---

When Operations and Madeline gave Nikita the chance to go on vacation from Section, any where in the world, she chose Monte Carlo. And she spent six weeks there, shopping, gambling and flirting with rich men. When it was time to come back, she was both relieved, and reluctant.

Nikita strolled through the corridors of Section, a smile on her face as she greeted Walter and Birkhoff. Their heads were together as they worked on some project at Birkhoff's station.

"Miss me?" Nikita teased, as she joined them.

"Always, sugar," Walter drawled.

"Were you gone?" Birkhoff countered, a cynical smile curving his lips.

Nikita smacked him on the top of his shorn head. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

A part of Nikita hoped that things would have changed while she had gone. Changed for the better. She had done alot of thinking about what had happened since her return to Section and the fiasco with Jurgen. How Michael had let her down once more. Only...maybe that wasn't what really happened. Nikita had time to conclude that Michael had attempted to open up to her on several occassions, but she had blown him off every time. Too little...to late...she had told him. But, then again, she hadn't really made the effort to be patient, as Michael had asked her to. Nikita was eager to talk to him. To feel out how things stood between them now. To that end she asked Walter,

"Where's Michael?"

"In his office," Walter replied, grinning. "Where else?"

"Later," Nikita drawled, waggling her fingers at the two men.

She headed down the corridor to Michael's office. As she reached it, she was surprised to find the door closed. Michael never shut the door, except on occasion, when they had talked. Without knocking, Nikita opened the door and entered the room. Only to stop dead in her tracks when she realized that Michael was not alone. A beautiful red-haired woman sat in the chair across from his desk. In a heartbeat Nikita assessed that the woman was maybe thirty, and that she had cold, emerald, eyes.

Michael rose to his feet. "Hello, Nikita," he said softly. Then he gestured to the other woman. "This is Dulcie. She's joining us from Paris."

Dulcie stood up to greet Nikita. They were similar in height, but Dulcie's figure was more lush and curvaceous. "I've heard alot about you, Nikita," Dulcie offered in greeting, even as she held out one hand. "It's nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too," Nikita replied. She shook the other woman's hand, only briefly, then looked at Michael. He wore the mask she was familiar with, no expression on his face, no emotion in his silver-green eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt," Nikita whispered.

"No problem," Michael replied. "Briefing in fifteen minutes," he told her. "Don't be late."

Nikita nodded. "Right," she drawled. "Later." With that she backed out of the office. Closing the door behind her, Nikita leaned against it for a moment, feeling as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her. And she couldn't explain why.

The briefing was in the conference room. Section had intel on a gathering that was to take place in Milan. The elite assassins world wide were coming together but to what end the US government didn't know, but they had asked Section to find out. Operations explained that Section had as it's guests a couple by the name of Yves Samson and Martina SanAngelo. Martina was the brains, Yves the brawn, and together they were considered elite killers.

Operations explained that Michael would replace Yves and would be partnered with Dulcie as Martina. Nikita was surprised when she heard that. She was always partnered with Michael. But she said nothing, waiting for Operations to close the meeting before approaching Michael.

"Why aren't I working with you?" Nikita asked, bluntly.

"Dulcie is a better choice," Michael replied, his eyes flickering over Nikita's face. He could tell that she was angry.

Nikita folded her arms over her chest and her eyes flashed blue sparks. "Why is that?" she challenged.

Madeline had overheard Nikita's question and she intervened. "Dulcie fits the profile more closely than you do, Nikita," she replied. "She's older, more mature. More worldly."

A smile curved Madeline's lips as she watched Nikita chewing on her words. "It's nothing personal."

"Course not," Nikita shot back. She locked eyes with Michael for a moment, then left the room.

"I think she took it personally," Dulcie commented, as she moved to join Madeline and Michael.

Michael blinked. "She'll get over it," he said softly, then he exited as well.

Dulcie watched Michael go, then smiled at Madeline. "You can feel the heat between those two," she remarked, meaning Michael and Nikita.

"Yes, you can," Madeline allowed. "You and Michael work well together, Dulcie. Are you comfortable here?"

"I like it well enough," Dulcie conceded. "Michael is as good as his reputation. Better even. I enjoy working with him. My other partner made things difficult."

Madeline nodded. She knew about Dulcie's background. She had been an operative for eight years and was considered one of the best Section had to offer. Teaming her with Michael made sense. They had been on four missions since Nikita had gone on vacation and all four were complete successes. Dulcie followed the rules, as did Michael.

But what Madeline found interesting about the missions after debriefing Dulcie, was the fact that Michael's reactions to things were more...emotional...than they previously had been. Something he had absorbed from Nikita, and Madeline doubted that Michael was aware of his actions. That he had changed his way of thinking.

"I think you're good for Michael," Madeline commented, her eyes locking with Dulcie's.

Offering a smile, Dulcie replied, "I read his file. He's a remarkable man. I'd say he's been through hell and back several times, and he doesn't give up. Or give in. You can't break him."

"We came close," Madeline countered, her eyes darkening almost to black. "Nikita is Michael's Achilles' heel. She's both his weakness and his strength, in some ways. After losing Simone, and his son, Michael needed her. When he thought she was dead, he was out of synch. We came close to losing him again."

"But, what doesn't kill him, makes him stronger," Dulcie quoted.

Madeline laughed softly, pleased that the other woman understood. She had chosen Dulcie with great care. In many ways, Madeline believed that Michael and Nikita belonged together. As a team, they were unbeatable. But as partners, of a more intimate nature, they were a weakness to each other. Madeline knew that both were to blame, but she also knew that the weakest link was Nikita.

The young woman didn't know how to love. Nikita had no role models growing up to show her what love was. To teach her that loving another human being meant giving of one's self. It meant sacrificing, but it also meant patience. It meant accepting the person for who, and what, they are. Not trying to change them to fit her own ideals. Madeline believed that Nikita was back on track now, and she would have to find her own way. But Michael was lost, and Madeline wanted to help him. She knew he would never ask for assistance. Michael dealt with his pain in private. Had done so even when he had been with Simone. But things were different now. Nikita had changed Michael in ways that he was unaware of. In ways that he was unprepared to handle. So Madeline would help him, but subtlely. With Dulcie's help.

"You should get ready," Madeline said softly.

Dulcie pushed away from the table she had been leaning against. "Talk to you later, Madeline," she countered, then she was gone.

It felt surreal to Nikita to be in the van with Birkhoff, watching Michael and Dulcie in play. They made a very convincing couple, Nikita noted. Unlike herself and Michael, who were fire and ice, or oil and water, Dulcie and Michael were like champagne and cavier, or peaches and cream. A perfect match.

"I think we've got what we need," Birkhoff commented, as he watched the right side of his screen scroll the information that Michael had downloaded from the CD he had pilfered. The CD contained all the names and intel about the twelve assassins that had congregated in Milan. The information had been compiled by a CIA agent, high up in the bureaucracy. It was what the officials who had contacted Section needed to know. Birkhoff signalled Michael that they had the goods and to come in. The CIA had no intention of trying to take down the assassins, even though they were conveniently grouped together. There was no point. They were the best and there was no evidence of their deeds to use in a court of law. And it was in Section's best interest to let them go. The CIA agent would be taken care of, quietly.

"That was easy," Nikita drawled, stifling a yawn.

Birkhoff nodded. "Yeah. Michael and Dulcie work real well together," he said, with complete innocence. He liked Dulcie. She didn't treat him like a computer geek.

Nikita glared at Birkhoff, then realized she was wasting her time. And what was the point? It wasn't as if she were jealous of Dulcie. Nikita laughed to herself at the notion. She had no reason at all to be jealous. After all, there was nothing between herself and Michael. Nothing at all.

