Jurgen went to see Operations and Madeline. He told them that he had reached a break through with Michael. When they asked him for details, he told them only what he felt they needed to know, which wasn't much.

Operations was pleased by Jurgen's news in regards to Michael, but curious. "So...what happens now?"

"My work here is done, for the time being," Jurgen replied. He looked at Madeline, knowing that she would be the one to understand what he was about to say next. "Put Michael back on active status in two weeks. Let him be with Nikita, on the outside, until then. Give them both time...they'll heal each other. Then work them as a team. It's always been a strength for Section. Michael will get the job done, all the more so with Nikita by his side."

"You're sure about that?" Madeline countered, her eyes filled with shadows that were doubts she would not share.

Jurgen smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure," he said softly, then he moved towards the door.

Operations moved to intercept. "We'll give them six months," he allowed. "If it doesn't work out, then Nikita will be cancelled.

"If you do that, then you might as well cancel Michael as well," Jurgen drawled, his eyes locking with Operations. Neither man blinked. Then Jurgen smiled. "Madeline chose to give Nikita to Michael. I was against it, and I was right. So now you have to live with the consequences of your choice." As he spoke, Jurgen's eyes flickered over to Madeline. Her head was bowed. "You can't have Michael without Nikita. If you can't live with that...cancel them both now." That said, Jurgen glided from the room.

"He's right," Madeline whispered, before Operations could speak. She knew what he was thinking anyway. "So what's it going to be?"

Operations glared at her. He wanted Michael back, and they both knew it. There was no other choice. Eyes flashing, Operations stalked out of the room.

Nikita went to see Michael. He was in his quarters, a place where she had never been. But Madeline had told her where to find Michael, after explaining to Nikita that Jurgen was gone, and Michael was out of holding. The big surprise came when Madeline told Nikita that a relationship between her and Michael would be allowed, if they chose to pursue one. "Why?" Nikita had asked. But Madeline hadn't answered her. Nikita had been dismissed.

"Michael?" Nikita called his name after rapping on the door. When there was no response, she tried the knob and it opened. She slipped inside, then froze. Nikita wondered if she should leave. It wasn't as if she had been invited, and things between her and Michael hadn't been good lately. And the blame lay on both of them. But Nikita was willing to make the first move. That decided, she continued on.

The furnishings were sparse and utilitarian, pretty much what Nikita would have expected from Michael. She crossed through the living area into the kitchen. No Michael. To her left was a short hallway. Nikita walked down it and stopped at the bedroom. She peeked around the partion then caught her breath. Michael was there, lying on the bed. He was dressed in Whites, tank top, sweats and socks. He lay on his back, head turned to one side, one arm crossed over his waist, the other above his head. Nikita bit her lip as she silently crossed the room. She had never seen Michael look so peaceful, not even when they had made love. But that night had been primal and passionate. Nikita wanted something now. Something less intense. Gentle and warm. Deep and profound. They had melded their bodies with the heat of their desire. Now she wanted to meld their hearts.

Climbing onto the bed, Nikita moved her body over Michael's bracing her weight on her hands, which she placed on either side of his strong chest. Then she bent her head to brush a kiss to his lips and felt him stir.

Michael thought that he was dreaming for a moment and his heart stopped beating. But then he felt soft lips touching his again, and a warm body pressing down on him. "Nikita..." he breathed, as his arms went around her.

"I'm here, Michael," she replied, hugging him back. Nikita felt him tremble and tears filled her eyes. But there were things that needed to be said before this went any further. "Is it true that we can be together? That Section will allow it?"

"It's true," Michael whispered, as he freed one arm so that he could tangle his fingers in Nikita's soft hair.

She sighed, then pressed her cheek into his hand. "Why?" Nikita challenged. "Why now?"

Michael closed his eyes. "Jurgen," he said softly. And that was enough.

"Do you want to be together?" Nikita asked, her hand now going to Michael's face so that he would look at her. When he opened his eyes, she saw pain, love, desire and fear. Michael was baring his soul to her. A tear slid down Nikita's cheek.

"I want to be with you," Michael whispered. "I want that more than anything, Nikita. But...I'm afraid of losing you by saying that."

Nikita was confused. Michael had come as close to saying he loved her as he was ever liable to do. And they had permission to have a relationship without fear of cancellation. But he was afraid of losing her...by wanting her? "You won't lose me," Nikita assured him, one fingertip now tracing the curve of his sensual mouth. She love his mouth. Love the taste of him, sweet and warm. Nikita kissed Michael, letting her tongue slip between his soft lips.

Michael wanted to believe Nikita, but didn't. Yet he kept his fears to himself. His arms wrapped around her again as he deepened the kiss then Michael felt Nikita pull away from him. But it was only so that she could pull her t-shirt over her head, baring her breasts to his gaze. The rest of her clothes soon followed, then his. And then they were touching and kissing and loving each other with a tenderness that made them both weep.

When it was over, Nikita lay wrapped in the shelter of Michael's strong arms, her head resting on his chest, the beat of his heart echoing in her ear. "Tell me about your son," Nikita requested.

"My son..." Michael repeated, knowing that Nikita's interest was sincere, yet it was also a test. He couldn't blame her. "His name was Alexander," Michael said softly. Saying the name brought back a rush of memories. Memories that he had always banished, but now Michael let them flow over him, like waves on a beach. "He was two years old when he died."

"How did he die?" Nikita prompted. She could feel Michael tremble, and hear the pain that colored his voice. It hurt him to talk about this, but she needed to know. And he needed to tell her.

Michael shifted a bit, so that he could look at Nikita's face. Then he told her the story. Of how he and Simone had been on an assigment and when they had returned Madeline called them into her office to announce that Alexander had died. From a fever. Talk of Alexander led to talk of Simone. Then Jurgen.

Nikita sensed that Michael was holding back on some things, but she allowed it, for he was honest in admitting that he wasn't ready to tell her. "Thank you," Nikita whispered, as she rolled on top of Michael, staring down into his silver-green eyes. "Thank you for letting me in."

"You've always been inside me, Nikita," Michael whispered. He lifted his head to kiss her, then sighed as he felt her move over him, taking him inside her so that they were now united...body, heart and soul.

"I want this moment to last forever," Nikita whispered, as she kissed his chest.

Michael closed his eyes. "It won't last," he replied, his tone sad, not harsh. But then he opened his eyes to lock on Nikita's face, and smiled. "But we'll find another," Michael promised. "I ask but one thing of you, Nikita," he requested, as he felt his pulse quicken to match the rhythmn of their love.

Nikita would have promised him the moon. "Anything..." she whispered, as the embers of passion burst into flame.

"Promise me that no matter what happens in the future, with us..or with Section...that you'll never give up your soul. Not even to me." Michael eyes burned with love, and he let Nikita see it's reflection as they reached the peak of desire and exploded together.

"I promise, Michael," Nikita whispered, as she lay in his arms again. She felt him press a kiss to her temple, then Nikita drifted off to sleep. A smile curving her lips.

Michael was happy, yet he couldn't sleep. He was afraid to. Afraid of the dreams that would haunt him. So he lay in the dark, Nikita in his arms, and sent a prayer to the God he had long ago abandoned. The same God who had let his wife and son die, but who had given him Nikita. "Forgive me..." Michael whispered. Then he closed his eyes.

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

The two weeks passed by quickly. Michael and Nikita spent the entire time together, for Madeline allowed them to share Michael's quarters. But it wasn't just about pleasure for them, or a learning time. Michael was determined to return to his duties at the top of his game, so he pushed himself into an intense, physical, regime. But he didn't work alone. Nikita was by his side. She couldn't match him one hundred percent, but she enjoyed the challenge of trying, and Michael never made her feel like she was less than the best for her attempts.

The changes in Michael were astonishing to Nikita. Not that he was suddenly an emotional sponge, but he was making progress. When Nikita would ask him questions about himself, and his past, he would give her an answer. Not always what she wanted to here, but that he was willing to try meant everything to her. Right now they were heading for Madeline's office and Nikita could guess why. Michael would be returning to active status.

"What happens now?" Nikita asked, trying to ignore the knots that were forming in her stomach. She sensed that the moment they entered Madeline's office, things would change. Nikita was afraid that all the progress they had made would be gone. Section had a way of doing that to people.

"I don't know," Michael replied, coming to a halt so that he could face Nikita. He knew what she was asking, and could guess at what she was feeling. Her fears were reflected in her crystal-blue eyes. Michael lifted one hand to cup his palm to her face. They were in the middle of Section, where anyone could pass by, so he would not kiss her here. Would not make what was between them, public. That would not be acceptable to Section, and he knew it. "You'll have to try and have faith in us, Nikita," Michael whispered. "In me."

Nikita nuzzled her cheek in Michael's hand, and a smile curved her lips. "It's not you, or us, whom I have doubts about, Michael. It's Section. They love to yank my chain."

Michael smiled back. "I know, and you need to remember that, Nikita," he said firmly. His eyes flickered over her beautiful face, then locked onto her gaze. "Never believe anything Section tells you to be gospel. Within every truth there's a lie. Within every fact...fiction. They will betray us...even as we betray ourselves."

"And each other?" Nikita interjected, with a touch of desperation coloring her tone. There was sadness as well, for she was remembering all of Michael's betrayals. Although she understood now why he had done it, it didn't make it hurt any less.

"And each other," Michael confirmed. "I can't promise you that I won't lie to you in the future, Nikita. If it's part of the job, I'll do it. I expect the same of you. Do you undertand?"

Nikita closed her eyes, feeling hot tears trying to escape. "I'm not sure," she confessed. "I get the feeling that you're trying to tell me that nothing between us will ever be real. Is that it, Michael? Is everything just a shade of a lie? One more manipulation for future use?"

Michael sighed, then dropped his hand. "I care for you, Nikita," he said softly. "I would do anything to protect you...to keep you alive and intact." By intact he meant her soul. "If I have to lie to do so, then I will." Michael winced as he saw pain shimmer in Nikita's eyes at his words. He always seemed to cause her pain. "But...what we have between us...it is real," Michael whispered. Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss to Nikita's lips. It was a gentle caress and he breathed three words into her mouth. "I love you..." With that, Michael stepped back and continued down the corridor.

Nikita stood frozen, eyes blinking back tears as she watched Michael stride away. "I love you too," she whispered, then she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and followed.

