With a slight groan, Michael settled back onto his bed. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, in the aftermath, Michael found he was still not satisfied. The redhead had had a pretty face, but nothing underneath it.

Michael lit a cigarette and stared aimlessly across his darkened room. Even that didn't help, it just made him think of Nikita. The last time he'd seen her, she had been going through what he called a "health-nut" phase. No cigarettes, no beer, no red meat. She had cooked him a dinner of tofu salad, rice, sushi, and low fat frozen yogurt. Then, after a wonderful time in bed, she had taken away his usual smoke and replaced it with a bottle of Evian. Granted, he had tried to convince her that lung cancer was the last thing Section operatives should worry about, but she had successfully countered his argument with the assertion that cigarettes were responsible for bad breath, bad teeth, yellow fingers, shortness of breath, etc. etc. etc. Michael wasn't even a heavy smoker, but he had tried nicotine chewing gum for a while to appease her. He'd been clean for about two weeks. Unfortunately, that was also how long it had been since he'd last seen Nikita. He was definitely going into withdrawal. Due to back-to-back missions, tonight had been the first time in nights that he had been able to make it home to his studio. Since Madeline and Operations were still adamantly against him having a relationship with Nikita, he had maintained his distance from her so as not to arouse suspicion. Still, a man could only go so long without meeting his baser needs. This particular night, on the way home, Michael had met a flighty redhead on the street. She was a secretary who couldn't type, but had managed to keep her job by satisfying the boss. Too bad she couldn't satisfy Michael. After a round in the bed sheets, Michael had decided that she just didn't have that je ne sais quoi he always found inside Nikita.

Restless, he tried imagining what she might be doing at the moment. He glanced at his clock. 1 a.m.

Michael ground out his cigarette and took a sip of bottled water. Ah, Nikita, Nikita. He imagined her tucked in her bed, her lovely blonde hair spread out on her freshly laundered pillow. She always had freshly laundered bed sheets that smelled of lavender. Sweet, innocent Kita. Always in bed by eleven, - unless he was there. Michael smiled. Sometimes she woke up around one for a little late night snack of cookies and milk. He always loved her little milk moustaches. Michael sighed. Suddenly, he just had to see her. Yet, he knew he was being a masochist. Why put himself through a situation where he could only look, but not touch?

As a child, every weekend, Michael would stop by the local candy store and stare through the glass at the sugary confections. He never permitted himself to buy anything; sweets were for holidays his Maman had told him. And his father had always drilled the trait of self-restraint into Michael. So young Michel would just look at the candy and imagine how they would taste. Pretty soon, that had been enough to satisfy him. And with the money he had saved from sweets, he used to buy himself a good book.

After a moment of pondering, Michael came to his decision. If he had done it at age ten, he could do it now. Getting out of his bed, he slipped into his clothes. Then after a stop in his bathroom to cleanse himself of his previous encounter, he set out to pay a visit to a very special blonde.

Nikita rolled over onto her stomach, and away from Jake's muscular arm. The sex had been great, but now in the aftermath, she wished she could just tell him to leave. One-night stands could get so complicated. To offer breakfast, or not. There was a briefing early in the morning so she supposed she would have to find a way to get rid of Jake.

She sighed and snuggled into her pillow. She wondered what Michael was doing. Most likely having a little fling of his own. She knew she couldn't blame him. It had been two weeks. Still, knowing Michael, he probably upheld the double standard that it was okay for him to go out for a little relief, but she, the woman, had to stay at home, hovering over her cell phone and waiting for him to call. Nikita smiled. Even if Michael was what she called a "progressive modern man", he still occasionally treated her as the weaker sex. But if he expected her to just stay home while he sorted out the detail of their covert relationship, he was wrong. Yes, Operations and Madeline were being a pain in the ass. But that didn't mean she had to put the rest of her needs on hold. Especially for a man who still hadn't made any real declarations of love to her. It was always, "I've missed you Nikita," or "I thought I'd lost you" or "I wish things could be different". Why couldn't he just spit it out? Was it so hard? The big L. During the Armel mission, she had managed to get him to say "I love you" but it hadn't been real.

Sometimes she just didn't get Michael. Did he want commitment? Or was he just looking for a steady ride.

"Mmmffph," Nikita groaned when Jake rolled over and tried to cuddle with her.

"Listen, Jake," she told him. "I have to get up early for work tomorrow."

"Okay," he said. "Not a problem." He rolled over.

"You don't understand," said Nikita, "I need my sleep. And I can't seem to get any right now."

She stared pointedly at him.

Jake frowned. "Are you kicking me out now? It's one a.m.!"

"I know," said Nikita, "I'm sorry, but - "

"Save it," Jake said, throwing up his hands. He leaned over to kiss her. "You're hot, babe. Can we do this again sometime?"

"Of course," she assured him, resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Great," he said. "Let me just get my things and I'll leave you to your beauty rest."