After the debriefing, Nikita cornered Michael on his way out of Madeline's office. "Can we talk?" she entreatied, her eyes shining with hope.

"About what?" Michael countered, he had his mask firmly in place. It was his only means of protection.

"About...us," Nikita replied. She reached out to touch Michael's shoulder and flinched when he pulled away.

Michael locked eyes with Nikita, seeing her pain, knowing he had caused it, yet he did not yield. "There is no us," he said softly, but steel tempered his tone.

Nikita heaved a sigh. After the things she had said to hurt him, she could understand Michael's reticence.

"Maybe not now," she allowed. "But...there could be."

"I don't think so," Michael whispered.

"Michael.." Nikita began, but fell silent when he pressed a fingertip to her lips.

Pulling back his hand, Michael slipped it in his pocket. Then he locked eyes with Nikita. "I'm the same man I was when you went on vacation," he said quietly. "The same man I was after your six months of freedom." Michael allowed a smile to curve his lips, and he let Nikita see the sadness and regret that he felt reflected in his gaze. "You made a choice, Nikita. You chose Jurgen." Michael winced as he said the name of the man who had been his trainer, but so much more.

But Michael banished those memories. He knew better than to dwell in the past, and he wanted Nikita to realize that they had to move on.

"I've accepted your choice," Michael stated firmly. "Now you have to accept it as well."

Nikita bit her lip, she felt regret at the pain she knew she had caused Michael. And she wanted to make amends. "I made the wrong choice," Nikita confessed, her eyes pleading with Michael to understand. "I didn't give you a chance," she declared.

"Maybe I didn't deserve one," Michael shot back. He didn't want to hurt Nikita, but there seemed to be no way around it. And Michael knew he couldn't take anymore pain. He turned to go, but Nikita grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her.

"So....that's it?" she challenged, her eyes shooting sparks. "You never loved me...did you?"

Michael closed his eyes, not wanting to see Nikita's pain, but he could hear it and feel it. It was like a vibration that thrummed in his soul.

"I loved you the only way I knew how, Nikita" Michael whispered. "But it wasn't enough for you." It hurt to say the words out loud. To hear the truth. But Michael knew it was time for them both to face it. "It will never be enough for you, Nikita," Michael stated flatly. "I'll never be able to give you what you need."

Nikita blinked back tears. She had learned to read Michael well enough to hear the pain behind his words. His pain touched her heart.

"I was...wrong," she whispered, brokenly.

"No.." Michael replied. He brushed a pale lock of hair out of her eyes. "No, Nikita. You were right to protect your heart from me. I will never be free of Section. They own me, but they can't own you. I won't let them."

"Michael...please," Nikita begged. Only she wasn't quite sure what she was asking for. She only knew that in this moment, Michael was more open to her than he had ever been. He was letting her see into his soul, and she saw a man who was drowing in pain and darkness. Michael was like a raw, open, wound and Nikita realized that her actions must have been like pouring salt into him. For once he was letting her see him bleed.

Cupping Nikita's face in his palms, Michael brushed a kiss across her soft lips and he felt her tremble. "Let it go, Nikita," he whispered. Then he dropped his hands, turned, and walked away.

Nikita watched him go through eyes blurred with tears. When he was out of sight she pressed her back against the wall and wiped at her eyes with her shirtsleeve.

"I can't do that, Michael," she whispered. With determination shining from her eyes, Nikita headed out of Section. But she carried with her the image of Michael. The way he had looked at her when they had made love, and Nikita vowed to relive the memory. Michael was a part of her and, deep in her heart, Nikita knew that she would always be a part of him.

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

For the next mission, Michael, Nikita and Dulcie would be in play. A wealthy industrialist named Duval Keaton, who lived like a hermit in a self-imposed Ivory tower in CapeTown, South Africa, had in his possession a diary that Section wanted. Operations gave no further details about it, but by the tight expression on his face, Nikita knew that this mission was important. Whatever was in the diary was *hot*.

Duval Keaton had one weakness. Sex. He was bi-sexual and to get his fix he watched videos of the patrons of his Night Club, The TIGER'S EYE. Then he picked a couple who interested him and had his people invite them to his suite. Once there, the couple would engage in sex with Keaton, or sometimes simply perform for him.

Madeline assigned Michael and Dulcie as a couple. They would hang out at the Tiger's Eye and attempt to get noticed by Keaton. Once chosen, and Operations gave them no room for failure, it would be up to Nikita to follow them to Keaton's domain sneak in and find the diary, while Michael and Dulcie kept the millionaire preoccupied.

Nikita was not happy with her assignment, and the moment the briefing was over, she followed Madeline to her office.

"We need to talk," Nikita stated, emphatically.

"All right," Madeline allowed, gesturing for Nikita to take a chair. When the young woman refused, Madeline moved behind her desk, sat down, then asked, "What do you want to talk about?" She asked the question, even though she already knew the answer.

"Why aren't I partnered with Michael on this one?" Nikita blurted out, her eyes flashing. "You've said it before, Madeline. We make very convincing lovers."

Madeline nodded. "True. You do," she conceded. "But this is different, Nikita."

Shaking her head, Nikita dropped into a chair. "I don't see how," she drawled.

"You've never had to make love on the job. For the job," Madeline replied, her voice soft. But her eyes were dark and cold. "Michael protected you from having to do so. And with good reason. I don't think you could handle it. Not then...not now."

"You're point being?" Nikita challenged. She was ready for a fight on this one.

Madeline offered a cold smile. "Michael and Dulcie will have to...perform..in order to give you the time needed to find the diary. No getting around it, Nikita. They can do the job. You can't. Any more questions?"

Nikita knew a dismissal when she heard one. She stood up and glared at Madeline, but then she turned and headed for the door, stopping only when Madeline called her name.

"Yes?" Nikita hissed.

"You had a chance with Michael, Nikita," Madeline said softly. "I know you had feelings for each other, I even encouraged it times. And I, probably, would have supported a relationship between the two of you. But you made a different choice, Nikita. You didn't want Michael. So now it's time to let him go."

"You make it sound like a threat," Nikita shot back, her eyes narrowing as they focused on Madeline's face. But the dark-haired woman revealed nothing.

Madeline shook her head. "Not a threat, just a...piece of advice. I suggest you take it...seriously. That'll be all."

Nikita bit back a reply and walked out, resisting the urge to let out a primal scream of frustration. Instead she stalked down the corridor towards Michael's office. But he wasn't there. So Nikita went in search of him, stopping by Walter's station.

The old man nodded. "Michael's running sims with Dulcie," Walter told Nikita. And he could see by the look on the beautiful blond's face that she wasn't happy. "What's wrong, sugar?" he prompted.

"I don't know!" Nikita hissed, then she sighed. "Sorry, Walter," she apologized. "I'm just....upset."

"About Michael," Walter guessed, a smile curving his thin lips.

Nikita glared at him. "Is it that obvious?"

Walter shrugged. "Maybe just to me." He laughed softly. "Sugar, I knew how you felt about Michael from day one. You wear your emotions on your sleeve."

"Guess Michael wasn't a very good teacher," Nikita drawled, dropping down onto an empty stool. She buried her face in her hands.

"Michael taught you better than you know," Walter said quietly. "He did what he had to do to keep you alive."

