The young man looked at the psychiatrist and observed that she was an attractive middle-aged woman with blonde hair and kind blue eyes. Not another pair of 'blue' eyes, he thought. His silver-green eyes appraised her, as she stared back at him intently. She had a blank expression on her face as she did her own appraisal. Michael opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and closed it again.

"Tell me about yourself, Michael. Why have you come to see me?" She leaned back in her comfortable wing back chair. She waited patiently because she knew that the first visit to the "shrink" was always uncomfortable for both the patient and the physician. Her advantage was that she had weathered many such first visits, and he presumably had not. He was quite handsome with a long, somewhat thin face, marvelous eyes and a mouth that he obviously struggled to keep under control. He looked very athletic, and he had risen gracefully to greet her when she had entered the office with a fresh cup of hot tea. Not many men bothered with that formality anymore. His manners were old-fashioned and elegant--guaranteed to please someone in her age group she thought to herself. He's trying to impress or manipulate me, and I wonder why, she thought to herself. She continued to watch him intently, as his eyes flashed an answer that his mouth would not yet say.

Michael was stalling for time, because he was not here by choice. Madeline had actually ordered him to see this, this...mind-melder. He had no illusions that this psychiatrist was anything but a Section One hack, and he would be damned before he revealed anything to this self-satisfied, self-assured person before him. Anything he said to her would be bound to be fodder for Madeline and her schemes and manipulations. It was difficult for Michael to guess her age, but he guessed she was older than she looked. Her skin was clear and fair with very few wrinkles, but somehow he placed her at fifty because of the weariness around her eyes--the eyes that were the same rich blue of Nikita's What was Madeline thinking? A real psychiatrist could never be allowed to hear what was really on "his" mind, and a Section psychiatrist would place their loyalty to the Section first and not to the patient. As far as Michael knew, no one in Section had ever been sent to see one before. If an operative's mental status was that much in question, cancellation was the cleanest and quickest solution. It must be a indication that the Section valued him enough to consider this option, but he was not going to cooperate willingly. He would just wait for this Dr. Dupre to blink first.

Therese waited. She was familiar with hesitant patients, but he was beginning to wear her down a little. No matter, she thought. I have out-waited patients before, and I will this time as well. He has to know from the beginning that I am in control of these sessions, and that he is not. The air grew warm in the office. Therese desperately wanted to fan. Damn hot flashes, she thought. She was well aware at this point of his disconcerting stare. He's used to always being in control, and doesn't want to relinquish it especially here, she surmised. She wondered what he did as a profession, and pitied the people under his control. Time for a little meditation, she decided. I'm not going to let him rattle my composure, and this is really starting to become a battle. Therese mentally thought her mantra, and as it began calm her, her heart rate slowed and the peaceful effect showed in her face and body language.

Michael observed these changes and mentally gave up the struggle. She was going to fall asleep if she became anymore relaxed, he thought. The left corner of his mouth twitched in a tiny smile admitting that the doctor had won. "They call me Michael, but I was born Michel," he began in a voice so soft that it caressed the ear like a lover.

**********

Nikita strode into the main computer station like she had something on her mind, and as usual, it was Michael. He had been very mysterious, for even Michael, the last couple of days, and now he was no where that Nikita could find him. Granted he had a right to some down time, but after the recent night they had spent together (only their second) , she had thought this time it would be different. If it had not been for the soft look that came into his eyes when no one else was around, Nikita would have decided again that it was all a dream--World War II, the French Revolution, their previous lives and deaths, which had culminated in a long night of expressing their physical passions and their love for one another. Michael had actually told her he loved her.

The next morning Michael had made love to her again, before tenderly kissing her good-bye. “We can make this work, Nikita, but I don’t know how yet. Madeline knows,” he whispered in her ear as he kissed her neck.

“Madeline knows! How?” Nikita sputtered as she jerked away and glared at Michael.

“She was there listening with me, in the beginning, when you were at Jurgen’s. She heard you admit that there was something between us. Then she gave me a choice some weeks ago. One of us was going to be relocated, if we didn’t come to some kind of understanding. I had decided to take the relocation, until the morning I woke up with you in my apartment. I changed my mind that morning, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know what you would say after all the times I had backed away from you. You were so ...so...matter of fact that morning. I was wanting to choke you and make love to you at the same time.” It took Michael at least three deep breaths before he could utter all these words to Nikita.

She was amazed. Two complete sentences would have been a novelty, but a whole paragraph of emotions from the usually taciturn Michael amounted to what would have been an hour’s speech from anyone else. “So,” she said as she smiled at him, “that’s why you hid in the bathroom.”

“Yes. I was afraid you were going to come in there with me, and we would end up in the shower together. I was fantasizing about it as I slammed the door.” Michael had smiled a small rueful smile.

Nikita had thrown her head back and laughed. “If you only knew how hard it was to keep a straight face, and not attack you as you stood there without a stitch of clothing. You were so angry you were shaking. You were quite a luscious sight you know,” she said as she kissed his mouth.

When Nikita laughed, she did it like she did everything else, from the depths of her soul. “This time, Nikita, can you really be patient? I still don’t have a plan.”

“Michael, you’re not the only one capable of making a plan! There are two of us here, not just you. Let’s work this out together, okay?” Nikita had looked at him with a challenging look, but one that was pleading as well.

“Okay, but please, be patient. We can’t just start holding hands during briefings. We still need to be discreet,” he had begged for her to look at the situation with reason.

“What’s the point in being discreet, if Madeline already knows,” she had protested.

“The point is that it is nobody’s business but our own,” he had countered.

“No, Michael, the point is that you want to be in control of the relationship, and that I am your windup doll. ‘Yes, Nikita, I love you. No, Nikita, this is not the time.’ We’re getting back to where we were before.” Nikita had begun to whine to her own chagrin.

“Before what, Nikita?” Michael’s voice grew steely. He could hear her response before she uttered it. Before Jurgen, he had braced himself to hear it and to show no reaction.

“Before we made love again last night, Michael. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ruin what we have just shared. Old habits die hard, I guess.” Nikita tilted her head for a kiss and was rewarded with the sight of his shining green eyes as they looked into her blue ones, before he kissed her tenderly.

“Nikita, you surprise me sometimes. You really do.” Michael had left an hour later.

* * *

Her mind still full of that other morning’s events, Nikita stumbled into one of the desks. Birkhoff finished stuffing an Oreo into his mouth, as Nikita came up behind him. "Have you seen Michael, Birkhoff?" She asked with a puzzled expression on her face. Her hair was pulled back from her face by a leopard-spotted head band, which had the effect of making her hair into a pale blonde mane.

"Yes." Birkhoff was intent on fishing the last cookie out of the bag, so his lack of intel was irritating beyond belief to Nikita.

"Well, where is he, Birkhoff," she demanded in a slightly louder voice. Her body language was saying, tell me now, as she towered over him.

"I don't know, Nikita. I don't keep tabs on everybody every minute of the day you know," he protested as he held the Oreo bag upside down to make sure he had all the crumbs.

"Birkhoff, you're going to get fat, if you don't stop stuffing your face with those Oreos. You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in the gym. Do you evah work out?"

Nikita was getting more agitated by the minute.

"What's the big deal, Nikita? Michael said he would be gone for a couple of hours. Since it didn't seem to be mission related...." His voice trailed as Nikita looked like she was ready to cancel someone, and he looked like the only candidate in the area.