Nikita sighed and took a sip of Evian while he headed off to the bathroom. Suddenly, she had the urge to see Michael. Now there was a real man. Even though she hated it sometimes, she loved it when he pulled the alpha male position. So strong, so decisive. . . She was knocked out of her pleasant dream by a loud knocking on her door.

Swinging out of her bed, she grabbed some clothes from her drawer and threw them on. With caution, she approached her door. Only after first confirming that it was Michael, did she lower her defenses.

"Michael!" she greeted, opening the door. "What brings you here?"

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Well, uh," Nikita stammered. Shit.

"I'm really tired," she said, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Can this wait until tomorrow's briefing, or rather, today's briefing?"

"No," Michael said shortly. He opened the door wider and let himself in, brushing past Nikita.

"Let me guess," said Nikita. "You couldn't sleep."

"Yes," Michael said turning around to take in Nikita's appearance. She looked so adorable with her hair all tousled up, wearing a tight Powerpuff Girls baby tee.

"Milk and cookies?" she offered. "I was just about to have some myself."

"No thanks," said Michael. "But go ahead and eat." He loved to watch her eat.

Nikita shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said. Her eyes darted nervously up to her bedroom, where she could see that the light in her bathroom was still on. She hoped Jake could take a clue and just stay up there.

"How have you been?" Michael asked.

"Oh," said Nikita. "Okay. I've been working out a lot." She took a swig of milk from the cartoon. Michael was staring at her in the strangest way.

"And you?" she asked, reaching around him for the cookie jar.

"The usual," he said shortly.

"Michael!" she exclaimed. "You've been smoking!"

Michael played with a strand of Nikita's hair. "I needed something to help me relax tonight."

Nikita's breath caught at the double meaning of the phrase.

"What?" she whispered, when she saw Michael's smile. Or what passed for a "Michael smile."

"You have some milk on your lip," he said. "No, let me."

Using the pad of his thumb, he traced the outline of her upper lip. Nikita's eyes widened. He was so close, she could feel his strength emanating from his body. She just had to have him. And yet, she knew she couldn't. Oh, why did he have to come tonight? Was he tempting fate? They were entirely too flammable when they were together. It just wasn't safe.

"Oh Michael," she moaned, feeling his arms around her. She was just about to give in to her senses when -

"Nikita! Have you seen my watch?" Jake's voice boomed down into the kitchen and Nikita jerked away guiltily from Michael.

"It's, uh, on the nightstand," she shouted back, feeling Michael's green eyes burning a hole in her head.

"Thanks," Jake said, bounding into the kitchen. "Oh, hello," he said upon seeing Michael. "Nikki, who's this?"

"Uh, uh," Nikita stammered. "This is Michael, my cousin. He stopped by to tell me that my aunt was feeling sort of dizzy. You see my aunt is getting old, and sometimes she just - "

"Shut-up," Michael said firmly, gripping her arm.

"What are you doing here?" he addressed Jake.

"I was just leaving actually," said Jake. He inched away from Michael's black glare. Being a model, Jake couldn't afford to get his face bashed in. And that was exactly what he sensed would happen if he didn't get the hell out of the place.

"Uh, bye Nikki," he said. "I'll call you."

"Or not," he said hastily when Michael advanced toward him. He hurriedly shut the door behind him.

A cold silence settled over the apartment. Suddenly Nikita had a very bad headache.

"What is the meaning of this?" Michael demanded in a hard voice.

"Michael," Nikita sighed. "I'm sorry. But it's been two weeks. And you know, you weren't really clear as to how long I'd have to "be patient" while you worked out the details of how to deal with Madeline and Operations. Besides, it's not like we have a monogamous relationship. We're always sleeping with different people on our missions."

"And that makes it okay," Michael said accusingly.

"Oh Michael," she groaned. "Don't tell me you've never done something like this."

His response was a blank stare.

"See?"

"That is not the point," said Michael, punctuating each word. She could tell he was getting angry, because his accent was rougher. "You belong to me. If you want something, you come to me."

"I don't belong to you!" Nikita spat back. He could tell she was getting angry because her voice was higher pitched. "And besides, it's the nineties! Women don't "belong" to anyone. If I want to see someone like Jake -"

"You will not see that, that boy again," said Michael.

"But it's okay for you to see someone else if you get a hard on," said Nikita, her eyes flashing.

"You might find yourself with someone that is less than friendly," said Michael. "Not every charmer is innocent. You could find yourself in a compromising situation."

"I can take care of myself."

"It is not something women do if they want to be safe," said Michael.

"Well then I disagree with you," said Nikita.

Michael's nostrils flared. "I wasn't arguing with you, I was telling you."

"Don't you dare do that again!" Nikita shouted.

"What!" Do what!" Michael demanded.

"Act all domineering. I'm not your material anymore! I don't take orders from you. This isn't a mission!"