Nikita's head shot up. "Tell me something, Walter," she beseeched. "How do you feel about Michael? And I want the truth. I remember after Simone died, you made it a point to tell me that Michael had shut himself off the first time. That it was really bad. And that he hadn't opened up at all until I came to Section. And there were other times, and other things you've said that led me to believe that you care about Michael. And that you trust him." Nikita paused, waiting for a response, but Walter just looked at her, so she continued. "But then Jurgen came and you mentioned that you and me and Him were part of the five percent club. Those who still had souls here at Section. But you blew me off when I asked if Michael belonged. You said...'good question'." Nikita locked eyes with Walter. "When I asked you about Michael having access to Jurgen's file, you said he could have lied about it, but that if he did it was for my own good. And Michael did admit to lying. But what about you, Walter? Were you in on the manipulation? Are you one of the good guys?"

Walter put down the tool he had been cleaning and leaned forward so that he and Nikita were eye to eye. "Around here, sugar, we all do the job," he said quietly. When she would have responded, Walter held up one hand to silence her. "Let me finish." When Nikita nodded, he continued. "You want to know my feelings towards Michael. Okay....the truth. He's the most loyal person I know. But first and foremost he's loyal to Section. He has his reasons, and it's my place to tell you what they are. I trust him with your life, because I've seen him risk cancellation to keep you alive. Does he still have a soul? I think so. But he doesn't believe that, and I think that's sad. Don't you? And one other thing...When Michael loves someone, he loves deeply. And he's willing to sacrifice for that love. It's unconditional love, Nikita. He gives one hundred percent to the other person. The only problem is, Michael doesn't know how to love himself. No one ever showed him how. Simone tried, but she was gone too soon."

"What is it you're trying to tell me, Walter?" Nikita beseeched, as she blinked back sudden tears. She was grateful for what he had told her, but so much of it was confusing. That he wanted her to read between the lines was obvious. But Nikita didn't know what to think.

"You can't always follow your heart, sugar," Walter whispered. "Sometimes...you gotta think with your head." With that he picked up his tools and turned away. He had to prepare for a mission.

Nikita slid off the stool and watched Walter walk away. Then she turned and headed for the exit. They didn't leave for Capetown for six hours, and Nikita needed to walk and to think.

Nikita sat at the bar, watching Michael and Dulcie on the dance floor. They fit together perfectly, bodies swaying to the sensual beat. Dulcie was dressed in a low-cut white dress, revealing her lush curves and satin skin. Michael was in black. His usual form-fitting trousers, but his shirt was black silk and Dulcie had popped the buttons to his waist, revealing his muscled chest to everyone's gaze, and they were the center of attention.

Jealousy burned deep in Nikita as she watched Michael press his lips to Dulcie's throat. The red-haired woman threw her head back and Nikita could almost feel her moan. Then Dulcie's hands were gliding down Michael's broad back, lower still till her fingers cupped his hard buttocks. Nikita swallowed hard as she watched Michael wrap one arm around Dulcie's waist, pulling her pelvis hard against his. Then they moved their hips to the music in a sensual rythmn.

"Hot..hot..hot.." Nikita heard Birkhoff's voice in her ear.

"Get a grip!" she hissed back. She knew he was watching the action on his monitor through the video link from the glasses she was wearing.

Birkhoff laughed. "I'm surprised no one's nibbled yet," he drawled. "Keaton must have noticed them by now."

"I'm sure he's noticed," Nikita shot back. She knew everyone else in the club had. Michael and Dulcie were whitefire on the dance floor. "Wait.." Nikita whispered. She watched as a man approached Michael and Dulcie, whispering in Michael's ear. Then she saw Dulcie reach down to fix the strap on her shoe. The signal that Keaton had taken the bait. Because it was a given that Michael and Dulcie would be patted down if chosen, neither of them had comlinks, or anyother devices that might be detected. Nikita was their only link to Section. "We've got a nibble," Nikita whispered.

"I see it," Birkhoff replied. "Looks like their moving."

Nikita grabbed her purse. "Pick me up around back," she hissed, as she headed for the exit. She watched as Michael and Dulcie were herded out the side door. "Lang, their coming out on your end," Nikita said, letting the other operative know to keep watch on Michael and Dulcie until Nikita could reach the van.

"Got em," Lang reported.

"Don't lose them!" Nikita ordered. She raced out the back door just as the van pulled up. Nikita dropped down beside Birkhoff as they headed out. "We still linked?" she asked.

Birkhoff nodded. "We have visual. Cream limo. Easy mark."

Nikita sighed with relief. So far so good. She had been surprised to learn, from Operations, just before leaving Section, that she would be heading the team. Operations had warned her not to make any mistakes. He had also reminded her that once she had the diary and Michael and Dulcie were out of play, that Michael would be back in charge. Nikita had questioned Operations' lack of trust. He had told her that he simply didn't trust her...yet. But Nikita brushed such thoughts aside. Although she was watching the limo on Birkhoff's monitor. All she saw in her mind's eyes was Michael dancing with Dulcie. And she could still feel the heat.

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

The van followed the limo to Keaton's estate. Birkhoff made short work of the alarm system, finding an easy way for Nikita to slip in through the ventilation ducts. She concentrated on getting in and finding the diary. She refused to allow herself to think about what Michael and Dulcie were doing.

The diary was in Keaton's study on the first floor. He didn't bother to hide it any further than the center drawer of his cherry wood desk. Nikita grabbed it then headed back out. She reached the van and held up the diary.

Birkhoff was impressed. "Nice work," he said, then he giggled.

"What's so funny?" Nikita questioned, noting that Birkhoff's cheeks were flushed.

"Nothing," he replied, turning redder.

Just then Nikita realized that he was wearing and earpiece. "What are you listening to?" she demanded, grabbing at the unit. She popped it into her own ear and a moment later felt herself grow pale.

What she heard was sexual overtures and hot whispers. She recognized Dulcie's voice begging Michael not to stop. It was obvious that they were in the throes of passion and Nikita yanked the unit out of her ear.

"Call Michael in!" she hissed, glaring at Birkhoff.

The computer whiz shook his head. "Madeline said to let them play it out. Otherwise Keaton would get suspicious."

"How are you monitoring them?" Nikita challenged. "I thought they weren't wired for fear of detection."

"It's a small audio unit secreted in Michael's watch. I wasn't sure it would be able to pick up anything from this far away, but it works like a charm." Birkhoff grinned. "I'll have to tell Walter he done good."

Nikita's reponse was another glare, then she moved to the corner of the van and sat down. She closed her eyes but couldn't dissolve the image of Michael and Dulcie, wrapped in each other's arms. Bodies sheened with sweat and moving in a rhythm as old as time itself.

Nikita debriefed with Madeline. When she was finished she turned to leave, but Madeline called her back.

"Why are you angry?" Madeline queried, a smile curving her lips as she watched the beautiful blond shift her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm not angry!" Nikita shot back, her tone giving lie to her words. Realizing that she was giving too much away, Nikita forced herself to smile. "I'm just tired," she drawled, but the glint of fire didn't leave her eyes.

Madeline's smile faded. "You did a good job tonight, Nikita," she said softly, but steel underlined her tone. "Don't lose your focus."

Nikita tossed her head. "Don't worry, Madeline," she whispered. "I'm fully focused on the job. Trust me." With that Nikita strode out of the room.

Nikita found Dulcie at Birkhoff's station. She joined them then smiled at the older woman. "Can we talk?" Nikita queried. "Privately."

Dulcie nodded, then followed Nikita to an empty classroom. "What is it?" she asked, getting straight to the point. Dulcie could guess, but she wanted Nikita to say it.

"Michael's a good lover, isn't he?" Nikita drawled, as she turned away from the closed door. Her eyes were locked on Dulcie's face, wanting to study the other woman's every reaction. But the red-head wore a mask, just like Michael's. She gave away nothing.

