She had to agree with Operations' assessment. He was not going to enjoy this truth. This was a truth that Madeline could not hide from him.

The moisture that Nikita had deposited on Michael's fingertips was long gone as he reached up to cup the tender flesh of her breasts, but his fingers still guided over the silky smooth skin. Michael nestled his face into her neck even more, only slightly adjusting to see his hands slowly massaging Nikita's perfect breasts. Michael's mouth watered with the thought of opening his mouth over one peak and savoring the texture of her excited and taunt breasts in his mouth.

Nikita again, arched her back, trying to move Michael along. It only made Michael linger his fingers longer, nudging his thumbs the hard peaks of her breasts and even slightly squeezing. Nikita silently moaned and Michael smiled as he kissed the base of her neck and finally worked down from that point, until his head was in the valley of her breasts.

Lavishly, Michael microscopically moved his way up the flesh of Nikita's right breast. He teased her, as he would almost reach the top, a place that Nikita wanted Michael to suckle from like a babe, and Michael would move away from that spot. Her entire body vibrated violently underneath his lips, as he caused Nikita's body to quake with every new touch he created.

It was a sweet reward for Michael as he took that hard pebble into his mouth and felt the smooth texture that only Nikita had. He heard the moan become audible from Nikita as her mouth opened slack-jawed. She didn't toss her head from side to side in the pleasure, as Michael had often observed her from. Nikita knew that she was receiving something more from Michael on this night and it was something that she had to burn into her memory. To move too much, would distort the images and feelings she was having right now. It was too perfect for her to even think about partially ruining.

"More than likely, Michael will have to perform a loving act for Nikita to be restored to mission status," Madeline stated as Operations' eyes narrowed instantly. He paced slightly from side to side, hearing Madeline's words echo over and over again in his head. Words he wished did not have to be spoken.

"What do you mean by a loving act? Couldn't that be the museum or a movie?" Operations attempted to explain Madeline's words. It was a poor attempt. Both leaders knew exactly the moves and actions that Michael was going to have to engage in to bring Nikita back. It was only Operations who thought that Michael would do it out of obligation to Section One.

Madeline knew the truth. Michael had to prove to Nikita and himself how deep his love for her went.

"Sexual intercourse. Probably more than once, it's a hard thing to predict with all the emotions involved," Madeline stated out as if she was giving out statistics.

"Isn't that exact opposite of what we have been trying to achieve here, Madeline? I thought we were in agreement that Michael and Nikita could not have a continuing sexual relationship due to the fact that they seem to believe that it is synonymous with being in love!" Operations ranted immediately. Madeline merely batted her eyes and waited for the immediate storm to pass. Her next words would not be taken easily by Operations right now. He had this tendency to continue to overreact once he had done it once in a conversation.

"I don't see how a few acts of sexual intercourse during the next few days constitutes a continuing sexual relationship when we know for a fact where Nikita is going to be for at least the next year," Madeline coolly stated. It was said to bother Operations. It was entirely the point.

"You are deliberately misconstruing my words to fit your own motives and agendas! Please explain to me how Michael and Nikita getting hot and heavy in bed, after us continually enforcing that they did not participate in that kind of behavior, is going to help Nikita become a quaint and subservient housewife for Birkoff?" Operations challenged Madeline.

Madeline austerely sighed. Sometimes men just didn't get it.

"Nikita has never had a decent relationship in her life. We are asking her to act the part of a perfect housewife that has had a perfect childhood. In giving her this time with Michael, we are giving her a good experience to keep her fueled and focused into making this mission work," Madeline explained as she folded her hands in front of her lap. However, Madeline knew that a battle was still brewing.

"So, we allow them to make the bedsprings squeak for the rest of the week if needed... So Nikita can think for the next year of coming back here and jumping Michael's bones?" Operations rephrased, placing Madeline's words into the context that he was thinking from Madeline sighed heavily.

"That would be so if this was just sex, Paul. There are some people who do get more out of sex than just the animalistic urges that you seem to know too well," Madeline snapped as she turned away from the man. Sometimes she didn't know why she even tried to explain.

Michael's attention was drifting southward; in the direction that Nikita was directing Michael's head. Her body was wracked with spasms of joy as his tongue burrowed into her belly button. There was a soft giggled and Michael lifted his head and stared into Nikita's eyes.

She had a need there that was so much that Michael was afraid that he wouldn't be able to give it to her. Her eyes were staring at him like he was her savior that he was going to protect her for the rest of time. It also signaled that for Nikita, all the thrills that Michael was giving her were stunning, but not necessarily needed.

The heat grew between them, as they did not move, Michael's head looking up, but still resting on Nikita's abdomen. She extended her arms out to touch the curling hair that now framed his face. It was a wild tangled mess, but Nikita felt the silken strands and parted her mouth.

"I need you, Michael," Nikita spoke and Michael leaned forward with a start. Her hands his hands up to her hips and slithered his body up, leaving his legs between hers, spreading her further. She was asking for something that he was very willing to let her receive. He nudged her lightly with his gorged arousal into her warm feminine center. Michael's mouth found the other warm opening that accepted his kisses eagerly.

Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, holding him tightly, not wanting him to wait any longer. She had passively allowed Michael to take control. It caused her body to twitch with desire for over an hour. Now she had to participate in the growing combustible heat that was between them, needing to be a part of Michael and their lovemaking.

"Slowly my love," Michael whispered into her ear as he saucily licked a line back to her mouth, which Nikita hungrily accepted. Her entire body jumped up from the bed, trying to be aggressive from the traditionally passive position. Michael grinned lightly as his mouth continued to plunge into Nikita's. He felt his arousal nudge forward, only to pull back.

It wasn't teasing Nikita. It was drawing out all of the positive sensations to evoke the largest emotional reaction that he could get from her. He leaned on his elbows and carefully used his hands to stroke away Nikita's hair from her face. Although Nikita could and would support his weight, he did not want such a thing to occur. He wanted to make this perfect for Nikita and himself.

Her blue eyes opened, shining up like the dawning of a new age. The color was so crisp and clear. It was like Michael was looking into those eyes, the eyes of his lover, for the first time. The emotions stirred in Michael's heart as he moved his lower body forward slowly. Her mouth parted, moaning silently with the pleasure that possessed her body.

"Are you suggesting that they are in love, Madeline?" Operations hissed as he looked at the beautiful woman. His eyes flared as he stared at Madeline, knowing that the vein on his neck was throbbing wildly, showing his accelerated heart rate.

"It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, Paul. It could actually be used to motivate them. Love is a powerful thing," Madeline commented, as she did not move from her frozen position. There were so many emotions in Operation's eyes right now, she didn't know if he wanted to kill her or kiss her.

Michael slid the length into Nikita, finding the warm center of her body, perfect to hold him forever. He stayed still as he stared into her eyes as the tears of love and joy twinkled on her eyelashes. Achingly tender, Michael kissed those tears away, his arousal twitching within her, welcoming itself back to the only home it ever wanted.

Nikita looked up and knew that she was crying, but saw also, that Michael was crying on his own. She reached her fingers up to play with the curls that carefully twisted around his face, and then to stroke the tears way on her fingertips. She then kissed her own fingers, showing Michael that she understood fully of the blissful connection that they had with each other, but also understood how much of it she didn't understand either.

Although the pleasure was there, from feeling Michael's length opening her and filling her, he withdrew slightly, but Nikita knew not for long. He dropped his head and lightly took one peak of her breasts as he slid back into the home that Nikita cherished and guarded.

Neither could speak. It wasn't needed. Nikita's eyes beckoned Michael to continue in that languorous action. Nikita arched her back, absorbing the length and eagerly waiting for more. She turned her head to the side as her hands caught Michael's head and pressed his gaping mouth further onto her chest.

If Nikita were aware of more than the feeling of Michael inside of her and on top of her, she would have noticed how the world seemed to be spinning around her. The boundaries of her vision were becoming hazy from the intense emotions that Michael forced out of the tight box that was deep within Nikita's heart and soul.

"This is unacceptable, Madeline! I want it stopped now!" Operations barked out the order as he paced back to his desk and pulled up the cigar. Madeline narrowed her eyes into slits as he relit the cigar and started to hungrily puff at the dirty and disgusting cigar. The smoke circled around his head, making him look very much like the image of the devil.

"It is the only way we prepare Nikita to work with Birkoff in that ideal way. It is the only way we have to get Ryce Borjas," Madeline issued out the warning. Madeline dropped her hands and moved towards the desk, feeling that the distance between them was only going to cause more issues.

"Then forget Ryce Borjas. I don't want Michael and Nikita together in any sexual way! Separate them before they become amorous with each other!" Operations snarled as he slammed his hands down on the desk. Madeline blinked her eyes and sighed. She grabbed the cigar and looked at it.

"It's already too late, Paul. I am sure that they have joined together by now," Madeline stated as she smashed the cigar down, breaking the cynical line of the cigar and allowing the tobacco to break over her fingers and into the ashtray. She looked up and saw the worry on Operations eyes.