"No big deal, Birkhoff. Why would it be a big deal? I just wondered where Michael was. That’s all. I needed to talk to him about, uh- about tomorrow's mission." Nikita's voice was beginning to trail as well. She realized she was over-reacting, and luckily for her, Birkhoff was the only witness. Good thing Birkhoff is usually so clueless, she thought. Michael and I could be doing it on Michael's desk (if only we were), and Birkhoff would just get that puzzled look on his face, and stumble out again.

Birkhoff’s face grew speculative, then curious. “Nikita, I don’t know about any mission tomorrow. What are you talking about?”

Nikita tossed her head in frustration and walked off muttering to herself about infantile, Oreo-scarfing, computer nerds. Where the hell was Michael?

***********

“Michel? Were you born in France then?” Therese asked, thankful that at last he had opened his mouth to speak, rather than just breathe. She was almost hypnotized by his softly-accented English.

“No, I was born in Quebec, but I went to school in Paris. I guess that’s where you could say all my problems began.” Michael hesitated. He was still uncertain about just how honest he could be with this psychiatrist. He knew that it would be cold day in hell before he told her about anything about Section One. Madeline had not given him much warning about her plans for him to see this Dr. Dupre. In fact, he had about 30 minutes in which to prepare a scenario to present--in case he decided to say anything at all.

Michael had been working in his office, preparing a study comparing outcomes and variances of the last three missions. It was dry, studious work, but one to which his logical mind was well-suited, and one which was usually accomplished with only a little effort. Nikita was often listed in the variances. He smiled to himself. Yes, she is definitely a variance always to be considered. His phone chimed annoyingly, and he answered brusquely, “Yes?”

It was Madeline, and she wanted to see him now. She was insistent and he knew better than to argue. It was just simpler to go see her. The report could wait another hour. It was already late due to his being able to think only of Nikita’s eyes and mouth and breasts and.....and his lack of concentration on a dry mission report. Michael sighed and walked down the hall to Madeline’s new high-tech office. Michael much preferred the old one. It was the only place in Section that could ever have been considered cozy.

Michael walked past Birkhoff, who was busily tracking something at his computer station. “I’m in Madeline’s office, if anybody needs me, Birkhoff,” he said.

“Yeah, sure, okay, Michael.” Birkhoff barely noticed anyone when he was playing “Riven.”

* * *

Madeline looked up as Michael entered her office. He was looking a little tired. There had been several intense missions lately, and there had been many stressors recently in his relationship with Nikita. She had first been sent on a suicide mission, and Michael had been aware that she would be sacrificed along with five other abeyance operatives. Nikita had managed to escape a fiery explosion--most assuredly with Michael’s assistance. Madeline was not certain how he had accomplished that feat, but she was certain that he did. The uncertainty came after the explosion, because apparently Michael did not know that Nikita had actually escaped.

Routine monitoring of encrypted messages had revealed that Michael was sending multiple messages daily. ‘Nikita, are you there?’ Then as his hope waned, only two or three messages were sent daily. There had never been any response to his messages though, and Michael had disintegrated before her eyes. He had been spinning out of control, even worse than when Simone had been thought to be killed by Glass Curtain. However, Nikita had not been killed, and more recently, his relationship or lack of it with Nikita had been plaguing him. Section had so many times manipulated him, as much as it had Nikita. The stress was visible in his face and body language. Madeline felt pity, but it was tempered with what was best for Section One.

“Sit down, Michael.” Madeline motioned him to a comfortable sofa as she relaxed in her leather chair. “How are things going, Michael?” she asked as she watched his responses.

“Fine. The study is almost completed,” he offered quietly. He gave her the most obvious answer to her question, and felt pleased because he knew that was not what she was asking him. The left corner of his lip twitched in amusement.

“No, Michael. How are things with you and Nikita?” Madeline’s brown eyes saw his lip twitch, and knew Michael was in the mood the play a little. She knew she would have to be relentless to get him to do what he needed to do.

Michael leaned back and folded his hands on his lap. He often did this to keep his hands from playing with his chin as he often did in times of stress. In fact Madeline had taught him this little trick of self-control, and they both knew it. “Nikita and I are talking. We are making some progress toward defining what we both want, or think we want.”

Madeline knew that if Michael admitted this much to her that *matters* were moving along indeed. She smiled and said, “Good. I really would hate to lose either one of you to another substation. I have had some time to think about you and Nikita, and I think it would be beneficial for you, Michael, to talk to a psychiatrist. I know you are too intelligent to be upset by this suggestion, so I will tell you that your appointment with Dr. Therese Dupre is in 30 minutes, and you have just enough time to make it. That will be all, Michael.” Madeline handed him a card with the address and turned back to her computer screen and started a new entry.

Michael took a moment to breathe after he left Madeline’s office. He always hated being called to her office--just like the principal’s office at school as a child. Jurgen had not been his only trainer when he came into Section One. Madeline had a hand in his training as well, and Michael had learned a lot from her about suppressing emotion and using his innate sensuality and appeal to manipulate women. No, being in her office was never easy.

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

Damn, Theresa thought to herself. Her new patient seemed to be deep in thought. His eyes were far away and certainly not focused in the present moment. “Michael, your troubles?” She let her voice end with a rising reflection. He was going to be an interesting patient, if she could ever get him to do anything but breathe and speak one sentence every 5 minutes or so. His lack on concentration on the situation at hand was mildly annoying to her, but an experienced psychiatrist was a master of concealment. Her body language and her facial expression were one of total acceptance and inestimable patience.

At the sound of her voice, Michael’s eyes snapped into focus so quickly it sent shivers of alarm down Therese’s back. His gaze held hers. “This is not going to work. I don’t have time for it. I am used to dealing with things myself, in my own way and in my own time. You can tell Madeline to forget it.” After making this quiet statement, Michael rose and strode purposefully from the doctor’s office without a backward glance.

“Madeline? Who’s Madeline,” Therese asked to his back. Well, he was gone for now, and he had reacted in the typical manner of a person with control issues. Unable to sit for longer than a few minutes on someone else’s turf, he had taken the only avenue of escape available. She wondered why and how long he had been doing that. She spent the next few minutes making notes and recording them into her hand-held recorder. Therese had no idea if he would return, but she hoped he would.... He needed help, and of that one thing she was certain.

Michael’s right hand was trembling ever so slightly as he unlocked the car door. He was so angry with Madeline. What was she thinking? The very idea that he would sit calmly that psychiatrist’s office and talk about his problems, his day to day assignments in dealing with terrorists and his feelings for Nikita! It was laughable, and he would tell her so as soon as he got back to Section One.

* * *

Nikita was still looking for Michael. No one had seen him for over 3 hours. He was avoiding her and everyone else it seemed. She rounded the corner in a fury, and immediately bumped into the object of her search. “Michael, there you are. I-” she started.

“Not now, Nikita, I have to see Madeline.” Michael’s eyes were blazing silver fire as he turned to look in her direction.

Nikita could see that he was distracted and barely noticed her. “Well, sure, Michael,” was all she could manage to say before he was gone. She had seen the back of his head one too many times in the past several days, and she stalked after him-running to catch up.

“Now, Michael!” she said in ‘sotto voce’ as she grabbed him by the arm. She knew she only had a minute before he would break away, so she hurriedly said, “Dinner, tonight, my place. Be there!”

His confusion cleared for a moment. “Okay,” he said hoarsely surprising them both, and he was back on his mission to see Madeline.

