Nikita looked up the busy street, and a light spring breeze caught her hair. She looked at the cars buzzing by, and watched the license plates blur away. Nikita held her breath and stopped her slow pace. The black road called her blue eyes, and time stood still.

"'Kita... you coming?" Michael calls out from the steps of the hotel.

Nikita snaps her head around, and sees the black clad Michael standing with his hand out towards her. She steps forward and places her hand into Michael's. She starts up the stairs and places a smile on her face.

The bellboy, in his royal purple uniform, holds the door open for Michael and Nikita, and Michael wraps his arm around Nikita's waist as they enter.

The hotel looks wonderful, and again, Nikita is drawn to stop in the site. Yet, with Michael's arm around her waist, she continues to look around the hotel in amazement.

"Ma chere," Michael says as he walks up the desk and grabs Nikita's lightly gloved hand with his. Nikita turns around, and looks at the ornate door that they had just entered in. Michael talks quickly to the desk clerk, and quickly has the key. He pulls gently at Nikita's hand, and is just a little puzzled by her almost mute condition.

"This way." Michael directs Nikita, as he walks around the corner, and Nikita, pulls away. She sees a huge glass elavator looming infront of, but framed by bright colors and huge greenary arrangements. Nikita slowly brings her hand up to her mouth and she turns around in a half circle.

"Nikita, our room?" Michael says with a raised eyebrow as he goes back towards Nikita. He takes hold of her covered red shoulders with his hands, and directs her to the elavator.

She steps onto the plush carpet, and looks down. It feels as if she stepped onto an inch of feathers. She quickly moves to the glass window and watches the elavator move slowly up. The further up they go, the more grandiose the lobby appears. Nikita looks like a kid looking at a glassed in display of Christmas candy and goodies.

Michael stands almost against the door of the elavator. He turns his head to the side and studies Nikita's movements. The elavator stops and Michael moves out into the hallway. Nikita continues to stare out the glass elavator.

"Nikita... this is our floor." Michael says, jolting Nikita out of her thoughts. She quickly jogs off of the elavator and smiles at Michael.

He takes her hand again, and directs her down the hall. He pauses at the door and kisses Nikita's cheek softly.

"You look different... are you nervous about this mission?" Michael asks as he inserts the long key into the door. Nikita turns her head and smiles back at Michael.

"No." Nikita says simple, and Michael opens the door and Nikita simply opens as her mouth and stops all movements.

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

Michael closed the door, which made not a sound, and stepped around Nikita. He placed the keys down on a cherry wood table against an ivory wall. He slides the black coat off, and turns to reach for Nikita's.

Yet, Nikita is slightly stepping forward. Off to the right is a huge off-white couch with coral pillows. The entire room is engulfed with the brillant late afternoon sunlight, coming from a giant glass wall just shy of the balcony. The white door is framed by coral curtains, and the plush carpet is the same shade also. Nikita moves towards the wall of glass and stares towards the sun. Barely able to see it, the tip of the tower is seen, and Nikita starts to move to the right, letting her hand graze against the glass, and then the wall.

Michael moves to the small table on the left of the room. He removes the gray laptop computer and places it on the table. Michael moves the computer at an angle so that he can establish the link with Section, but also maintain a watch on the unusually quiet Nikita.

Nikita moves towards the bedroom door, which is set off to the right. She opens the door, and again, stops. The room pulls her in. The walls are painted in the coral color that graced the curtains and pillows in the mainroom. On the wall, that separates the mainroom from the bedroom is a small white marble gas fireplace. Nikita runs her hands across the smooth marble, and studies the tall poster bed. White lace pillows sit stately on the coral bedspread. Nikita then runs her hands across the bedspread, and then pushes down on the bed to fell the strength and the spring.

Michael quickly establishes the connection, and says hello to Birkoff. Nikita has left the bedroom door, and Michael watches Nikita moves her hands against the bed. He wrinkles his eyes and decides to speak with Madeline.

Nikita opens the only other door in the bedroom and is met with a sparkling white marble bathroom, with a quite large sunken whirlpool, encased by three mirrors. Nikita opens her mouth and sighs.

"Madeline, Nikita is not talking." Michael states quietly as he continues to watch the bedroom door, although Nikita has moved out of his sight.

"And this is a problem because?" Madeline says slowly, not sure what Michael was trying to say.