It was a powerful unstated worry. Paul was worried that love would be the one power to take over Section One.

It felt like everything was so slow. Nikita arched her back, taking more of Michael and Michael giving her more. He was moving as quickly as he could against Nikita's willing body, but also to Michael, the time was distorted.

Nikita rolled her head to the side as her skin started to radiate more heat and passion. Her body bubbled with the desire to lose all control of her body again and to plunge her body head first down into the bliss that Michael wanted her to go deep into. She wrapped her long legs around Michael, squeezing tightly, holding him.

And he grew. Nikita moaned as she felt it and Michael's lips touched her neck softly, seeking the home of her mouth. He was meet with Nikita opening and parting her mouth for Michael, moaning into his mouth. Both of their bodies jumped with the release of control, allowing the moment to take hold. Their visions shattered into billions of pieces, that when placed back together, was the image of the other.

They rolled on the bed and clung together, not releasing their bodies, connected until they would awake from the peace they found in each other.

"Why can't sex just be sex?" Operations questioned Madeline as he stepped away from the desk. She looked at his body and knew that this conversation was no longer about Michael and Nikita totally. She carefully ran her fingers across her neck before following Operations to look back out the window of Section One.

"Because in this world, human beings always crave more. It's human nature. We can't beat it," Madeline stated as she looked at Operations. He would not look at her. Slowly, Madeline retreated and left, knowing that there was at least one couple inside of Section One that was going to fight for that more and probably had already won.

*

The small diamond chip that was nestled into the ring that Nikita would now wear for a year glistened in the sun as she opened the door to the car and stepped out onto the parking lot. She rubbed the hand down the linen pants she was wearing and tossed her head from side to side.

At least they were in a warm climate. At least they hadn't given Nikita the same ring she had to wear during the Armel mission. Nikita looked down to the ring and lightly smiled. Birkoff didn't play any games when handing it over to him. It had showed that somehow, as Michael nursed her body and psyche back for the mission, Birkoff had grown up.

"Come on, love. I want to see where you are working," Nikita said as she reached out for Birkoff's hand. He was dressed in a way that Nikita would have to get used to. Gone were the jeans and odd sweaters she had seen Birkoff in. He matched her dress almost; his dress pants the same tan color as Nikita's shirt. He had a buttoned down jean shirt on, and it was tucked in. He looked like he just stepped out of a Gap commercial.

Of course, his glasses were tucked away in a pocket. He was currently wearing contacts as he reached out for Nikita's hand and started to walk.

"Are you sure you don't want to see our house first?" Birkoff questioned and Nikita smiled and stopped. She reached out and touched his face tenderly.

"We have all day to look at the house... And all night..." Nikita whispered as the glass door to the advertising firm of Dash, Ford, and Til opened and people walked out. Nikita leaned over and lightly placed a kiss on Birkoff's lips. He didn't turn red, which was good, but he pulled away and stared at Nikita.

"This is the office.... They are an advertising company, Nikita... But I will be working on the networking," Birkoff stated as he opened the door. He had a web cast interview, and had only seen Linda Til from the connection online. Birkoff looked around and headed towards the desk.

He didn't need to wait long. Linda Til, a young advertising expert, who quickly made it become a partner of the firm, spotted not Birkoff first, but the lovely woman that he must have spoken about so beautifully during the interview.

"Seymour Hayes! You don't start work until Monday," Linda said as she stepped in front of the desk and pushed her hand out towards Birkoff. He looked stunned and Nikita swallowed. He wasn't a seasoned field operative; it would be a while until Birkoff got used to being called Seymour day in and day out. Birkoff shook the hand and looked over his shoulder and looked at Nikita happily.

"Mrs. Til, this is my wife Nikita... Nikita, Mrs. Til," Birkoff introduced. Nikita smiled as she kept a hand around Birkoff's waist, but shook Linda's hand.

"Please... call me Linda... both of you," Linda stated and Nikita smiled. She looked around the office in awe.

"My husband has been talking so much about this job, how it is the opportunity of a lifetime. I'm just glad that we can finally settle down in one town," Nikita revealed and Linda nodded her head. She was a woman that could identify with Nikita's opinions.

"You'll love it here! Come... I'll give you a tour, although almost everyone has left for the day. It is TGIF, you know," Linda happily commented as she started to walk. Linda continued in that nature until she opened a door and showed a rather large office to Birkoff.

"This will be your office, Seymour. We just bought the computer. We hope it is good enough," Linda said as Birkoff walked into the office. Nikita broke a smile as Birkoff ran his hands up and down the computer. He was impressed with the attempts that rest of the world had on the technology. He would have some pleasure working on simple systems for a change.

"Oh Seymour, that looks great," Nikita smiled as she looked at the boy caress the computer screen. She turned and looked to Linda with a slight smile. "Sometimes he touches the computer better than he does me."

"How can that be true? All he did in the interview was speak about how you wanted to settle down into a house. I take it that you are anxious to start a family," Linda spoke and Nikita immediately started to shake her head back and forth as she lifted her hand to her neck.

"Oh no, that can't be further the truth. We have barely been married for two years... and Seymour wants to have everything perfect... like have the college funds created before we even have a child," Nikita commented with a playful laugh lifting in the air. Linda smiled and Nikita and nodded her head. She looked to Birkoff, where Nikita was heading.

"You like my office, Nikita?" Birkoff questioned and Nikita looked at Birkoff and nodded her head. Slowly she stroked her fingers across his forehead and quite surprisingly, placed her tall frame into Birkoff's lap.

"Seymour... I love it when you are happy," Nikita stated, as she looked just a fraction away from his eyes. She leaned up and closed her eyes as she pressed the kiss to Birkoff's lips. She felt Birkoff hold her, not pressing the issue. She was gratefully thankful for Birkoff's careful work on the situation. He could have made it into something much more than Nikita was willing to do.

A happy sigh from Linda caused Nikita to pull away and dropped her head slightly, still perched on Birkoff's lap.

"You two are such a lovely couple... and so happy," Linda sighed out and Nikita smiled and looked to Birkoff. Again, Nikita took the liberty to place a peck on Birkoff's lips, not lingering at all. She leaned her head down onto Birkoff's shoulder and sighed.

"He takes great care of me," Nikita admitted and Linda sighed.

"He must if you don't have to work and you have no plans on children yet!" Linda exclaimed and Birkoff rolled his eyes.

"She works too often. The reason why she is home is that she works via internet... and she has been working double hard on some freelance writing," Birkoff supplied the carefully scripted information. Linda opened her mouth as Nikita turned on Birkoff's lap and placed a hand to his chest.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone, honey," Nikita whined and Birkoff placed a kiss on Nikita's forehead.

"I like to brag about you... but those travel articles take you away from me too often," Birkoff spoke and Nikita dropped her head, acting shy. Birkoff pushed the hair away from her face and kissed her cheek softly.

"But you always like my homecomings," Nikita playfully and seductively winked at Birkoff. Linda nervously laughed as she stepped back. She had a feeling that Nikita had to be a handful, but Birkoff must provide some sort of entertainment for her too.

"Ok... I think I have heard enough to discuss rule number one... No sex in the office during business hours!" Linda joked and Nikita laughed and promptly got off of Birkoff's lap. Nikita looked to her watch and grinned at Birkoff.

"We could come back in a few hours and christen the office, honey?" Nikita questioned and Birkoff growled as he stood up and twirled Nikita around until he hugged her tightly.

"But we have the whole house first..." Birkoff whispered as he dropped his mouth near Nikita's. Nikita nodded her head and opened for Birkoff's kiss. She closed her eyes and waited for it to end, but never, did Linda know that was the real dynamic occurring between the two.

"I don't mean to pry... but you haven't been to your house yet?" Linda questioned, blushing with the topic of the conversation between husband and wife. Nikita smiled as she looked to Linda.

"Seymour is just so into his work, he couldn't wait to see the office," Nikita stated with an air of pride on her voice. Linda smiled and moved out into the hallway and into another room. She pulled out a card and wrote something down on it before handing it to Birkoff.

"Here is my private number at home. If you need something over the weekend, or have questions about the town, call me anytime," Linda offered. Birkoff nodded his head and shook Linda's hand. Nikita moved to do the same, but Linda quickly grabbed Nikita into a hug. "I have a feeling we are going to be good friends."

~~

Nikita looked at the computer that she slowly linked into Section One's mainframe. Her work for the twelve months to come was going to be filled with completing numerous mission profiles and troubleshooting missions that seemed to be impossible. It wasn't busy work. Nikita knew that she would be watched often and if needed, brought back in to complete a mission. She also knew that under no circumstance would she be able to write herself into a mission.

She pushed at her hair as Birkoff knocked at her bedroom door. Nikita's bedroom was in was the guestroom on the bottom floor. Nikita was inclined to the brightness of the room, instead of the heavy décor that Birkoff had in the master bedroom. Of course Birkoff complained, saying that he deserved the littler room, but Nikita wouldn't hear it.

