Nikita was roused from a sound sleep by the insistent pounding at her door. As she slowly pried herself out of bed, she amused herself by running through the list of potential pounders.

Not Michael...he knocks discreetly. Not Operations or Madeline...they'd just break in. Not Walter or Birkoff...they know enough to let me sleep. Or they'd call first. It has to be...

"Mick, what do you want?"

He managed to breeze in through the six-inch crack in the door. "Good morning, doll. This is your lucky day."

She sighed and shut the door behind him. "It's only barely morning, and there's nothing you can say to convince me that any day involving you is going to be lucky. Miserable, maybe. Painful and trying, maybe. But not lucky."

Mick looked hurt. "It wounds me to hear you say that. I'm sitting here, wounded. Bleeding on your couch. Got any coffee?"

Nikita closed her eyes briefly and offered up a prayer to any gods that might be listening. "No, no coffee. You have three seconds to tell me what you want before I shoot you," she said in her best threatening voice.

Unfortunately, Mick didn't look too threatened. "Is that any way to treat your favorite neighbor?"

"Mick, you're not even my favorite slimeball. Tell me what you came here for, now."

He put on his best attempt at charm. "Can I borrow an egg?"

Obviously, her prayers were going unanswered, because Mick didn't spontaneously combust. "An egg? You dragged me out of bed for an egg? A single egg? Don't they have grocery stores wherever you come from?"

He looked confused for a moment, and then his face brightened. "Oh, not that kind of an egg, luv."

Not that kind of an egg? What other kind of egg...oh, no...

Mick, unable to contain his good cheer, bounded off the couch and came to stand by her. "Didn't I tell you it was your lucky day? I have decided that you will be," a pause for maximum effect, "the mother of my child."

"Mick..." Nikita protested weakly.

"Can you imagine it? Between my dashing good looks and the whole Twiggy thing you've got going, I think we could pop out a simply stunning child." He beamed at her, clearly quite pleased with himself, while Nikita considered fainting.

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

"Mick, please tell me that this is a joke."

"A joke?" he protested indignantly. "A joke? You thinking that passing on my genes is some sort of joke?"

As Nikita became more and more preoccupied with Mick's ridiculous announcement, his voice faded to an insistent squawk in the background. "I know," she muttered desperately. "This is a test, isn't it? Madeline put you up to this. She wants to know exactly how much stress I can handle before I have a heart attack." She swung around and clutched Mick's upper arms fiercely. "It's a test, right?"

He smiled back, not in the least disturbed by her panic. "No, no test. Just you, me and a blessed event."

A blessed event? "No, no, no, Mick. No blessed event, no egg-lending. No. Am I making myself clear? No." She eyed him suspiciously. "Is any of this getting through to you?"

"It's okay, luv. You need some time to get used to the idea. I understand that good news like this can shock weak-minded people."

"Weak-minded?" she yelped, her grasp on his arms tightening.

"Ouch," he complained, pulling back from her. "Watch the arms, there. I bruise easily." He carefully brushed off the sleeves of his...oh God, it looked like velour...

Nikita mentally shook herself, took another deep breath and ground out, "Weak-minded?"

Pulling his attention away from his attire, he smiled at her again. "I mean that in the best possible way, of course. You know, delicate. Frail. Not like weak-minded like Michael."

"Michael?" she repeated numbly. Maybe I'm dreaming.

On the other hand, maybe I'm in hell.

"Right, Michael. You look at him and you can tell that there's no one home behind that poker face."

"No one home?" she gasped weakly.

"Doll, are you feeling okay?" he asked solicitously. "You keep repeating yourself."

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

Nikita tried to get her thoughts into some sort of coherent order. "Mick, I can't have a baby, let alone your baby."

"Why not? Am I not good enough for you?" He glared at her suspiciously, lifting a hand to run across his close-cropped hair. "It may look like the hairline's thinning, but the light in here isn't very good. Not flattering at all." He began sauntering around the room, tossing disdainful looks at the walls. "You should get Section to redecorate. Some pastels would really lighten this place up."