"He's a good partner," Dulcie allowed, her tone soft. She leaned a hip against the edge of a nearby table and smiled at Nikita. "Why do you ask."

Nikita shrugged. "Just curious," she confessed, but both women knew it was more than that. "Do you like him?"

Dulcie laughed softly, and she was genuinely amused. "That's irrelevant, isn't it, Nikita?" Folding her arms over her chest, Dulcie locked eyes with the blond woman. "Whatever is between you and Michael is your business," she said quietly. "Don't put me in the middle of it."

"But you are in the middle," Nikita shot back.

"You feel threatened," Dulcie replied, knowing by Nikita's reaction that she had hit a nerve. "If you have a problem with doing the job, Nikita, then that's your problem. Deal with it. I know the score, and so does Michael. Maybe it's time you learned to play the game."

Nikita rolled her eyes. "Oh...I know how to play the game!" she hissed.

Dulcie pushed away from the table and headed for the door. Looking back at Nikita over her shoulder, she drawled, "But you don't know how to play by the rules." With that parting shot, Dulcie left, leaving Nikita fuming.

Michael was in his office, working on his report, when Nikita stormed in. He watched as she resisted the urge to slam the door shut behind her, but he could feel her tension. It fairly crackled in the air.

"Yes?" Michael whispered, when Nikita confronted him from across his desk.

"Did you enjoy making love with Dulcie?" Nikita hissed, her eyes flashing. "Was she better than Lisa?"

"I won't discuss this with you, Nikita," Michael said softly. He stood up and moved around the desk, intending to open the door and usher her out.

Nikita slammed a hand into Michael's chest, bringing him to a halt. "Why not?" she challenged. "What are you afraid of? The truth?"

Michael brushed Nikita's hand away, then clasped his hands in front of him. "What is it you want me to say?" he prompted. "Tell me, Nikita. I'll say it. But it won't change the facts."

"And what are the facts, Michael?" Nikita shot back. She was so furious right now that it took all her self-control not to slap the mask of detachment off Michael's face. Damn him. "You made love to Dulcie. That's a fact."

"I made love to you, Nikita," Michael replied, his eyes shading to emerald. "Dulcie and I did the job. The job was to have sex and make it believable. That's what we did. It was an act...a performance. There was no emotion involved."

Nikita shook her head. "I don't believe you, Michael?" she whispered. "You say it was real between us, but how can I accept that? I heard you and Dulcie, you were very convincing."

Michael blinked. "That's the job."

"You can't seperate your feelings from your actions like that!" Nikita snarled. "No one can!"

"I can, and I do," Michael replied, his voice whisper-soft. "I told you...that's how I survive."

Nikita closed her eyes, trying to hold back sudden tears. She wanted to believe him, but it was hard to. Flashes of memories haunted her. Quick-silver images of Michael with Simone. Nikita was positive that he had loved his wife. She had seen the love in his eyes as he gazed upon Simone's battered face. Heard the tenderness in his voice, watched tears roll down his face. And when she had died, by her own choice, Nikita had seen Michael's shields crack. But he had repaired them. Shattering only when he had thought she was dead. And he had made love to her on the boat four months ago. Her heart knew it. But her mind wouldn't accept it. Opening her eyes again, Nikita locked them on Michael's face.

"God...I wish I could be you," she whispered.

Michael jerked at her words, as if she had slapped him in the face. "Never say that, Nikita!" he hissed.

"Why not?" she shot back, eyes flashing again. "I'd be able to kill a target, or make love to a mark with the ease of flicking a light switch on and off. Feelings on...feelings off. No emotional involvement...no pain." Nikita stared deep into Michael's eyes, searching his soul but he wouldn't let her in. "If I were you, Michael," she whispered. "Then I wouldn't hurt so damn much." With that, Nikita fled the room.

"Nikita..." Michael breathed her name as pain rippled through him. Her pain...which he was empathic to, although she would never believe that. Michael took a step towards the door, intending to follow Nikita, but his phone rang. He picked it up, listened, then said, "I'll be right there." A moment later Michael strode down the corridor, heading for Madeline's office. All thoughts of Nikita banished from his mind. But not from his heart.

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

"Sit down, Michael," Madeline invited, once he had entered her office. She could see that he was surprised by the request, but did as she bid. Michael knew when to obey.

"Is something wrong?" Michael queried as he folded his hands in his lap. And in that moment he realized he had revealed too much of his present anxiety. Madeline knew he was asking about Nikita.

Shaking her head, Madeline moved to sit behind her desk. She relaxed back in her chair and took a moment to study Michael. He looked perfectly groomed, as always, but she saw that he was thinner and there were shadows beneath his beautiful eyes. The six weeks Nikita had been gone he had done well. But now he was back to being worried again. Feeling the need to watch over Nikita, to protect her from dangers he couldn't see. Could only guess at.

"How are things between you and Dulcie?" Madeline asked.

Michael blinked, then shrugged. "We work well together," he replied.

"She likes it here," Madeline countered, her eyes locked on Michael's face, watching for every nuance of reaction. "She likes working with you."

"She's a good operative," Michael allowed. He was wondering what Madeline was leading up to and his instincts told him he wouldn't like it.

Madeline leaned forward now, resting her arms on her desk top. "I've been thinking that Nikita might be happier at a substation," she said softly.

Michael caught his breath, released it carefully, then held Madeline's gaze. "Why?" he countered. That was all.

"You tell me," Madeline challenged, and her gaze deepened. She let Michael know, with a look, that he was being tested. They both knew the answer he should give. But would he?

"I think Nikita should stay here," Michael replied, his voice whisper soft.

Madeline was intrigued. "For what reason?" she prompted.

Michael dropped his eyes. He stared at his fingers, clasped tightly together, betraying his emotional state and forced himself to relax. It was time for a moment of truth.

"Nikita has to learn to live with her choices," Michael said quietly. "And so do I."

"You're our best operative, Michael," Madeline responded, her voice kind. "We won't risk losing you." She waited, and when he nodded his understanding, she continued. "You will always be Nikita's mentor. And she will always have more to learn. Don't give up on her. Or on yourself." That said, Madeline flicked on her computer screen. "You can go now."

"Madeline..." Michael rose to his feet, but hesitated.

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes?"

Michael looked deep into her velvet-brown eyes and for once saw only compassion. "Thank you," he whispered, then he silently left the room.

"You're welcome," Madeline replied, after Michael was gone. Then she heaved a sigh and focused on her work.

Michael went in search of Dulcie. He found the red-head at Walter's station, flirting so outrageously with the old man that Walter's cheeks were flushed. Michael felt his lips curve into a smile at the thought of Walter being embarrassed. He tapped Dulcie on the shoulder.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" Michael requested. "In my office."

Dulcie nodded, rising from her stool. "Of course." She paused to offer Walter a wicked grin. "Hold that last thought, Walter," she beseeched. "We'll pick up where we left off." When Walter flushed beet-red, Dulcie laughed then turned to fall into step with Michael.

They strode down the corridor without speaking, and she preceded him into his office. Once there Dulcie dropped into the chair by the door and waited for Michael to sit behind his desk.

"Is something wrong?" she questioned, sensing that Michael had something heavy weighing on his mind.

"No," Michael replied. "I just wanted to ask you something," he confessed. But it took all his concentration not to reveal the anxiety he was feeling.

"Ask," Dulcie invited, her eyes locked on Michael's beautiful face.

He took a moment to compose his question. Holding Dulcie's keen gaze, Michael then asked,"What is your opinion of Nikita?"

