"Michael!" Nikita shouted his name as she watched his body jerk in reaction as a bullet slammed into his chest. He fell to his knees, firing his gun. It was then that Nikita turned and fired her own. Two men fell. One hit by Michael, the other by her. Nikita turned back to him just as he took another hit. This one laid him out. Nikita fired blindly and heard a man cry out. As she reached Michael's side, team two was blanketing the area with bullets, taking out anything that moved. "Michael..." Nikita whispered his name as her fingers brushed over his chest, searching for blood. But the vest had taken the bullets, not his flesh.

Michael hissed as he tried to stand, then gave in to the pain, letting it wash over him for a moment. But a moment later he whispered, "Get the witness to safety. Now, Nikita!" It was an order. She had forgotten to focus. She was team leader. The safety of the witness came first.

"Right!" Nikita barked, knowing that she was at fault. She stood up and reached for Barbara Massey's arm. "Come on," she told the woman, as she hustled her forward. But Nikita glanced back at Michael for a moment, and saw him pushing himself, painfully, to his feet. She blinked back tears and led the witness off.

Nikita walked into Medlab, just as Michael was pulling his shirt on. She could see dark bruising on his chest, and there was a white patch of gauze just below his left pectoral muscle. It surprised Nikita. "What's this?" she asked, stepping forward to let her fingers brush the bandage.

Michael flinched at her touch, but didn't let his pain show in his expression. "One of the bullet points penetrated the vest," he explained, his tone clinical. "It's just a flesh wound." Michael pulled his shirt closed and began doing up the buttons.

"Bet it stings," Nikita commented, forcing a smile to her lips. It was obvious that Michael was still building up a wall between them and Nikita didn't have the strength to try and knock it down. So she said what she come to say. "I wanted to apologize for what happened in the passageway. I was team leader, I should have seen it coming. Should have had the route better covered as well." The guilt that Nikita was feeling glimmered in her eyes for all to see.

"Wasn't your fault," Michael told her, as he turned away to tuck his shirt into the waistband of his pants. "Birkhoff had the wrong schematic. The old one. It didn't include the access tunnel that the shooters used. You couldn't have known they were there."

Nikita nodded. The news should have made her feel better, but it didn't. "So...Birkhoff gets the blame?" she questioned, not liking the thought of that.

Michael turned back to face her. "No," he said quietly. "We had closure. That's all that matters."

"I panicked when you were shot," Nikita blurted out. She felt the need to clear the air between them. To confess her feelings to him.

"You did your job," MIchael said, after a long moment of silence had echoed in the air. "Let the rest of it go," he beseeched. As he moved to brush past her, Michael reached out and let his fingers snag a lock of Nikita's pale hair. It felt soft and cool, and he relished the memory of it. How it had felt like silk against his face, and smelled like jasmine. But with a shake of his head the memories vanished, and Michael glided out of the room.

Nikita stood there, still feeling the presence that was Michael, and wrapping it around her like a cloak. Then she took left the room, blinking back the tears she refused to let fall.

Madeline looked up from the report she was reading as Nikita entered the room. "What is it?" she asked, when the young woman reached her desk.

"I don't want to do this anymore!" Nikita spat, her eyes flashing blue-sparks.

"Do what?" Madeline prompted, her expression blank.

Nikita took a deep breath. She knew that having a hissy-fit wasn't going to help matters. She needed to retain a measure of control. To think like Michael. To disassociate herself from her emotions and simply dictate the facts. But that was something that Nikita had never been able to do. And never would. Still, she calmed herself down before replying. "I don't want to be responsible for Michael. No more, Madeline."

The other woman offered a smile. "It's not that simple, NIkita," she said softly. She knew what had happened on the mission, and she empathized with Nikita's position. But the young woman had to learn to work though her emotions and deal with the facts. "As team leader, you're responsible for everyone's life. Not just Michael's."

"I know that," Nikita allowed, with a shake of her head. "Funny thing is, I don't give a damn about anyone else’s life. Not even my own."

"You're learning," Madeline replied, then she waited for a reaction.