The mission was a surprise to Nikita. Intel that Section received from a reliable source claimed that a Nigerian ambassador was targeted for assassination. He would be attending an embassy ball and Section would be there. Six operatives, including Nikita, would be disperesed as servers. Michael and Madeline were guests. That's what surprised Nikita, that Madeline was a part of the mission. But, apparently, Madeline could identify the assassin, should he turn out to be whom Section believed it would be.

Nikita served champagne to the guests on a silver tray, all the while keeping a close eye on the Nigerian Amabassor, Fayul. "All clear," she said, letting Michael know that she saw no one suspicious.

"Good," Michael replied, as he whirled around the dance floor with Madeline in his arms. He knew why she was there. Not so much to make an ID as to keep watch over him and Nikita. And she didn't make much of an effort to pretend otherwise. There was no point, since they both knew the truth. Yet another test he was expected to pass. Michael knew that Madeline wanted to see, for herself, whether or not he had his control back. Now that things had changed between him and Nikita.

"Left entrance, by the buffet table," Madeline suddenly hissed. "Tognani." He was the assassin.

Michael spotted the man and gave his team a description. "Nikita, protect Fayul," he ordered. Meanwhile, Michael led Madeline off the dance floor to a safe position. Then he disappeared into the crowd, right hand slipping inside the jacket of his tux.

Events happened quickly from that moment on. Tognani spotted his target and made a beeline. Nikita was ready for him, but just as she raised her gun to take him out, an young woman stepped into her line of fire. "I lost my shot!" Nikita hissed. So she did the next best thing. She positioned herself in front of Fayul, acting as a human shield. She watched Tognani grab the innocent woman to shield himself, all the while still making his approach. Nikita could see by the look in his eyes that he intended to shoot right through her to reach Fayul. She raised her gun, but Nikita knew she wouldn't shoot the innocent. But, neither, would she back down. In, horrified, fascination Nikita watched Tognani's finger curl on the trigger. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears for she knew she was about to die.

Tognani smiled, then his body jerked. He fell forward, drawing the innocent down with him as he hit the floor. Nikita heard the sound of her ragged breathing in her ear, even as she rushed forward. The woman was screaming and Nikita knelt beside her. A moment later she felt a hand on her arm and looked up to see Michael. His eyes were cold as he pulled Nikita to her feet.

"Birkhoff, send in housekeeping," Michael ordered. "Team one and two, back to base." Base being the van. He knew that Madeline had already left. "Let's go," Michael said to Nikita, then he turned and walked away.

"Right," Nikita whispered, glancing at the woman with compassion, before following in Michael's wake. The moment she entered the van, it moved off. Nikita looked at Madeline who was sitting beside Birkhoff. The dark-haired woman wore a cold smile. Nikita resisted the urge to shiver. Then she turned to face Michael. His mask was firmly in place.

Michael locked eyes with Nikita. "You should have taken the shot," he said softly.

Nikita knew that he meant she shouldn't have hesitated because of the innocent. "Sorry," she replied.

"That's not good enough," Michael countered. "If Fayul had died, you would have been cancelled."

"You wouldn't let that happen," Nikita drawled, not certain if she was speaking of her cancellation, or the fact that Michael had been the one to save Fayul by taking out Tognani.

Michael blinked then said, "I won't always be there, Nikita. Remember that."

Nikita didn't reply. She couldn't, for his words had an ominous ring to them. As if her were prophesying their future. She turned away to sit down, glancing over at Madeline again. This time the other woman's smile was genuine, and Nikita let herself shiver.

Michael was in his office when Nikita tracked him down. It was the first night since being put in holding that Michael would be allowed to leave Section. She wanted to talk to him about going home, since it meant they wouldn't be sharing quarters inside any longer. But she wanted to be him still. She needed that. Gliding into the office, without knocking, Nikita stood for a moment, watching Michael type at his computer. Waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

"Yes?" Michael whispered, not looking up from his screen.

"You going home soon?" Nikita asked.

He shook his head. "I have alot of catching up to do," he replied.

Nikita sighed. "Will you come over later?" she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral. But she knew she failed, that her need for him was clear as a bell.

"I don't know," Michael replied. He stopped typing and looked up at Nikita. He saw desire, and need and pain all shadowed in her eyes. "I need some time," he said softly.

"Time.." Nikita repeated, feeling hot tears fill her eyes. She blinked them back, angry at herself for being so emotional. "Time for what?" she challenged.

Michael stood up and came around the desk. When he reached Nikita he took her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. "I need time to be by myself," he whispered in her ear. "I've been under a microscope lately, Nikita. I still am. And not just by Section, but by you. We need to be apart for a little while."

She understood what he was saying, but fear rippled through her at his words. "How long is a little while, Michael?" Nikita prompted.

"I don't know," he confessed, determined to be honest with her. Lifting one hand to tangle in her pale hair, Michael brushed a kiss against her temple. "Nikita...we know that we can be together, but can we be apart? Can you trust me enough to let me go? Can you accept who I really am?"

"What do you mean?" Nikita countered, her eyes peering deep into Michael's as if trying to read his mind.

He sighed. "Loving you doesn't change who I am, Nikita," Michael whispered.

She offered a crooked smile. "I know that," Nikita declared. And she believed that she did. Michael was loyal to Section in a way that she couldn't understand. But she was learning to accept it. "I love you unconditionally, Michael," she said softly.

"Do you?" he countered, as he stepped away and returned to his chair. "Think about it, Nikita," Michael beseeched.

"Fine," she replied, turning towards the door. Nikita was more confused than ever, but a part of her sensed that Michael was testing the both of them, and that it was important to him. And to their future. So she would play along, for now. She would have faith that he would explain it to her, in the near future. "Call me later?" she requested.

Michael offered a smile, and nodded. "Yes." He watched Nikita leave, then he buried his face in his hands. Michael felt as if his heart ached. Nikita's faith in him was strong, but he wondered if he deserved it. A tiny voice in his head mocked him, laughing at the very notion. "Nikita..." Michael whispered. Then he brushed a tear off his face.

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

Six more weeks passed, with Nikita giving Michael the time and space he had asked for. Surprisingly enough, she found that she didn't resent him for it. And it wasn't as if he tried to avoid her. While at Section he was professional, yet he made it a point to offer Nikita a warm smile, or to touch her shoulder, maybe even reach for her hand, when they found a moment to themselves. But he still wouldn't spend time with her outside of Section. Nikita vowed to be patient. To be fair, they were both busy. Sometimes together, sometimes apart.

It was a big surprise to Nikita when Michael tracked her down at Walter's station on a friday morning, asking if he could speak to her alone. She nodded, then smiled at Walter, as Michael led her off to a quiet alcove. "What is it?" Nikita asked, her eyes intent on Michael's face, trying to read by his expression whether or not she should be anxious. But his eyes locked with hers and were filled with warmth.

"I was wondering if you had made any plans for this evening," Michael replied.

"Not really," Nikita answered. "I was thinking about going to see a movie."

Michael smiled. "Would you let me make dinner for you tonight? At your place."

Nikita was stunned. "Dinner?" she repeated. When Michael nodded she stated, "I didn't know you cooked."

"There's alot about me that you don't know," Michael reminded her, but their was a teasing light in his eyes as he spoke.

"Why my place?" Nikita countered. "Don't you have a home outside of Section, Michael?" It was a question that she was in desperate need of an answer to.

He nodded. "I do," Michael whispered. But he wasn't ready to bring Nikita there. It was too soon, and the very thought evoked too many painful memories. Michael didn't want to live in the past anymore. With Nikita he wanted only to live in the moment, and hope for the future.

Nikita let the subject drop when she saw pain shadow Michael's eyes to emerald. "So...what are you going to make?" she asked, a smile curving her lips.

"It's a surprise," Michael replied. "Then it's...a date?"

"Sure," Nikita replied. "Casual dress?"

Michael nodded. "Be comfortable. You're always beautiful."

Nikita felt her skin flush at the compliment, but also from the heat of Michael's gaze. She saw desire glowing in his eyes. Desire for her. "Funny..." Nikita drawled, one hand lifting to stroke a cinnamon curl that had strayed out from behind Michael's ear. "I've always thought the same thing about you. Sometimes I think you're too beautiful to be real, Michael."

"I'm very real...and very flawed, Nikita," he replied, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her palm. Michael smiled as he felt Nikita shiver, then he let his thumb brush across her knuckles. "Eight o'clock?" he queried.

"Eight o'clock?" Nikita repeated, frowning in confusion.

Michael laughed softly, pleased that he was able to distract her so easily. She did the same to him, tenfold. "For dinner," he reminded her.

Nikita laughed, then nodded. "Sounds good. Should I get dessert?"

"No.." Michael whispered. "You are dessert." With that he released her hand and turned to go, but stopped when Nikita tugged as his sleeve. "Yes?" Michael queried.

"How much you want to bet we get interrupted?" Nikita drawled. She could just picture the scene, familiar to one from the past. The two of them dancing, kissing, then the phone call which had shattered her world, in more ways than one.

Michael shook his head. "We won't be disturbed," he said firmly. "I asked Madeline to give us some time alone. She agreed."

Nikita was surprised and let it show. "I wonder why?" she countered, suspicion coloring her tone.

"Madeline is more friend than foe, Nikita," Michael replied, somewhat cryptically. Just then his beeper went off and he turned and strode off down the corridor, without a backward glance.

"The enemy you know...." Nikita quoted, then she headed for the exit.

Nikita heard the knock on the door at exactly eight o'clock. She smiled as she moved across the room to answer it, and the smile remained as Michael stepped inside. He was carrying two bags of groceries and Nikita offered to take one.

"I've got it," Michael assured her, as he headed for the kitchen.

"Did you bring enough food?" Nikita teased, for the bags were packed to overflowing.

Michael turned to smile at her, once he had set his load down on the countertop. "I think so," he replied. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a bottle of wine. A delicate rose that he thought Nikita would like. "Why don't you pour us a glass," Michael requested.

Nikita accepted the bottle. "Sure thing." She stepped around him to get the cork screw and two glasses, then retreated to the other side of the counter. "Do you want some help?" Nikita offered, as she watched Michael unload the bags.

"Just talk to me," he requested. Michael paused to remove his coat, tossing it over a chair at the table before resuming unpacking.

"Nice shirt," Nikita drawled, as she stared at the muted, blue mock turtleneck that outlined the muscles of Michael's sculptured chest. "So...why blue?" she queried, with infinite curiosity.

Michael shrugged. "I thought it would...please you," he confessed.