"I'm only thinking of your safety!" Michael bristled.

"My safety!" Nikita practically yelled. "What about you? A hooker can be just as dangerous. Remember, "a woman with your looks who can kill in cold blood"?"

"I do not sleep with hookers," Michael declared.

"Whatever. The point is, if you wanted us to be exclusive, you should have said something!"

"It was understood."

"Oh come on," said Nikita. "You know I'm pretty good at reading you. But you can't base our entire relationship on blank stares and steamy eye contact. Half the time when you do say something, I never know if there's some deeper hidden meaning behind your phrases or if you're just full of shit!"

"I can't help it if I'm not as talkative as you," Michael said somewhat defensively. "But if you want a declaration, fine. We are now together, there is no one else. No more."

"You can't just do that," said Nikita. "and expect me to just fall into your arms! For a Frenchman, sometimes you can be as romantic as a date for Super Bowl Sunday!"

"What!?"

"Never mind. What I'm trying to say, is, Michael, I need more."

"You need more," Michael repeated.

"I know you think I'm some sort of macho woman who can kick ass out on the field and hold my own in the boxing ring, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate flowers and candy once in awhile."

"Are you saying I'm not romantic enough?" Michael asked.

"Yes! I mean no! I mean," Nikita rolled her head in her hands. "Uggg. I can't think anymore tonight. It's late Michael."

"Then don't think," said Michael taking a step closer to her. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

"I know we don't have a normal relationship," said Nikita. "Our lives are the farthest from normal as it can possibly get."

"Yes," Michael agreed. "We rarely see each other because of missions."

"And the rare times that we do see each other," said Nikita, "you act like I'm nobody. Just another Section operative."

"You know that's not true."

"I just don't understand," said Nikita. "Why the bloody hell are Operations and Madeline so concerned about us? Don't they have anything better to do than keep tabs on who their operatives are sleeping around with?"

"But we aren't just sleeping together," Michael said in a determined tone. "You mean much more to me than that."

Nikita's eyes got misty. "Really?"

At a loss for words, Michael simply enfolded her into his embrace.

"Don't you dare say you wish things could be different," Nikita mumbled into his shoulder.

"I won't," he promised.

"You don't how it is for me sometimes," she whined. Remember Venice? We had everything planned, and you had my hopes so high and ready for a wonderful little vacation. I bought a new dress, and new shoes, and new sunglasses. I even went tanning so I wouldn't burn so much. And I waxed, and went to get my hair deep conditioned. Pedicure, manicure, I went all out Michael because I was so excited... and then you came in that night before we were supposed to leave. We had to cancel our plans, and then you left so abruptly, but I couldn't complain because it was another missile crisis in Iran and you, you h-had to go and save the world!!" she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

Michael just held her.

"I can't believe you did all that for me," he said when she finally calmed down.

"I didn't," she sniffed. "You were just the excuse. I had wanted that dress for a long time."

"Of course."

They leaned against each other. Comfortable just being together, not saying anything. After awhile, Nikita reached for a cookie and Michael waited for her to finish nibbling through it. Then he took her hand and led her up to the bedroom.

Somehow or another, he managed to get Nikita tucked into bed. Then, since they had a briefing in five hours, Michael decided to get in with her. Why waste time driving back and forth when he could get more sleep in her apartment?

"You know Michael," Nikita suddenly muttered. "You don't have to stop smoking on account for me. I was just concerned about your health."

"No," said Michael. "You're right. I should quit. I need to maintain a large lung capacity if I want to stay out on the field."

"Mmm," said Nikita, cuddling against his chest.

"Nikita," he said. "I know sometimes I can appear distant. And I know you're getting impatient with the situation. But sometimes I think you're right. We have to take what we can. Yes, Madeline and Operations will be watching us. But I don't want to go on living anymore this way, because it's not a life. You are my life, Nikita." He smiled because the room was dark and no one could see him. "I don't tell you enough nice things. I don't tell you how much I love it when you eat milk and cookies. Or how I love just lying in your bed because it smells of lavender, and it smells of you. I don't tell you that before I met you, I never liked blondes because I thought they were too pale. But I love your skin, it's so soft, reminds me of the skin on a peach. Fragrant and delicate, and sweet. Your hair, it's like the sun..." his voice trailed off. "I love you," he said all of the sudden. "Have I ever told that I love you? All this time, I thought it was understood, but again, that's where you're right. Sometimes it needs to be said. Nikita, I think I've always loved you."

"Nikita?"

He looked down at her, her head was cradled on his chest, her long blonde hair spread out so that a few tendrils tickled his nose. He gently smoothed the hair away from her face and saw that her eyes were closed. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed in her sleep.

Michael tucked the blanket more firmly around her. He would deal with Operations and Madeline in the morning. There was no sense worrying about whatever damage had been now. He pressed a kiss to Nikita's head. Then, because there was nothing else to do, he settled back onto her bed.

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