***********

Madeline looked up as Michael entered her office. A questioning look appeared on her face as he strode into the room. “You’re back a little earlier than I expected, Michael. How did it go?” Inwardly, Madeline allowed herself some amusement at his expense. She had a very good idea how it went judging from Michael’s level of agitation as he paced about her office. She sometimes enjoyed seeing Michael losing control

“How did it go? How do you think it went, Madeline?” Michael forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths in order to calm down. It was another of the relaxation techniques Madeline had taught him many years ago. Control. Life in Section One was all about control--who had it, who used it, and who kept it. Michael ran his hands through his wavy hair, a sure sign that he was failing in his attempt to gain control of himself.

“I went there. We stared at each other. What was I supposed to do, Madeline? Did you really expect me to sit dere and tell dis total stranger what’s been on my mind for de last fourteen years. Either she’s a total innocent, or she’s on Section One’s payroll. The more I tought about it as I sat dere, the more certain I became that it was going to be a waste of time.” Michael’s accent was much thicker than it was normally. It was especially obvious as his usually careful “th’s” were being dropped as he spoke.

Madeline was definitely enjoying the sight of Michael in distress. Michael normally so self-contained and self-controlled was breathing heavily. However, Madeline would never allow Michael to see that she was amused. “What did you think of Dr. Dupre? Did you like her?” Madeline really wanted to know. She had spent a lot of computer time ferreting out just the “right” psychiatrist for Michael.

“Makes no difference. I won’t be going back,” he declared as he leaned over her desk and stared right into her all-knowing brown eyes. The challenge had been issued.

“Michael, you’ve been through a lot--more than anyone really-- since you came to us. You have had some deep losses. You now have a chance to make a life for yourself, as much a life as anyone in our situation can have,” she added wryly. “I’m not sure that the damage you’ve experienced is irreparable. We owe it to you to find out. This has never been done before, Michael. You must know that. You must recognize that it is a sign of the esteem you generate by your total devotion to doing the job. We’ve asked terrible things of you, Michael. We’ve asked you to lie and manipulate someone you cared about. We even expected you to send someone for whom you cared deeply on a suicide mission and--expected you to get over it. You will go back to see Dr. Dupre, for a while anyway. She’s not Section, Michael.”

Madeline’s soft voice and words had the calming effect on Michael that his own attempts at control had not. Michael’s body slumped in a momentary defeat as he sat back in an office chair.

“That will be all, Michael. Aren’t you having dinner at Nikita’s tonight? Better go on. Don’t keep her waiting. I didn’t know Nikita had learned to cook.” Madeline smiled at Michael.

“Humph. She hasn’t,” Michael snorted.

“Well, have a good dinner, anyway.” Madeline said enigmatically as she turned back to her computer display screen.

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

Michael fumed to himself as he walked slowly down the hall. There is no privacy anywhere in this place. Madeline knows everything that goes on here. Nikita only asked-demanded I come to dinner 2 minutes before I entered Madeline’s office, and already she knew. I feel like my body must have internal transmitters. I have put up with this intrusion into my life for fourteen years, and I am heartily sick of it. Michael continued down the hall to Birkhoff’s computer station. He leaned over the computer whiz’s shoulder and said quietly. “Birkhoff, I need one of those PAS419 units.”

“Yeah, right! Michael, they’re making me sign those babies out now. So, if you want to put your name on the line, be my guest.” Birkhoff leaned back and smiled a smug smile at Michael. Michael’s voice lowered again. “Just do it. Then I won’t have to tell Madeline who taped her singing “Muskrat Love” in the shower, and then played it for all of Section One to hear. I want it now, Seymour.”

Birkhoff decided discretion was indeed the better part of valor and gave Michael the PAS 419. Boy, he thought, some people have no sense of humor around here, and that definitely includes Michael and Madeline.

With finesse, Michael placed the unit in his pocket. He was certain that no camera had caught the interchange between Birkhoff and himself. The PAS 419 was a high tech. audiovisual scrambler, much prized in an area where information was control and power. This one was a great improvement over the older models which only provided interruption of equipment for a couple of minutes. This new unit could work for up to two hours at a time. At least he could guarantee that he and Nikita would have some private time together.

As Michael walked up to Nikita’s apartment door, he could smell tantalizing odors wafting into the hall. Eating at Nikita’s could be termed an adventure as a rule. He hoped tonight, she would order something in, as her last excursion into the world of nouvelle cuisine was an abysmal failure. As he knocked, he thought, I don’t need Nikita to be everything. She has beauty and an uncanny intuition for situations in the field. She has heart and light, and I just don’t give a damn that she cannot cook. Besides he knew that a normal life would not be one that they would ever have the opportunity to lead.

He heard a high-pitched screech and the sound of a pan dropping. Michael used his key and opened the door.

His lovely Nikita stood there sucking the fingers of her left hand as she motioned with the other hand to the pot roast on the middle of the kitchen floor. Lovely browned potatoes and carrots were everywhere. The odor was intoxicating. It looked like it would really have been a good dinner. “Damn! Michael, I burned my hand getting the roast out of the oven and dropped the damn thing.” Nikita looked like she wanted to cry.

“I see,” he said as he walked over to her and took her burned fingers into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he tasted and savored the sweetness of her hand. He never wanted to let her go.

“Uh, Michael, hello! I think some ice cubes might actually be better for the burn.” Nikita was amused at how quickly Michael snapped back to reality. His eyes flew open and his mouth twitched on the left.

“Right. Ice cubes. Perfect for burns.” He carefully stepped over carrots, onions and potatoes to get to the refrigerator. Grabbing several cubes out of the bin, he deftly crushed them and had them wrapped around her burned hand in less than a minute.

“Here, you sit down, and I will clean up the mess.”

Nikita marveled at the sight of Section One’s best cold op. cleaning up spilled pot roast off her kitchen floor, and he was very efficient at that too. “Michael, don’t eat that! It’s been on the floor!” God, I sound just like my mother, she thought.

“This side wasn’t on the floor, Nikita. I’m hungry. Tastes good, too. Here have a taste.” Michael tore off a piece of roast and fed it to her, although she did seem a little hesitant at first.

She had looked up at him, standing there with a chunk of roast in his hand offering it to her, and she had been unable to say no. Nikita swallowed the roast, licked her lips and said breathlessly, “Michael, I’m hungry too.”

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

Nikita placed her arms around Michael’s neck and proceeded to nibble on his ear and neck as she rubbed her body against his and felt a gratifying response to her pressure.

Michael shuddered and wasn’t sure he could control himself long enough to do what had to be done first. “We have to talk first, Nikita.” Michael disengaged Nikita’s arms, looked around and casually placed the PAS419 unit beside the refrigerator and activated it. Nikita saw this and her mouth dropped open.

“How did you get one of those new ones, Michael,” she asked.

“I have means,” he replied cryptically with the barest of smiles. “We have two hours to talk and whatever....” he smiled again.

“Michael, you’ve smiled twice in five minutes. You know you’re going to turn my head if you’re not careful,” she teased. Nikita proceeded to insinuate herself into his arms. It was sheer heaven to be held by this man she decided. All the chaotic emotions of earlier in the day evaporated as he held her close to his chest and favored her closed eyelids with soft light kisses.

“Nikita, we do have to talk. We didn’t talk much the last time I was here,” Michael started, trying to focus on not carrying Nikita directly to the sofa.

“I know. It was wonderful, Michael. Mmmm. I remember very well. I was here.” Nikita was reveling in the feelings and sensations that she had so long denied, but Michael would keep talking....

“We merely reacted to the emotions that our dreams had evoked. Those feelings had validity, and still do.” His hands were tenderly caressing each side of her face as he tried to talk to her. His green eyes were shining with emotion.