Despite her best intentions, Nikita started following in his path, trying desperately to explain. "It's got nothing to do with your hair."

"What, the accent? You've got one too, you know. But that's fine, if you want the little tyke to sound like you, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Look, it's not the accent either." She finally caught up to him as he started to climb the stairs to her bedroom. "Don't go up there."

His eyebrows raised as he shot her a leer. "What's wrong, doll? You got some hot stud up there? Does Michael know about your...extracurricular activities?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. "Or is it Michael in there?"

Growling menacingly, Nikita grabbed Mick by the lapels of his velour jacket and bodily hauled him over to the couch. With a shove, he went sprawling. "Sit there. Listen to me. Don't. Speak. Nod if you understand."

His head bobbed, but he still didn't look intimidated.

Damn. I'm going to have to start paying better attention to Madeline.

"I am going to speak slowly. I am a Section operative. I cannot have a child. They would never let me. You remember Terry, right?"

"Right."

"I told you not to speak!" she snapped.

"Well, you asked me a question," he muttered sullenly.

Closing her eyes, Nikita took yet another deep breath. "My life isn't anything I would wish on a child, even if I did want to become a mother right now. Which I don't."

Mick waited for a moment, and then cautiously opened his mouth. "Can I talk now?"

Nikita heaved a mental sigh. I don't know why I bother. "Sure, Mick. Go ahead."

"I know you're out doing the Emma Peel thing most days. But I've thought that out. I'm willing to watch the little rugrat, and we can get a sitter any time you're gone and I have...company. Wouldn't do to have the little one corrupted, you know?" God, there was that smile again. Oily, yet completely guileless.

"You know," she sighed, "I should have killed you a long time ago."

He chuckled. "Maybe so, luv. But then who would you find to be Daddy Dearest?"

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

"I don't want anybody to be Daddy Dearest."

He shook his head disapprovingly at her. "Sure you do, doll. You can't tell me your hormones aren't humming. Don't you have a biological clock?"

"You're getting very close to insulting, Mick." She fixed him with a deadly serious glare, and this time he seemed to get the message. He held up his hands submissively and backpedaled.

"Okay, okay. I got it. No more talk about hormones."

She sighed and sat down next to him. "Should I even ask why you've suddenly decided to have a child?"

"I've always wanted to have a kid," he replied softly, almost wistfully.

I'm almost starting to feel sorry for him.

It's probably all part of the plan. Crafty bastard.

"But why now?" she asked.

"I dunno. Life on the edge, maybe? Working for Section isn't exactly the safest job in the world."

"Yeah," she murmured. "Tell me about it. But you know I can't possibly get pregnant, right?" As Mick started to speak, she held up a hand to silence him and thought about that last statement for a moment. "Why am I even having this conversation with you?"

True to form, Mick ignored that and launched straight into another bizarre rationalization. "Who said you had to be pregnant?"

She frowned at him. "I'll admit I've never had a child before, but isn't pregnancy kind of required?"

She could almost see the little light bulb going off over his head.

"Oh, is that what your problem was with this whole thing?" He shot her an almost paternal look. "You thought I just wanted to get into your knickers. That's the problem with you Section people. Always thinking the worst of me. I know you can't actually be 'in the family way'. Didn't I tell you I wanted to borrow an egg?"

Uh oh...

"Mick..." she started warningly.

"We'll get a surrogate. I know this hot little chick..."

That settles it. I really am in hell.

Oh well, at least it means I don't have to go in to work tomorrow.

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

I wonder what the benefits are like in hell. They have to be better than what the Section offers.

As Nikita came unwillingly back to reality, Mick was still gazing at her expectantly.

Nikita stood up and grabbed Mick by the arm, ignoring his indignant squawk. "You are leaving. Now. Before I decide to permanently remove your ability to have children."