Nikita nodded. "It does. I like you in colors." That said, she bent her head to the task of opening the wine.

The next two hours were like paradise to Nikita. She put soft music on in the background, and she danced to the sensual beat as she watched Michael at work. He made homemade alfredo sauce which he poured over fettucini and added crab meat. Then there was garlic bread lathered with mozarella and antipasto. The wine was the perfect touch, and dessert was a treat, raspberry chocolate cheese cake. Michael confessed to buying it at a deli.

"I thought I was dessert.." Nikita teased, as she held out her glass for more wine. She watched Michael pour the pale pink liquid, then pulled her glass away before he was finished. Since she had been holding her glass over his lap, the wine dribble onto his pants.

"Oooooooo..." Nikita purred. "Guess we'll have to take those off." She giggled as set aside her glass and stepped forward to work on Michael's belt buckle.

"You're drunk," Michael whispered, his fingers closing about Nikita's wrists to stop her.

She giggle again. "Your point being?" Nikita prompted. She was deliciously lightheaded, yet burning with desire. Michael was beautiful and sexy and he smelled so damn good.

Michael pressed a kiss to Nikita's temple. "You're a cute drunk," he breathed in her ear, remembering another time when she had been inebriated. A night when Michael had fought against his jealous demons. He dissolved an image of Nikita in Alex Chandler's arms. No slipping back into the past, Michael reminded himself.

"You ever been drunk?" Nikita questioned, tugging on her wrists till Michael released her. Then she tangled her fingers in his soft hair. "I find it hard to picture you ever losing control."

"You'd be surprised," Michael replied, as he rose to his feet, then lifted Nikita into his arms. She was warm and soft and he wanted her so badly that he ached deep inside.

Nikita sighed as Michael carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. When he laid her on the bed she twined her arms around his neck to pull him down with her. His body was warm and solid and she wanted to feel his heat deep inside her. "Make love to me, Michael," Nikita whispered against his lips.

Michael's answer was a tender kiss as his hands caressed Nikita until she cried out his name.

Nikita came awake when she felt the mattress shift. She rolled over then frowned as her eyes adjusted to the soft glow of candle light. "Michael...where are you going?" she asked, as she watched him reach for his pants and step into them.

"I have to go," he said softly, slipping his shirt over his head before moving over to Nikita's side of the bed.

"It's just past three," Nikita stated, frowing at her digital clock. "Not even dawn yet, Michael. Come back to bed." She wanted to feel his strong arms about her, and his body heat warming her.

Michael reached out to smooth pale strands of Nikita's hair out of her eyes. She looked so young and vulnerable and Michael's heart ached. He didn't want to leave. "I have to go," he repeated, moving to step away.

Nikita's hand snaked out to grasp his wrist and pull him back. "Why?" she beseeched. And her tone let him know that she expected the truth.

"Madeline called me into her office yesterday and assigned a new recruit to me," Michael said softly, giving Nikita the answer she deserved. "I start her training this morning."

"Five AM," Nikita drawled, flashing back to her first day.

Michael nodded. "Yes."

Nikita was quiet for a moment, her thumb brushing the inside of Michael's wrist. "Why?" she questioned, knowing that he would undertand what she was asking. Why new material for Michae?. Should Nikita perceive it as a threat to their relationship?

"I don't know," Michael replied, and it was the simple truth. He had been stunned when Madeline had handed him the file, but had known better than to ask questions.

"But there is a reason," Nikita countered, releasing Michael's hand so she could push herself upright.

Michael sighed. "There's always a reason," he confirmed. Then he bent his head to kiss Nikita's soft mouth. "Goodbye," Michael whispered against her lips, then he collected the rest of his things and was gone.

Nikita heaved a sigh as she lay back down. She reached for the pillow that Michael had slept on and clutched it to her chest. It was still warm and bore his subtle scent. A smile curved Nikita's lips as she drifted back to sleep.

Michael stood with Madeline at the video observation booth. They both watched the screen. An Asian woman, thirty years old, with blue-black hair falling to her shoulders and coal-black eyes, paced in a chamber room. Michael had memorized her file. Her name was Kim-Li and she had been convicted of killing her husband with an ice pick in Dallas Texas. He had been a wealthy corporate businessman, and she the perfect wife. Or so the social world of Dallas had believed. Kim-Li had been given a death sentence and, as far as the world was concerned, she had carried it out on her own, hanging herself in her cell.

"We'd like to have her ready for active status in eighteen months, Michael," Madeline said softly. "We're still feeling the loss from the War."

"Of course," he replied. Then he turned to head into the room.

Madeline watched him go then said, "Did you have a nice time last night? With Nikita."

Michael froze, but didn't turn back around. He knew that Madeline had a reason for asking, he just wasn't sure what it was. "Yes," he answered, no more...no less. He waited a moment, but when Madeline remained silent, Michael continued on his way. So he didn't see the sad smile that crossed her face.

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

Kim-Li studied the man who entered the chamber. Her first impression was that he was beautiful. Then that he wore his sexuality like an aura but that inspite of the sensual heat that emanated from him, he was cool detachment personified. Kim-Li found that intriguing. "Who are you?" she challenged, pressing her back to the wall. One lesson she had learned early in life was to never let the enemy sneak up behind you.

"Michael," he replied. "I'll be your trainer. Madeline gave you are welcome speech?"

"She did," Kim-Li allowed. "So...your're going to train me, Michael," she drawled. "To do what? To kill? I've already done that." A cold smile curved Kim-Li's full lips. "Didn't like it much," she confessed.

Michael was a bit surprised by the admission. It didn't fit with the profile that Madeline had given him, but then he realized that he was expected to form his own opinion. He was being tested here as much as Kim-Li. So Michael pinned her with a look and said,"We do what we have to do."

Kim-Li nodded. "Fair enough," she conceded. "I would do it again to stay alive." That's why she had killed her husband. Survival of the fittest.

"Are you ready to begin?" Michael questioned, a smile curving his lips. He found himself liking Kim-Li. He understood her mind set for it mirrored his own. Michael could guess that was part of the reason he had been chosen to train Kim-Li.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kim-Li allowed. She didn't trust Michael, but her intsincts told her that he was a fair man. He wouldn't be lenient, but if she made the effort, she knew she would stand a chance.

Michael opened the door. "Come with me," he said softly, then he turned and walked away.

For the next week, Nikita barely saw Michael. She was sent on a mission, and he was wrapped up with his new recruit. As she returned from transport, Nikita made a pit stop at Walter's station. From there she caught a glimpse of Michael. He was at Birkhoff's station with his material. Nikita knew her name. She smiled at Walter. "How are things?" Nikita asked.

"Good, sugar," Walter replied, but his eyes were focused on a circuit board as he peered through a microscope lens. "How are things with you?"

"All right," Nikita drawled. She sat down on a stool, facing Birkhoff's station. "So...how's the new recruit doing?" she queried, trying to ask the question as if it were of passing interest.

Walter grinned. He knew exactly what Nikita was asking, and why. "She's a quick study," he replied. "Dead shot. Don't have much to teach her beyond how to operate the weapon's she's unfamiliar with."

Nikita was surprised. "Really? So..what's her background? Mercenary? Assassin?"

"Battered wife," Walter replied, eyes lifting to watch for Nikita's reaction. The beautiful blond was learning, however, for she merely shrugged.

"Do you like her?" Nikita prompted, remembering asking a similar question about her first recruit. Karen. Walter had liked her and Karen had turned out to be a psychopathic killer.

Walter considered his answer. "I do," he said softly. "I think she'll fit right in. She understands what we do, Nikita. That's in her favor, and ours."

Nikita frowned, sensing that Walter's words held a hidden meaning, but knowing there was no sense in asking him to elaborate. Walter loved talking in riddles. "Well...." she said, jumping off the stool. "Guess I'll go introduce myself." Nikita waggled her fingers at Walter. "Later."

Michael was standing behind Kim-Li, who was sitting at Birkhoff's computer and listening intently to the whiz kid's instructions. He had been aware of Nikita's presence the moment she had come into line of sight. He could even guess what she and Walter had talked about. Michael knew that Nikita valued the old man's opinioin. Sometimes he wondered what it was Walter had told her about him, but then he reminded himself that he was better off not knowing. He and Walter had an unusual relationship, which had started forming the first day Michael had come to Section. They had forged a bond of respect and admiration, but Michael knew that Walter didn't really trust him. He felt the same way about Walter. Hell, he felt that way about everyone...except Nikita.

"Hello, Michael," Nikita said, as she approached him.

"Nikita," he replied. Then he touched Kim-Li's shoulder and made introductions.

Kim-Li smiled at the beautiful blond woman standing before her, then she rose to her feet and held out one hand. They shook and in that moment Kim-Li knew that Nikita considered her a rival. That thought amused her. Not that she blamed Nikita, for Michael was an intriguing man. Beautiful, enigmatic, strong and deadly. That he was highly intelligent and culturally refined were added bonuses. Yet Kim-Li sensed that Nikita's passion for Michael was more simplistic and earthy. And that the two were fire and ice. But fire could melt ice.

Nikita shook hands with Kim-Li then stepped back to study the other woman. Of course she was beautiful, and Nikita noticed a certain similarity to Simone. No doubt intentional on Madeline's part, she surmised. Nikita took note that Kim-Li was about two inches shorter than she was, with a lusher figure. And that she was older as well. Not by much. She was Michael's age, Nikita guessed. "Nice meeting you," Nikita offered.

"You too," Kim-Li replied, then she looked at Michael. "Are we still going to work out later?" she queried. Not to blow off Nikita, but out of curiosity. Michael had been fine tuning her martial arts skills and Kim-Li enjoyed the challenge. But she also sensed that Nikita was eager to spend time with Michael, and she had no intention of interfering. So her question was blunt. Kim-Li knew that Section liked to play mind games, and she could accept that. It wasn't as if she had a choice, since it all came down to survival in the end. But she didn't like it, so she preferred to speak plainly.

"Eight o'clock," Michael replied, his eyes flickering over to Kim-Li.

Nikita grimced. She had hoped that Michael would be able to see her tonight, but kept her thoughts to herself. "I guess I'll see you around," she drawled, meaning both Michael and Kim-Li.

Michael took a step towards Nikita. "I'd like to see you in my office," he said, quietly. Giving nothing away by his expression.

"Of course," Nikita responded, equally casual. She waved at Kim-Li, then sauntered off.