“I hear a big “but” coming in there somewhere, Michael.” Nikita jumped to the offensive. “Please, is this going to be a game of 1 step forward, 2 steps back? Honestly, Michael, I don’t know how much more of your wishy-washy dancing around I can take!” Nikita freed herself from Michael’s embrace and turned her back to him. She took 3 deep breaths in order to calm down, and then turned back to face him again.

“Wishy, washy? You are comparing me to a Laundromat?” Michael seemed incredulous and confused at her description. “Pardon me. Would you repeat that?” Sometimes English being his second language was a definite advantage, because Michael knew he could use it to make Nikita laugh.

Nikita looked at Michael and saw that his mouth was twitching again. “You know what I mean!” She couldn’t maintain her angry expression, she started giggling. “Yeah, you know going round and round and up and down,” her giggle turned into a leer as she pressed her hips against his, and repeated the demonstration of round and round and up and down.

“Stop that, Nikita,” Michael whispered softly as he took Nikita and pushed her to arms length away from him. “We have to talk.” He took her right hand in his left and led her to the sofa. He motioned for her to sit at one end, while he took a place at the opposite end.

“Can’t we talk later, Michael?” Nikita was giving him her puppy-dog look. Her blue eyes were luminous and reflected the glow of candle light in the room. Nikita did not plan on fighting fair tonight.

“No, now,” he said softly.

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

Operations entered the code to Madeline’s office, walked in and asked anxiously. “Well, how long are we going to give Michael with this psychiatrist thing?”

Madeline looked up at Operations, and smiled. “We gave Nikita a six week vacation. I think Michael deserves that much time at least. I don’t think he will stand for being out of commission for any longer than that. I have arranged with the psychiatrist for him to be seen daily during that time.”

“It’s just that we’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t feel comfortable bringing an outsider into the outer fringes of what we do here.” Operations paced back and forth, each step bringing him closer to Madeline’s personal space.

“We’ve never had anyone like Michael before. His future success here in Section is assured if we can just manage to keep his emotional status at a comfortable level of only mildly dysfunctional.” Madeline allowed herself a small smile as she made that remark.

“That’s a mighty big ‘if,’ Madeline. This Dr. Dupre is an innocent. What is she to make of Michael?”

“That will depend entirely on Michael and what he chooses to tell her. Dr. Dupre is extremely ethical, highly recommended, and” she paused for effect, “I think she is just the right person whom Michael will be able to trust. Michael relates well to women. That’s something we have exploited time and time again, but she is older, and while attractive, I feel she is beyond the age that I think Michael would willingly choose to seduce or manipulate. I think she is a very safe choice for Michael. She is kind and has a very happy marriage with children who are almost Michael’s age. I also feel that Michael will feel safe with her, maybe not immediately, but given a little time.”

“So you’ve found Michael a Mommy? Is that what you’re trying to say, Madeline?” Operations asked with a half smile, his grey blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Exactly. Now is there anything else? I still have these figures to go over.”

Dismissal was in her voice and mind, and Operations took the hint and left.

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

“Michael, I don’t disagree with anything you are saying. I know we have to be careful and not flaunt our relationship. But if Madeline knows, then Operations knows, and we’re both still alive. Hello! It can’t be that difficult. You and Simone---.”

“Exactly! Simone and I were married in Section and went on missions together. We functioned as a team--just as you and I do now. And you know how that ended. I have had so many losses in this life. I am so damaged. I am not whole. I am a terrible bargain for you.” Michael abandoned his place at the end of the sofa and held to Nikita’s shoulders as he uttered these sorrowful statements.

The pleading look in his face and eyes broke her heart. “Michael, I don’t know whether we have lived and lost other lives together as we both dreamed. All I do know is we have life and time now, and I don’t want to waste it--not one- more- precious- minute of it.” Nikita took his face in her hands and tenderly kissed his lips, cheeks and eyelids with each word.

Tears formed in Michael’s eyes as he returned Nikita’s kisses. “Enough talk,” he whispered.

**********

Dr. Therese Dupre looked at her daily appointment schedule, and was shocked. Her mysterious new patient from the day before was booked for daily appointments for the entire week. She had not really expected him to return. She scanned the week after, and the same thing was in evidence. He had made daily 10AM appointments for that week as well. She flipped more pages, and unbelievably for the next six weeks, this uncomfortable young man was going to be sitting in her office. She went into the outer office. “Tina, is this correct? Did Mr. Smythe-Jones really make daily appointments for the next six weeks?” Therese was still incredulous.

“Oui, Madam. At least his secretary Madeline did. She said he wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible. She said he didn’t have time for weekly appointments,” Tina giggled at the thought of this arrogant man who thought he could schedule his emotional recovery into a fitted span of time.

Therese was simply mystified, but looking forward to the challenge--maybe the challenge of a lifetime if her intuition was correct.

**********

At exactly 9:15AM, Michael left Nikita’s bed, unwillingly, but resolutely and went to her kitchen. He quickly made coffee, toast and juice for the two of them. They had never made it back to the kitchen last night, and Michael was starving. Nikita was still asleep when he carried the coffee to her bedroom. He kissed her awake, and the heavenly aroma of the French Vanilla coffee did the rest. “I’ve only got time for a quick shower, and then I have that damned appointment down town.”

“Mmmm, a shower with you. That would be nice,” Nikita was almost purring. Michael had brought her breakfast (well as much as she ever ate anyway) in bed. She stretched and yawned and reached for the coffee.

“No, I don’t have time to shower with you, cherie. I really have to go.” He kissed her again. He could taste the sweet coffee and licked off the toast crumbs at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re never gonna get outta here, if you keep that up, Michael. Where are you going anyway? What’s this appointment you have at 10?” Nikita’s curiosity was aroused.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about last night, but somehow....” He gave a Gallic shrug and leer. He was busily picking up his black pants, shirt and coat, trying to shake out some of the wrinkles.

“Mmmm, I remember.

“Later, Cherie. No time now.” Michael laughed and raced to the shower with Nikita a close second behind him.

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

At exactly 10AM Michael walked into Therese’s outer office, and introduced himself to Tina. His wavy brown hair was still wet at the ends. His green eyes were clear and sparkling, and in Tina’s opinion, he absolutely exuded sensuality. Tina could hardly speak two intelligible words, and she was so enthralled that she forgot to ask him for his insurance card, or for payment.

Michael walked into Therese’s office. Once more into the fray, he thought. He dreaded this more than any dangerous mission. He unconsciously brushed back a stray curl, and sat down facing her. He folded his hands in his lap and gave her a small smile. “Good morning, Dr. Dupre.” His voice was soft and had a soothing and seductive quality.

“Michael, it is good to see you again. I wasn’t sure you would return.” He has lost the agitated look he had yesterday. “Would you like to tell me why you are here, and how you think I can help you.?” We begin the dance, she thought. Now where did that idea originate, she pondered as he began to speak.

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

Michael spoke quiet, but clearly. “I work for a secret government agency, so it is vital that you understand that my being here may at some time endanger your life. If you wish to continue these sessions with that in mind, I am ready.” He had decided that if this psychiatrist was indeed a Section One cover, then she already knew a great deal about him, and if she was not, then she was bound by the rules of medical ethics forbidding her to reveal what he said here. If he was going to be chained to the desk doing paperwork at Section One for the next six weeks, he was going to have some fun at these sessions.

Therese heard these words with some amusement. “A secret government agency? Well, you are my first secret agent, Michael. Pray continue.” Unbelievable, this new patient was going to be her greatest challenge. She would let him have his fun for a few sessions, but she would find the chink in his armor, and then the real work would begin.

