A moment in time........
Christmas Eve, 1997

Peace on earth, goodwill toward men'

The ancient monastery in the French Alps had been abandoned for many years. Neglect was written on its face, the openings in its decayed roof allowed light from the winter moon to illuminate the two operatives sitting on the broken wall in what once had been the sacristy. Michael and Nikita sat there waiting for the silence of the night to be broken by the sound of the rotors on the helicopter dispatched by Section to transport them away from this once sacred ground.

He had been forced to abort the mission when it became obvious that the intel Section received on Red Cell's planned 'meet' to exchange information was false. This mission hadn't felt right to him from the beginning, the quiet had been too pervasive. However, Michael tried to force back his uneasiness and enjoy the few private moments they would have together; a few stolen moments before Section would intrude. Lord knows they needed this time. Three grueling missions in as many weeks had sapped their energy. Michael quietly watched Nikita thinking that since her return to Section she seemed more subdued, more accepting of her place in the organization that owned their lives. At one time he would have been pleased, but lately found himself questioning his motive in wanting her back, a thought he tried to quickly suppress for to go there was painful, even for someone with his rigid emotional control. He straightened his shoulders and shook off the feeling. Maybe he was more tired than he realized.

Nikita looked over at Michael and smiled wearily. Her decision to return to Section had come at a high price, one that demanded she face her feelings for Michael. He was not an easy man to love, but nonetheless she did. She moved closer to him, looked up into his intense green eyes and leaned into his strong body. "It's Christmas Eve, Michael," she sighed. "You know," she paused to wrap her arms around his waist as if his closeness would make it easier to remember, "when I was a little girl I believed there was something magical about this night, I would sit outside at midnight and it felt as if the whole world held its breath at once. It started when I was looking in the night sky for Santa Claus." Nikita laughed wryly at the memory of all the Christmas disappointments she had felt as a child. "I desperately wanted to believe that he would visit my house, but my mother told me he wouldn't come because I wasn't a good little girl."

Nikita felt Michael's arms tighten around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. He had always seemed sensitive to the pain she felt whenever she talked about her childhood. She sighed, leaned back, smiled sadly up at him and then rested her cheek against his chest. He was warm, even through his field jacket. His even breathing caused his chest muscles to move rhythmically against her cheek. She could feel his strong, steady heartbeat, smiling to herself as it quickened at her touch.

Enjoying the feel of his arms around her, she continued, "Then as I got older I kept looking, trying to always be outside at midnight every year, even though I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Magic? God? Peace? I don't know...... I just know that Christmas Eve has always felt different than any other night of the year." She hesitated and then said "Michael, does that make sense?"

"Nikita," Michael said slowly, his eyes lingering on her hair, his fingers stroking the long strands that had turned an ethereal silver in the moonlight, "I think at one time or another all children believe in the magic of Christmas. Those that hold onto some small scrap of their innocence will always keep looking. Do I think it makes sense? I don't know......" He paused, looking for the right words to say to her, words that wouldn't shatter this fragile truce between them. "There aren't always explanations for feelings, Nikita. What you felt was .... special, I can hear in your voice that it touched you. It doesn't have to make sense."

Michael felt a wave of sorrow and guilt wash over him for having done anything to dim the light of her innocence and realized at that moment how much he wanted to touch her, in atonement for the pain he had caused. Had he been truly honest with himself, he would have admitted that the need was his. He gently raised his hands to her face, his long fingers sliding into her hair and slowly moved her face from his shoulder, gazing with wonder into those liquid blue eyes, eyes that could warm his heart, long gone cold.

He knew, deep in the recesses of his tortured soul, that she was the only one who could ease his nightmares. Whether he would ever find the courage to allow her to do so was a battle his heart was continually waging. It had been slow and insidious, but the battle for his soul had been lost to Section long ago. Michael had faced his demons and had neither the strength nor the desire to take it back, or so he had thought. Maybe it was Nikita's fanciful Christmas Eve story, but he found himself wanting to believe that he was still capable of feeling. If only he could forgive himself for his past, for what he had become........

His face was only inches away from hers - he could hear her breath, feel the slight movement of it against the skin of his cheek. Slowly, he lowered his face to hers, gently touching her soft lips with his, then, in a sensuous gesture, ran his tongue along her lips, hesitating, as if asking her permission for more intimate contact.

Nikita moaned, and opened her mouth to feel the silky movement of his tongue against hers. His hands continued stroking through her hair, pulling her closer as his body tightened in response. Michael felt his breath quicken, heard hers catch in her throat as the passion in their kiss deepened. One hand slipped down her back and brought her urgently against his aroused body, the other gently touched the side of her breast with a soft, feathery touch. All thoughts of Section, missions, past hurts and souls were forgotten as Michael and Nikita moved in an ancient dance.

His breath ragged, Michael reluctantly pulled away, looking questioningly into her eyes, uncertainty reflected in his own. That hesitancy, his uncharacteristic vulnerability, broke Nikita's heart.

"Oh, Michael" she implored with a whisper. "God," she thought, "how much pain has this man endured that he can't allow himself to be loved?" She would have given anything at that moment to take away the pain she saw reflected in his troubled green eyes. Giving comfort the only way she knew his pride would allow, she lifted her arms to his shoulders and pressed her body tightly against his, kissing him until they were both breathless. This time it was Michael who groaned, the sound torn from him as if he were reluctant to acknowledge his lack of control.

Needing to slow things down, Michael lifted her up and set her beside him, draping one arm around her shoulder and holding her hand in his, fingers slowly caressing her hand, her fingers soft to his touch, the skin warm, pliant and welcoming.

Nikita sighed and looked up at him, grateful and surprised that he had not pushed her away or walked away, his usual response. She even had a moment's thought, whimsical as it would have seemed to Michael, that tonight, of all nights, anything was possible, almost allowing herself to believe that he might finally accept what was between them.

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Back at Section, Birkhoff's fingers were frantically flying over the keyboard of his computer. Ops had just entered the area when Birkhoff turned to him and yelled "We have a problem!"

Ops stood, looking over Birkhoff's shoulder and said "What kind of problem, I thought Michael aborted the mission?"

"Our satellite's picked up a plane on a direct flight path to the monastery. There are no scheduled commercial flights, the military claims they don't have anything in the air, and our transport isn't due to reach them for at least 20 minutes. I have a really bad feeling about this......"

"Damn," Ops yelled "Get Michael, NOW!"

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"Oh, Michael, look!" said Nikita. "A shooting star!" The look of wonderment in her face, took his breath away. Pain sliced through him as he thought "Lord, how could I ever have hurt her?" As he reluctantly turned away from Nikita's face to look up Michael heard a crackling in his com unit followed by Birkhoff's frantic voice yelling

"Michael, incoming, GET OUT OF THERE!!"

Michael looked up into the night sky and froze. In that small moment in time he realized that it was not a shooting star she had seen. He looked back at her beautiful face, blinked, then slowly closed his eyes, pulling her tightly to him to shelter her in his arms, and finally spoke the words that had for so long been impossible for him to say.

"Nikita, I lo.............."

The missile slammed into the ancient monastery, silencing the voices and dreams of the two tortured souls within.

"Peace, at last."
"Sleep in Heavenly Peace.........."

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