"I wanted to thank you Nikita for cooking dinner. Quite frankly, I didn't know you knew how to cook," Birkoff nervously stated. Their talk through dinner wasn't much. Nikita often stared at the wall, picking at the delicious meal that she had prepared. Birkoff hoped that it wasn't a start of a trend. He hated silent dinners, they reminded him of his entire life. He had a chance to make a year of his life almost normal; he wanted to create something good out of this opportunity.

"A good wife has to know how to cook," Nikita stated clearly, but her eyes stared at the screen, as if her mind was focused on something totally different. Birkoff knew that no matter what Section One work was on that computer in front of her, she sure wasn't thinking about it. There was only one thing that Nikita was thinking about right now. Michael.

"So you knew how to cook before Section One?" Birkoff questioned as he looked at the wooden chair that was placed near the door. Bit by bit Birkoff lowered his body there, making sure that Nikita wasn't going to kick him out of the room. He watched her eyes flicker back and forth, and blinking.

"No. I don't have that many practical skills, Birkoff. So don't expect shining wood floors in the kitchen, Birkoff," Nikita stated and Birkoff nodded his head. He was amazed at the talent that Nikita had. She had called him honey and Seymour while with Linda, but in this house, he was Birkoff.

"Our kitchen isn't wood," Birkoff stated, hoping to light up Nikita's spirits. Yes, he still had wild and crazy dreams about Nikita. He still dreamed that one day he would be the one that Nikita chose over Michael, but that didn't matter. Birkoff was afraid that during the next year that he might lose a good friend. He didn't want that to happen either.

"Honestly, Birkoff... Michael just taught me how to go to the store and fake my way through dinners. I just heated it up and boiled some water," Nikita admitted as she looked at him. Birkoff nodded his head and lifted his hand.

"I got something for you," Birkoff said and disappeared. Nikita blinked her eyes. Here she was telling Birkoff something that she was extremely embarrassed about and he hurried out of the room. Nikita turned back to the computer and saw the vast list of profiles that Madeline stated needed to be done in three days. Nikita guessed that she wasn't going to sleep much during the next 72 hours.

Birkoff entered with two boxes no bigger than a shoebox. Nikita raised her eyebrows as she took the first one that Birkoff pushed towards her.

"It's not my birthday, Birkoff," Nikita stated out and Birkoff shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"It's our housewarming gifts," Birkoff affirmed as the explanation for the gifts. Nikita was never one to turn gifts away. She had many fond memories of getting a small and cheap doll from Santa Claus at the shelters at Christmas. She would try to keep track of it, but of course, she would lose the doll in one car or another during those very cold months of winter.

Nikita pulled the journal out and the pens. She looked at Birkoff and smirked. He was really trying to make Nikita see the best out of the situation. Birkoff scuffed his shoe against the carpet in Nikita's floor as she smiled.

"It's so you can write all that you are feeling... And Section will never know," Birkoff stated as he handed Nikita the next box to Nikita. She slowly shifted the journal down onto the desk, sure that she had plenty to write about in it, mainly the ache from being away from Michael for the first time in days. It was only the first twenty-four hours of a long year.

The next gift was the most important one. Nikita looked at it and then looked at Birkoff as he stepped closer.

"I designed it myself. It is a communications device that you write on with a pen. It looks like an electrical notepad, while actually, it sends those words to the person who has the other device," Birkoff explained as he pushed the button and showed it to Nikita. Nikita looked at Birkoff and swallowed. She knew who had the other one and knew how incredible the gesture was.

"I gave Michael the other one... but he is on a mission until tomorrow... Section One doesn't know about these, Nikita. You and Michael will be able to communicate frequently and I hope it helps," Birkoff stated and Nikita wiped at her tears in her eyes. She did not expect this from Birkoff. This was a kindness that she didn't think would happen. She thought she had scared Birkoff away from her earlier behavior in reaction to the mission.

Birkoff jumped as Nikita stood up and hugged Birkoff. She lowered her head down to Birkoff's shoulder and sighed softly.

"We are going to make it through this mission... as long as we stay friends," Nikita whispered, but Birkoff wasn't sure if Nikita was trying to convince him of that statement or herself.

*

The bottles of diet pop were growing next to Nikita's desk in her room. She dragged herself out of the room long enough to make Birkoff dinner and to grab whatever liquid supplies that she may need for several hours. The glaring screen made her eyes hurt and the tension filled her body.

She now learned to regret hurting Davenport. She could really use him in some of the profiles that she was writing. Technically, he could still go out, but Nikita thought a lot about that decision. She had never seen an operative with a jaw wired shut run three miles in and three miles out of a target.

Nikita's hands shook when she typed Michael's name in some of the profiles. Nikita knew that the operatives would change here and there and that some of the mission would never occur, but she was always scared. She would never approve a mission with a risk that mounted above 25%. It was something that she did not want to do to anyone.

She wouldn't be able to live with herself.

Birkoff, although he had a blast on his first day of work, looked at the blaring light from Nikita's room. Her deadline was soon and he was worried. They were supposed to be acting as husband and wife, and other than eating dinner, Birkoff hadn't seen Nikita.

He didn't even think that Nikita had slept at all.

"Nikita?" Birkoff questioned as he pushed the door open and stepped onto the threshold of her room. Nikita turned her head and showed her disheveled state. It was more apparent as she state there, hunched into the computer, her fingers callously stabbing away at the keys. Her hair hadn't been washed since the day they arrived and she had deep circles underneath her eyes.

"Why don't you take a break?" Birkoff questioned and Nikita shook her head back and forth. Birkoff walked into the room, kicking one of the stray pop bottles along the way. He looked to Nikita and saw the communications device sitting on her desk. It was there, ready for her to use, but Madeline had kept her so busy.

"Have you talked to Michael?" Birkoff questioned as his hand touched the device. Nikita rolled her eyes away from Birkoff, hiding the tears. Birkoff looked to the computer screen, seeing the stellar job that Nikita was doing on the profiles. He touched her shoulder and felt the tense muscles there.

"I just don't have the time, Birkoff... There are ten profiles due by tomorrow at noon..." Nikita voiced as she swiped a few stray hairs away from her face. She sighed and looked at the device. It was clear that all Nikita wanted to do was run into the other room and write to Michael and see him respond.

"You know, I didn't work all weekend... except go get the new curtains... Why don't I work on these for a few hours? I have written profiles before," Birkoff offered. He blinked his eyes as he was sure that Nikita was going to say no and that he would have to urge her strongly, before giving up. Yet, something was different in Nikita's eyes.

"You would do that for me?" Nikita questioned and Birkoff nodded his head and looked at the pop around the computer. He would have to get something real to drink, like milk, and some cookies, but he was used to sitting in front of a computer for hours at a time, doing nothing but punching numbers.

"Yeah... and Madeline won't know," Birkoff stated as he picked up the device and reached it out towards Nikita. Birkoff smiled as Nikita wrapped her hands around the object and stood up. She leaned over and hugged Birkoff strongly.

"Thank you, Birkoff," Nikita stated and he nodded his head and then shrugged his shoulders. "It's nothing, big, Nikita.... And get some rest too!"

~~ It took some time for Nikita to turn on the button. She was afraid that Michael wouldn't be there. She wasn't sure if this would even work. In ways she was so desperate to do anything that would make her closer to Michael, but she was also afraid that this kind of communication would only make her need for Michael too great.

"Are you there, Michael?" Nikita carefully printed on the computer screen. She watched the words vanished and the screen blink. She paced back and forth in the living room, unlike what Birkoff had hoped for. The young man understood that need for Nikita to sleep and knew that it would only happen if she had contact with Michael.

Yes, Nikita. I have been waiting.

Nikita dropped her head with a smile spreading from check to check. She had only seen Michael's writing a few times before, but it was permanently burned into her mind's eye. Her heart thumped with completeness as she saw his handwriting.

"Madeline has me working really hard," Nikita wrote back as she took a pillow and pushed it to the arm of the couch. She sunk to the squashy cushions of the couch, curling her legs underneath her body, waiting for a message back to her.

Expected that. How are you feeling?

Nikita smiled as she turned the light off in the living room. The device gave off enough light so she could snuggle down and image that Michael was right there. Although all she saw was words, she could almost hear Michael's voice saying these exact words.

"I miss you. I'm really tired. Sore. And I have a headache," Nikita wrote and swallowed. It sounded like she was complaining. In ways she was, but she did not want Michael to worry about her. Not on just the third day of the mission.

I miss you too. You should take a bath and go to bed. You punished your body badly. It is still healing. You know that.

Nikita smiled at the words. It was typical Michael. He didn't want to talk about what was going on with him and he didn't ask any more questions. He wanted to give Nikita the best advice for what would do her best. If he were standing there in the room with Nikita, he would have picked her up in his arms and carried her off to the bathroom, knowing how stubborn Nikita was.