“I was a student activist in France convicted of a bombing that killed several people. Make no mistake, I was guilty of this crime. I don’t plead innocence for the murder of those people. I was then recruited from prison when I was twenty years old. As far as the world and what was left of my family knew, I died in prison. I was taken by this agency, and I was trained for 2 years. At the end of that time, the powers that be decided that I should live and continue to work for them fighting terrorism. My only other choice was death.” Michael said this simply and with little emotion. He knew she would never believe him. Michael watched the disbelief in her face which was quickly replaced by a patented blank stare. She was almost as good at that stare as he was, he thought. He wished Nikita could be here to see both the blank stares. Nikita would find it amusing, well maybe she would.

Therese wondered how long he would be able to keep this ridiculous pose going. He was probably some petty bean counter, who had an active imagination, and was using it to have a little fun--expensive fun considering what she was charging for these sessions.

Michael continued to speak, “I did every mission I was assigned, and I was good at it. There were no forms of armament I could not master. I became quite expert in computers and martial arts. I was found to be especially suited for the seduction and manipulation of women. I never failed in any task I was assigned, and I became the perfect machine for this agency.” Michael’s eyes took on an intensity as he looked at Therese and said, “I guess you could say that I got off on the adrenaline rush of it all.”

Initially, Therese was still amused, but as his riveting gaze held hers, she felt the heat of a blush start up her neck and mark her face. Damn fair skin, she thought. It’s not fair. “Got off?” she reflected back to him like the excellent clinician she was.

“Yeah, after a mission we would all come back and be sky high. Maybe it was just that we were still alive, but we didn’t need drugs. Adrenaline was our drug.” His voice grew softer as he drew out his words seductively and continued to stare at her.

“So, Michael, it sounds like you really enjoy your job. It sounds like you are perfect fit. So, why ‘are’ you here? Are you ready to tell me that?” Therese felt he was getting far too carried away with this scenario of being a secret agent, and thought she should jerk his chain a little.

She’s a smartass, he thought. That sounds like something Nikita would say. A brief flash of amusement crossed his face as he thought of Nikita sitting in the wing back chair and what he would like to be doing to her right now.

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

“Michael?” She didn’t like his seductive demeanor. If he kept this up, she would have to refuse him as a patient.

“I was just thinking that you reminded me of a friend of mine. She would have just said the same thing. Unfortunately, when I think of her, my mind travels....” he gave his first genuine half smile as an apology.

“Unfortunately?”

Michael’s eyes grew clouded. “We have a very complicated relationship, doctor.” Michael began to rub his chin as he thought about how to tell about Nikita and life in Section One.

“Complicated?” Now I’m seeing something genuine, she thought. Maybe we won’t have to waste anymore time playing games.

Michael sighed deeply and rolled his eyes back. He ran his right hand through his wavy hair, trying to stall for time and trying to express how he really felt. “Nikita is a fellow operative that I met a little over three years ago. She was my material. That’s what we call the new trainees. Material to objectify them. She had been convicted of killing a policeman, sentenced to life in prison. She was recruited. I was told only that morning that I had a new trainee.

“After I reviewed her file, I thought I knew everything about her. She was a street kid, and she stabbed a cop in cold blood. I entered her room that day, and my life has never been the same since. She cleaned up really well, you understand? She was incredibly young, about 19 at the time. Pale blonde hair and luminous blue eyes. I think I was bewitched from the first time I saw her.” Michael paused in his story as he voice grew hoarse.

“Michael, would you like something to drink, coffee, bottled water? I can get Tina to get it. I know these first sessions can be difficult.” She smiled apologetically.

“Coffee, black would be fine, if it’s not too much trouble. Whatever you have will be fine.” Tina brought the coffee and managed not to spill it as she sashayed in.

Michael was grateful for the small break, but he continued quietly. “When material is recruited, they go to sleep in prison and awaken strapped to a bed in a white room. Each recruit is given two choices--work for us or die. When the drugs we had given Nikita had worn off, she awakened screaming and crying, scared to death. I went through the usual spiel. “This is where you will train.” It’s very cold-blooded, but these are cold-blood people we recruit. Nikita was, as I said, screaming and crying. I showed her the picture of her funeral, and she became even more upset because her mother wasn’t there. I tried to explain to her that a woman with her looks who could kill in cold blood would be invaluable, but she became hysterical, screaming that she “didn’t do it.” Well, I had heard all that before, and the agency doesn’t make that kind of mistake.”

He sipped his coffee and continued, “I had lost my wife Simone on a mission about 6 months before Nikita came to us. I had blamed myself, still blame myself, for her death, and knowing how operatives are manipulated, I was sure there was a good reason Nikita had been given to me to train. After Simone died, I had shut myself down. I did the job, but I couldn’t manage to do anything else. It was the only way I could survive. Anyway working daily with Nikita was a healing experience. She was rebellious, but smart. She learned quickly all I had to teach her. She also underwent training in etiquette, clothing, makeup, in addition to the martial arts, physical conditioning, and computers. The two years went by quickly, and I had a difficult time maintaining my distance from her. The more polished and stronger she became, the more she fascinated me. Her rebellious nature was still evident, but she had a lightness about her that transcended everything.” His eyes grew shiny as he thought of Nikita as she had been.

Therese sat as if hypnotized listening as his story took shape. Could all this be true? Surely, he was the most delusional paranoid schizophrenic ever to walk in her office. It was the most involved delusion she had ever heard, and she had the feeling that he was just getting started.

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

Nikita had some down time coming. There were no briefings or missions that required her presence at Section One. She passed the morning by cleaning the apartment. There were potatoes and carrots still on the kitchen floor, which had now hardened to a congealed, starchy mess. She wondered about where Michael had rushed so hurriedly. He was being so secretive, but kept saying they needed to “talk.” They hadn’t talked much last night. Michael had been passionate and tender in turns. It had seemed to Nikita, now that she was able to think rationally, that he was trying to memorize every inch of her body’s landscape. He had been lavish with his attentions, but so sweet at times that it brought tears to her eyes even now.

Nikita continued scrubbing at a lump of desiccated potato. The phone rang.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Josephine, come in.” It wasn’t Michael calling, but Madeline instead.

“What’s going on? Why are you calling? Where’s Michael?” Nikita was very puzzled that it was not Michael and concerned.

“Just come in. I’ll explain when you get here.” Madeline disconnected. Madeline never wasted words. Nikita, after all this time, did not expect any more.

Birkoff was the first person Nikita saw on entering Section One. “What’s up? Where is everybody? Madeline called me in.”

“Nothin’ going on that I know of, Nikita. Madeline’s in her office.” Birkoff went back to his computer terminal and became totally absorbed in whatever he had been doing before Nikita had interrupted him.

Nikita walked down the hall to Madeline’s office. The doors opened at a signal from Madeline. Nikita walked in. “Well, what’s up. Is there a mission or not? I don’t see anyone else here, and where is Michael?”

Madeline turned to her and smiled her semi-cold, totally uninformative smile. “Michael is fine. This is a mission for you, Nikita. It’s a very simple, straightforward B&E. We have intel that a certain individual, who’s name is on a need to know basis only, is the possessor of some information that we need in order to prevent a terrorist attack in Tel-Aviv. We believe his contact is his psychiatrist, Dr. Therese Dupre. We simply need for you to plant a couple of listening devices in this doctor’s office. That’s all. I don’t envision that there will be any need for backup.”

“No, backup, Madeline? There’s always supposed to be backup. Granted it doesn’t sound like a complicated operation, but-” Nikita protested.

“No backup, Nikita. Go to Walter, and he will give you the devices.” Madeline turned back to her terminal.

“But what time? What’s the rest of the mission profile?” This was not making any sense.

