Center’s Mole Nikita had observed while reporting to Michael, how much time was wasted on ‘personal’ missions. There was Madelyn’s husband….how could that scenario have been possible? Then there was the Madelyn mother waste of time. For heaven’s sake it was obvious Madelyn had no conscience, no love, no remorse and even more obvious - she had the hots for Michael and she held Operations by the nose ring.

Then there were the Operation ‘personal’ missions. Nikita remembered the Steven chaos, she was still creeped out by Paul’s visit to her apartment, and then it had happened again when Steven, who had not listened to Nikita’s advice, had been murdered. But the wife deal…what was that all about? And was Corrine Steven’s mother? Who knew, who cared and could someone please remind Nikita why Operations was not put in abeyance immediately after that fiasco?

Of course Nikita didn’t know there would be other dysfunctional family missions in the coming years including some barf inducing pseudo-masochist Paul/Madelyn feisty hot sex ones. The future held all kinds of mysterious paths for the beautiful woman and her equally beautiful mate. And way in the future the blonde would thank God Michael had been sent to her.

Michael smiled at her report and recalled some blunders of her own - case in point the time she had gone back to Albania to check on Julia and had been kidnapped by Gypsies. Then there was the heart warming Sasha and Peter mission - before finding the kids they had shared some ‘let’s keep warm’ moments. Ahhh Nikita.

Nikita’s permanent Center assigned security detail - the Goatee Twins were everywhere she was. She never noticed them and Michael was glad. Knowing Nikita she would have probably thrown a hissy fit and requested that they be dismissed. All operatives had surveillance, but Michael had made sure that he personally assigned the surveillance team in Nikita’s case. Hell, even he had a security detail.

He remembered the Albania debacle as an example of why she needed to continue to trust him. Things could not possible run smoothly if she didn’t confide in him. ‘Remember Kita…it would have been so easy if you had trusted me.’

While Section was idle Nikita went to Albania - her security detail close behind. Her sense of justice overwhelming her and she tossed caution to the wind - leaving her Mole mission abandoned. Operations approached Madelyn - ‘I don’t like living in twilight, it has to be day or night…an invitation - my last.’ Michael listened and rolled his eyes, Paul called him in - ‘Special request from the highest levels.’ - ‘I’m trusting you with Section Michael.’ - Inside Michael smiled - ‘we take what we can.’

Michael commemorated Nikita carefully, her alabaster skin was flawless. The color- even, perfect, no makeup required. Her meaty lips pouty and naturally rosy. Her hair in braids giving her an innocent façade. Her long legs crossed going on forever. Her eyes, Michael drowned in her eyes every time he looked into them. And he had punished her, by scaring her into thinking he was going to cancel the little girl family. Nikita needed not to be so impulsive, so careless, so…Nikita. He hated to squash her maddening way - her light.

‘Perhaps that’s for Oversight to decide. I have resources of my own’ - remember that - Michael silently had told the older man. And one more time Nikita’s light caused Michael all kinds of anguish, of miss opportunities; of … he once again had saved her ass.

Michael also reminded himself of all the wonderful mission related sex they had been able to share, i.e. the steamy 24 hours spent in the van waiting for word on the virus. The incredible time they had in the bordello - he felt she looked quite hot in her fish paraphernalia. And of course he smiled when recalling the time they had to perform for the weirdo who took Nikita’s eggs.

Michael had kissed her on the forehead three times, had pulled her chin up so their eyes met and had reminded her of the good of their lives. “Kita there is pain, sorrow, anguish and hurt in everyone’s life - perhaps not as poignant as ours, but no one has only ‘normal’ - joy, laughter and happiness all the time. Freedom comes at a very high price.

And then “Michael it is amazing we get any terrorists at all with the fumbling and wasted resources that goes on at Section One.” With this statement Nikita had finished her verval report to her Mission Leader. Michael had smiled a rare smile and congratulated her on her insight, on a job well done, and had told her to keep up the good work. Somehow she was keeping Section in check; even if when she was Petrosian’s second she’d worn too much make up. Nikita never got the concept of a time and place for everything.

After her very thorough report had been well received by Center her work as Mole was obviously not done. Operations had assigned Nikita the task of trapping and spying on Adrian. She performed as she was supposed to… “I am not afraid…I am not afraid.” She had said as she stood alone in the middle of Section.

A poignant speech by Operations, Nikita had been brilliant in her controlled concern. Adrian as always majestic. And then Michael had shown everyone he indeed loved the blonde but that his sense of duty was greater; while secretly reassuring her with a kiss to her brow, that he was there, not to fret. So she awaited the fate Operations and Madelyn would map for her and that she knew Michael would thwart.

Adrian was to be cancelled as per Operations’ mandate; but Madelyn instead made her part of the Gelman process. George did a great job in making sure that Madelyn thought she had succeeded. Somewhere in sublevel 12 there was a poor soul Hillinger with Michael’s help exchanged for Adrian.

Michael’s son Adam was born and Michael was in more anguish shaped heaven. He never spoke to Nikita about him. In fact he hardly spoke to Nikita much these days. Nikita’s mission frequency was increased, her exhaustion evident to everyone, except Michael who hardly saw her. They had given him 3 months off after his son was born and it was Madelyn’s intention to be rid of Nikita before Michael returned.

She failed, Michael with George’s help gave Nikita the reprieve she needed. George set Nikita free for a bit to keep her out of harm’s way and keep Paul and his evil twin Madelyn in check. These two were easily derailed - it was becoming exhausting though. Michael saved George’s life and like Adrian before him, the man was grateful and more loyalties were born. Michael pinched the crown of his nose and stroked his lower lip - Nikita’s light was worth every morsel of pain.