"Madeline, she stops for long moments as if staring out to space." Michael informs Madeline. He only gets a smile back.

"Michael... were are you from?" Madeline asks.

"France.. Paris to be exact." Michael answers as if the question was nothing.

"And Nikita? Michael, remember, her experience in France is very small... if any. She has been here so long, I can't remember if she's had a mission to Paris or not." Madeline says, starting to fret around her desk.

"Point taken." Michael says, and he closes off Madeline, but maintains the link.

Michael stands up and moves to the bedroom, where Nikita has just stepped back into from the bathroom.

"Can I take your coat?" Michael asks softly. Nikita methodically starts to take her coat off and then hands it to Michael.

Michael sighs and walks into the other room. He is pleasantly surprized that Nikita has joined him. She sits softly down on the couch, in pure pleasure.

"I think we shall go to the meeting spot tomorrow, just to check it out." Michael says.

"Isn't it like the plans?" Nikita asks softly, but not looking at Michael.

"We shall see." Michael says, knowing that if this little bit of France has effected Nikita in this way, that Saint Chappelle, will do much more.

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

Michael touched Nikita's shoulder, as she laid on her side, with her back to Michael. He could have counted the sentences that Nikita said to him willingly on one hand. Her eyes were drifted to a place that Michael had no concept or idea where.

"What.. what is it, Nikita?" Michael asks softly, as he gently rolls her over. He sees her eyes, and is struck with the utter pain in them. His heart cries out as he invisions these eyes.

"I'm not part of this..." Nikita mutters softly, rolling her head towards the pillow, trying to hide her eyes from Michael.

"Part of what?" Michael continues, aching to know what has turned off Nikita's body in just one day.

"I can never be a part of you and Paris." Nikita says, glancing into Michael's eyes, and then turning her back again to Michael's eyes. Nikita effectively creates a barrier, where Michael could no longer see her eyes, and she could not see his.

"Ni-ki-ta.... I don't understand." Michael says softly, as he gently rolls Nikita back. She rolls her eyes, knowing now that she should have stayed quiet.

"I'm in awe.. your already know it." Nikita says and she barrows her head back into the pillow. Michael strokes her soft blonde hair lightly, hoping to coax her head back up. When this motion does not work, he runs his hand down her chin, and pulls it up to look in his face.

"I want to create our memories together." Michael says.

"Michael, you've seen it." Nikita protests lightly.

"I want to enjoy watching you see it the first time, and I want to discuss it with you.. and I want to tell you about when I first saw it... I want to hold you and let you experience everything that should be experienced and miss the things that shouldn't." Michael says softly, as he runs his hand down around Nikita's neck.

"I just.. it just doesn't feel right.." Nikita says turning back around. Michael, clings to her body, and hugs her from behind. He rests his chin on her shoulder.

"Wait till you see Saint Chappelle.. I will have to drag you away... and the little cafe not far from it.. the best espresso you will ever have..." Michael says, as Nikita drifts to sleep hearing about the Paris that lives in Michael's heart.

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

(Note, that all details about this church are from class notes)

Michael held Nikita's hand as he led her up the spiral staircase. He turned the corner and lead Nikita into the main church area. Nikita drops her hands to her side, and freezes in the middle.

Surrounding the couple are walls of stained glass. Brillant colors shine down and through out the church. Nikita slowly looks up one small section of the windown at a time, and barely moves her head as Michael starts to move down the pews.

Viewing Nikita from a distance, she almost seems like a statue left through time. Michael smiles lightly at her.

"Nikita... down this way." Michael calls out. Nikita does not even blink her eyes away. Michael shakes his head and moves back to Nikita.

"Did you bring Simone here?" Nikita mutters out, and Michael steps back.

"Why would you ask that question?" Michael says quite loudly.

"Did you?" Nikita challenges Michael and she drops her head down to look at him.

"No... No Nikita." Michael says with tears in his eyes. Nikita moves her head to the side.

"You finish the.. the.. plans.. or scouting.. I'll meet you at that cafe." Nikita says, and she runs down the stairs.

Michael rubs his hair back and lets his slightly chapped lips part another sigh. He stares only momentarily at the stained glass windows before he pulls out his cell phone.

"Madeline..." Michael says softly, looking around for others.

"What is it Michael? What did Nikita think of Saint Chappelle?" Madeline asks.

"I don't know... she didn't stay." Michael says as he starts to walk down the stairs, and slightly bumps into a thin woman.