“I’ll leave that up to you, Nikita. This is a private mission. Walter knows what you need, and the rest is...” Madeline gestured toward Nikita and smiled again.

Nikita turned and left Madeline’s office, but she was disconcerted by this departure from Section routine. She strode swiftly to Walter’s area, and didn’t waste time with the usual pleasantries and flirtation that accompanied being outfitted by Walter. “Walter, do you know what the hell’s going on here?”

“You know sugar, they don’t pay me to think around here. Madeline said to give you these KK290’s, and here they are. Have fun!” Walter turned his back to Nikita and busied himself straightening the shelves.

“Is that it? Doesn’t this little mission rate a weapon, Walter?” Nikita asked him sarcastically.

Walter turned around and said, “Sure, sugar. Wouldn’t want to send Section One’s prettiest op. out without a little something to punish any bad guys she might run across.” Walter tossed her a semi-automatic 9mm pistol. “Wouldn’t be right to send you out undressed, now would it. Although....” he let his face assume a leer for her benefit. “If you want to come back and get undressed, we could have some real fun.”

Nikita leaned over and kissed the older man’s seamed face. “Yeah, Walter, you just wait right here, and I’ll be back to do that.”

Not for the first time, Walter said, “She’s sooo bad.”

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

Michael paused. He had been so caught up in talking about Nikita, that he noticed that Dr. Dupre wasn’t taking any notes. He didn’t see a recorder either. “What kind of records do you keep Dr. Dupre? I don’t see a recorder, and you don’t take notes.”

“I make my notes up here,” she laughed as she tapped her temple. “Then between appointments--the famous fifty minute hour, you know, I record my thoughts and impressions on a hand-held recorder. I find it leaves me free to observe my patient, if I wait till after he or she has left my office.

“I do not feel comfortable with tapes of my sessions being available.” Michael started playing with his chin as he thought of the material he had already given her.

“Now Michael, my office is very secure. You don’t have anything to worry about.” She felt this was just a part of his paranoid delusion system..

“Dr. Dupre, there is no security system than cannot be breached. The technology is there, and simple with my connections to obtain.” His gaze was intense and challenging.

“Well, Michael, then I challenge you to breach my system, and present me with proof that you have. Ordinarily, I am not one to leap to conclusions, but you seem quite truly paranoid.” Therese felt very confident that Michael would not be able to do any such thing.

“All right, I will accept your challenge. We need to get this trust issue behind us.”

Michael said quietly. “I think our time is up. I will see you tomorrow--with my proof.”

He rose gracefully, and walked out without another word.

Therese watched him walk out, leaned back and let out a deep breath. “Mon dieu, what have I gotten myself into,” she said aloud, and thought unprofessionally to herself, what a butt!

* * *

Michael went back to his apartment in order to inventory what he equipment he had, and what he would need for tonight’s little mission. Michael no longer worried about his apartment being watched by Section One. He swept his place for cameras and microphones at least daily. This was one of the days when he decided an extra-thorough sweep would be advisable. He quickly deactivated the 3 microphones he found, and used another PAS419 unit to scramble the camera signal. Michael knew he kept several lower level operatives busy trying to keep his apartment under surveillance.

Certain now that he was unobserved, Michael went to his closet full; of black apparel , touched a panel, which caused the back of the closet to slide open revealing Michael’s private store of surveillance equipment and armaments. Picking up the night goggles, and other classified items, he smiled. He had everything he needed for his little foray into Dr. Dupre’s office tonight. Might as well take a nap, he thought. He certainly hadn’t had much sleep the night before.

Visions of Nikita standing in the kitchen with a ruined roast on the floor and visions of Nikita exalting with pleasure in his arms kept the shadows at bay for once as he fell asleep to dream only of their loving.

**********

Nikita waited until 1AM before leaving her apartment. She had not seen or heard from Michael since his leaving that morning, but she was secretly relieved. At least he had not been there asking questions about her mission for Madeline. He would certainly have wanted to accompany her, and she would have been tempted to let him, in spite of Madeline’s instructions.

Nikita hopped into her new Porsche. It was not the most nondescript car for a mission, but it was black. There were a lot of raised eyebrows when she had first driven it. No one could quite figure out how she could afford it. Granted operatives had a generous allowance, credit cards galore, but this was a little special in price. Absolutely no one knew that she had Michael to thank for the car.

One of the things that Nikita had discovered last year during her coffee chats with Michael was that he played the stock market with his savings and bonuses. A few good tips-- when and what to buy and sell--Nikita had made a major score in last year’s dynamic market. Given her propensity for shopping at consignment stores, Nikita had no major expenses, and her savings had quickly become a nice little nest egg. No one at Section One ever talked about the retirement plan, so Nikita decided to take her dividends and splurge on the hot little number she now drove.

Nikita quickly entered the physician’s building. The security system was a joke compared to the little deactivator Walter had given her, along with the listening devices. She could always con him out of whatever she wanted. She had a genuine affection for him, and never took his sexual banter seriously.

Nikita quickly took the stairs to the 7th floor where Dr. Dupre’s office was located. She had no trouble eluding the night watchman who made desultory rounds every hour or so. She found the door that was the doctor’s private entrance and proceeded to deactivate the alarm. No problem, she thought. This is a piece of cake.

* * *

Michael was already in Dr. Dupre’s office searching for where she kept her records. He had located nothing with his name. He was beginning to think that she had taken it home with her. It would be just like her to do that. However, he thought I can still prove I was here, and how simple her system is to breach. Michael froze in his search as he heard a sound. The door! Someone was coming in the private entrance. Michael quickly and silently stepped behind the door, ready to take down whoever entered.

Nikita cautiously walked into the doctors private office. Her night goggles showed that there was not even a motion detector in the room. Her small flashlight was all she needed to survey the room. An uneasy feeling came suddenly that she was not alone, but it came too late. A strong arm was around her neck and she was on the floor, before she could respond. A man’s full weight held her there briefly, before she began to struggle and use every technique she knew to gain some advantage over this unknown foe.

He was incredibly strong and powerful. If she could just get at his eyes, she would give him something to remember. She pounded his back in the area of the kidneys. She was kicking and scrambling for any vulnerable area she could find.

“Ugh!” he moaned, but would not give up. Michael could tell that this intruder was female, but strong and well trained. He was afraid he was going to have to break her neck to defeat her. Michael never liked killing women, even in self defense. It went against something that had been ingrained in him as young boy by his ma-ma. It was good that she was not here to see what he had become. What he had become was this machine that did the job he was assigned. If a woman got in the way, it was too bad. All the same, Michael looked for a way to disable this one without killing her.

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

Michael applied unyielding pressure to her right carotid artery, and she lost the battle. He then pulled off the ski mask she wore. “Nikita,” he breathed her name as he saw the familiar face and blonde hair. She would not be unconscious long, because he had held the pressure only long enough for her to lose consciousness. He loosened the clothes around her neck, checked her carotid pulse and was reassured that it was strong. Then he simply sat there holding her hand and stroking her face, waiting for her to awaken.

His worst fear had almost come to pass-that sometime he would be forced by circumstances to kill Nikita. Now he had come very near to doing just that. Michael acknowledged to himself that he would have followed her. What is Hades was she doing here in Dr. Dupre’s office? How did she even know he was coming here. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss any of this with her.

Nikita’s first impression as she came to was a headache that expanded and pulsated as the blood supply returned to her brain. She tried to open her eyes. Then she remembered where she was and started to struggle against the gentle hands that held her.