"You write more than you talk, Michael," Nikita wrote the joke. She knew that she had to continue to hold onto that sense of humor; it was a saving grace for her psyche and heart.

Ha, ha!

Nikita leaned back on the couch and stared at those words. They were in Michael's handwriting, but it sure didn't feel like him. He was trying as hard to make this work as Nikita was. The pillow molded around Nikita's body as she positioned herself in a reclining position. Had the communications device not worked, Nikita could have fallen asleep in a few seconds.

"Is that a sense of humor, Michael? I thought I was the funny one," Nikita wrote with a slight smile on her face. It was difficult to find something right to write. Nikita had always found direction in her conversations with Michael from looking at his stormy eyes. The color or the clarity that they looked at her from was the best indicator of what they should be talking about. She didn't want to gush right now how badly she did feel. She didn't want to tell Michael how much her heart wished that he were here instead of Birkoff. There was no gauge for Nikita to know what to write.

You are the real funny one. Just trying to think positive.

"If I think positive, I'm hoping for an additional mission to bring me back to you. What if I do get on a mission and you aren't on it? What if I get back and I don't see you?" Nikita wrote as the angry tears flooded her face. She tossed her head off to the side, angry with herself for allowing the emotions to bubble out and be expressed in her words.

Then we will have to wait until the next mission. We will see each other.

Nikita traced her fingers over the words. Michael was never one to take the positive approach to things. She had always been the optimist in the relationship while Michael claimed to be the realist, but Nikita knew he was a pessimist. Nikita swallowed and knew that she was not doing herself or Michael any good with this topic.

"How is Davenport?" Nikita wrote and twirled the pen in her fingertips. This was a question she was worried to ask, knowing what she did was wrong. Davenport had asked for it, but he didn't ask to be injured to the extent that Nikita had caused.

Pouting that a girl beat him up. He claims he had the flu.

Nikita laughed and shook her head. It was a typical reaction for any of the men that she sparred with. They were all big babies when they lost. There were just so many things they could take. A girl beating them was not one of those things.

"Tell him I'm sorry," Nikita wrote as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked at the screen, not noticing how much lighter her heart had gotten, but it had. All the tension that had been in Nikita's back and shoulders was vanishing.

Birkoff walked to the kitchen, searching for the cookies that he needed. He looked to the darkened living room. He had heard Nikita giggling and wondered when Michael got a sense of humor. Birkoff was not going to complain. There were two kinds of Nikita that this mission could give him. One that was miserable. That was the first three days. It was hell. Then there was a partially satisfied Nikita. That was the Nikita in the living room and the one that Birkoff could live with.

He blames me. You can say that I might have complicated the issue.

Nikita shook her head. Even with a wired jaw, Davenport must have not been able to stop talking. There were only so many things that Michael would take and if Davenport was talking about her, Nikita could see this happening. However, Nikita did not want to talk all night about Davenport. Although she was interested in the entire story of what Michael did to Davenport, she was sure that sooner or later, Birkoff would find a way to get in touch with Walter and find out.

"I wish it was you here. It's a great house, Michael," Nikita wrote as she allowed the tears out of her eyes. It was the first time that she actually formed that thought out. It was floating in her mind, floating in that dream that ached to be dreamt. The house was quaint and charming, perfect for a couple just starting out. The fun that Nikita could have had in this house with Michael was numerous.

I love you, Nikita. Mission loading. I miss you. Bye.

"Be careful. I love you, too," Nikita wrote and sent. She looked at the screen, knowing that Michael got it, but getting nothing back in return. Nikita dropped the device to her lap and allowed the tears to glide out of her eyes once again. For a few moments, she felt so good, being able to have some contact with Michael.

But it was not nearly enough. She wanted so much more. She needed so much more.

Nikita curled up with the pillow and swallowed, trying to stop the tears. She was so tired. There were profiles that needed to get done. Madeline was going to have Nikita's head if they weren't finished and completed correctly.

But her blue eyes were so tired and so heavy. Nothing could have stopped the lids from dropping in that moment, still as the tears skimmed past her long eyelashes and onto her cheeks. The tension that had waned with the communication with Michael continued to leave as the need for sleep took over her large frame.

Birkoff poked his head out once more; glad to see the sleep that Nikita had fallen into. He sighed and turned back towards the computer. He would allow her to have a few hours.

*

Birkoff shrugged off his business coat as he moved out of the car. It had been a relatively great week for Birkoff, in his mind. Of course, that was at work. He didn't think about life with Nikita in that way. Slowly, he had watched the work from Madeline increase to the point where Birkoff took matters into his own hands. He called Madeline and told Madeline to back off.

With a slight toss of the jacket over his shoulder, Birkoff wondered what Nikita had done today. She only had a few profiles to finish and had the weekend free. Of course, they would have to go out tomorrow and pretend to be husband and wife, but Birkoff was sure that Nikita would be pleased to get out of the house.

Birkoff opened the door to the house and stopped in his tracks. The smell of the food made his mouth immediately water, and Birkoff tossed his coat off to the side, finding the entire house cool and refreshing.

"Nikita?" Birkoff called out as he moved towards the dinning room. Nikita stuck her head out and smiled at Birkoff. Her hair was carefully pulled up into a ponytail and she looked like she finally got some well-deserved sleep.

"Dinner is ready. Sit down, Birkoff," Nikita stated as she retreated back into the kitchen. Everything that Nikita had done thus far surprised Birkoff. She had been going out of her way to make this mission work and to make the best out of the bad situation. It was probably with the ability to communicate with Michael that helped her some, but she was amazing.

"I hope you like Italian," Nikita continued as she walked back into the dinning room with two heaping plates of food. The plates were placed on the table and before Birkoff could tell Nikita how wonderful everything looked and smelt, she was gone again, back into the kitchen. It was charming in a way, she was acting just like a wife would, but it bothered Birkoff, knowing that it was just all an act.

"I couldn't find the liquor store today... So we are just going to have to do with the Sparkling Apple Cider," Nikita said as she showed the bottle to Birkoff. She wiped her hands on a towel that was hooked to the apron that she wore, before pulling the cap off of the cider.

"The cider is fine... And everything looks great," Birkoff stated and Nikita lightly smiled as her cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

"Well it should. It cost a small fortune from De Dante's," Nikita admitted as she sat down and poured the cider into Birkoff's glass. She was about to hand it to Birkoff and stopped. "Maybe it is good I didn't get to the liquor store. I have no idea how old you really are."

Now it was Birkoff's chance to blush. He pulled the glass out of Nikita's hand and sipped it lightly before placing it on the table. No one in Section One but Madeline and Operations probably knew this answer. Although Walter of late had been taking the boy out for beers, Birkoff was sure that even Walter didn't know the answer to this question. His ID for this mission said that he was twenty-four.

"I'm twenty-six, Nikita," Birkoff stated and he watched as Nikita backed up, shaking her head in disbelief. She whispered and dropped her head. It was interesting watching Nikita as she nervously pushed at her hair, although none was hanging in her face, and then pick up a fork.

"Sorry. I thought you were younger," Nikita whispered and Birkoff nodded his head and sighed. This kind of reaction was something he was so used to getting. Often he would never even tell the truth. Most people just never believed it.

"This is really good...." Birkoff stated after he took several bites. He looked to Nikita as she pushed her food around. This was another behavior that Birkoff noticed. Nikita would fill up her plates with a ton of food and then push it around, taking baby bites of the food. It was quite disconcerting. Birkoff didn't know why Nikita did such a behavior. It was hard to judge if it was something that she always done or something that she did now as her mind drifted off to Michael. "Are you always this hungry?"

"Sorry... I just... My eyes are bigger than my stomach," Nikita responded as she placed her fork down and folded her hands in front of her plate. Birkoff stared at her food and then her mouth. He knew that she had not taken a bite yet. Now the problem was did Birkoff make an issue of it, or did he allow it to go.

"I'm worried about you, Nikita. I don't think I ever see you eat," Birkoff stated as he settled his own fork down and stared at the full plate and then up to Nikita's eyes. She was blinking back tears and Birkoff's heart twisted. Never was it his attention to bring on an emotional reaction from Nikita.

"I'll eat," Nikita softly whispered as she picked up the fork and dug into the food. There were tears on her face as she took the first bite. It was so sad to see that Nikita was literally forcing the food into her body. Birkoff reached out for her free hand and squeezed it.

"Don't force yourself, Nikita," Birkoff stated and she nodded her head. But she did continue to eat and slowly, Birkoff resumed eating also. Every once in a while he would look up at Nikita as she carefully chewed her food. It wasn't another behavior that Birkoff understood. Birkoff had had a lot of friends inside of Section One that had lived on the streets like Nikita. They would shovel their food in like they were never going to get more again, even though Section One always kept food on hand for operatives. It was as if Nikita was savoring the taste and Birkoff dropped his head, continuing to eat in silence.