Nikita sucked in a harsh breath as Madeline's meaning became all too clear. She was just now hearing what she had said, and understanding the ramifications of it. Nikita laughed softly. It was that or cry. Then she locked eyes with Madeline.

"Well....you should feel proud. You can add another notch to your belt, Madeline. Guess I've been converted....and I didn't even know it." With that, Nikita waggled her fingers and breezed back out of the room. She had a sudden idea as to why Michael had become so distant lately. Because she was no longer the Nikita she had been. Now she was a patented product of Section One. "Sorry, Michael," Nikita whispered. And the words echoed in her ears as she strode down the corridor, mocking her.

***********

Nikita confronted Michael in his office. She walked, closed the door then moved around his desk to face him. "We need to talk," she stated bluntly. Determination glittered in her pale eyes.

Michael looked up from his computer. He could feel tension emanate off of Nikita. It seemed to crackle between them, fueled by his own. "What about?" he questioned, not allowing his reluctance show. Michael wasn't ready for this confrontation.

"About us." Nikita lifted one hand to cut Michael off before he could protest. "I know...there IS no US," she hissed. "Easy to say, Michael, especially since it's not true. There is something between us, always has been." Nikita bent down to turn his chair around, her hands resting on the arms, trapping Michael within. "You spent three years protecting me from cancellation. Then, when it was imminent, you risked your own cancellation to free me. And you've shown me how you feel about me in other ways. In my apartment, before the suicide mission, you told me that you wished things could be different. Well...they are different now." Nikita looked deep into Michael's silver-green eyes, seeking the reflection of his soul. But he wouldn't let her in.

"What is it you want from me?" Michael questioned. He realized that it would be best to know exactly what Nikita was seeking. Then he could figure out what to do. How to protect her....from herself.

Nikita sighed. "I want the truth, Michael. I want it laid out before us both. I care about you." She paused to laugh softly and shake her head. "Course, you already know that. I didn't hide it very well."

Michael looked away. "You were attracted to me," he said bluntly. He didn't want Nikita to mistake what she was feeling. Nor did he want to allow himself any false hope.

"Still am," Nikita acknowledge, one hand moving to his chin so that he would look at her. "You're beautiful and sexy, and your sensuality is like a weapon, and you use it well. But it's more than that, Michael," she was quick to explain. Nikita knew what Michael was thinking. Understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to make excuses for her. To give her a reason to walk away. To hate him. Nikita had finally figured out Michael's bag of tricks. Well...at least some of them. And now she was going to explain it to him. "There's a glimmer in your eyes, that you try so hard to hide. You draw this cloak of ice about you, but the heat of your humanity keeps melting it down. Then you turn colder. It's your way of protecting yourself. And protecting others. Like me....from yourself. But you see..." Nikita let her hand move to his hair, her fingers sliding through the silky strands. "We don't need protecting from you, Michael. I don't want it." Nikita bent her head and let her lips brush his in a tender kiss.

"Nikita..." Michael breathed her name into her mouth, then tried to pull away. Her fingers tightened in his hair and a moment later, Michael found himself on his feet, pulling Nikita hard against him and kissing her with a passion that flowed from deep inside him. Time stood still for a moment, and he was lost in the feel of Nikita. Her softness, her scent...the taste of her.

She was drowning as well, and burning with desire as Michael's hands roamed over her body. Nikita moaned into his mouth when he kneaded her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra and Michael's hand had slipped beneath her t-shirt. Her own hands slid over his back, then her fingers dug into the muscles of his tight buttocks. "I want you," she whispered in his ear, when his lips moved to her neck.

The words hit Michael like a slap in the face. He shoved Nikita from him and turned away. His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing was ragged. He had come close to losing his control. Too close. "Go Nikita," he hissed, his voice a husky whisper.

"Michael..." Nikita's own chest was heaving and her eyes flashed. She felt hurt, and angry, and she would be damned if she was going to let it end this way between them. She was about to reach out to him once more, when his phone rang.

"Yes!" Michael barked into the receiver, having been quick to snatch it up. He needed the distraction. A moment of silence as he listened, then he nodded. "I'll be right there." Michael hung up, then glanced over his shoulder at Nikita. She looked beautiful and furious, and Michael wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her till they were both breathless. But that couldn't happen. Not now...not ever. Blinking back sudden tears, Michael went to the door, yanked it open and left the room.