"I sense you are going to find her and take her back... get her use to the setting." Madeline says, and Michael can visualize Madeline sitting at her desk, tapping her finger impatiently on the top of the desk.

"Madeline, how can anyone get use to Saint Chappelle.... but I think it is something else... something about Paris as Nikita on the edge." Michael says, and he closes the cell phone as he enters the outside. He quickly pulls down his black sunglasses and heads down the street.

*

Nikita is sitting out on the patio on one of the bistro sets, sipping silently an expresso. Michael approaches and pulls his sunglasses off of his face as he sits down opposite. Nikita continues to wear her green lens sunglasses, and Michael gently pulls them off of her face, and folds them in his hands. They clink as the metal touches the table below.

Nikita takes a long sip of coffee, the longer she prolonged the sip, the longer she prolonged talking to Michael. Yet, slowly, she let the hands set the cup down in slug pace.

"Nikita... I am trying to show you Paris... and there are no other modivations behind it." Michael says softly.

Nikita pulls the sunglasses up off of the table and rolls them around in her hands.

"Michael... I'd rather not discuss this." Nikita says as she starts to stand up.

Michael grabs her arm, as she pushes the chair in with the side of her hip. Nikita brushes her hand away, and slides the sunglasses onto her face.

"Don't go Nikita." Michael pleads.

"I'll meet you back at the hotel..." Nikita says as she drops the bills to the table, and walks away.

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

The beauty of the Saint Chappelle was endless. The vivid glass of red contrasting with the deep and passionate purple, to only be highlighted with a brillant yellow, was only the beginning of the beauty.

Nikita sits on a pew, staring ahead at the glass wall infront of her. She turns her head slightly to view all of the glass from just a slightly different angle.

Her mind was in shambles. Paris was everything she had wished for as a child. Paris was alive, and not dead. Paris was passionate and loving. Paris was Michael's.

She pushes the blonde hair from her face, and pulls her knees up onto the pew with her. Sitting very akwardly, Nikita props her chin on her knees, lost in thought, caused by the meditation on the glass infront of her.

Nikita felt as if she was missing something before, and to her mind, Paris was the piece that fits. Paris had enriched Michael. The french were a different type of person, cynical but passionate... Nikita swallows and wishes she could grasps everything about this church as she first saw it. She wants to retain everything, to grow that missing piece from childhood.

"Oh... how beautiful..." Nikita mutters as tears run down her face. She hugs her arms around her thin legs, and drops her head further into her legs.

*

Michael walks the Paris streets, hoping to run into Nikita. Paris, on this day, the day before the mission, was to be funfilled, and not like this. Michael pauses at a corner and thinks.

Nikita does not know Paris, she would not have gone far. Michael rubs his chin slightly, and turns around.

"What if she went back to Saint Chappelle?" Michael asks outloud, and he quicken his steps.

*

Michael steps near the pews without a sound. Nikita's blonde hair glows with the intense light coming into the church by the glassed walls. Michael holds the rail of the backmost pew, as he stares at Nikita.

At first, it appears as if Nikita is sleeping, until Michael sees the staggered breathing in, and the slight sob sound that he realizes easily that Nikita is crying.

"Nikita?" Michael calls out. Nikita turns her red-rimmed eyes to Michael, and the spark of electricity crosses the thirty pews to Michael.

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

Michael makes up the distance between him and Nikita very quickly, and drops to his knees as he grabs Nikita's hands.

"Nikita... I love you... and I just wanted to share the place I love with the person I love." Michael says as he kisses the hands lightly.

"Don't you wish we could get married here?" Nikita says softly.

Michael shallows and rubs off the tears from Nikita's face. "I don't care where we get married, Nikita... as long as you are there... no complaints." Michael says as he rubs his hands cross Nikita's leg.

"Michael... I didn't get a chance to live like you did when you were a kid... look at were most of your life was spent. Paris... Paris.. is everything I ever thought heaven was." Nikita says slowly. Michael leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"I understand... and with you... we will create our own little Paris." Michael says, touching Nikita's heart softly.

*

Michael steps into the church three days later. The mission had gone as planned, and Nikita performed excellant as foreseen.

"Nikita... we must go." Michael calls out, as Nikita stands up close to the glass window, studying a panel of the glass. Nikita turns and bounds to Michael's hands. She kisses his lips and they walk out hand in hand.

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