“Nikita, c’est moi, Michael. Be still. Give yourself time.” He said all this softly and soothingly, not wanting to maker her pain worse.

“Michael? Ooooh.” She groaned. “What are you doing here? Did Madeline send you here as backup after all?”

"Madeline sent you here?” His voice grew spikes and spurs. That is to say his voice grew “harsh.” He would get to the bottom of this, and he would have it out with Madeline. First things first, he thought. “I have to do something. It will only take a moment, and then I will take you home.”

Michael turned to the doctor’s computer. He booted it up, installed and ran a password program, and left the doctor a message as a marquee. “Michael was here. Your security is pathetic. Believe me, for I am what I say I am.”

Michael returned to Nikita’s side. “Can you stand? I will help you. If not, I will carry you. We need to get out of here.” He quickly looked around to see if there were any traces of their visit.

“But Michael, I have to plant the listening devices,” she protested.

“The listening devices? I’ll plant them for you.” Michael planted them to placate Nikita, but he would take care of them during the next session. Madeline. @#$%! he thought to himself. They would definitely be having a different type of session the next day.

Nikita tried to sit up, but groaned and lay back down. “Michael, I don’t think I can do this.”

“It doesn’t matter, I will carry you,” he said quietly, and proceeded to pick her up.

“It’s seven flights down, Michael.” She knew he was strong. His leg muscles were beyond compare, as well as other parts of his male anatomy.

“Well, at least it is not seven flights up,” he said as his mouth twitched with a tiny smile.

***********

By the time they reached the building’s floor level, Michael and Nikita were both worn out--Nikita because her head was still throbbing, and Michael because Nikita was a healthily sized woman and she was not a lot of help in the forever spiraling journey down.

Michael put Nikita down at the bottom of the seven flights, and leaned back against the wall to catch his breath and ease the muscle cramps in his calves and thighs.

“My hero,” Nikita giggled as she took in the sight of her spyman gasping for air.

“I take it that you are feeling better?” he asked with a touch of irony in his voice.

“Hmm, some, but I don’t think I can drive. Let’s go to your place. It’s much closer, and you can come back for my car? Is that a doable plan?” Nikita sounded like she was feeling a lot better.

“Yes. You are going to allow me to drive your ‘hot’ car?” Nikita had not allowed anyone to drive it until now.

“Michael, I wouldn’t have the car if it weren’t for you. Of course, you may drive it.” Nikita’s playful side was emerging. “In fact, every time I touch the stick shift, I think of you,” she leered a lopsided grin at him.

“Ni-ki-ta. Come on.” He lead her out, arms entwined, but vigilant for the security guard, who was on his coffee break.

They exited the building as easily as they had entered, but not undetected. Therese Dupre stood watching one landing above this teasing scene. “Ah, amour. So sweet. So this is the ‘light’ of whom he speaks.” She chuckled to herself and went back to her office to see exactly what had been going on up there. She was amused to see the marquee he had left for her.

“Well, at least this one has a sense of humor.” She could not see any evidence that anything else had been touched, but then she guessed a real secret agent would avoid leaving any evidence like that.

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

Michael drove Nikita back to his apartment and put her to bed . That was a first. Nikita had been in his apartment only once before, and that was without his knowledge initially. Madeline had assigned her to watch over him one night, and he had not been very happy to awaken and find her there the next morning. Oh, well, she thought, at least this time he wanted her there, and this time she was in the bed, not freezing her butt off on his tiny balcony.

Michael looked at her white body lying on his black sheets. Her blonde hair was spread like a fan over the pillow. Her luminous blue eyes looked up at him with a desire that intensified his own. He reached out and touched her hair with his hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. He was always amazed at her beauty, and that she would allow him to touch her after all the times he had manipulated her feelings in the past. He felt he did not deserve her attention, much less the giving nature that she still possessed, in spite of everything. He always called her ‘his Nikita’ in his heart, but his mind told him to be wary of letting anyone come too close. He had not been able to prevent this, and he had tried so many times and so many ways.

Nikita shivered at the tenderness of this gesture. She could see that his eyes were glazed with emotions too difficult for him to yet express. She did not know when or if he would ever be able to express them. She knew he needed her, and she knew that their connections from their multiple shared pasts had pulled them together again in this life. She needed him as well. It was as if each connection potentiated the other. It was as if one plus one equaled three or four instead of just two.

He lay down beside her. His hand stroked her face and trailed softly down her neck. “Are you really feeling okay now?” He was still distraught at how close he had come to killing her.

“I’ll be fine,” Nikita said as she turned to Michael and began to run her fingers through his longish wavy hair. She always longed to do that. She always wanted to pluck back the stray lock of hair that always escaped. She had wanted to touch him and challenge him to claim her as she had during that fiasco with Jurgen. What had she been thinking!

“Perfect Section One response,” he said. “How’s your head?”

“Really, Michael, I’m fine. Do you want to talk about why you were at that office ahead of me, or do you want to make love?”

“Foolish question,” he said softly. “Talk- in- the- mor-ning.” With each syllable, Michael kissed her, then deepened the kiss. Her white body started writhing under his kisses and caresses. In turn her hands were caressing and demanding, and Nikita became a Valkyrie riding back to Valhalla as she mounted a tumescent Michael. She teased and tantalized him as she moved until Michael could stand no more. He quickly flipped her over and continued the steadily increasing rhythm. Michael had little control that night, as all his fears and anxieties came to the fore, as they had the first night on the boat. Fear of losing her battled with the reality of their every day existence. He had lost Simone. He could not bear to lose Nikita.

Nikita could feel the desperation in Michael’s heart and in his essential self. He made love to her as if they would never make love again. She felt the same desperation, because she was still burdened by years of insecurity and neglect. Their climaxes came almost together, Nikita’s a moment before Michael’s. They shuddered in each other’s arms as the tears mingled on their faces, for they wept in joy that they had this love and this togetherness for now.

***********

Michael always awakened early, but after only going to sleep at 0500, the alarm at 0600 was an annoyance to be swatted to the floor. At 0800, Nikita began to stir, Michael’s left arm and leg were pressing her to the mattress, and she felt as if half her body were asleep. She began to nudge him gently to see if she could encourage him to roll over without waking him.

Gray eyes popped open and saw blue ones only an inch away. Michael blinked and he began to remember the events of the early morning hours. Nikita was ‘here’ with him. “Good morning,” he said and could not escape giving a loud yawn as he stretched.

“Bored with me already, are you? she asked, drawling out her Australian accent. looking at him with those aquamarine eyes.

“I don’t think that would be possible,” he said softly in his French accented voice.

His hands started running over her back, but he stopped and give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

“First breakfast, then explanations about last night. Hein?” Michael jumped out of the bed, dragging Nikita with him. “Shower time? I will fix breakfast.”

“Michael, I don’t want to get up. Stay here with me,” she wheedled with an incredibly innocent smile. He knew she was no innocent , and that’s what made her smile all the more intriguing.

Michael pushed a reluctant Nikita into the shower and smacked her behind as she tried to pull him in. “No, I need food. You do too. Stay,” he commanded like he would have a puppy. He quickly left Nikita in the shower and pulled on some gym shorts and a dark green tee shirt.

Michael surveyed the pantry and refrigerator. Almost as bad as Nikita’s, he mused. Cappuccino, Fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, day old croissants, raspberry fruit spread and Canadian Bacon was all he could come up with on such short notice. He had it all set up by the time Nikita came out of the shower wearing his navy terry cloth robe and a white towel wrapped around her head.

“Mmmm, looks wonderful and smells divine, Michael.” Nikita, in spite of her protestations about getting out of bed, was ravenous and applied herself with vigor to her portion of the breakfast.