"This was supposed to be a celebration for getting my work done. I wanted it to be a good dinner, Birkoff. I wanted to make something good happen this week," Nikita stated as she stood up and walked back to the kitchen. Her frame had been slumped and Birkoff opened his mouth, but had no words that would work in the situation.

"Well, at least desert is ready!" Nikita smiled as she walked in with the two plates with the gourmet chocolate cake displayed. Nikita licked her lips and placed it in front of Birkoff. It was like a turn around and Birkoff realized that Nikita was doing her best of trying to salvage the evening that she had planned.

She was a great friend and Birkoff resolved himself not to make this year more difficult than it already was determined to be. Birkoff smiled as he dove into the chocolate, noting how easily Nikita attacked the chocolate also.

"You don't like Italian food do you?" Birkoff questioned after he licked his chocolate iced lips off. Nikita nodded her head as she continued to chew on the chocolate cake. It explained everything, why Nikita was not eating that much and slowly ate her food. It also told a story of how much she was trying to make this work, even if she didn't have the practical skills to be a wife.

~~

"Linda wants us to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow with her husband Keith," Birkoff stated as he brought in a cup of tea for Nikita. Nikita settled over on the other side of the couch and willingly took the tea. It was graceful move as Nikita caressed the cup and then slowly took a sip.

"That is expected," Nikita uttered as she placed the cup down on the coffee table and looked to Birkoff, as he sipped his hot chocolate.

"I was going to suggest Italian food... but, how about Mexican?" Birkoff questioned and Nikita lightly giggled. This was something that they really should have gone over before the mission. It was clear that even though they had been friends for some time, and that Birkoff had spent a great deal of time learning Nikita's little tendencies, they had a lot to learn.

"Thanks," Nikita stated as she pulled the pillow she was leaning on and hugged it to her body. The entire length of her body was so relaxed into comparison to what she had been all week. To think that they got through their first week, sounded like something monumental, but it only meant that there was possibly 51 weeks left.

They were going to be spending the holidays with each other and not people that they chose to be with. There could not be any secret Santa Claus gifts from Michael and Birkoff couldn't get on the phone and wish Walter a Merry Christmas. All of those events happened in four months, although the weather was hot where they were.

"I was thinking... since we are on a mission for the holidays, that we might try something," Birkoff stated and Nikita narrowed her eyes. She didn't like to think beyond the day that she was currently on. There had been times in her past, even her recent past, that thinking about the future made everything evil in her life. The future was always difficult. Not like the present day wasn't difficult either.

"What?" Nikita questioned, trying to sound interested in Birkoff's statement. Nikita heard the word holiday and conjured up images of buying Birkoff Christmas gifts. It was nothing that Nikita wanted to do.

"Well... if I can get some time away from work... I can take you up to a cabin. Once there, you can see Michael. We'd be out of sight and out of mind," Birkoff offered and Nikita smiled. He was a sweet man.

"Madeline would never go for it, Birkoff. It goes against of the people we are playing. We desperately wanted a home. We wouldn't be leaving our home for a first Christmas in one place," Nikita revealed and Birkoff dropped his head. It was something he had hoped would work.

Birkoff couldn't image Nikita not seeing Michael for a whole year, and missing the holidays. He didn't think she was doing well now; he didn't want to think about what Nikita would be like during the holidays.

"Is Michael on a mission?" Birkoff questioned, noting that Nikita hadn't carried the communications device with her. There was a slight nod of her head, indicating how sad she truly was not to have that ability to write to Michael. It broke Birkoff's heart to see how much Section One was hurting Nikita right now. Sometimes they just picked on the wrong people and Birkoff definitely had always put Nikita and Michael into that category.

"You really love him, don't you?" Birkoff questioned with a slight whisper. He slowly drew his feet up onto the couch, much like Nikita. Nikita turned her head to the side, and Birkoff knew that she did not want him to see the tears that had instantly placed on her eyes when he asked his question. It wasn't meant to pry. Birkoff wanted to know Nikita. He wanted to make sure he knew Nikita well enough to avoid things like what happened during dinner.

In short, he wanted to know everything about the woman he was about to call his best friend, excluding Walter.

"Being with Michael is unlike anything I ever knew..." Nikita admitted as she continued to stare at the wall, but knowing that Birkoff was listening. It almost felt all right for her to admit these things to Birkoff. One some level, Birkoff was like Nikita a lot.

"I don't want those details.." Birkoff nervously giggled as he adjusted his weight on the couch. He had monitored a lot of Michael's missions through the years and a lot of missions that Michael and Nikita had done together. He did not need those details.

"I didn't mean the sex, Birkoff... It's something very different," Nikita said as she snagged Birkoff's arm and squeezed it. He had started the flooding of her emotions and for the first time, there were words that Nikita thought that could describe what she was feeling. She felt free to say what she wanted about Michael and know that she would be understood. It was a freedom that Nikita never felt would come in her lifetime.

"You know my childhood, Birkoff... You know when I was on the streets and inside of Section... I never felt like someone," Nikita admitted in a voice that was tinged with all the emotions that were now in Nikita's eyes and tears. Birkoff opened his mouth to reply, but only got Nikita pressing her palm over his lips. She was afraid that she would lose the words that they would flutter away if she allowed Birkoff to interrupt her flow of consciousness.

"Something happened to me during my life... that made me feel that I never deserved anything. It was abuse and being alone. Making friends helped, but Michael... he put something inside of me that to this day I cannot describe," Nikita stated as the tears rolled out of her eyes like the dam had finally burst. Birkoff reached out and wiped at the tears.

"He gave you love, Nikita... He gave you more than anyone in your life, right?" Birkoff pointed out. He did not need to ask. Nikita's head nodded to the statement that they both knew to be true to the core.

It was depressing to think of the kind of great woman Nikita could have been if she had been given that love as a child, or even as that teenager on the street. All the things that Section One now use for their benefit, could have made Nikita the life that she couldn't dream of back then and never allowed herself to think about.

Yet, as Birkoff stared at her, Nikita never thought in that way. She didn't play the what if game with her childhood and her teenage years. All of those games ended when Michael become someone in her life that mattered. He was the first person that ever gave Nikita some heed or attention. That didn't mean that Nikita loved him from the beginning and it didn't mean that Michael loved her from the beginning. But instead, it simply made Nikita someone. A someone that could love. A someone who could make friends. A someone who could make decisions and give trust too.

"I am able to love Michael because he gave me something so precious that he doesn't even realize he gave it too me," Nikita stated and declared as she wiped her own tears away. Birkoff dropped his head and sighed. She was a very lucky woman and now, more than ever, Birkoff understood why he would never have Nikita.

"Have you ever been in love Birkoff?" Nikita questioned as she shifted on the couch and finally took another sip of her cooling tea. It was a deeply personal question, but Nikita had responded to Birkoff's question. Maybe he had a lot of the pieces filled in and knew the answer, but for Nikita, this was about learning who Birkoff was.

"Like you love Michael? No," Birkoff stated and Nikita rolled her head to the side to observe Birkoff as he shifted his weight on the couch, as he was almost tempted to get off of the couch and walk around. Nikita settled her teacup down on the coffee table once more and rubbed her bare arms.

"I mean love, Birkoff. I think you have," Nikita confirmed as she stated what she observed. It was easy to see that there was something there that Birkoff did not want to admit. For a while, Nikita was afraid that she had hit the wrong subject in the head, worrying that Birkoff was going to still say that he loved her in that way. She waited and saw Birkoff settle down.

"I thought I was in love..." Birkoff finally drifted out and Nikita nodded her head. It was a brave step for a man that was just starting to really live those parts of life that were given to him. Nikita didn't know a lot about Birkoff. She knew of his obsession for the Oreo cookies and chocolate, but nothing about his past. Of course the two friends had joked a lot about how he got inside of Section One, but Nikita didn't know that truth. She wasn't seeking that information. It didn't matter. They all were inside of Section One now no matter how they got there or how they didn't get there. This was the reality of their shared lives now and what mattered were the other things.

"Gail?" Nikita questioned as she thought of the redhead. Birkoff dropped his head and instantly, Nikita reached for him. There was no way that Birkoff could deny Nikita's spoken words. His reaction was the truth.

"I thought she was going to be the one, Nikita. She gave me a lot... and I found out that she just wasn't that person," Birkoff sadly spoke and Nikita nodded her head. She understood that feeling too. It all too often came up in her years of struggle to get the tender relationship with Michael. She had been willing to fight and so had Michael. For Birkoff not to fight, it was not the true love of his life. Yet, Nikita would never speak those words.

"You'll find her, Birkoff. You are a sweet man," Nikita comforted Birkoff as she shifted on the couch and hugged him to her body. Birkoff relaxed at Nikita's touch, finding solace there that his heart had never found. It had found a way to cry him to sleep at night, but never found peace.

This was almost peace.