Nikita was too angry to cry. She could guess that Madeline, or Petrosian, had been on the phone, which was why she hadn't tried to stop Michael from leaving. Not that she could have anyway. But that didn't mean that this was over. Nikita shook her head. "Not this time, Michael," she whispered. "I'm not letting you off the hook." Heaving a sigh, Nikita dropped into his chair. She would wait for him. However long it took. She would wait.

Michael never returned to his office. He was sent off on a solo mission, so Nikita was on her own in regards to Heather's training. As for what had passed between her and Michael, Nikita had put it on hold. She would confront him about it when he came back. For now, she concentrated on Heather. The woman met her in the exercise room after her computer class, and it was obvious to Nikita that something was wrong. "You okay?" she asked, as she watched Heather pace in a half circle.

The other woman shook her head. "No," she admitted, readily enough. Her breath came in short pants and it felt as if her heart were racing a hundred miles per hour. "I feel....I feel like I'm suffocating," she confessed, even as she blinked back tears. Heather hated showing weakness, but this was out of her control. She wished that Michael was here to talk to, yet glad that he couldn't see her in this condition.

"It happens," Nikita replied, feeling a sudden surge of sympathy. Heather was suffering from an anxiety attack. Nikita had experienced a couple of those herself, although not as severe. "You'll be alright," she offered, helpfully.

"Yeah...right!" Heather shot back. She felt herself begin to shake and it was as if she were going to jump out of her skin. The feeling was so intense that Heather felt as if she were losing her mind. "I gotta get out of here!" she shouted, and her screams drew the attention of the other operatives around them.

Nikita knew she had to diffuse the situation, and she sensed that there was only one way to do so. She took Heather's hand. "Come with me."

Heather dug in her heels. She knew that Nikita didn't like her, so she was suspicious of her sudden concern. "Where are we going?" she challenged.

"For a walk," Nikita replied, smiling. "Trust me." She tugged on Heather's hand, and the other woman followed.

Michael returned to Section and straight into debriefing. Once he was finished there, he headed for his office. He had a long report to type up, but a sudden flash of pale hair and crystal-blue eyes distracted him. All the time he had been gone, Michael's thoughts had been filled with Nikita. They needed to talk, so Michael did an about face and headed for Walter's station. The older man always kept track of Nikita's whereabouts.

Walter, however, shook his head. "I don't know where Nikita is," he confessed to Michael. "Haven't seen her for hours."

"What about Heather?" Michael countered.

"No sign of her either," Walter replied. "Sorry Michael. Want me to try and track em down?"

Michael shook his head. Walter's words ignited a memory. "No, thank you," he replied. Turning on his heel, Michael strode off. He was still in field gear, and in his vest pocket was a tracking receiver. Instinct told him that Nikita was no longer in the Section. To cover all bases, Michael made a quick phone call. She wasn't home. Only then did he reach for the receiver. It wasn't hard to tune in to the signal from Nikita's implant. Michael didn't even pause to change clothes. He snatched up his jacket and ran out.

***********

Nikita took Heather to the park. The fresh air helped the other woman to calm down and a double scoop of chocolate-fudge ice cream put a smile on Heather's face. Nikita was glad. She suddenly realized that she was no longer jealous of Heather. They would never become *friends* exactly, but they might just be able to talk to each other. And about things unrelated to Michael. Nikita opened the doorway by telling Heather about her own bouts with anxiety attacks. "You can talk yourself through them," she explained, as they left the park and headed for downtown.

Heather wanted to believe that, but it was hard to. The attack had been so frightening. She was used to be in control, but she had lost all control for a time and that worried her. "I wish there was some kind of early warning signal," she joked.

"Me too," Nikita allowed. "Unfortunately, they have a tendancy to strike when you least expect it. But you'll learn to deal with them. It gets easier."

"So...you still have them?" Heather questioned. She found herself warming up to Nikita, and it was reassuring, somehow, to know that she could talk to her.