It was Dulcie's turn to be quiet for a moment. Then a smile crossed her face. "I think that Nikita is interesting," she said honestly.

"Interesting?" Michael repeated, quirking an eyebrow to show his confusion.

"She's not like the rest of us, Michael," Dulcie clarified. "Nikita is an emotional being. She lets her emotions rule her actions and her choices. She doesn't think...she does. She reacts to a situation, whereas we act upon it."

Michael considered what Dulcie had said and he agreed. Had always believed it. "Can she survive Section?" he asked. "Or will it destroy her?"

Dulcie shook her head. "Why ask me this?" she countered. "You know her better than anyone, Michael."

"I'm too close to see the truth," Michael replied, saying outloud what he hadn't wanted to accept. "I don't want to break her sprit. Or tarnish her soul."

"Section has spent the last three and a half years trying to break Nikita's spirit," Dulcie stated. "As far as I can see, they haven't succeeded yet. And for her soul...You can't save her, Michael. Only Nikita can save herself."

Pushing back his chair, Michael stood up and paced over to the window. He stared out between the blinds, but saw nothing. The image of Nikita blinded him.

"Every time I lie a part of her dies. I see it in her eyes."

Dulcie didn't dispute his words. But she had a different point of view. "Nikita refuses to see the truth. She finds the lies easier to accept. That's on her...it's her problem, Michael. Section manipulates Nikita, because she allows it. She's not a child, she's not stupid...nor is she innocent. But she is naive, and that's her greatest weakness. Her naivete isn't based on a lack of experience but on her unwillingness to make judgements based on veritable information. She prefers her ideal of reality, which amounts to fiction, as opposed to what's fact."

Rising from the chair, Dulcie joined Michael at the window. She studied his profile, admiring the strong lines. He reminded her of a Roman sculpture. "Most operatives see Section as a surreal place. It's not the *real* world. Maybe it's Hell on earth. But in the so-called real world, people see what they want to see. They lie to themselves. And to each other. You can't do that in here. The world is an ugly place, Michael. But Nikita insists on wearing rose-colored glasses. She wants people to fit into neat little niches. To reflect her ideals. So she never fails to be disappointed. But she can accept being lied to by Operations and Madeline. She can pretend that Walter and Birkhoff don't lie to her. Convince herself that they have no part in any of the manipulations. She knows that you answer to a higher power, but she needs to blame you for everything. She needs to make you the enemy, because you're the only one who has the power to really hurt her. Just as she has the power to destroy you...if you let her."

"There's nothing left to destroy," Michael whispered, and he believed it to be true.

"You couldn't be more wrong," Dulcie said softly. Then she walked out of the office, leaving Michael to his thoughts.

Only Michael wasn't left alone. Soon after Dulcie left him, Walter made an appearance. He rapped on the doorframe then waited for Michael to look at him before speaking.

"Can we talk?" Walter asked, his expression solemn.

With a nod Michael invited the older man in. He watched as Walter closed the door behind him then moved to stand before his desk.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"I think that you and I need to discuss a few things," Walter said, bluntly, but he found it hard to hold Michael's gaze, for he saw shadows in the silver-green depths. Shadows that Michael couldn't hide.

"Discuss what?" Michael challenged, dropping into his chair and folding his hands on top of his desk.

Walter sat down as well. Figured he might as well be comfortable since he had no intention of leaving until he had cleared his conscience, and that could take a while.

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

Michael studied Walter, his eyes and his expression both masked. The older man was fidgeting in his chair, obviously disturbed.

"Is it Nikita?" Michael questioned, softly. In the past Walter had come to him with the hope that Michael would be able to protect the beautiful agent, whom the old man had a soft spot for. In the past, Michael had done so. The best he could.

Walter sighed. "Indirectly," he replied, his eyes lifting to lock on the younger man's face. He saw shadows beneath the silver-green eyes and knew that Michael was tired...deep in his soul.

Walter felt sympathy for him, and not for the first time. But this time he truly understood. "Michael," he began, then he paused, uncertain if he should continue. Maybe he was crossing the line. But then again, maybe the line should finally be crossed.

"I have work to do, Walter," Michael countered, unblinking. He figured it would either encourge the old man to speak, or motivate him to leave. Michael wasn't sure which one he would prefer at this point.

"I should have come here, to talk to you, a few months ago," Walter blurted out. He would stay and see it through. He needed to, for himself and for Michael. Walter knew that Michael survived Section by seperation his emotions from his actions, but he also knew that the strain inflicted on Michael had increased, tenfold, since Nikita had been recruited. Michael was close to the breaking point, and Walter didn't want to see that happen.

Michael leaned back in his chair and whispered, "Why?"

Walter heaved another sigh. "Michael...when Nikita was sent on that suicide mission, I blamed you for her death."

"I know," Michael replied. "So?"

"I was wrong!" Walter hissed. He could see that Michael wasn't going to make this easy on him but, then, why should he.

A cold smile curved Michael's lips. "Were you?" he countered, softly.

Leaning forward, palms pressed against the desk top, Walter locked eyes with Michael. "I'm gonna say something here, and I want you to hear me out," he declared. At Michael's nod, Walter began.

"I've been in Section long enough to know that the mission was Operations and Madeline's idea. Not yours. And I know that you had no choice but to follow orders. I know you were being tested, Michael. They find some way to test you every day. No matter what you do for Section, no matter your show of loyalty, or the fact that you suffered physical tortures that would have killed another man, and you've done so willingly...it's never enough for them."

"What's your point?" Michael interjected, not wanting to hear anymore.

"I said, hear me out," Walter reminded the other man. He waited for Michael to nod again, then he went continued. "The only way that Nikita could have survived that explosion was if you helped her. Now...I don't know how you did it, but I know why you did it."

Michael closed his eyes and whispered, "Why?"

Walter laughed softly. "You love Nikita," he replied. He waited for a reaction, but Michael's mask held firm. He blinked at Walter but remained silent. Walter nodded, understanding that Michael would not reveal his soul. "The thing with Jurgen..." Walter continued. "Brilliant. Madeline is amazing. And I'm a fool." Walter sighed, feeling regret, as he spoke. "I played an important part in that manipulation, and it wasn't until recently that I understood what you sacrificed, Michael. How you tried to give Nikita what she wanted. But you couldn't compete with Jurgen. And all the warnings you gave her about him just didn't sink in. Nikita can't find it within herself to trust you. She can love you, but she can't trust you."

"That's enough!" Michael hissed, rising from his chair and moving around the desk. "Please go, Walter," he requested, reaching for the door.

"NO!" Walter shouted, jumping up and grabbing Michael by the arm. He forced the younger man to face him, uncaring that Michael could snap his neck with his bare hands if he chose to do so. "You're going to listen to me, Michael. Just this once."

Michael freed himself from Walter's grasp and took a step back. He clasped his hands in front of him and his eyes were dark as he locked them on Walter's face. "Go on," he allowed. "Finish." A part of him was curious to hear more.

Walter nodded. "I remember what you were like when you first came to Section, Michael," he said softly. "I remember what Jurgen did to you. How you trusted him and he betrayed you. How he made you hate him. How he manipulated you." Walter watched for a reaction, but Michael merely stared back at him. Stepping back, Walter sat down again, his knees feeling shaky. "You understand, better than anyone, what it's like to be manipulated by Section. You relate to Nikita on that level, only she wouldn't believe that, not in a million years. She doesn't want to see it. You've pretty much convinced her that you don't have a soul, Michael, and if she acknowledges the similarities you share, then she'll afraid she'll be just like you."