"I don't know why I still feel this way for her. I mean, she cheated on me, in front of me!" Birkoff exclaimed and Nikita just nodded her head. The anger that had always been inside of Birkoff had finally been given a forum for him to express it. It was difficult to believe that he had been living with all of this inside of him. It was something that Birkoff lacked. Nikita would go to the gym and pound some operatives. Birkoff didn't have that kind of relief.

"It doesn't matter to the heart, Birkoff. But I know you... You are going to charm some girl one day, and you will even forget the name of Gail," Nikita whispered out, wishing for the best. Birkoff settled and touched Nikita's knee softly.

"You are pretty great, Nikita," Birkoff commented and Nikita giggled. She looked down and rubbed her hands through the short hair.

"You aren't bad yourself, Seymour," Nikita stated and Birkoff giggled also.

"We might just make it through this mission," Birkoff wryly stated and Nikita rolled her eyes and leaned her head back. It took her a while until she nodded her head in agreement.

"We'll go through it together," Nikita affirmed and they both smiled and knocked their heads together.

*

"Nikita... I would like you to meet my other bosses... This is Steve Dash and Dave Ford," Birkoff introduced Nikita as they made their way to the table. Nikita blushed as she looked at the men. They both had wives there, and Linda was sitting at the table with a man that had to be her husband Keith.

"Seymour... I thought you said we were meeting just Linda," Nikita stated as she looked to Birkoff and placed her hands around his neck. Birkoff smiled and kissed Nikita's lips carefully.

"I know how you don't like to meet new people, darling," Birkoff responded as he pulled Nikita's chair out and helped her down. Nikita smoothed her floor length black skirt to her legs before sitting down.

"Well, I have learned to expect the unexpected with you, hon," Nikita responded back with a huge smile. Birkoff knew that this meant trouble when this night was over. He didn't know how many times Madeline had tried to drill it into his head not to surprise Nikita. Now he was going to learn the consequences.

"Nikita... Let me introduce you to everyone else," Linda stated as she reached across the table and touched Nikita's hand. It was clear that Nikita was flustered with the additional people and that she was uncomfortable of the situation. Nikita smiled at Linda as she turned towards the man that was sitting next to her.

"This is my husband Keith," Linda said and Nikita lifted her hand and shook his hand. It was quite clear that Birkoff had met all of these people before, something that she would have to talk to Birkoff about at home.

"You are as lovely as Seymour and Linda have told me," Keith stated as he shook Nikita's hand. She pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes at Birkoff.

"My picture isn't up in the office yet, hon?" Nikita questioned and Birkoff dropped his head. Nikita blinked her eyes and shook it sadly back and forth. "He always has this screensaver of me on his computer... This hurts me."

"I'll make sure he gets it up on that computer on Monday, Nikita," Steve Dash commented as he laughed heartily. Nikita maintained her smile as the entire table laugh. She sure did feel like she did not belong here, or that she was like some sort of trophy wife for Birkoff. Her stomach started to churn with the feeling and she rubbed her hand absently across her bare arm.

"Seymour, you have a screensaver of your wife? That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard of," Linda gushed as she elbowed Keith lightly. Her husband blushed and leaned over towards Birkoff.

"Hey, Seymour... Can you help me out here? I don't even know what button turns my computer on, let alone what a screensaver is!" Keith joked and Birkoff laughed loudly with Linda's husband. It was quite clear that Linda and Keith were very friendly. Their attitude was just better than rest of the table. They didn't look at Nikita as if she was under a microscope and Nikita was sure that given the right amount of time that she may learn to even tolerate Linda.

"Nikita... This is Tashia... She is Steve's wife..." Linda stated.

"I can't even see your roots. I need to find your stylist," Tashia quickly stated and Nikita blinked her eyes. She stopped herself from retorting Tashia and decided that it was best to ignore the woman.

"And at the end of the table is Nicole," Linda finished the introductions. Nikita politely shook her hand as Dave happily slung his arm around Nicole's body. Dave Ford, the partner of the advertising firm, already appeared to be quite sloshed to say the least. Nikita could smell the liquor coming off of his breath and she was sitting on the opposite end of the table.

"She is my wife... and the little mother," Dave stated and Nikita smiled nervously as she nodded her head up and down. She reached out for her water as Birkoff leaned his head down on Nikita's shoulder.

"She is five months pregnant," Birkoff whispered and Nikita smiled and turned towards Birkoff. She kissed him lightly and beamed around the table.

"Sometimes you say the sweetest things, hon," Nikita stated as she picked up the menu and started to look at the items. Birkoff had stated that he was going to get the restaurant changed, but that did not seem to happen. It went from just plain Italian to gourmet French. Nikita stared at the words as everyone chattered around her. Nikita's vision blurred with frustration, trying to remember her basic lessons and then finally, just giving up.

"What is it, Nikita?" Birkoff questioned as he noticed her eyes wandering around and her abrupt silence. One of the reasons why Nikita was often sought after by Madeline and Operations for this was because she was always brightness in a crowd, with a charm and charisma that no one could be taught. Often, inside of Section One, the belief that it was something else that Nikita offered that always made her perfect for these missions. Birkoff hated when the men tried to reduce Nikita down to anything more than a blond with long legs.

"I was hoping that you would just order for me," Nikita stated as she dropped her head close to Birkoff. He worried looked at Nikita but soon smiled. He, of course, had no idea what to order for Nikita. He had only seen her attack a salad in his life. It was like a test that Birkoff was sure that he was going to fail.

"I hope you don't mind about the changes, but they got this great dance floor here. And we can talk and get to each other. I am sure that Seymour Hayes is going to make a big name for himself with us," Steve stated in his loud voice. He slung back his drink as the waiter walked to the table and started to take the orders. Nikita could tell that this bunch liked to drink a bit too much.

"Nikita... what do you want to drink with this?" Birkoff questioned. Nikita turned her head, realizing that she had even lost her attention to notice what Birkoff had ordered for her. Nikita wondered if Birkoff caught on that she did not know how to speak French or read French yet.

"Just water," Nikita stated and the entire table gasped, except Nicole.

"Oh dear. They have great French wine. You should try some," Linda stated as she patted Nikita's hand happily. This was something that Nikita was starting to get annoyed with. It was nice to shake hands, but Linda was stepping over a line.

"I'm actually quite a health nut. And I am driving home tonight," Nikita stated and Birkoff nodded his head. Linda leaned forward, though, to stop the waiter.

"One little glass isn't going to make you tipsy or drunk, Nikita. Surely you want to have some. This is the only place on this side of the state that serves the best French wine," Linda stated as she forced her smile out. Nikita looked to Linda and then the waiter.

"Just water is fine," Nikita reaffirmed and the waiter nodded his head. Birkoff turned as he looked to the waiter and soon, everything was taken care of.

"Well... I say we dance before our dinner arrives..." Keith stated as he took Linda's hand. Soon the table was standing up and moving towards the dance floor. This was something that Nikita was not going to do, at least not now. She grabbed Birkoff's hand and he sat down next to her.

"Why didn't you tell me this, Seymour?" Nikita's anger bubbled in her voice. Birkoff swallowed and carefully looked to the dance floor. Nikita didn't have to be reminded that they were being watched, but she wanted an answer.

"You have been kind of preoccupied, Nikita," Birkoff stated and Nikita shook her head back and forth in disgust. She hated that Birkoff did this to her. She was the one in charge of the mission.

"You could have warned me, Birkoff. I wasn't prepared for this," Nikita hissed at him as she leaned back in her chair. Birkoff leaned to take her chin and Nikita stopped herself from pulling back too harshly. However, she did break the contact and looked away.

"Let's no fight here," Birkoff stated and Nikita nodded her head. Yet, she gave Birkoff one last strong stare. It was quite clear that if he tried to do this again to her, that Nikita would make it very hard for Birkoff to become a father.

"It's okay for a couple to fight, Seymour. It is natural. They need to see that we are human too," Nikita issued out the warning as she patted her hand against his cheek. Birkoff grabbed her hand and firmly stared at Nikita for a long time.

"I'm am also supposed to be the husband. The husband is in control," Birkoff stated and he watched as Nikita narrowed her eyes. She hated those words and Nikita monitored Birkoff swallow carefully. He knew the mistake of his words now and Nikita leaned head back and looked carefully to see that the couples glanced at them, but were not staring.

"I'll forget that you said that," Nikita stated as Nikita pulled her hand free. She placed her hands on the table and swallowed. She had a pounding headache and this change of plans were making Nikita feel like she was in hell again. Trying not to mess up her carefully styled hair, she pushed it out of her face and looked to Birkoff.

"I'm sorry," Birkoff whispered and Nikita shrugged her shoulders and blinked her eyes. There were still weeks and weeks of this ahead. No matter how much contact she had with Michael, this was torture. Nikita would rather be in the white room for the next year than this.

"What did you order?" Nikita questioned, and it suddenly came to Nikita that Birkoff didn't understand why she didn't order her own. It was with her question that he realized. He thought that it was Nikita's attempt to make it look like he knew her so well and that she trusted him. Worry consumed Birkoff at this point as his body trembled.