Nikita nodded. "On occassion," she replied. "It's usually when I've been repressing my feelings about things. That's why I try to emote...when I'm alone. Sometimes at Section. It's better than keeping it all bottled up."

Heather was thoughtful for a moment, then responded, "Like Michael does?" It seemed inevitable that he would be brought up between them.

"Like Michael does," Nikita confirmed. "Sometimes I wonder if he ever sleeps. Doesn't seem like he would need to."

"I know what you mean," Heather said, laughing softly. "He seems beyond human sometimes. I envy his control."

Nikita smiled. "You seem pretty capable in the control department, Heather," she said, and it was more of a compliment than a statement.

Heather heaved a sigh, then decided to trust Nikita with a confindence she had never revealed to anyone else. "I learned to detach myself from my emotions when I was just a child. A little girl. I think I was about eight years old. My older sister was killed in a car accident. We were both in the car. I survived, and I remember waking up and overhearing my mother telling my father that she would give anything to have Ashley back. She practically screamed at him that she wished I had died instead. Then they both left. Took off to Europe to deal with Ashley's demise. The Nanny stayed with me. At least she cared that I was alive." Heather told the story in a monotone. It no longer had the power to hurt her.

But it came close to breaking Nikita's heart. She knew what it felt like to have a mother who didn't care if you lived, or died. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, blinking back tears.

"I'm not." Heather smiled, at it was genuine. "Mom's dead now and buried next to her precious Ashley."

"What about your father?" Nikita asked.

Heather shrugged. "Oh...he's a world traveler and has a bimbo wife who's younger than I am. He's a happy, old pervert. I haven't seen him in about eight years." She sighed. "Given my current situation, it's unlikely that I'll ever see him again, which suits me just fine." There was a slight edge to her voice that belied her words.

Nikita sensed that Heather did miss her father, but she didn't push the issue. They were heading down a side road, that was a shortcut to Nikita's apartment. Dusk was falling fast, and Nikita didn't see the harm in taking Heather home with her for the night. She would take whatever fallout came of it in the morning. Section be damned.

But even as they turned down the street, Nikita heard the echo of footsteps behind them. She tried to hurry Heather along, as she could feel the danger that surrounded them. She silently cursed herself for not having her gun on her. They reached a crossway between three buildings and Nikita was about to head down it when two men stepped in front of her and Heather. Instinctively, Nikita stepped back, only to discover two more behind her. One of the other two roads was a dead end. The last one was guarded by a giant of a man.

Heather grabbed Nikita's arm. "We're in trouble," she whispered, feeling her heart pound in her chest even as she broke out into a sweat.

"Remember what you've learned," Nikita whispered back. "Focus on your opponent. Use his weakness against him."

"They don't look very weak to me," Heather countered, licking lips that had gone dry. She had seen the gleam of a knife in the hands of at least two of the men. She had also noticed the bandana's around their left biceps. Which led her to believe that they were gang members.

Nikita shifted in slow circle, trying to track the movements of all five men. It was difficult to do. She knew this encounter wasn't going to be good. They were unarmed and heavily outnumbered. But Nikita wasn't going down without one hell of a fight. A moment later, the first man attacked. Nikita met him head on and took him down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Heather battling with two men. When Heather kicked one of them in the balls, he howled in pain. The second man grabbed her from behind while the one she had hurt struck out with his knife. "NO!" Nikita shouted, as she watched the blade slash at Heather's face. But even as she moved forward to help, she was attacked from behind. A heavy fist clubbed NIkita in the head and she fell to her knees. Darkness closed in on her as she felt hands pulling at her clothing. Then blackness sucked her under.

Two of the men were all over Nikita, but they stepped away from her when they heard one of their companions cry out and fall. A bullet hole marred his forehead. They swore and screamed a challenge to whomever had shot their friend, only to feel panic as another one dropped dead. Then another. The two remaining made a move to run, but one took a bullet in the leg. The other froze, then fell to his knees, blubbering, as a man, dressed in black, emerged from the shadows.