"She seems nice," Kim-Li commented, her eyes locking on Michael's face. She saw that he was watching Nikita leave.

Birkhoff had observed the exchange between the three operatives and was amused. He grinned at Kim-Li, whom he discovered he liked. "Nikita is one of a kind," he offered, knowing enough not to expand on the comment with Michael in earshot.

Michael glanced over at Birkhoff, then his gaze fell upon Kim-Li. "I'll see you later," he said quietly, then he was gone.

Nikita was pacing in Michael's office, but stopped when he entered and watched as he closed the door before moving around the desk to shutter his blinds. Once they were hidden from prying eyes, Nikita was tempted to cross over to Michael and kiss him, but she remained stationary waiting for him to make the first move.

Michael studied Nikita for a moment, thinking that she had never looked more beautiful and couldn't...until the next time he saw her. It was always that way. But then he refocused his thoughts on why he had asked to speak with her. Moving to his chair, Michael sat down. "What do you think about Kim-Li?" he asked without preamble.

"I..." Nikita hemmed and hawed for a moment, taken by surprise. But then she crossed her arms over her chest and gave Michael an answer. "She reminds me of Simone."

"Yes.." Michael replied. "Intentionally..I'm sure."

Nikita saw pain shadow Michael's beautiful face and anger sparked deep inside her. Section loved to torment him, and Madeline seemed to derive particular pleasure in doing so. Nikita was learning how to play their games, but she would never understand them. "What do you think of her?" she countered, sincerely wanting to know. In the few minutes that she had seen Michael with Kim-Li she had sensed a certain cammeraderie between them that she and Michael had never shared. As if he and Kim-Li were on the same wave length.

Michael knew what Nikita was asking, and he was honest with her. "She'll make a good operative," he replied.

"Better than me?" Nikita challenged. It was beneath her to ask, but she couldn't help herself.

"Different," Michael countered, a soft smile curving his lips. He loved the fire that flashed in Nikita's crystal-blue eyes. It was her spirit...which could never be caged. It would always be free.

Nikita was silent for a moment, considering Michael's response. Then she moved towards the door, resisting the urge to touch him...kiss him. She would follow his lead. But she felt she had the right to know where she stood in the relationship. "When can we see each other again," Nikita asked, softly.

MIchael sighed. "I don't know for sure," he admitted. "Soon." It was the most he could promise.

"Not soon enough..." Nikita drawled, letting her desire for Michael reflect in her eyes.

"Not soon enough," Michael echoed, in complete agreement with her. His own eyes burned with passion as he watched Nikita open the door and saunter off. She was like a fire in his blood and nothing, not even loving her, could put out the flames.

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

Kim-Li lay on the mat drying to drag air into her lungs. She sensed Michael walking in a circle around her. He was the one who had put her on the floor, but didn't offer a hand up, nor did he ask if she were okay. But she was getting used to the fact that he detached from her pain, but not immune to it. Kim-Li understood the lesson he was trying to teach her. The enemy wouldn't care if she were hurt, and she would have to learn to move through the pain. So she rolled to her feet to face off with Michael once again. But even as she took a defensive stance, he shook his head.

"Enough," Michael whispered. He allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. "You did well."

"You took me by surprise," Kim-Li replied, catching the towel he tossed at her and wiping her face. Then she studied Michael. He stood before her, dressed in black leggins and a muscle tank top. Black as well. His smooth skin glistened with a fine layer of pespiration, but he looked beautiful and strong, while she felt wilted and smelly. "You have a stillness about you that is deceiving, Michael," Kim-Li said softly. "Yet you move with the strength and speed of a wild-cat." He moved with the grace of one as well.

Michael nodded in acknowledgement of Kim-Li's words. She was highly perceptive and a quick learner. Nor did she question the moves or tactics, tasks or exercises she was asked to perform. She asked questions to learn more and Michael approved of that. Kim-Li was a survivor. That pleased him. "Never under estimate your opponent," Michael told her. "Always expect the unexpected."

Kim-Li sighed and reached for a bottle of water. She took a long swallow then said, "So....are you and Nikita an item?"

"Why?" Michael countered, betraying no reaction although the question had surprised him.

"Just curious," Kim-Li replied. "What are the Section rules about dating?"

Michael was surprised again. Recruits didn't usually ask about relationship matters till well into the end of their first year. If then. "You need to concentrate on your training right now," he said softly, in an attempt to distract Kim-Li from this subject matter.

She wasn't in the mood to be distracted. "Nikita isn't very good at hiding her feelings," Kim-Li drawled, her eyes locked on Michael's face, searching for a reaction. But his mask was firmly in place.

"Nikita isn't your concern," Michael shot back, his tone soft but tempered with steel. "No practice tomorrow," he added, heading for the door.

"Why not?" Kim-Li questioned, feeling disappointment wash over her. She enjoyed spending time with Michael in this setting. It was a chance to release tension, and the eye candy was so sweet. A flash of thought came to Kim-Li. She wondered what Michael tasted like, and had to resist the urge to bury her fingers in his hair and kiss him. From there her tongue would glide over his chest...her lips nibbling a hot trail lower still.

Michael turned back to face Kim-Li. "I have a mission tomorrow," he replied. "I'll be out of the country."

Kim-Li hadn't thought about the fact that Michael was still on active status as a cold op. For the past few weeks his time had been exclusively devoted to her. "Whereabouts?" she queried. "Or is it taboo to ask?"

"Singapore," Michael replied, and then he was gone.

Nikita glanced across the room, her eyes locking on Michael who was at the bar, talking with a man and a woman. They were informants and it was Michael's intention to have them rat out a player by the name of Hudson. Black market commodoties was his trade and he had in his possession a diary which belonged to an influential politician. Someone extremely high up in the US government. The diary contained information that could shut down the CIA. They didn't want that to happen and had asked Section to retrieve the book before Hudson could sell it on the market. Nikita wondered what was in the diary but the thought vanished as Michael crossed the floor to join her. "Did you get the location?" she asked.

"Yes," Michael replied, reaching out for Nikita's glass of wine and finishing the last swallow. Then he took her hand. "Let's go."

"Right behind you," Nikita drawled, grabbing her purse and letting Michael lead the way out of the bar.

The van was waiting for them, Birkhoff inside. Michael gave him the address and he typed it in then waited for his monitor screen to bring up a grid map. A red dot flashed and Birkhoff tapped the screen. "There you go. About twenty miles from here."

Michael nodded then moved to the front of the van to speak to the driver. "Get ready," he said to Nikita, when he returned.

She nodded then slipped out of her dress. Time for field gear. Michael had filled her in on the way to the van. Hudson was staying at the home of a business associate here in Singapore. She and Michael would go in and retrieve him as quietly as possible. Two shadows in the night. At least, that was the plan. But things didn't always go as planned.

Nikita sat curled up in a chair beside Michael's bed. It frightened her to see him in MedLab. He was supposed to be invincible. Bullets couldn't hurt him. Hell, he'd been shot twice in Russia and it never slowed him down. But now he was lying in bed, IV's taped to the back of each hand, his face ashen, body too still.

Madeline entered the room, her eyes were locked on Michael, but she spoke to Nikita. "Go home."

"I'm okay," Nikita replied, shifting in the chair to stretch cramped muscles.

"It wasn't a request, Nikita," Madeline said softly, her eyes now shifting to the other woman. "It was an order."

Nikita rose to her feet, hearing as well as feeling the coldness that emanated from Madeline. She understood it. It was her fault that Michael was lying there. Once they had snuck into the house where Hudson was, Michael and Nikita had split up. She had located Hudson first, letting Michael know her location via comlink. Then she had moved in to secure Hudson. He had been alseep so Nikita's task was simple. She glided forward silently to administer a sedative but even as she was pressing the dispenser to Hudson's neck, he stirred and grabbed Nikita's wrist. He was stronger than she would have suspected and had her in a headlock before Nikita could react.

It was in the moment that Hudson was about to snap Nikita's neck that Michael entered the room. He fired a warning shot, since it was imperative that they take Hudson alive. But Hudson had no such compunction's. He closed his hand over Nikita's for she was still holding her gun and forced her to squeeze the trigger. Nikita screamed slammed her heel into Hudson's instep. He howled with pain and released her enough that Nikita could slam her elbow into his chin. Michael was beside her then and he used his dispenser to render Hudson unconscious, at which point he tossed him over his shoulder and headed out.

Nikita had been relieved at first, believing that Hudson's shot had hit Michael's kevlar vest, for she had seen him jerk upon impact, but once they returned to the van she saw the blood staining Hudson's chest once Michael had dumped him on the cushions. Michael being Michael, he had insisted he was fine and Nikita let him be. They reached transport and took to the air. Michael had gone off to change and bandage his wound. Nikita had watched him, but remained silent. Upon returning to Section they had gone their seperated ways for debriefing. Walter had been the one to inform Nikita that Michael had collapsed in Madeline's office.

Now here she was, confronting Madeline. "I want to stay with Michael," Nikita stated firmly. She wasn't willing to back down this time.

"Go home, Nikita," Madeline repeated. "You have a briefing at five am."

"You're sending me on another mission?" Nikita shot back, disbelief coloring her tone.

Madeline smiled, a cold curving of her lips. "Life goes on," she said softly. "Section doesn't shut down, you know that. Do your job. Michael will be here when you get back."

Nikita considered arguing with Madeline, but knew her protests would fall on deaf ears. So she collected her jacket and glided out of the room. Her eyes were bright with tears but she refused to let them fall.

"Michael..." Madeline whispered his name, one hand reaching out to smooth a lock of cinnamon brown hair off his forehead. "Sometimes I really am sorry," she said. Then she bent down to press a kiss to his temple before turning and exiting the room.

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

Three days later, Nikita returned to Section, mission completed, and successful. She had debriefed and was on her way to Medlab when she ran into Kim-Li. The other woman held up a hand to stop Nikita. "What is it?" Nikita questioned, impatiently.

"Michael's not in Medlab," Kim-Li replied, knowing exactly where Nikita had been heading, and why.

"He's not?" Nikita whispered, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her first thought was that Michael had died.

Kim-Li saw Nikita turn pale. "Michael is okay," she said quickly. "He released himself from Medlab this morning. I left him in his office just a few minutes ago. He should still be there."

Nikita swallowed hard, then nodded. "Thanks," she whispered, then she did an about face and headed off. As Kim-Li had said, Nikita found Michael in his office, working at his computer. She glided in the room, without an invitation, and closed the door behind her. Then she stood before the desk, noting that Michael was pale. Too pale. And that his eyes, when they lifted to lock with hers, were glassy. "You should be in Medlab," Nikita said softly.