"She's not like me!" Michael hissed, his eyes glittering like jade-ice.

"No..she's not," Walter allowed, his eyes solemn. "Nikita has suffered, but she doesn't know pain like you do, Michael. And I hope and pray she never does. Jurgen training Nikita was as much to test her as it was to test you. More to test you, I think."

Michael didn't want to hear anymore. He turned away. "Enough," he whispered.

But Walter was determined to see this through to the end. For Michael's sake. He jumped up again and stepped in front of the younger man, cornering him.

"You won't let anyone in, Michael. Not even Nikita."

"I let Simone in!" Michael shot back. "She's dead. So is my son."

"I know," Walter whispered. "I know what that did to you. And it was just another test of your loyalty, as far as Section was concerned. Another manipulation. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Michael. They've always counted on that, and you've never disappointed them."

Michael took a deep breath, his fingers curling into fists as he resisted the urge to lash out at something. He stepped back from Walter then said,

"If you have a point, make it then leave."

Walter nodded, knowing he had gone too far, too soon. "Nikita never loved Jurgen. Or Gray...or even Alec Chandler. She loved the *idea* of them. Of what she thought they represented. But, in the end...she always chooses you, Michael." Walter moved towards the door. "And that's my point. Nikita is loyal to you. So let yourself believe in her. And believe in yourself, Michael. Accept the fact that you deserve her loyalty."

"Is that all?" Michael countered, as he returned to his desk and sat down. He didn't look at Walter, his eyes were locked on his computer screen.

"One more thing," Walter replied, as he opened the door. He waited till Michael raised his head and faced him. "I wanted to say...I'm sorry," Walter whispered. Then he was gone.

Michael waited for the door to close behind Walter, then he whispered, "Me too."

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

Nikita was in the park. She sat on a bench beneath an Elm tree and watched two, small, children kick a ball back and forth. A sad smile curved her lips as she envied them their innocence. Sometimes Nikita wondered if she had ever known such simple joy.

Michael watched Nikita. He was a few yards away, by the hotdog stand. Dark glasses shaded his eyes, and his hands were tucked into his coat pockets. The sun was shining but there was a chill in the air. A crispness as well. Michael let a smile curve his lips as he watched Nikita lean forward to catch the ball that had rolled her way. She tossed back her pale hair and smiled at the two little girls who ran over to her. Handing back the ball, Nikita patted them on the head then watched them go. Michael thought she was beautiful. The sunlight shimmered in her hair and she looked like spring in a mint green sweater, white jeans and white coat.

Standing up to leave, Nikita turned and saw Michael. He was watching her. She froze, wondering how long he had been there. And why. A part of Nikita felt like walking away, but she squared her shoulders then marched across the grass.

"Hello, Michael," she offered in greeting, once she had reached him.

"Hello," he said softly.

"Are you following me?" Nikita questioned, bluntly. She figured it was the best way to be.

Michael nodded. "Yes," he confessed. He wanted to be blunt as well.

Nikita didn't hide her surprise. "Why?" she challenged, her eyes flashing. She didn't want to play any mind games. And she wasn't up to any more manipulations.

"I wanted to see you," Michael replied. That was all. He should have said more, but the words wouldn't come.

"Is this another test?" Nikita demanded.

Michael shook his head. "No. Section didn't send me, Nikita. I came on my own."

She believed him, but was curious. "What do you want, Michael?" Nikita waited and when he didn't reply, just stared at her, she reached out and removed his glasses. She watched Michael blink in the glare of the sun. When he reached for the glasses, she shook her head and tucked them in her pocket.

"No barriers," Nikita whispered. "Now....what do you want from me, Michael?" she repeated.

"I don't know," he replied, and it was the simple truth.

After Walter had left him, Michael had left Section and had gone for long drive. Of course he had his cell phone and beeper, but Section hadn't called him in. After the drive, Michael had gone home. It had been dawn. After a shower he had gone to his office and worked on some reports, but all he could think about was Nikita. So he had left Section once more and gone to her apartment, just in time to see her leaving. That's when he had followed her to the park.

"Walk with me?" Michael requested, his voice barely a whisper.

"All right," Nikita allowed, because she wanted to be with him. She didn't bother to question whether or not it was wise to do so. Her need overrided her doubts. What surprised her was when Michael reached for her hand. Nikita let him tangle his fingers with hers, then he led her down the east path.

Michael said nothing. For the moment he was content to be with Nikita. He reveled in the feel of her soft hand in his, and felt a thrill when her fingers clasped his tightly. But soon he would have to face her questions. Michael knew he owed Nikita that. But he had questions of his own. He put them forth to her as they crossed the bridge that arched over the stream.

"Did you love Jurgen?" Michael asked softly, coming to a halt and turning to face Nikita, hands still clasped.

Nikita heard the desperation in Michael's voice, and she wondered if he realized it. But she didn't question it, she simply locked eyes with him and whispered, "No. I didn't love Jurgen."

"Then why...why did you pick him over me?" Michael almost choked on the question, but then he felt relief that it had finally been asked.

"You left me no choice," Nikita replied. She felt Michael try to untangle his fingers, but her own tightened, holding him captive.

She wouldn't let him run away. Not this time. They both had to face the pain they had caused each other. "I needed you to show me that our night together meant something, Michael," Nikita whispered. "But you shut me out."

Michael closed his eyes. "I had no choice, Nikita. We were being watched. I couldn't kiss you...touch you....and just walk away. I'm not that strong."

Nikita was stunned by Michael's confession. "Not strong?" she repeated. "Michael..."

"You're my greatest weakness, Nikita," Michael interjected, silencing her with a fingertip to her soft lips. "Section knows it. I couldn't hide it when you were gone. When I thought you were dead."

"I didn't realize," Nikita replied. She grasped Michael's hand and pressed her cheek into his palm. "I thought you didn't care. That making love to me was just another manipulation."

Michael brushed his thumb across Nikita's soft skin. "I wish that I could tell you that I won't ever lie to you, Nikita," he said softly, and he let her hear his regret. "But I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. It's what I've always done...what I'll always do."

Nikita smiled. "I told you once before that I didn't ask for your protection. I'd rather have the truth, Michael."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling his hand away and shoving it into his pocket. "I can't give you what you need, Nikita." Michael turned away from her, eyes staring across the park, but seeing nothing. "Perhaps Jurgen could have. I wish things could be different."

"Me too," Nikita replied, an echo of long ago. Or so it seemed. She went to Michael and reached out to tap a finger beneath his chin. Not giving in till he had turned to face her. "But...Jurgen didn't need me, Michael. He was honest enough to admit that. I think you do need me. And I need to be needed. That's my weakness." As she spoke, Nikita caressed Michael's face, her fingers brushing his soft hair.

Michael stepped away from Nikita's touch. He couldn't handle it. His desire for her was like a fever in his blood.

"Nikita...I can't let myself want you," Michael said bluntly, his voice suddenly harsh. "I can't lose focus. I owe my life to Section. My loyalty is to them. They'll always come first. You will never be able to accept that."

Nikita listened to Michael's words, and for a long time she didn't speak. When he turned as if to leave, she grabbed his wrist. Pain glittered in her eyes, but determination was shining there as well.

"From the day I met you, I wanted you to be someone else, Michael. I wanted you to change, to fit my....fantasies. But I know you can't do that...and I don't have the right to ask it of you." Nikita released Michael's wrist, then shrugged. "After all, I'm not willing to change. Am I?"

"You've changed," Michael whispered.

"Section's doing," Nikita hissed. "You don't approve." It was a statement, not a question. She could see the truth in Michael's eyes before he shuttered them.

