Nikita brushed her long, lustrous blond hair, admiring her reflection in the Section women’s restroom. Everything looked good, just as it should, she thought. So why had Michael been ignoring her?

He had been very neglectful of late. No more silent stares, no more impenetrable glares, no more hanging on her every word? She was bummed. Heck, it had been weeks since he had stroked her face with the back of his hand the way he did to let her know he was completely hung up on her.

"Maaaaaaaaaaajorrrr Bummmmmmer," she said to herself, fretting.

After much serious consideration, she decided that the situation called for action. She knew just what to do. She would do exactly what she always did when Michael forgot just how important she was to him - go stir up some major trouble! That always did the trick. Never mind that she was always on the brink of cancellation. It didn’t bother her - in fact, she knew that was precisely what melted Michael’s heart. It was just a simple matter of knowing which of his buttons to push. "Hmmmmmmmmmmm," she thought. Where to start?

Then it dawned on her. Suddenly, her empty blue eyes illuminated. She was on her way out of the section faster than you could say "Duhhhh."

On her way out, she passed Birkoff’s work station. He was on the brink of cancellation, too, but for different reasons. He had lately discovered his latent terror of human contact and had hidden himself under his desk, refusing to come out. One couldn’t see him, one could merely here the audible crunch of his cookies and crackers, a steady munching sound, and an occasional slurrrrrrrrrrrrp of his "Big Gulp". No one was really sure how he got a hold of those things, because there was not a 7-11 in sight, but it was suspected that he had a secret source smuggle them in.

"Birky, Ohhhhhh Birrrrrky," she purred.

"Go away," he said.

"All right. For now, Semour. But just wait ‘til I come back. I’m gonna help you get over this thing. I’ve got some self-help books at home for you."

Nikita ran into Michael in the hallway.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out," she pouted. She then studied his buttons. "Which ones to push?" she asked herself. There were the black ones on his shirt, the silver ones on his jacket, and then the little black one at the waist of his Gaultier wool trousers. That one would be sure to get results, she thought.

"Ouch!!! Hey, what’re you doing?" he asked, startled to receive a sharp poke in the abdomen.

"Oh, just pushing you’re buttons again," she replied, more than pleased with her cleverness. "Later, Michael." She smiled and winked and was on her way.

----------------------------------

Nikita found exactly what she was looking for on the street. "Perfect," she thought. There was a cop on the sidewalk in the middle of arresting a nasty looking creature. The cop had him against the wall and was preparing to handcuff him. The criminal looked as if he were barely human.

"One, two, three - here goes!" Nikita gleefully hurled herself right in the midst!

CRASH BOOM BANG -------------THWACCCCK, THUD!

Everyone went tumbling on the ground. The criminal got up, brushed himself off, and used the opportunity for a quick escape.

"OOOOOOOOOOWIE," Nikita cried, looking pathetic.

"Are you O.K.?" the cop asked with great concern.

"I stubbed my little toe," she whimpered.

"Oh, Damn," he uttered.

"Your man got away?" she asked with false guilt.

"No, I stubbed my little toe, too," he said. "Officer O’Brien," he offered. "Pleased to, um, meet you."

"Nikita," she replied. "What about your man?" she asked. "He got away."

"Oh. The serial killer?" he asked. "Hey, it’s a rough world out there. Things happen." He looked at her, thoroughly enchanted. "Dinner?" he asked.

"Sure," she said coyly.

"Your place or mine?" he asked.

"Mmmmmmm………………mine." She answered. "7 o’clock."

------------------------------

Nikita was back at the section. She headed straight for Michael’s office.

"Miiiiiiiiiiiiichael," she crooned tauntingly.

"Yes?" he asked flatly.

"I just.......oh, it’s nothing, really."

"What?"

"Well, it’s just that I have this big old nasty cop after me, that’s all."

"What????!!!" he demanded, suddenly interested. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, we ummmm, errr sort of bumped into each other." She said casually.

"Was there any exposure?" he demanded.

Nikita looked down at her deep-V sweater. "Ummmmm, I THINK so," she remarked.