"I'm okay," Michael replied. Then he almost grimaced, for it was such a blatant lie. And he was thinking about his physical health. It was his emotional state that was in turmoil. "How did the mission go?"

"Fine," Nikita countered. She stared at Michael for a long moment, then said, "I'lm sorry."

Michael frowned. "For what?"

Nikita shuffled her feet, her eyes flickering away from the intensity of Michael's gaze. "It's my fault you go shot," she whispered.

"Don't!" Michael hissed, rising from his chair and hissing softly at the pain in his shoulder. But then he was around the desk, confronting Nikita. "It happens...to all of us, Nikita," he said gently. "Don't blame yourself. I don't."

"You should!" Nikita shot back. When she lifted her eyes to Michael's face, they were filled with tears. "I thought...I thought you were going to die."

Michael shook his head. "No such luck," he whispered. One hand lifted to Nikita's face, his knuckle's brushing her cheek. "Only the good die young, Nikita. That's why I'm so afraid for you."

Nikita heard the tremor in Michael's voice and a tear escaped to roll down her face and over his hand. "I've survived four years in Section," she reminded him. "I don't kill easy. And I'm not so good, Michael."

"My fault," he breathed.

"No, Section's fault," Nikita shot back, hoarsely. Then she wrapped her arms around Michael's waist and laid her head down on his good shoulder. She felt his arms circle her shoulders and the heat of his hard body warmed the chill inside her. "I've missed you," Nikita whispered.

Michael was silent for a moment, content simply to hold her. But then he pressed a kiss to her hair. "I wish I could change things for us," he said, his voice resonant with sincerity. He wanted that more than anything. "I wish that I could take you on a real date, instead of pretending that we're a couple for a mission."

Nikita lifted her head to gaze into his silver-green eyes. "But we can be a couple, Michael," she said. "Section gave us their permission. We can go on a date."

"It's just an illusion, Nikita," Michael hissed. He pulled away from her and crossed the room, putting distance between them. "Another test. Everything is a test."

"What's this all about?"Nikita countered, her eyes shimmering with pain and uncertainty. Ever since Kim-Li had become Michael's material, he had changed. Nikita was beginning to have doubts about his love for her now. And she hated feeling that way. But Kim-Li was a constant reminder of Simone, to Nikita's eyes. And she would never forget seeing Michael when he had found Simone again, after believing his wife dead for three years. He had loved her so intensely that it had made Nikita ache with jealousy. She wanted Michael to love her like that. But perhaps Madeline had been right in suggestion that Michael was the type of man who could only love that deeply, and passionately, once in his lifetime.

Michael closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain that echoed in Nikita's voice. "I'm tired," he said softly, and that at least was the truth. He knew that he shouldn't have left Medlab, but lying there with his thoughts had become torture. "I'm sorry, Nikita."

She went to him, one hand tangling in his hair, forcing Michael to meet her gaze. "Do you still want me?" she asked, her voice soft and husky with desire.

"Yes," Michael replied, letting Nikita see the truth in his eyes.

"That's all that matters then," Nikita told him, bending her head to brush a kiss across his mouth. "Come home with me tonight," she beseeched him. When she sensed Michael was about to protest, Nikita pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Just be with me, Michael," she whispered. "Please."

He took her hand then kissed the soft palm. "I have some things I have to do. I'll be over in a few hours."

Nikita swallowed back a sigh of disappointment. She didn't want to wait, but knew better than to push him. "You promise you'll come?" she challenged, her eyes locked on Michael's.

"I promise," he whispered.

"Later then," Nikita replied. She smiled, then turned and left the room.

Michael crossed the floor to close the door behind her. Then he sat back down at his desk and resumed typing. But the words on the screen were gibberish.

It was nearly dawn and Nikita sat in the open doorway leading to the terrace, a half empty bottle of wine held loosely in one hand.

"Damn you, Michael..." she whispered. He had never shown. Nikita had been tempted to call him, demanding an explanation, but she wasn't interested in excuses. So she had turned on some music and drank the wine she had hoped to share with him. She grabbed the bottle now and raised it in a mock toast. "To old times, Michael," Nikita whispered.

Blinking back tears, she downed a swallow of wine. Then she tossed the bottle aside, hearing it crash against the wall, before curling up on her side. Nikita closed her eyes and wished for oblivion.

Kim-Li sat beside Michael's bed in Medlab. She had been the one to find him collapsed on the floor of his office, burning up with fever. She had called for assistance, then had been called into Madeline's office. After being told that Michael was still unconscious, but in satisfactory condition, Kim-li had asked to be allowed to stay with him. Madeline had agreed. Kim-Li had also mentioned notifying Nikita and had been told that Madeline would take care of it.

Michael stirred in his sleep, haunted by nightmares in spite of the sedative he had been given. His head turned on the pillow and he whispered a name. "Nikita..."

"Shhhh..." Kim-Li said softly, moving to the bed to press one palm to Michael's cheek. He was still too warm, but the doctor's had pumped him full of antibiotics and the fever was expected to break soon. "Sleep, Michael," Kim-Li beseeched him. She was relieved when he settled down and his breathing changed. After stretching cramped muscles, Kim-Li returned to her chair. She curled up and closed her eyes, but wasn't tired. Instead she wondered about Nikita. Wondered why the other woman wasn't here, when Michael needed her.

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

Nikita spent the next day hung over, and since she didn't get called into Section, she wallowed in her misery. Two days later, however, she went in on her own. It was time to face Michael. She was more than a little surprised to find his office empty. It wasn't until she went in search of him that Nikita learned, from Birkhoff, that Michael was in Medlab. Birkhoff told her what had happened. How Michael had collapsed in his office on the night that he was supposed to come see her. So now she understood why he hadn't shown. What Nikita didn't understand was why she hadn't been told. Before going to Medlab, she went to see Madeline.

"Why didn't anyone tell me about Michael?" Nikita demanded, as she strode into the other woman's office, eyes flashing crystal-blue sparks.

"I didn't deem it neccessary," Madeline replied, leaning back in her chair and allowing a smile to curve her lips.

Nikita bit back a hot retort, knowing that it would have no effect on Madeline and would only give the woman more insight into her own psyche. "Let me ask you something, Madeline," Nikita countered. When the dark-haired woman nodded, Nikita continued. "Are you for, or against, my having a relationship with Michael?"

Madeline was silent for a moment, her eyes studying Nikita's face, then she replied, "So long as it does not interfere with Section operations, I have no problem with it. Does that answer your question?" Madeline challenged. She could feel Nikita's rage and her pain, and she was impressed at the control that the young woman was exerting over herself. Nikita was learning.

"No," Nikita hissed. "It doesn't," she replied. For a moment Nikita debated on whether or not she should continue this conversation, but then she figured she had nothing to lose. "Michael thinks it's just another test. Is he right? Is that why you're letting us..play...at having a relationship?"

"We're always being tested, Nikita. All of us," Madeline replied, and there was a flicker of shadows in her dark eyes as she spoke. "Michael has been loyal to Section for a long time, and his being allowed a relationship with you is like a reward."

Nikita almost laughed out loud. It was amazing how Madeline could simplify things. Debase them. "So...this isn't even about me?" Nikita prompted. "It's about rewarding Michael while continuing to test his loyalty?"

Madeline shrugged. "You asked a question, I gave you an answer," she said softly, the shadows in her dark eyes vanishing. "I'm sorry if it's not the answer you want to hear, Nikita. Deal with it." Madeline was remembering another time with Nikita, when the woman had asked about her freedom. Madeline had given her the truth then as well, a true that Nikita had been determined not to accept. Yet she was still here. Still finding a reason to live. Madeline suspected that a big part of that reason was Michael. So be it.

"Can I see Michael now?" Nikita queried, figuring that it was best to ask permission.

"Of course," Madeline replied, her smile back in place. Then she refocused her attention on the files she had been working on.

Nikita exited the office and stormed down the corridor. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she walked. Michael had been right. Section was using them, yet again. When would she ever learn? But Nikita cast such thoughts aside as she entered Medlab. She found Michael in the same room as before. He was hooked up to an IV again, and his eyes were closed. Warmth filled Nikita's soul as she gazed upon him, one hand lifting to smooth a cinnamon curl off Michael's forehead. He stirred at her touch and his eyes flicerkered open.

"Nikita..." Michael whispered.

"Shhh..." she whispered, bending to press a kiss to his lips. "Rest, Michael."

He closed his eyes for a minute, then his hand reached out to her. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't make dinner."

Nikita blinked back tears. She realized now that Michael had always been sincere in his apologies, even knowing that they often came too little, too late. But he meant them, and suddenly that's the only thing that mattered. It was finally hitting home to Nikita just how much Section manipulated Michael. Oh, he was far more aware of it than she was, but he was used by them just the same. "It's okay," Nikita whispered back. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, Michael. I just found out today that you collapsed again. I should have called sooner, or come in. But...I was angry."

"I know," he replied, a smile curving his lips. Michael squeezed Nikita's fingers as they curled over his own. "You have a right to be angry, Nikita."

"Not at you, Michael," she countered, firmly. "But we,ll talk later, when you're stronger. Rest now, okay?"

Michael closed his eyes, for the effort to stay awake was exhausting. "Will you stay with me?" he beseeched.

Nikita swallowed the lump in her throat. Michael had never shown such vulnerability to her before. He needed her and he was letting her know it. The shields were down, if only for a moment. "I'll stay," she promised. Nikita kissed him again, then smiled as she listened to his breathing change. Michael was fast asleep. Without releasing his hand, Nikita pulled a chair over to the bed and curled up in it. She would stay until Michael was released from Medlab. Section be damned.

To Nikita's surprise, as well as Michael's, Madeline allowed them to be together until Michael was released, three days later. He was put back on active status but would remain in-house. Nikita, on the other hand, was sent out on a mission. Michael also resumed his training duties with Kim-Li. But was stunned to learn who had been training the young woman in his absence. Jurgen. The blond man was waiting for Michael in his office to update him on Kim-Li's performance.

"She'll make an excellent operative," Jurgen said softly, as he watched Michael move to sit behind his desk.

"Yes, she will," Michael agreed. He unbuttoned his jacket with left hand then eased himself down into his chair. Eyes locking with Jurgen's he asked,"Why are you here?"