Michael blinked and his mask slipped firmly back in to place. "We all have to find a way to survive, Nikita," he whispered.

Nikita shook her head. "That's not good enough for me, Michael," she countered. "I want to live." With that, Nikita turned and walked away.

Madeline studied Michael. He was at Birkhoff's station, studying graphs with the computer whiz. She could see that he was tired, his posture was lax for him, and his hair was wild about his face, rather than smooth behind his ears. Michael was walking a tightrope and Madeline knew that it was about to snap beneath him. She had to make a decision. She glided forward, and waited for him to acknowledge her presence. When he looked up Madeline smiled.

"Michael, would you come to my office," she requested.

He nodded. "Of course." Michael pointed to something on Birkhoff's screen. "Get me those schematics," he instructed.

"Send them to your office?" Birkhoff questioned. When Michael nodded, he saluted, then reached for a piece of licorice. "Half an hour," Birkhoff promised.

"Is something wrong?" Michael asked Madeline as he fell into step beside her.

She nodded. "I think so." Madeline felt Michael stiffen, but refused to say more. She proceded him into her office then gestured for him to take a seat. When he had done so, Madeline moved to sit behind her desk. "I'm sending Nikita to the sub station in Germany," she said softly.

Michael couldn't hide his surprise. "Why?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Because I had to choose," Madeline replied. "You or Nikita. I chose you."

"You made the wrong choice," Michael replied. He stood up, abruptly, then headed for the door, only to find Operations standing there.

The older man smiled at Michael. "Too late," he drawled. "Nikita's already gone."

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

Michael blinked at Operations. His first instinct was to smack the smirk off the other man's face, but he knew he was being tested so he took a step back then blinked again. His mask slipped firmly back into place.

"How long will Nikita be gone?" Michael queried.

Operations shrugged. "Odds are she won't be coming back," he drawled. "Get over it, Michael. Section needs you, and I won't tolerate failure. You know that."

"I know," Michael conceded. He also knew that it was his *failure* to control his emotions in regards to Nikita that had gotten her sent away. His fault, and she would be the one to suffer. Michael closed his eyes to banish the image of her that danced before him. He always brought Nikita pain. Yet Michael knew that Operations was using this as a means to punish him as well.

"Is that all?" he questioned, locking eyes with the other man.

"That's all," Operations allowed, stepping out of the doorway so that Michael could leave. He watched the operative go, then turned to smile at Madeline. "That went well," Operations drawled.

Madeline had closed her eyes, and now she pressed fingertips to her temples, hoping to ease the pain that throbbed there. "I thought we had agreed to wait a few weeks before sending Nikita away?" she challenged.

Operations moved to sit on the corner of Madeline's desk. With her eyes closed, he felt free to study her face. She looked tired, but still beautiful.

"There was no valid reason for waiting," Operations countered, firmly. "If anything, it would have made it harder on Michael, and I want him back. The old Michael."

"Which Michael?" Madeline countered, as her eyes opened. "The one post-Simone, or pre-Nikita?" She knew, and accepted, that Michael had been damaged from the moment of Simone's death. Operations had been delighted that the man who emerged from his grief had become the ultimate operative. A flesh and blood terminator. What he had refused to see was that that Michael had been on a path to self-destruction. Henceforth, Madeline had given him Nikita. The beautiful, blond operative had helped in Michael's healing process. Not that he wasn't still wounded. He was scarred, yet still bleeding. But he was also a survivor. That's what made him so valuable.

"Nikita is gone," Operations replied, bluntly. He wasn't thrilled by Madeline's attitude. "Dulcie will remain in her place. Michael needs to accept that and move on." Rising from the corner of the desk, Operations confronted Madeline, locking eyes with her. "I expect you to do whatever it takes to make Michael the well-adjusted operative we knew...and loved." The words were lightly spoken, but there was steel coloring the tone. "Do I make myself clear?" Operations prompted.

Madeline smiled. "Crystal," she replied. Then she watched Operations turn and leave the room. The moment he was gone, Madeline reached for her phone. She dialed a number, waited for the person on the other end to pick up, then said, "Send Dulcie to me." That done, Madeline hung up, then waited.

Walter was tinkering with his gadgets without really paying attention to them, when Michael passed by. He had been hoping to catch the young man, wanting to clear up the rumor that had been circulating since this morning.

"Michael," Walter called out. When the other man stopped, but didn't turn to face him, Walter crossed the space between them. "Is is true, is Nikita gone?" he questioned, not bothering with ameneties.

"Yes," Michael replied. That was all. It was too much. It forced him to accept the reality of it and he wasn't ready for that. Nikita was gone. Out of his reach.

"Why?" Walter beseeched, his eyes bright as they filled with tears.

Michael faced the old man then, his own eyes cold, and dark with shadows. "We both know why," he drawled, then he turned and walked away.

Dulcie found Michael in the exercise arena across from his office. He was wearing black, lycra, shorts and a black tank top with black socks and sneakers. Bag gloves were on his hands and he was shadow boxing. From the sweat that glistened on Michael's smooth skin, and soaked the tank top, she guessed that he had been at it for quite a while. Not wanting to intrude, Dulcie sat down on a weight bench and watched.

Michael was aware of Dulcie's presence the moment she had entered the area. But he needed to focus on his body, singling out each individual muscle as it came into play. It was the only way to keep the images of Nikita at bay. Otherwise, Michael found that he couldn't function. His sense of purpose was shattered. But he also knew he would not be given a reprieve from his duties. Operations would be watching him. If he failed, Michael knew that Nikita would be the one to suffer the consequences. Section had a long reach.

After ten more minutes of shadow-boxing, Michael moved to the heavy bag and began a series of kicks and punches. He threw absolute power behind each hit. It was a force that could shatter human flesh and bone. Different faces danced in his head as Michael struck the bag, time and again. And he didn't quit even when muscles began to burn, then quiver. Pain rippled through him, but he welcomed it.

"Enough," Dulcie whispered, knowing that Michael had pushed past his limits. Too far past. She appeared before him, risking a strike, but saw Michael pull back at the sight of her. There was a towel and a bottle of evian water on the floor by the wall. Dulcie retrieved them then offered them to Michael. She waited as he simply stared at her, his hair wet with sweat and falling in his eyes.

"Drink," she ordered, thrusting the water bottle into Michael's hand. She recognized the signs of dehydration.

"What do you want?" Michael asked, even as he uncapped the bottle. He took one swallow then put the cap back on.

Dulcie stepped over to him, using the towel and wiping away the sweat from Michael's shoulders, then the back of his neck. She felt his body stiffen even as it trembled. His muscles trembled, stretched too tight and throbbing with pain. Dulcie knew it was a reflection of Michael's emotional pain. He had to bury his feelings, but needed a release of some kind. Physical pain was something he was good at. She knew it was his focus, but she also knew it wasn't enough. Not this time.

"Madeline told me about Nikita," Dulcie said, in answer to Michael's question. She intended to be completely honest with him.

Michael laughed softly, a cold, empty, sound. "What do you want?" he repeated. Somehow he wasn't surprised by Madeline's actions. She had always tried to help him, in spite of his attempts to shut her out. But Michael had to shield himself from Madeline. She saw too much. Understood him too well.

"I want to be your friend, Michael," Dulcie replied. Her fingers were kneading his shoulders now, trying to unknot the muscles that were rock hard with tension. "I know you don't want a friend, but it's not an offer I make lightly. Trust me."

"I don't know how to be a...friend," Michael whispered. And he was surprised by his confession.