"Wait just a minute, doll," he said nervously. "There's no need to threaten the equipment..."

Opening the door, she shoved him out, indulging in an silent cackle as he went sprawling. "I don't want to see your face again for at least a week. Maybe two weeks. Or so help me God," she growled menacingly, "I'll get one of those new gadgets Walter's been playing with and test it out on...your...spleen. Do you understand me?"

"Sure, sure. You need time to absorb it, take it all in. I understand." He stood up and backed towards his door. "I'll just go pick out some baby names and wait for your call. What do you think about Edgar? Or maybe Marissa, if it's a girl?"

As Nikita swung, he ducked rapidly out of range and scuttled back into his apartment. "Right, so I'll just stay out of your way for a few days, then. Honest."

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

Which was why Nikita was very disappointed when he showed up at her door the next night.

"Mick, are you dying?"

He looked confused. "No."

"Am I dying?" she asked patiently.

"No," he replied, looking even more confused.

Her attempt to shut the door was foiled by the presence of his arm shoved through the three-inch crack. "Hey, just listen to me for a minute ...Ow! Watch the arm!...I have some news for you."

She shoved harder on the door. "This isn't a good time."

In an attempt to retain his arm, he shoved back, forcing the door open several more inches. "Oh," he said understandingly as he caught sight of Michael sitting on the couch. "Congratulations, doll. I didn't interrupt anything, did I? Do you need me to go get those condoms that I borrowed?"

Nikita pasted a sweet smile on her face and turned to Michael. "This will just take a minute."

She removed Mick's arm from the door and pushed him back into the hall. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to him, murder in her eyes.

Acting quickly to forestall his incipient doom, Mick spoke rapidly. "Before you disembowel me, I think you'll want to hear what I have to say."

"Mick, for the last time, I am not interested in having a child with you."

"Oh, is that what you think I'm doing here?" He smiled at her beatifically. "I've found someone else. This simply stunning bird...legs up to here, if you know what I mean. Not that there's anything wrong with your legs, of course."

Nikita forced the words out through gritted teeth. "Someone...else?"

"Yeah, yeah. So you can forget about that whole thing. I just came over here to tell you that I tracked down Benetti."

Nikita shook her head desperately in an attempt to make sense of what he was saying. "Benetti?"

"Yeah, that arms dealer you wanted a location on? I found him. D'you want the information now?"

"Now?" she said numbly.

"Nikita, you're repeating yourself again. I'm really started to get worried. Maybe you have some sort of brain problem." He looked at her solicitously. "You should get that looked at. I'm sure Section could fix you right up with a few pokes and snips." Extending an arm (clad in polyster, this time), he looked at his imitation Rolex. "Anyway, I'm off. Got a date in a hot tub. Ring me when you want Benetti's location." Pivoting on one foot, he strode across the hall and back into his own apartment.

Nikita stood there silently for a few minutes. I wonder if this is what shell-shock feels like. Turning around, she re-entered her apartment to find Michael looking at her quizically.

"Mick just came by to tell me that he won't be needing my genetic material any more."

Michael, being Michael, simply raised an eyebrow. Nikita felt compelled to explain. "You see, he wanted me to be the mother of his child. We would have gotten a surrogate of course, and named her Marissa. The baby, not the surrogate…" she trailed off, aware that Michael's gaze was quickly mutating from quizzical to deeply amused.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," she warned him.

"Of course not," he replied, mouth quirking upwards.

Nikita walked across the apartment and plopped down next to him. "You want to know the worst part of it all?" she asked, shaking her head ruefully. "I think I feel insulted."

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

Mick, who had crept out of his apartment to listen at the door, was glad to hear peals of laughter coming from Nikita's apartment. She'd been entirely too morose lately, and she'd needed a distraction. Now, judging from the sound of things, life was back to normal…at least as normal as it ever got. Looking at his watch again, he realized he was about to be late for his date. He walked back into his apartment and smiled as he realized that the laughter was still audible.

"That's my doll."