"It's a fish entrée," Birkoff stated and Nikita dropped her eyes.

"I hate fish," Nikita stated and Birkoff slumped into his chair.

"Well, they didn't have salad," Birkoff shot back and the two of them sat at the empty table, waiting for the rest to return and sit down for dinner.

~~

"Aren't they a happy couple?" Linda questioned as Nikita softly kissed Birkoff's cheek. Nikita, frankly, was getting sick of the constant studying of her relationship with Birkoff. To make everything look fine, Nikita choked down half of the fish dish before pushing the plate away from her, claiming that she was stuffed. Everyone stared at her like she had grown a second head at that part.

Birkoff even tried to feed Nikita. It would have been ok, if he weren't pushing the line with Nikita. She stubbornly said that she was full. Birkoff tried for a while and then shrugged his shoulders. And everyone at the table sighed with how sweet they were.

Nikita smiled back at the entire table, feeling the strain on her face. She wanted to rub her jaw from smiling so much. She dropped her hand underneath the tablecloth and rubbed Birkoff's thigh.

Nikita had startled him and he jumped up. His leg slammed into the table and everyone laughed. Again, they were the cute newlyweds. Nikita stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the comment.

"Darling... do you want to dance?" Nikita questioned as she placed her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. Birkoff nodded his head as he stood up in a similar fashion. Nikita took Birkoff's hand and moved towards the dance floor, glad and pleased to see that the others were probably going to critique how well they danced together.

"I thought you didn't want to dance," Birkoff whispered as they started to spin around with the soft music. Nikita moved in a way that she helped Birkoff direct herself off into a corner, further away from the prying eyes.

"We need to find a way to get out of here before the fish makes me sick," Nikita stated with a firm whisper. She smiled as she wrapped her hands around Birkoff's neck. For Birkoff, it was like riding a merry-go-round. Nikita's emotions were all over the place. One time being the acted emotions for those around them and the next second showing what she truly was feeling.

"I thought that the fish was quite good, Nikita," Birkoff stated as he stared into her eyes. Nikita looked away and it was clear that she felt that something was wrong. He moved slowly and sighed.

"We just got to get out of here," Nikita whispered and then rolled her eyes as Linda and Keith stepped out onto the dance floor with them. Now it was going to be difficult.

Dancing with Birkoff was nothing like dancing with Michael. Nikita wished that she didn't think that way, but her mind did it automatically. Birkoff's sense of rhythm was not that great, but it was like the other men on the dance floor. Michael had always matched Nikita's, nudging his hips near Nikita's and holding her tightly. Birkoff was tense. Michael was loose.

"Your wife is a very good dancer," Keith stated as he led Linda over to them. Nikita tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled at the couple.

"Seymour taught me everything that I know..." Nikita smiled as she looked at Birkoff and kissed him on the lips. Birkoff pulled away first and Nikita caught his head and pressed to his lips once more, nudging his lips open and then pulling away.

"She is also very beautiful. You are lucky, Seymour," Keith stated and Birkoff smiled as he felt Nikita's hands running down from his back and onto his buttocks. Birkoff abruptly smiled and spun Nikita quickly away from the couple.

"What are you doing?" Birkoff sizzled with anger and surprise. He pushed Nikita's hands away from him, but Nikita only moved forward. Nikita pressed her fingers against his lips and smiled.

"I am the one who knows what to do, Seymour. We are making our exit," Nikita stated as she placed her hands back where they were.

"HOW?" Birkoff choked out and Nikita giggled softly. She knew how uncomfortable Birkoff was right now. She was too. But it was the ticket out of a bad situation. There was no time to coordinate with Birkoff to make this work. If she had to seduce Birkoff and then knock him over the head with a gun to stop him, she would.

"We want them to tell us to go home," Nikita whispered as she leaned in and pulled at Birkoff's lower lip with her lips. Birkoff groaned and lurched forward in the dancing. Birkoff pulled his head back and looked at Nikita's blue eyes.

"This is messing with my mind, Nikita," Birkoff warned and Nikita nodded her head. She knew that and understood that. It was a risk that she was willing to take. She didn't want to do this and she wished that Birkoff would just pick up on her hints, but he was not a regular field operative.

Nikita moved her hands forward and listened to Birkoff groan. Inside, Nikita was crying for having to do this. She wanted to run far away and never show herself again. This was her friend and she was manhandling him because she didn't like fish.

"Nikita, what's going on here? This is more than leaving," Birkoff stated as he saw the anguish in Nikita's eyes. She stared at Birkoff and turned her head to the side. She was never one who wanted to admit that she didn't have the answers. There was only one person she had ever been that truthful too, and it sure wasn't Birkoff.

"Come on, baby... Let's dance," Nikita said as she suddenly moved again. Her mind shifted gears. Instead of needing to get home, Nikita needed to get Birkoff's attention off of her. Soon, Nikita swung their bodies with happy laughter coming from her throat; right into the middle of the people she didn't want to be near.

"Letting the little woman take the lead can be dangerous..." Dave commented as he tried to hold his hands around his wife's waist. Nikita stared at him and then turned around in a circle. Nikita had no stomach for anything right now and Birkoff put his foot down. He literally felt like a yo-yo, going back and forth, and never stopping. Just when Birkoff was sure that they were heading one way, he was yanked in another direction.

"Nikita, are you feeling all right?" Birkoff firmly said as he took his hand and placed it firmly on Nikita's shoulder. She did not turn to face him right away and when she did there was a slight smile on her face. He was sick of the act. Something was going on here and the level of anxiety was rising each second that Nikita did not speak about it.

"I'm just tired," Nikita finally whispered. Birkoff looked around and wrapped his arm around Nikita.

"Then we are going home," Birkoff announced loudly as he started to lead Nikita off of the dance floor. Nikita opened her mouth to protest, but Birkoff stared at her. She dutifully dropped her head and allowed Birkoff to carefully lead her out of the restaurant.

"Oh, to have such a sweet husband... Nikita doesn't know how lucky she is," Tashia sighed as she looked at Linda. Linda nodded her head.

Seymour Hayes was a great man.

*

"Seymour, it's been a long week. Why don't you go home?" Linda questioned as she walked into Birkoff's office. He lifted his head and sighed. In reality, he just didn't want to go home. Nikita had been on a tear of things of late. She would quiz him during dinner. Over and over again, she would try to see if Ryce Borjas was watching him yet. They both knew that it was impossible that he was, but Nikita wanted it to be.

Birkoff sighed heavily as he thought about going back to Nikita again. She had been miserable other than the times that she held that communications device in her hand. Birkoff even snuck a peak at Nikita's diary, and she wrote of how much she missed Michael and hated the mission.

"Something wrong, Seymour?" Linda questioned as she stepped into the room and closed the door. Birkoff rubbed his hands through his hair as Linda sat down. She knew a distressed man when she saw one.

"It's just been a moody week with Nikita," Birkoff explained and Linda nodded her head. She looked to the window and sighed.

"I was really surprised when she didn't visit you this week. Is something else wrong? I mean at dinner she didn't look too well," Linda commented and Birkoff swallowed. This wasn't very good if Linda was noticing these kinds of things.

"I think it is the weather. We have lived in cold and wet climates our entire life..." Birkoff tried to explain. Linda smiled and leaned back in the chair.

"Yeah... when I was an EMT, a lot of your northerns would all of a sudden have asthma attacks down here... I'm sure she is just working too hard," Linda tried to calm Birkoff. He sighed and looked to his computer.

"She is working too hard. I have to drag her off her computer. It used to be the other way around," Birkoff commented with a slight smile. He sure didn't want Linda worrying about Nikita and him over the weekend.

"Well, I was going to offer some extra tickets we have to the show that came in... But I think you just have to hold your wife all weekend," Linda stated and Birkoff smiled. Birkoff could qualify that statement. Michael needed to hold her all weekend.

"Thanks, Linda. I think I am going to try that," Birkoff stated and Linda smiled and stood up. She looked out the window and licked her lips.

"Maybe you don't want to leave..." Linda stated as she pointed out the window. There was Nikita with a soft white dress blowing in the warm breeze. She was carrying a picnic basket and a bottle of wine. Linda winked and walked out of the office.

"Hon, are you done?" Nikita questioned no more than two minutes later. Birkoff turned off the computer as Nikita entered the room and closed the door. She locked it and smiled at Birkoff.

"What is going on?" Birkoff questioned and Nikita smiled broadly.

"I've come to seduce you," Nikita rustled out as she pulled out the digital tape player and placed it on the desk. Instantly some soft music filled the room as Nikita moved to the window. Birkoff looked at her as she winked and closed the blinds, plunging them into near darkness.

"Nikita.. there are still people in the office," Birkoff's voice came out on the tape and Birkoff turned and stared at it. He looked at Nikita as she patted the floor and swallowed. Birkoff sat down as the dialogue continued. Nikita leaned in close and looked around.