"Why didn’t you kill him?" he demanded again.

"Oh, no, Michael. How can you be so inhuman?" she asked, teasing again. "I am having him over for dinner tonight, though," she winked. "See you later."

Nikita went home to prepare for the evening.

---------------------------------------

O’Brien was on time at Nikita’s place. She was dressed to kill, or at least to injure. He, however, wasn’t too long on looks. He wasn’t too cute, she observed. Well, no matter, she decided. He would have to do. Michael would probably never know the difference, especially since he knew that every man paled in comparison to him, anyway.

"Care to dance?" he asked.

"Suuuuuuuuure," she crooned.

As they danced, Nikita glanced out the window to see a tuft of reddish brown hair blowing in the icy winter wind just above the floor of the balcony. Then, slowly, a pair of green eyes appeared peering over. She pretended not to notice.

"Oh, Michael. You’re always so punctual," she said to herself.

Just then O’Brien caught a glimpse of him.

"Hey," he said. "There’s a guy out there on your fire escape."

"Huh?" she asked, pretending not to understand.

"Hey, there he is again. He’s got long hair. You've got a peeping Tom!"

"Oh, that’s not Tom," she said, puzzled. "That’s just Michael. He always does that."

"Always stares at you through your window?! Hey, I’m a cop, remember? Want me to get a restraining order or something?" he asked.

"Oh, no. I figure if he wants to stand out there in the cold freezing his tushy off, then let him!" she said cheerfully.

Nikita turned to give Michael a big scowl. Now the rusty iron step he was perched on was beginning to give way. Suddenly, SNAP! There it went. Michael was left hanging on to the balcony for dear life. He began waving at Nikita frantically, begging her for help.

Nikita saw Michael wave enthusiastically, so she gave him a big smile and waved right back.

"You’re waving at him?" O’Brian asked.

"He waved at me," she explained. "Just trying to be polite."

Michael began to gesticulate more desperately. Nikita continued to smile and wave. He lost his grip.

THHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDD!

He fell into the rubbish bin.

"Aiyyyyyy, OHHhhhh, Ouchhhhh, help," he whimpered. "Oh, never mind," he mumbled and returned to the Section.

Nikita was becoming terribly bored. Maybe this had not been such a hot idea after all, she thought. Just then, on cue, her phone rang.

"Constantine," the voice said. It was Michael.

"Get a clue," she answered.

"Come in," he ordered.

"O'bri, I gotta go," she said to O’Brien. "It’s been real."

"But, but, but........," he stammered.

-----------------------------------

Nikita ran into the Section. O’Brian was already there, bound and gagged. Michael had stuffed his mouth full of styrofoam peanuts.

Hmmmmmffff!!!! Ummmmmffff!!!! GRMMMMMMFFFF!!!! He grunted helplessly.

"Shut up," Michael ordered.

Nikita looked at O'Brien, then back at Michael.

"I can’t live like this," Nikita moaned. "Cancel me!!!!" She slapped her gun down on his desk, a gesture sure to invoke immediate pity.

Now Nikita was p.o.’d. "Hey, what’s the big idea, Michael?" she demanded. "Is one hour with a cop too much to ask? You keep telling me about saving lives, about protecting the innocent. But what about the innocent cops WE hurt? What about the one left dancing alone in my apartment wondering where I disappeared to?"

"You were warned," he said. "You should have never gotten involved."

"I don’t believe you anymore, Michael." She spat. "You couldn’t handle it, could you? You got jealous of GRAY, because I love HIM and NOT YOU!"

"Gray?" Michael asked. "What the hell episode are we in, anyway?"

Then Michael handed Nikita’s gun back. "O’Brien will digest the styrofoam peanuts. He’ll adjust to the fact that he’ll become another lousy Section operative. He’ll get over you and have the pathetic existence he deserves." He said. "AND," he ended, and grabbed her around the waist. "You’ll be back in my arms where you belong."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, Michael," she said, melting away and forgetting her anger, and wrapping her arms around him. He did have such a way with words.

The End.

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