Jurgen shrugged. "Are you really that surprised to see me, Michael?" he countered, a smile curving his lips.

Michael shook his head. "No," he allowed. He had expected Jurgen to return, just not quite so soon. "How long will you be staying?" Michael questioned.

"For a while," Jurgen replied. He could almost read Michael's thoughts. The other man was concerned about Jurgen's motives. "Since you won't be active in the field for a few weeks, it was decided that it would be best for me to partner with Nikita. You'll be busy with Kim-Li anyway."

"I see," Michael whispered, and he was afraid that he did, indeed, see the big picture. What he had feared all along had come to pass. Section had not yet begun to test Nikita, or himself.

Jurgen removed his glasses, toying with the rims as his eyes studied Michael's face. "Things are going well between you and Nikita," he commented.

Michael blinked. "We're okay," he replied, giving away nothing. Not that it mattered, Jurgen would have been informed by Madeline as to his progress with Nikita.

"Kim-Li is very different from Nikita," Jurgen countered, abrubtly changing directions. "She admires you, Michael. That's important."

"Is it?"Michael shot back, wondering what Jurgen was leading up to.

Offering a warm smile, Jurgen nodded. "Admiration lays a foundation in trust. And it can be used to control Kim-Li."

Michael almost laughed. "Of course, that's what you did, to me," he replied. But there was no malice in his words. Michael was simply stating a fact.

"You needed someone to believe in, Michael," Jurgen whispered. "Someone who could understand you. I've always understand."

"Maybe...once," Michael allowed.

Jurgen put his glasses back on then stood up. "I've made dinner reservations for us, Michael. For tonight at Charmaine's. She's looking forward to seeing you again."

Michael had a flashback of memory. Charmaine's was a four-star French resturant, and Jurgen had taken him there after his first mission. A complete success. Dinner had been a celebration of his change in status. He had made full operative, and was allowed to live outside of Section. Dissolving the memory, Michael shook his head. "I have plans," he said softly. "With Nikita."

"Nikita is out of the country," Jurgen hissed., his eyes growing cold. Michael had just broken his number one rule. He had lied. "Eight o'clock," Jurgen whispered, then he walked out closing the door behind him.

The moment he was alone, Michael buried his face in his hands. Fear washed over him like a tidal wave and he found himself shaking. But his fear wasn't for himself, it was for Nikita.

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

Michael sipped at the wine in his glass. It was his favorite but somehow seemed lacking in flavor this evening. Perhaps because Jurgen had ordered it. A childish reason, but Michael couldn't help it. Not tonight. He stared at the menu to avoid facing the other man, but was soon called upon to make a selection. When he admitted to being unable to decide, Charmaine, who was waiting on them personally, made the decision for Michael. She would make his favorite, Poached Salmon in wine sauce. Her specialty.

Once the orders were in and they were alone again, Michael faced Jurgen. Might as well lay his cards on the table, so to speak. "Why Nikita?" Michael challenged.

"What do you mean?" Jurgen replied as he reached for his water glass. He took a sip then studied Michael over the rim, waiting for a response.

"You know what I mean," Michael replied, his voice whisper-soft. His fingers toyed with his linen napkin, his inner anxiety revealing itself by his actions. "Whose choice is it, Jurgen?" Michael prompted. "Yours...or Sections? Operations has never liked Nikita, but she's done nothing to you."

Jurgen nodded, acknowledging the truth of Michael's words. "Nikita is her own worst enemy, Michael," he drawled. "She will never conform to Section ways. In truth, were she to do so, she would lose some of her effectiveness as an operative. Yet, at the same time, it's her inability to be a team player, in the truest sense of the word, that makes her a liability."

Michael offered a cold smile. "You still haven't answered my question," he countered. And he had every intention of getting a answer. Nikita's life might depend upon it.

"I don't think Nikita is good for you, Michael," Jurgen said softly. He smiled, eyes locking with silver-green. "I thought the same about Simone."

"Simone.." Michael hissed, and a cold chill washed over him. He knew that Jurgen was telling him more than he wanted to know. That Simone's capture by Glass Curtain hadn't been an accident. That Section had known she was alive all those years that Michael had mourned her death. And that Jurgen had been involved. Had made that choice for Michael. Then, who better, to help him through his grief.

Jurgen watched as understanding dawned on the other man's face. "I know what's best for you, Michael," he whispered.

Michael felt as if he were suffocating, and drawing air into his lungs became an exercise requiring total concentration on his part. A long moment passed before he was able to speak. When he did so, his tone was soft, but laced with steel, and his eyes glittered like jade ice. "I won't let you have Nikita!" Michael hissed.

"You're a man of honor, Michael," Jurgen replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. His eyes were intense as they focused on young operative. "You have to make a choice. Section...or Nikita. You can't have both. You know that."

"If Nikita dies...you die," Michael whispered. He slid out of the booth and reached for his jacket. A cold smile curved his lips. "I'm also a man of my word, Jurgen," Michael drawled. Then he turned and walked away.

Jurgen watched Michael go, a smile of genuine delight on his face. He reached for his wine glass then lifted it into a toast. "May the best man win," he declared. And Michael might have been surprised had he known Jurgen's innermost thoughts at that moment. But the moment quickly passed.

Kim-Li took down her opponent and felt an adrenaline rush as she stared down at the fallen man. He was twice her size and smiled at her as he got back up on his feet. Kim-Li was proud of herself. She turned towards Michael, who was standing on the sidelines, only to discover that he hadn't been paying attention. Heaving a sigh, Kim-Li reached for a towel to pat her face then she strolled over to her teacher. "Michael.." she said softly.

He shook his head. Michael had heard Kim-Li speak his name as if from a great distance. When he focused his eyes on her, he realized that he had been lost in thought. Thoughts of Nikita. "I'm sorry," Michael was quick to apologize. He glanced over at Rodney, who had agreed to face off with Kim-Li and was pleased when the operative acknowledged that Kim-Li had reached the fourth level. "Thank you," Michael said, dismissing the other man.

"You should have seen me," Kim-Li teased Michael. "I was good."

"You're a quick study," Michael allowed, a smile curving his lips. He needed to focus on Kim-Li now. Not Nikita. But Nikita was everpresent. Michael knew that she would be returning from her mission within the next twelve hours. He was anxious to see her.

Kim-Li tucked a lock of sweatdampened hair behind one ear. "Michael...is something wrong?" she asked. And her interest was genuine. During the past few weeks she had come to both admire and respect Michael. She liked him as well. He was a good man. As well as a good soldier. Kim-Li found that she admired that as well.

Michael shook his head, finding it hard to hold Kim-Li's intense gaze. His control was slipping. Jurgen's fault. "Nothing's wrong," he said quietly. But then he could hear the lie in his words so he ammended, "It's been a long day. I'm tired."

"You're a quick healer," Kim-Li replied, a smile curving her lips. "But still human." She leaned in close as if about to reveal a major secret. "Don't believe all those rumors that you're Super-Op. You're bullet proof cape is at the cleaners."

"Good for you," Michael countered, a genuine smile lighting up his eyes. "You know enough not to listen to rumors."

Kim-Li nodded. "It's a lesson I learned early in life," she confessed. "People like to label other people. Compartmentalize them. Nice and neat like. And whatever you're labeled you're supposed to be. Don't you dare step out of character either. It's not allowed."

Michael was stunned by Kim-Li's insight. Her eyes glimmered with a wisdom beyond her years. She understood pain and had not allowed it to define her. She created her own image. She understood about control. "Sometimes it's not a such a bad way to live," Michael whispered.

"Sometimes it's the only way to live," Kim-Li acknowledged. Then she listened to the voice in her head that told her not to push any farther. So she scooped up her water bottle and sweat jacket and headed for the shower. As she passed by Michael she said, "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Michael replied, even as he turned to watch Kim-Li go. He felt a sense of relief knowing that she would be one of the ones who would survive Section. She might even move up through the ranks some day, if she lived long enough. Every mission was a risk, and there were no guarentees. But Michael hoped that Kim-Li would make it. Still, once the young woman was out sight, she soon faded out of mind. Michael's thoughts once again turned to Nikita. Somehow, someway, he would save her. But a part of Michael couldn't help but question his own motives. Did he want to save her for his sake....or Nikita's?

When Nikita returned to Section the first thing she did, after debriefing, was go in search of Michael. But even as she headed down the corridor towards his office, she was waylaid by Walter.

"Emergency briefing, sugar," he said, snagging her by the arm.

"What's going on, Walter?" Nikita countered, feeling a sudden ripple of fear. His face reflected an anxiety that she hadn't seen since the War with Red Cell.

Walter shook his head. "Can't say for sure, sugar," he replied. "But I got a bad feeling."

Nikita didn't respond, but she was in agreement with him. She followed Walter into the briefing room but skidded to a halt when she saw a familiar, blond, head bent close to Michael's as the two men studied something laid out on the table top. "Jurgen..." Nikita whispered. Before she had a chance to recover, Operations glided into the room.

"Places!" he barked, and everyone moved to obey.

"Michael," Nikita whispered, moving to slip into the chair next to him, only to find her way blocked by Jurgen. Nikita was about to glare at him but felt the heat of Operation's gaze upon her so she dropped into the next chair down. But her eyes were locked on Michael's face. The fact that he didn't look at her made Nikita's stomach twist into knots. Something bad was going to happen, and she couldn't shake the feeling that her world was about to shatter.

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

Operations was quick to get to the point. "We have intel that suggests that a copy of the directive has made an appearance. It's in the hands of a new faction called Black Star. They're headquartered in Geneva, at an abandoned power plant."

Walter interjected. "So what?" he countered, bluntly. "We've changed the directory. The copy they have is no good."

"It's still hot," Operations replied, letting Walter know by the look in his eyes that he was not happy at being interrupted. Then he turned his attention to Michael. "You'll be heading the team. It's a simple in and out. I want the directory and the plant destroyed. No casualties...or survivors. Understand?"

"Yes," Michael whispered. He cradled the CD that contained the intel on the mission location and stats in his hand.

Operations nodded. "Good. Move out people. Your transport leaves in one hour. Oh...and Michael.." Operations waited for the younger man to turn back and face him. "I want Jurgen on your team. Consider him your back up."

Michael didn't blink. "Of course," he replied, then he strode from the room.

Nikita watched Michael go and considered following. But she felt Jurgen's eyes on her so she turned to smile at the man. Nikita wouldn't let him see her emotions, or read her thoughts. Not this time. "Nice to see you back," she drawled.