"Madeline thought that since the comment was made about sex in the office... that it better happen. We both agreed that this was the best way," Nikita whispered as she pulled out a sandwich and gave it to Birkoff. He looked up, as there was a moan from the tape.

It was known that on Fridays, the office was very laid back. Most often Dave and Steve never made it in and most of the clients were never scheduled in. Of course, Nikita hacked her way into the main computers and checked the appointments and noticed that almost no one would be in on this day.

For three days she had worried about this, among other things. Nikita poured Birkoff something to drink and leaned back on her arms.

The tape was a very active forty-three minutes long.

~~

"I'll see you at home, hon..." Nikita whispered as she closed the door and pushed her hands through her now disheveled hair. She looked up and was face to face with Linda.

"Hello, Nikita. How are you?" Linda questioned with a knowing smile. Nikita dropped her head and twisted her hands.

"I was just checking in on my husband," Nikita stated and Linda nodded her head. She half smiled and shook her head.

"It's not a crime, Nikita. God knows Steve and Dave have made this place so loud sometimes... well... let's forget that..." Linda drifted off and Nikita nodded her head. She started to move and Linda stopped her. She looked at Nikita's arms and hoped her eyes wide.

"No carpet burns?" Linda questioned and Nikita shook her head. Nikita realized that she was going to say something about carpet burns to Birkoff. Nikita glanced around and leaned in closer to Linda.

"Silk sheets in the picnic basket," Nikita stated and skipped away. Linda stared at the young woman and then the office as Birkoff stepped out. He looked around and Linda smiled.

He was a man well satisfied.

~~

Birkoff walked out of his car, after enduring the last two hours of work of Linda giving him strange glances. Although Madeline thought that it was best if the office got a show, Birkoff hated the attention. The tape made Nikita appear so different than what she truly was, or at least what Birkoff had often had to hear from Michael and Nikita themselves.

He scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk. It was still a puzzle if what was bothering Nikita all week was this order from Madeline. On one hand, Birkoff hoped to god that it was. He just didn't want to deal with an upset Nikita all weekend. She was a difficult person to live with on the good days. Last weekend, after the fish had made Nikita positively sick, Birkoff had to clean. Literally. And cut the grass.

Yes, Birkoff couldn't help but remember that Nikita stated that this part of the mission had only been part of the problems that were on her mind. Riddles and secrets were not the way that Birkoff wanted this mission to go. Madeline wanted him to become very close friends.

As he opened the door, he noticed that the Section sent mail was still in the mailbox. That was the one thing that Nikita always did. Sometimes Birkoff was sure that Nikita obsessed with the mail, hoping that Michael got something through the Section One people who were watching the mail. Sometimes, Birkoff was sure that Nikita had nothing better to do than the mission profiles. She didn't watch TV.

Birkoff pulled the mail out and walked into the living room and looked around. There were no delivery bags in the dining room. There was no smell of a pizza that had just come in the back door. And it was so quiet.

"Nikita?" Birkoff questioned as he started to worry. One of the things that Operations had last said to the young man when he was leaving was that there was a possibility that other terrorist factions could find them. Nikita was the only one who had been given a gun. Birkoff leaned against the wall and started to move towards Nikita's bedroom.

"Nikita?" Birkoff whispered out again. His entire body was shaking as he saw that door to Nikita's room. Her light was on and Birkoff pushed the door open.

There was Nikita, leaned forward, her hands holding her face from hitting the keyboard of the computer. Birkoff looked around the room and then to Nikita. She didn't even seem to notice that he was there.

"Nikita?" Birkoff questioned, worried about whatever had made Nikita like this. Nikita lifted her head and stared at Birkoff before shaking herself out of the moment.

"Dinner..." Nikita stated as she stood up. Birkoff leaned forward and pressed Nikita back into the chair she was sitting in. She licked her lips and showed that she was not ready to face whatever was on her mind. Birkoff looked around, making sure once more that nothing was wrong in her room before stepping back.

"I'll get us something to eat... I'll be right back," Birkoff mustered out as he turned and moved out the room. Birkoff took that first half step forward and was frightened when Nikita didn't stop him.

Nikita looked at the screen and rolled her neck once more. It was the last profile that was due. It was the first one she looked at. The words glared at Nikita and she couldn't hit the send button. Her entire heart said that there was another way, but her heart knew that there wasn't.

"Oh Michael..." Nikita whispered as she looked at the screen. In reality, the past week, she had pretended to talk to Michael on the communications device. Nikita couldn't read any words that came from Michael when she saw the mission that she had to send Michael out on.

It wouldn't kill him. It wouldn't even hurt him. But Nikita couldn't press the send button as her heart cried out for her to find another way. It was a hard spot that Nikita figured that would come sooner or later. More than likely this was a test. Madeline could have profile this mission with her little pinky finger in two seconds. It was pretty clear and it had made Nikita pause on it all week.

With one click of the button and a gasp from her heart, Nikita sent the profile in. It was a clear profile for Michael to go and seduce another woman.

"Here you go. I figured that I could make a salad without hurting either one of us... And you don't put dressing on yours, right?" Birkoff questioned as he entered the room with the two bowls and forks. In one graceful move, Birkoff set the bowl in front of Nikita and settled down on the chair that he had the first day they moved into the house. He knew better than to sit on Nikita's bed, even if they were best friends.

"Thanks," Nikita whispered as she picked up the fork and speared the lettuce. She stared at the fork and then dropped it into the bowl. She leaned back in her chair and moaned in emotional pain. Birkoff studied her for some time before setting his own bowl down on the dresser.

"Nikita, what got you all upset?" Birkoff questioned as he moved his chair closer to Nikita. She looked to Birkoff and touched his knee affectionately. Nikita even attempted to smile.

"You are a good friend, Birkoff," Nikita stated, trying to take his mind off of her. To Nikita, she wasn't worth Birkoff's worry. He was being forced into a year of a mission that wasn't his idea either. Nikita was sure that several of Walter's inventions won't get completed because of Birkoff's absence, and that was the biggest shame of this entire mission.

"Yes, I am a good friend, a good enough friend to know that something is bothering you. Why do we continue to lie to each other?" Birkoff demanded as he took Nikita's shoulders into his hands. The gesture that broke his heart was when Nikita closed her eyes and turned her head away from Birkoff.

"Because most of the time I lie to myself. If I can't tell myself the truth, how can I tell you, Birkoff?" Nikita enunciated with unmistakable agony that Birkoff's eyes instantly filled with tears. All Birkoff had the ability to do at that moment was pat Nikita's shoulders.

Nikita had said the words that rung true for both of them. There were so many things that Birkoff could never tell Nikita, because he undeniably did not want to face the truth himself. It was a defense mechanism that could be practical but it was also a defense mechanism that was destructive to the core of the person. Human beings could only hide so much truth inside of themselves before it begins to eat a person alive. It was the most difficult experience for the operatives of Section One to deal with, and they all dealt with it to various degrees.

"Just tell me, Nikita. I don't like seeing you like this," Birkoff tried to urge Nikita. She stared at him and sobbed lightly as she dropped her head. Birkoff felt the tears hit his hand and he was taken back that Nikita was allowing him to see this. This was not the Nikita he had idolized and fantasized about. This was a Nikita that Section One had taken half of and kept inside of Section One.

"I can't, Birkoff..." Nikita whimpered as she looked away from Birkoff's young eyes. Her hair fell between her face and Birkoff's red-rimmed eyes. It was such a thin barrier but it was so huge.

"We have to tell each other the truth, Nikita. It is getting us into trouble. And we can help each other," Birkoff finally spoke as he heard Nikita take one last deep breath. She had pulled part of herself back together in order to turn and face Birkoff.

"What you are asking is a big thing, Birkoff," Nikita countered. Birkoff nodded his head as he pushed Nikita's hair back out of her face. She smiled and swallowed.

"I think we can do it," Birkoff stated and Nikita blinked her eyes in agreement.

"But yes or no questions only... When it is really bad," Nikita warned. Birkoff nodded his head. He could agree with Nikita's terms on this. He took Nikita's hands in his and realized that just with their talk, Nikita was changing in front his eyes.

"Mine is really stupid, Birkoff.... I had to send Michael on a Valentine mission..." Nikita stated and Birkoff opened his mouth to speak. Nikita pressed her hand onto his lips. She didn't need to hear Birkoff that there might have been a way or that it was awful. Nikita had said the words and although it didn't ease the pain in her heart for having to send in the profile, she could almost accept that she had done it.

Birkoff dropped his head and sighed in relief. He could deal with Nikita now. Birkoff understood what was going on in her mind and heart. The words identified something that Birkoff understood and could handle, unlike before when only fear consumed him.

"He is trying to contact you," Birkoff commented as he saw the communications device light up. With a soft scratch against the surface of the desk, Birkoff moved it towards Nikita.