Michael stood over the two men who were still alive. He couldn't let them live, and didn't want to. He was immune to their pleas as he pumped bullets through their hearts. Then he holstered his gun. From his coat pocket he removed a cellular phone and put in a request for housekeeping. The van would arrive soon. Michael then moved to Heather's side, but didn't even need to check her over to know that she was dead. She had been gutted. Michael passed a hand over her face to close her eyes. He felt a flicker of regret, and something deeper, at the thought of her passing, but dissolved it immediately. He couldn't afford sentimentality. Not now.

Moving over to Nikita, Michael bit his lip. Her blouse had been torn open and her bra cut away so her breasts were exposed to him. He shrugged out of his coat then spread it over Nikita, before lifting her into his arms and carrying her off to his waiting car.

Nikita came awake slowly. As her body shifted she moaned, feeling pain rippling through sore muscles. It took a moment for memories to hit her, but suddenly her eyes flew open. She was surprised to find herself in Medlab.

Madeline was standing beside the bed. Her eyes were cold, her face expressionless. "You're home, Nikita," she said softly.

"Heather?" Nikita asked, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off a sudden chill. It was a reaction to Madeline's coldness.

"She's dead," Madeline replied. That was all.

A long moment of silence passed, but became too heavy for Nikita to bear. "I messed up, didn't I?" she stated, in a voice that was barely a whisper. But pride made her lock eyes with Madeline, and Nikita didn't look away from the accusation in the other woman's dark gaze.

Madeline's lips curved into a cold smile. "Yes," she replied. "You did mess up, Nikita. Consider yourself held in abeyance." With that, Madeline turned on her heel and exited the room.

Michael was in his office. He just sat in his chair, in the dark, staring at the wall. He was waiting for a phone call. Knowing that it would come. And, try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about Nikita. But he didn't dare go near Medlab. So he had been sitting in his office for the past seven hours. Waiting. When the phone rang, Michael picked it up but didn't speak. He simply listened. When the connection on the other end was broken, he replaced the phone in it's cradle and rose slowly to his feet. Then he left the room. But the darkness seemed to follow him.

As he entered Operation's office, Michael steeled himself for what was to come. For what he was prepared to do. His resolve, however, was shaken, when he saw Operations standing next to Petrosian. He hadn't know that Ops had returned to Section. And, since he was back, Michael wondered why Petrosian was still around.

Petrosian could almost read Michael's thoughts. He smiled at the young man and said, "Operations' returned this morning. I've been filling him in."

"So you'll be leaving soon?" Michael inquired, not bothering to hide his hopefulness.

Operations answered him. "No. Egram will be staying with us for the time being, Michael. Do you have a problem with that?"

Michael shook his head. "Of course not," he replied, dutifully. They all knew he could say nothing else.

"We need to talk," Operations said, moving to perch on the corner of his desk.

"About Nikita," Michael replied. No sense in pretending otherwise, or that the situation wasn't serious.

Petrosian glided forward, till he was eye to eye with Michael. "I'm sure you realize that her actions cannot go....unpunished," he drawled.

Michael locked eyes with the other man, carefully keeping his own expressionless. "Meaning what?" he countered, evenly. But he feared he already knew the answer to his question.

"Nikita is being held in abeyance," Operations replied. His own eyes were locked on Michael's face, watching for a reaction from the young man. He was impressed that Michael never wavered. Then he was surprised by his words.

"What do you want from me?" Michael challenged. Then he waited. Until the silence in the room grew deafening.

It was Petrosian who spoke up. "What do you mean?" he countered, even as he glanced over at Operations. The other man seemed as surprised as he was.

Michael smiled then. He was pleased that he had startled them both, yet surprised at the same time. Then he quickly explained. "Tell me what I have to do to keep Nikita alive." Whatever it was, Michael would do it. For if Nikita was cancelled, then he was determined to follow her into oblivion.

***********

Operations and Petrosian were both silent for a long moment. Then Operations smiled. "All right, Michael," he drawled. "We might be willing to make a deal with you." He looked over Petrosian again, and the other man nodded. "First off, let's lay all our cards out on the table. Shall we?"

Michael felt his insides twist into a knot at Operations' words, but he didn't let what he was feeling show. "I don't know what you mean," he confessed.