"It's nice to be back," Jurgen replied, knowing the game that Nikita was playing. It amused him. "Got a minute?" he asked, putting a hand on her arm when she turned to go. The others had filed out of the conference room, so they were alone.

"Sure," Nikita allowed, stepping back away from Jurgen's touch and crossing her arms over her chest. "What is it you want?"

Jurgen laughed, a genuine sound of amusement, as he perched one hip on the corner of the table, regarding Nikita through heavylidded eyes. "What makes you think I want anything?" he challenged.

Nikita grinned back at him. "There's a reason for everything you do," she drawled, her expression inviting him to deny it.

"Did Michael tell you that?" Jurgen countered.

"Many times," Nikita confessed. "But I only recently learned to listen to him."

Jurgen sighed. "Michael is a good man, Nikita. A good Operative." Pushing away from the table, Jurgen moved to stand before the beautiful blond. "You have the power to destroy him," he whispered.

Nikita nodded. "I know. But I won't do that," she declared, her eyes flashing a warning to Jurgen to be careful where he tread.

"You won't be able to stop yourself," Jurgen hissed. Then his tone softened immediately. "You want Michael to chose between you..and Section. He can't do that."

"You don't know that!" Nikita shot back, feeling anger rising up in her like an ember sparking into flame.

Jurgen tilted his head, his eyes shading to dark blue. "We both know the truth, Nikita," he drawled. "The difference us is...I want what's best for Michael. You want what's best for you." Jurgen could almost feel Nikita's rage and he backed up a step so he could better study her body language. She was clinging to her self-control, fingers clawing to maintain their grip. It wouldn't take much to push her over the edge. But had no reason to do that. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Michael will try to be what you want him to be, Nikita. He'd do anything for you. But it's not that easy. Not because he can't be the man you want him to be. He was that man. But...Section is not the *real world*, Nikita. And Michael is loyal to Section."

Nikita didn't argue that point. It was a lesson she had finally begun to learn. But it was hard for her to accept. "Michael and I will do whatever it takes to survive Section!" she hissed. "And to be together."

"Don't be on it," Jurgen drawled, knowing that he was planting a seed of doubt with his words. He could see it in the kaleidoscope of emotions that flickered across Nikita's face. Offering a cold smile, Jurgen stepped past her and headed out the door.|

"I'm betting all I've got," Nikita whispered. Then she headed out as well.

There was no chance for Michael and Nikita to talk. The team entered the transport and headed out to Geneva. Once on the plane, Michael outlined the plan. The six-man team, including himself, Nikita and Jurgen would slip into the plant and plant charges in a dozen areas that Birkhoff had targeted. Walter, who was also along for the ride, had set up the charges with high concentrations of C4. Everything in the plant would be annihilated within a three hundred yard radius. When the dust settled there would be nothing left but...dust.

Walter warned everyone that once the charges were set to hightail it out of the targeted area. The sequence window was thirty seconds. Once Birkhoff set it in motion, there was no turning back, and each blast would go off in synch.

Michael had pinpointed the locations for the charges. Each operative would plant two. But they all had four on them in case someone went down, it would be up to the operative closest to the location to set up the other charges. All twelve were needed, in place, for extermination to be complete.

"Move out," Michael ordered, when the van reached it's destination. He watched the team go then headed out himself. Only as he reached in for the door, his eyes locked with Birkhoff's for a split second. The moment passed, and Michael was gone.

Black Star were not expecting company and so they were lax on their guard. Michael was in contact with his team from the moment they entered the facility. He listened as each operative called in, letting him know when their charges were set. Michael then told them to return to base. The van. He set his own charges, then heard Jurgen call in. Only Nikita was left. Michael held his breath till he heard her voice, then he ordered her in. He headed back in at the same time. Once he had reached the perimeter, Michael ordered Birkhoff to start the sequence.

"Done," Birkhoff replied.

"Countdown?" Michael asked, as he entered the van. He saw that Jurgen and the other three operatives were already there. That left Nikita.

Birkhoff glanced up at Michael. "Twenty seconds," he replied.

Michael waited a count then tapped his comlink.

"Nikita...check in," he ordered.

Walter had been watching Birkhoff's monitor and he saw something that made his heart skip a beat. The screen was split into windows showing the directional locations of targeted areas. Basically north, south, east and west. Nikita was in the south section, next to one of the buildings where she had set a charge.

"Fifteen seconds," Birkhoff hissed.

Michael looked at Jurgen. The other man's face was expressionless, a mirror of Michael's own. Mocking him. Michael looked at the monitor.

Birkhoff counted down out loud. "Five...four...three..two.."

Walter felt DeJa Vu wash over him. His looked at Michael but the young man's eyes were closed.

Looking up at Michael as well, Birkhoff whispered, "One..."

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

Madeline studied Michael. He was sitting in the chair across from her desk. His hands were folded in his lap and his eyes held her gaze without wavering. A soft smile curved Madeline's lips. "I talked with Walter. Neither he, nor Birkhoff, can figure out why that one charge didn't blow in synch," she said quietly.

"We got lucky," Michael whispered, his mask firmly in place.

"Yes, we did," Madeline allowed. "Without that twenty second delay, Nikita would have been dead."

Michael didn't respond. Didn't feel it was neccessary. And they both knew he wasn't going to tell her the truth. That he was the one who had told Birkhoff to put the delay on the charge. The *other* truth would not be spoken here either. That it had been intended for Nikita to die. When she had checked in that her charges were in place, her comunit had only worked to send. It hadn't been able to receive so she had never heard Michael's order to fall back. That was why she had still been in the target area. Nikita wasn't suppose to return from the mission. Michael knew who to blame.

Madeline stood up and moved to perch on the front of her desk, directly in front of Michael. She could see shadows beneath his eyes and knew that he hadn't slept. She would keep tabs on him and send him to Medlab if neccessary. His performance could not be allowed to suffer.

"Is there anything else?" Michael queried, his eyes not leaving Madeline's. He could almost hear what she was thinking and he let a slight smile curve his lips, letting her know that he would be fine. Unspoken communication between them had been a given from the moment Michael had been recruited into Section. It was like a bond that he and Madeline shared. And Michael saw it as both a blessing and a curse. Right now he knew that Madeline was feeling regret. He didn't care to question why.

"How are things between you and Nikita?" Madeline queried. And her interest was sincere. She knew that Michael was aware of the mission parameters in complete detail. Had known he would be suspicious the moment Jurgen returned. And all the more so when he was chosen to lead the team to Geneva. After all he hadn't...officially...been put back on active, field status. Michael was anything but a fool.

Letting a genuine smile curve his lips. "Things are good," he allowed. But that was all he would give Madeline.

She nodded. "I'm glad, Michael," she whispered. Madeline leaned forward to brush a stray lock of hair off Michael's forehead. "You and Nikita won't be needed tonight. You can go." It was an invitation for them to be together and Madeline sensed that Michael would take her up on it. He had come close to losing Nikita tonight. He would need to be with her.

"Thank you," Michael replied as he rose from the chair. He buttoned his jacket and headed for the door. But he stopped and turned fo face her again. "Madeline..."

"Yes?" she prompted.

Michael sighed. "I just want you to know that I do learn from my mistakes." It was a warning, not a threat, and Michael wondered if Madeline would catch his meaning.

She nodded. She understood. "I'm glad," Madeline whispered. She watched Michael glide out and knew that if forced to chose again, Michael would pick Nikita over Section. He would not lose her as he had Simone.

Nikita was waiting in the corridor for Michael. She was surprised to see a smile curving his lips. A part of her had expected that he would have been chewed out by Madeline. Apparently not. Then again, why should he have been. The mission had been successful. "You okay?" Nikita queried, as Michael reached her. She thought he looked tired.

"I'm fine," he replied. Michael wanted to touch her but knew that this was not the time, or the place. But he did tuck a strand of pale hair behind Nikita's ear before clasping his hands together in front of him. "I want to take you to dinner tonight," Michael announced.

"Great," Nikita replied. She was surprised but thrilled. They hadn't had a chance to be together, and to talk, since she had been out after Michael had been released from Medlab. It seemed ages ago. "Wwhy don't we just make something at my place?" she suggested.

Michael shook his head. "No. I know a place....Charmaine's. I want to take you there. I'll think you'll like it."

Nikita remembered the first time Michael had taken her to dinner. It had been his first manipulation. But she shook the memory aside. It was the past and she was determined to live only in the present. "It's a date," she said warmly. "Casual?"

"A bit formal," Michael replied. "Where that red dress with the lace," he requested. Nikita was stunning in red. And it suited her. It was bold and vibrant. A reflection of her spirit.

"All right," she allowed. Then a grin curved Nikita's lips. "But I get to pick what you wear too. Deal?"

Michael grimaced, then nodded. "Deal." His eyes flickered past Nikita's shoulder. Jurgen was striding towards them. Michael slipped his mask back into place.

Jurgen saw the change in Michael's expression and wasn't surprised by it. He knew Michael very well. As he reached the couple, his eyes were on Nikita. "Glad you're okay," Jurgen drawled, smiling at the beautiful blond.

Nikita smiled back. She no longer felt threatened by Jurgen, in spite of their last conversation. Nikita knew that she and Michael belonged together. And Jurgen couldn't come between them now. She wouldn't let him. "Me too," Nikita replied.

Throughout the exchange, Michael remained silent. He knew the game that Jurgen was playing, just as he knew that Nikita was unaware that her near-death had been no accident. And he would never tell her.

"Walter still doesn't know why the charge delayed," Nikita continued, but now her eyes were focused on Michael. And he was looking at her, his gaze intense. "I guess I was lucky."

"Lucky indeed," Jurgen whispered. Then he focused his attention on Michael as well. "Do you have plans for the evening?" he inquired.

Michael nodded. "Dinner," he replied, briefly.

Jurgen quirked an eyebrow but that was his only reaction. "Enjoy yourselves," he told them, his sincerity so intense as to be condesending. But he knew that only Michael would hear it.

"We will," Nikita responded, unaware of the exchange going on between the two men. She smiled at Michael. "What time?"

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said softly. Then Michael stepped back, turning to go. "I have a report to finish," he announced, then he was gone.

Jurgen watched him go, then turned to Nikita. "You seem happy," he commented.

She offered a self-satisfied smirk. "I am," Nikita drawled. "Ain't it kewl?" And, with that, she waggled her fingers at Jurgen then glided away.