Michael sipped his cappuccino and spread butter and raspberries on his croissant as he watched Nikita eat. She had a dot of butter at the corner of her mouth, but he would take care of that before they left. “Now tell me, why were you at the Dr. Dupre’s office. Tell me from the beginning.” He said this quietly as he leaned back and watched Nikita for any signs of evasion or dissembling.

“Madeline called me to her office. She said this psychiatrist was suspected of being someone’s contact. She didn’t tell me who or what he was, just that he had intel that Section needed.. You know Madeline, she said I didn’t need to know anymore, and that was it. No backup team, I protested, but she said it wouldn’t be needed. Now, why were you there Michael?” Nikita, too, leaned back was watched Michael for any tell-tale signs that might tell her more than he would be likely to tell her himself.

Michael considered a moment, truth, half-truth, a lie, and decided Nikita deserved to have the truth from him. “I imagine Madeline sent you to bug the office, because I am seeing Dr. Dupre as a patient.”

Nikita’s mouth dropped open. This was the last thing in the world that she expected to hear from Michael. “So that’s where you’ve been for the past two mornings.”

“Yes,” he said in his quiet way. “I will discuss things further with Madeline.” Michael was beyond annoyed, but not surprised that Madeline would use Nikita to bug his sessions.

“But what should I tell Madeline about my ‘mission.’” Nikita wondered what Madeline would make of the real truth, and the direction that Michael’s and her relationship was taking.

“Tell her the truth, that they are placed. She will expect you soon to debrief. I will take you to your car, and come back here to get ready for my ‘session’ on the couch with Dr. Dupre.”

“Got it all planned out, Michael?” Nikita was surprised at her resentment of his ‘take charge’ style, but then that was Michael, and she might as well get used to it. She would pick her battles, and not fight this one. She softened her query with a kiss across the table.

**********

Nikita decided that she would take the bull by the horns, meaning Madeline, and have it out with Madeline over the previous night’s assignment. Madeline was working at her terminal when Nikita entered. “Why, Madeline?” Nikita paced as she asked this.

“Why what, Nikita?” Madeline countered, her face and eyes conveying no emotion at Nikita’s challenge.

“Why would you ask me to place listening devices at that psychiatrist’s office, when the only intel Section wanted was what Michael is saying to his doctor.”

Madeline had a fleeting look of surprise. “Michael’s doctor? What makes you think that, Nikita?”

“Just that when I went to place the listening devices last night, he was already there and nearly killed me before he realized who I was. That’s all!” Nikita was magnificent in her fury, which was lost on Madeline. She leaned on Madeline’s desk and was right in her face as she made her declaration.

“Oh.” Madeline said with a small smile. “I trust that neither of you are too damaged from the ordeal.”

Nikita’s face flushed as she remembered the passionate aftermath of their encounter. “Uh, no lasting damage,” she muttered as she tried to think of a way to get out of Madeline’s presence.

“Good. I take it the devices are ‘not’ in place then.”

“No, Madeline, they’re in place. Michael placed them, while I was still trying to get my breath.”

Another look of surprise crossed Madeline’s face. “Good. Any idea when Michael is coming in today?

“He’s gone back to his apartment to get ready for his session.” Nikita knew she had said too much.

Madeline smiled again, “You seem to know a great deal about Michael’s itinerary today, Nikita.” She watched Nikita start to fidget with her hair.

“Is that all, Madeline?” Nikita forced heself to stop playing with her blonde hair.

“Yes, Nikita, that’s all.” A small look of amusement remained on Madeline’s face

“Good.” Nikita turned and took her best ‘take a deep breath, slow down, don’t run’ retreat.

The door closed behind Nikita, and Madeline said, “Good.”

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

Therese Dupre anxiously sat throughout her 9AM appointment. Only by focusing totally on the patient’s face was she able to maintain concentration. Her 10AM appointment, whoever the hell he was, was always on the periphery of her conscious thoughts. Finally, that session was over. “Tina,” she asked via the intercom, “have we had any cancellations today?”

“No, Dr. Dupre, we haven’t. Mr. Smythe-Jones is here. Are you ready for him?”

“No, just a couple of minutes. I need to finish my last session’s notes.” Therese collected her thoughts and finished her dictation. She then took a deep breath and signaled Tina that she was ready for her 10AM session.

Michael walked in with an inscrutable expression on his face. In one smooth graceful motion, he unbuttoned his jacket, sat down across from her desk, folded his hands in his lap and asked, “Did you find my message?” He allowed a raise of his eyebrows as he asked this question.

“Yes, Michael. I did. I admit you are a very resourceful person. You diverted my security system, and if I am not mistaken, you were not alone. I am very curious about that situation.” Therese gave him a knowing smile.

Surprise flashed across Michael’s face. How did she know that Nikita was here. Had she been in the office last night? He had not sensed her presence. “We did not come together. She is a fellow operative, and had been assigned to plant listening devices in this very office.” Michael said this quietly and in a very matter of fact manner. “It is important that you understand the reality of ‘my’ situation and now, by extension, yours.”

Therese swallowed. “Listening devices in ‘my’ office. The very idea goes against every ethical standard in my profession. What kind of people do you work for, Michael?”

Michael pulled from his inside jacket pocket a PAS419 and put his index finger to his mouth in order to warn her not to say anything. He activated it and then indicated it was all right for them to continue to speak.

“I told you. I am an operative an a clandestine anti-terrorist organization. It is our job to take out the criminals and terrorists that no one else can. We do not play by the rules. We do the job.”

He looked at her so gravely, that Therese began to believe. “Michael, was that Nikita with you last night? I saw you leave together, and I saw the emotional connection between the two of you.” She saw the question in his eyes and responded. “ I was coming up the stairs when I heard you and your ‘fellow operative’ coming down. I merely stepped into the hall off the 2nd floor and waited till you left. She appeared to have suffered some injury since you were carrying her?”

“I nearly killed her in your office before I found out who she was. We were both skulking about in full black gear, masks and all,” he said ruefully. “I had to render her unconscious in order to subdue her. I could tell it was a woman, but until I pulled away her mask, I had no idea it was Nikita. I nearly killed her. I was nearly responsible a second time for killing someone I loved.” Michael suddenly buried his face in his hands, but quickly regained his composure and looked at Dr. Dupre. The look of tragedies past remained in his eyes.

“Yes, Michael, I remember you mentioned your wife Simone and that you blamed yourself for her death. Will you tell me about that?”

“Yes, I will. Michael took a deep breath and began to speak.

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

“Simone and I met as fellow operatives. We became a team, much like Nikita and I are a team now. Simone and I fell passionately, romantically in love, and we married without permission. You have to understand that the agency we work for has complete control over our lives. They have given us our lives, and we would all be dead or in prison without our places in this agency. We have free time, and we live outside of the agency, but they still control much of our lives. Simone and I tried to keep our relationship and marriage a secret. Relationships are not ‘condoned,’ but neither are they forbidden. Close emotional relationships with outsiders ‘are’ forbidden, so it is only natural that operatives occasionally turn to each other for closeness or sex or whatever.”

“My relationship with Simone was different from any other that I had experienced with anyone else there. We had this incredible chemistry when we first met. We made love within 24 hours of meeting. During some down time two weeks later, we were married. We were both young, and we were convinced that we could carry off the deception. But they saw it in our eyes and in our body language, and soon we were called in to M’s office. M is our second in command and she responsible for psych-operations both for missions and operatives. She is a uniquely intelligent woman who seems to have almost psychic insight into everything that goes on there.”