So was Dulcie, but she didn't let him know it. "I'll teach you," she offered, and she was sincere. They both understood how Section worked. That there were no guarantees. She wouldn't offer him a lifetime friendship, just a companion who was willing to listen to him, and to support him, for however long she was around.

"What do you say, Michael?" Dulcie prompted. She dropped her hands from his shoulders and stepped around to face him.

Michael closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what he wanted. He had survived losing Simone and his son. Had lost and found Nikita. But this was different. This time Michael didn't know if he had the strength to move past the pain. He wished he could bury it, but everywhere he turned, he saw Nikita. She had imprinted herself upon Section, and she was tattooed in his heart.

"Do you like coffee?" Michael questioned, opening his eyes and letting them flicker over Dulcie's face.

"I adore mocha cappucino," she replied, a smile curving her lips as she sensed that she had just won a small victory. Dulcie held out the towel to Michael and watched him wipe his face. "I know a place where we can talk," she said softly.

"I'll shower," Michael replied. Then he turned and headed out, feeling Dulcie's eyes burning into his back. And, for a brief moment, the image of Nikita flickered, then faded. But it would never die.

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

The place that Dulcie took Michael too was a Blues club with a New Orleans flavor to it. She led him to a table in the back then ordered cappucinos for them both from a waitress who called her by name. Then they sat in silence for a time, listening to the black band on the small stage. Dulcie pulled a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket and lit one, adding to the smokey haze in the room.

"I didn't know you smoked," Michael said softly.

"Why should you," Dulcie replied. "It's not a habit that needs notation on my file. Just a tiny little vice. We all have our vices. Even Operations and Madeline."

Michael nodded. "Madeline brought you back here to Section to...save me," he whispered.

Dulcie gave him a hard look, but his eyes were on his coffee mug. She didn't lie him. "She cares what happens to you, Michael," Dulcie replied. "You might be surprised at just how many people do."

"Why?" Michael countered, eyes lifting to lock on Dulcie's face. "Explain it to me. I don't give them a reason too."

"Wow...you're a hard case," Dulcie drawled, taking another puff on the cigarette then stubbing in out in the plastic ash tray. "Tell me something, Michael," she beseeched, leaning forward as their eyes locked. "Did you forget how to love yourself, or didn't you ever?"

Michael blinked at Dulcie and reached for his mask, ready to slam it back into place. She was pushing too many of his buttons, and she knew which ones to push. Madeline's doing, no doubt.

"I should go," he said, making to rise.

Dulcie grabbed his wrist, her fingers biting into his flesh. "Sit down, Michael," she hissed. "No running away from me. I'm not Nikita. I'll hunt you down."

"I believe you would," Michael replied, and a smile curved his lips. But he relaxed back into his chair, then signalled for the waitress. When she reached the table he ordered two shots of bourbon.

"One of them is for me, I hope," Dulcie prompted, smiling at Michael. When he nodded she whispered, "Tell me about Simone."

Michael sighed as memories washed over him. "Tell me about David," he shot back, knowing that she had loved and lost a mate, due to similar circumstances. Only David had died on his mission, the first time. He hadn't been held prisoner and tortured for three years, the way Simone had been.

Dulcie exhaled a deep breath then saluted Michael. He had done his homework. "I miss him," she said softly. "Everyday."

"You still love him," Michael queried, not hearing the way his voice trembled. He was remembering how he had begged Simone to forgive him when he had stopped loving her after believing her dead.

"I'll always love him the most," Dulcie replied. "But he wasn't the only one. We have the capacity to love often, Michael. We just don't always love...wisely."

Michael didn't reply, for the waitress had returned with their drinks. When she had gone he whispered, "Wisely...or well."

Dulcie reached for her shotglass and raised it in a mock salute. "Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all," she drawled.

"Do you really believe that?" Michael questioned, as he raised his glass to clink against Dulcie's.

"I really do," she replied, then she downed the bourbon in one, smooth, swallow. Dulcie watched Michael do the same, then smiled. "Next round is on me." She ordered the shots, then her eyes studied Michael. "I find it interesting how people assume that they know how to love. I guess they figure it's something we're all born knowing how to do. But I don't believe that."

Michael was intrigued, in spite of himself. "What do you believe?" he prompted.

Dulcie was silent for a moment, considering her words. "I think that love is something that we teach each other. Like showing a child how to care for a pet. That's teaching them how to love. Most any woman care bear a child, but that doesn't mean they'll love that child. There are no guarentees in that department." Dulcie spoke with the knowledge of someone who shared a common denominator with Michael. And with Nikita as well. All three of them had mothers who didn't know how to love them. Dulcie considered herself the lucky one, however. She'd had a father who had taught her what love was. But he had died when she was sixteen, and she had lost sight of her dreams.

"Life is what we make of it, Michael," she whispered, hoping that she could reach him.

"It is..." he acknowledged. "In the real world." Michael paused again as the waitress returned with round two. He accepted his glass and downed it smoothly. Then he smiled at Dulcie. "I died twelve years ago," Michael continued. "They just forgot to bury the body. Section buried my soul."

"But not your heart," Dulcie countered. She knew where Michael was coming from. She had the same regrets, the same doubts. "You can love Nikita, Michael," Dulcie said softly. "But you have to be patient with her. She doesn't know how to love you back."

Michael stared into his empty glass. "I'm not the one for her," he whispered. "Nikita has a right to expect certain things from me..from the man who loves her. But I can't give her what she wants."

Dulcie heaved a sigh. Michael was brilliant in so many ways, but he was a child in matters of the heart. Not innocent so much as naive. And totally oblivious to his own self-worth. Dulcie locked eyes with Michael.

"Most of us don't know what we want. And those of us who think we do...don't want what's best for us. We don't want what we really need."

"What do you need?" Michael countered, wanting to shift Dulcie's attention off of himself. She was getting too close to the truth.

"I need to go home...with you," Dulcie said bluntly, the look in her eyes leaving no doubt as to her meaning.

To Michael's surprise he found himself in agreement with her. He dropped two twenty dollar bills on the table then reached for his coat.

Dulcie glanced at the money. "Big tipper," she drawled.

"Good service," he replied, a teasing light glinting in his silver-green eyes. And he was rewarded with Dulcie's laughter.

Dulcie studied Michael's face as her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. They were in her bedroom and she saw in his eyes a sadness that touched her deeply. There was pain as well.

"No regrets," she whispered against his sensual lips. "You need to feel something...Michael."

He nodded, his hands moving to Dulcie's back and gliding up and down over the warm, soft, skin beneath her sweater. "I know," Michael replied, but he couldn't change how he was feeling. He didn't love her, or desire her beyond the release she could offer. Yet Michael liked Dulcie, and he didn't want to use her.

"I get something out of this too, Michael," Dulcie said softly, knowing exactly what he was thinking and she was touched by his consideration. "We made love on the job. Now we're going to have sex, because we want to. Not because we have to. It's not about desire and love. It's about passion and need and wants. I want you inside me, Michael, because you're a good lover. You're not selfish...you know how to pleasure a woman. That's all I'm looking for. It doesn't go beyond that. Okay?"

"Okay," Michael whispered, then he claimed a kiss.

It was just nearing dawn when Michael slid out of bed and dressed. To his surprise, after being with Dulcie, he had fallen asleep in her arms. And there were no dreams. But now images and memories taunted Michael as he slipped on his clothes. He laced on his boots, grabbed his coat then looked at the woman lying in the bed.

Michael pulled the blanket over her shoulders then headed for the door. But as he left the house it wasn't Dulcie's image that he carried with him, even though it was her scent imprinted on his skin.

Michael's mind saw the reflection of Nikita.