Nikita accepted the bite of cheesecake that Michael fed her. She had already finished her own dessert and was now helping him finsih his. "Delicious," she moaned, as she savored the taste and texture of the confection. "Everything was wonderful!" Nikita enthused after she swallowed some coffee.

"I'm glad you like it," Michael whispered, his eyes reflectiing the truth of his words. In this moment, he was happy. "You look beautiful," he told her. It wasn't the first time he had told her that this evening.

"So do you," Nikita replied, as her eyes wandered over Michael. He was dressed as she had requested, in black pants and black silk shirt, but with a royal blue blazer to add color. Nikita loved him in blue. But suddenly her smile faded. "Michael..." she whispered.

He sensed Nikita's sudden anxiety and reached for her hand. "Yes?" he prompted.

Nikita sighed. "Tell me the truth...Can I destroy you?"

"You're the only one who has that power, Nikita," Michael confirmed. "But you won't," he continued, as he saw pain and doubt flicker in her beautiful eyes. Michael drew Nikita's hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "I told you once that the only part of me that wasn't dead...was you. That's the truth," Michael whispered. "Before you came to Section, I was dead inside. There was nothing left to destroy. I have no regrets, Nikita. You shouldn't either."

"I don't think I do," she replied, her fingers tangling with Michael's and her smile reemerging. "I'd like to think that from now on it's not me against you anymore, but us against them." As Nikita spoke she thought about what Jurgen had said to her, about Michael chosing Section over her if she forced him into chosing at all.

Michael closed his eyes, hiding his pain for a moment, but then he met and held Nikita's gaze. "I'll always belong to Section, Nikita," Michael said, being totally honest with her. "I owe them my life. If not for them, there would be no *us*...you and me. I can't forget that."

Nikita felt tears fill her eyes. "So...what then? You'll always put Section before me?" It was the most difficult question she had ever asked him.

"I will always do the job they ask of me," Michael replied. "But you're the only thing I care about in this world, Nikita. The only reason I have for wanting to live." Michael saw the confusion that shadowed Nikita's eyes at his words, so he attempted to explain. 'In spite of everything and everyone I've lost, regardless of what Section has taken from me, I went on living. Because dying wasn't an option. I functioned, Nikita. Doing what they asked of me...what was expected. I was a machine. A body without a soul. The perfect operative."

"Michael..." Nikita whispered his name as understanding dawned, but she fell silent when he pressed a fingertip to her lips. Nikita knew that he needed to finish, so she nodded.

Squeezing Nikita's hand, Michael continued. They both needed to hear what he had to say. "Living used to be a punishment. A self-imposed life sentence as atonement for my sins. Only there would never be forgiveness...not for me. I didn't deserve it. But...I'm learning to forgive myself, Nikita. Because of you."

Nikita let her tears fall now, dampening her face. Michael had opened up to her now in a way she had never expected. And she knew that this moment between them was precious. "Thank you," she whispered. And there was no need to say more.

Jurgen slid behind the wheel of his car. He put the key in the ignition and started the engine, after clipping his seatbelt on, he touched the power button on the CD player. Instead of Mozart he heard Michael's voice.

"I'm sorry that it has to end this way, Jurgen. You taught me how to survive Section, and I'm grateful. We might have been friends, under different circumstances. But to you, this was just another exercise. A game. I played by your rules, Jurgen. Only I played to win. Goodbye."

The moment Michael's voice faded, Jurgen understood the message. Michael had vowed to kill him if he tried to hurt Nikita. Guessing that the car was rigged with an explosive, Jurgen's first thought was to get out. But even as he tugged on the door handle, he realized his mistake.

Operations strode into Madeline's office, fury flashing in his eyes. "Jurgen is dead!" he hissed.

Madeline nodded. "Yes." She wasn't surprised. Nor was she particularly upset.

"I want to know who..and why!" Operations demanded.

"Of course," Madeline replied, her tone even. "Walter is going over the wreckage right now. It was a simple car bomb, activated when Jurgen tried to open the door. My guess, however, is that we'll never know who. They would have been careful. And, to be honest, I don't think why is all that important. Do you?" As Madeline asked the question, her eyes were locked with Operations'.

He understood her message and nodded. "Let me know when you have the full report." With that, Operations turned on his heel and left the room.

Madeline watched him go. Once the door had closed she let a smie curve her lips. Then she turned her attentions to the reports on her desk.

Mcihael held Nikita in his arms, guiding her in a circle as they moved in a lazy circle around the crowded dance floor. Nikita's head rested on his shoulder and her arms were wrapped tightly about his waist.

Nikita was happy. It was that simple, but she suddenly felt Michael stiffen and she raised her head to look at him. She saw a strange light reflecting in his silver-green eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," Michael replied. An image of Jurgen shimmered in his head and he dissolved it. "Let's go home," Michael whispered, pressing a kiss to Nikita's temple.

"Good idea," she replied, reaching for his hand. Desire glowed in Nikita's eyes as she led Michael from the dance floor. She wanted to make love to him until dawn.

Michael followed willingly. Jurgen was dead and he had no regrets. They had both made their choices. But coldfire burned deep inside Michael, and he needed the warmth of Nikita's love to warm him..body and soul.

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

Nikita lay in Michael's arms, her head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. She had finally told him about a secret she'd been carrying around. About how she had thought, for a time, that she might be pregnant. Her period had skipped a month. For an entire month, Nikita had believed that she was pregnant with Michael's child. She told him about it now because of the future. And she was waiting for his response. "Michael..." Nikita prompted.

"Yes..." he whispered, one hand moving to stroke her hair.

"What if I had been pregnant?" she challenged.

Michael closed his eyes at the question, for it brought back memories he had buried long ago. When he had learned that Simone was pregnant, and the fears they had suffered through. But then all had seemed well. His son had been born and Section had appeared accepting. Only they weren't. Michael knew they were responsible for his son's death. "We can't let that happen," he said finally, in answer to Nikita.

She caught her breath as she heard the pain that colored Michael's voice, and Nikita knew he was thinking about his son. "Section won't let us have a child," she said softly.

"No," Michael confirmed. He shifted in bed so that he was sitting up, then he turned to face Nikita. "Section is not the real world. Never forge that, Nikita. What we have...right now...is precious to me. I don't know how long we'll have....so I'll take what we can get. It will always be this way. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Nikita replied, one hand lifting to tuck a cinnamon curl behind Michael's ear. She saw in his eyes the reflection of his love for her. It warmed her, yet she still felt cold inside. Nikita recognized it as fear. Fear of the unknown. She wanted to believe that she and Michael had a future together, but she knew that he was right. They only had the present. This moment...right now...could be their last. She had to accept that, or she had to walk away. Looking deep into Michael's eyes, she knew that she had to decide now. Did she love Michael enough to live that way?

Michael knew what Nikita was thinking, knew the decision she had to make. He said nothing to influence her towards taking a chance on them. On him. If anything, he had said all the things that would push her away. But now, he simply waited.

Nikita sighed. She had a few questions that needed to be answered. "Michael...we've come so far, so fast. I don't regret the past...but I'm not sure about the future. I know that we can't be together like other couples, but I do need to know one thing."

"What is it?" Michael prompted.

"Will you still lie to me?" Nikita fired the question at him like a bullet from a gun.

Michael was silent for a long moment. His eyes were locked on Nikita's and it hurt him to see the pain and the doubt that shimmered in her crystal-blue gaze. He always seemed to cause her pain. "If I have to," Michael confessed.

Nikita grimaced. "Not the answer I was hoping for."

"I told that I will do the job," Michael countered, reaching for Nikita's hand and claiming it even when she resisted. "Section owns me, Nikita. I can't cross the line. If I do, you die. I won't let that happen. So...yes...I will lie to you, when they ask me to."

"So..in other words...I won't ever really know when you're telling me the truth about things," Nikita drawled, as tears filled her eyes. She desperately wanted to be able to trust him.

Michael touched a fingertip to Nikita's chin. Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss to her lips. "You'll know.." he whispered into her mouth.

Nikita was about to reply when the phone rang. Michael's cellular. Nikita watched him snatch it up from the bedstand and answer. She closed her eyes as he hung up. "You have to go in," she said softly.

"Yes," Michael replied, sliding out of bed and reaching for his clothes. He dressed quickly then turned to look at Nikita. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The sheet was at her waist and her pale hair was tangled about her face. Michael thought she had never looked more beautiful. "Goodbye, Nikita," he whispered. Then he left the room.

"Goodbye, Michael," Nikita mouthed softly, after he was gone. She knew that he left it in her hands to decide if their relationship would continue. The power, the control, was now hers. Nikita knew that wasn't easy for Michael to do, and it meant alot to her. She didn't know what to feel right now, and she was too tired to think. So she wrapped her arms around Michael's pillow, breathing in the scent of him and feeling his warmth, as she drifted off to sleep.

Three days later Nikita breezed into Michael's office, closing the door behind her. He was seated at his desk, working on the computer, but he looked up and watched as Nikita closed the blinds. Then she was standing before him. "Make you a deal," Nikita drawled, as she planted herself on Michael's lap.

"A deal?" he countered, his arms sliding around her waist. Michael wanted to kiss her, but he waited. His curiosity was piqued.

"I know that you have to do things your way, Section's way...but if you're willing to accept that I'm always going to do things MY way, then I think you and I do have a future together, Michael." Nikita smiled at him, saucily. "It won't be easy for us, but you're worth it," she whispered.

Michael felt relief wash over him and he let it show, if only briefly, in his eyes. "Nikita..." he began, but she silenced him with a kiss.

Nikita kissed Michael till they were both breathless, then she slid off his lap. "Think about that while you're doing your reports," she taunted him. "Dinner at my place tonight, eight o'clock...if you're interested." And with that, and a waggle of her fingers, she was gone.

"Touche," Michael whispered, a smile curving his lips. Nikita was finally learning to play the game. Maybe, just maybe, they would have a future after all. Just then, Michael's phone rang. He answered, listened for a moment, then said, "I'll be right there." Heaving an, uncharacteristic, sigh Michael stood up and buttoned his jacket. Madeline was sending him to Dublin, an emergency pick up. So Michael wouldn't make dinner with Nikita tonight. But, he knew of a pastry shop in Dublin that made cream puffs to die for. Perhaps he would make it to Nikita's in time for dessert. As Michael strode down the corridor, a smile shimmered in his eyes.

THE END

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