"Remember Lisa Fanning?" Operations questioned, his eyes locked on Michael's face. Not a flicker of reaction from the young operative at his words. Just nod of his head. "We know that you pilfered a million dollars from her husband's account and gave it to her." Ops smiled as he watched Michael blink then turn away. A subtle reaction, but a meaningful one. "I think that Birkhoff might have helped you," Operations continued.

"He didn't." Michael was quick to defend the young computer whiz. Birkhoff had no awareness of what Michael had done, at least not at the time. No doubt he was the one who had tracked down and reveled Michael's own involvement in the missing funds. Michael didn't hold that against him. Birkhoff was doing what they all did...their job.

Petrosian was still standing beside Michael. He was enjoying himself immensely, even though he was impressed by the young man's composure. Michael had been caught out and he didn't deny it. He admitted it and was prepared to accept what was to come. But Egram knew he wouldn't be prepared for the task they presented to him. He smiled. "We'll give you a choice, Michael. You can cancel Lisa Fanning...or Birkhoff. The choice is yours. But someone has to be held accountable for your actions."

Michael locked eyes with the blond-haired man. He knew that the choice they had given him was meant as a punishment. By giving Lisa Fanning the money, Michael had betrayed a weakness in their eyes. And they would use that weakness against him. A flash of memory brought to Michael's awareness a sudden, harsh, reality. The innocents whom he tried to protect were destined to suffer by association. He had wanted to *save* Angie. But she had died to save him. He had tried to give Lisa a new start in life. To, in some small measure, right the wrong he had done to her. Now she would die. For there was only one choice he could make. Michael turned away from Petrosian, from the cold, pale eyes, to face Operations. "If I cancel Lisa, you'll take Nikita out of Abeyance?" he questioned.

"I will," Operations acknowledged. "For now." He saw Michael flinch at that. "Understand that Nikita is to be held accountable for her own actions from now on, Michael. You will not be allowed to protect her anymore. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Michael replied. A cold chill rippled through him from the inside out, but he didn't react to it. He simply held Operations' gaze then asked, "When do I leave?"

Petrosian answered him. "Lisa Fanning is in Athens. We'll make the arrangements, then get back to you."

Michael nodded. "Can I go?"

Operations sighed. "You can go," he allowed. His eyes were glued to Michael's back as the young man glided out of the room. Then Operations' looked at Petrosian. "I think that went well. Don't you?"

"Indeed," Petrosian replied, a smile curving his thin lips. "I think that Michael is making wonderful progress. Now...how about we go to supper? I'm starving?"

The two men walked out of the office, feeling inordinately pleased with themselves.

Walter stood beside Nikita's bed. Her beautiful eyes were filled with shadows and it broke Walter's heart to see her so sad, and looking so defeated. "Chin up, sugar," he told her. "It wasn't your fault, what happened to Heather."

Nikita glared at him. "Yes, Walter!" Nikita shot back. "It is! I never should have taken her out of Section."

"You wanted to help her. That's all." Walter knew the story, because Nikita had told him. Had needed to explain herself to someone, and he had been more than happy to listen.

"Where's Michael?" Nikita asked, suddenly, needing to change the subject. She had battered herself over Heather's death. Now she needed to focus her attention elsewhere. She needed Michael.

Walter held back a sigh of frustration as he avoided Nikita's intense gaze. "Michael has...stuff...to deal with, sugar," he replied. He knew about the young man having to cancel Lisa Fanning. Walter had his sources. "Don't interfere," he advised, wanting to save both young people from any more pain.

Nikita wasn't willing to let it go at that. "What's going on, Walter?" she persisted.

"I gotta go," he told her, turning abruptly away and hustling himself out of the room.

For a long moment, Nikita stared at the empty doorway, then she slid out of bed and slowly dressed. Five minutes later she entered Michael's office. He was standing at the window. Looking out, but not seeing anything, Nikita guessed. He was dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck, and his hands were in his pockets. A casual stance, Nikita could feel tension emanate from him. He was cold and detached, even from himself. "We need to talk," she said softly, dropping into the chair across from his desk. Michael didn't look at her. Couldn't. He closed his eyes then whispered, "There's nothing to talk about, Nikita."

"I'm sorry about Heather," she replied, ignoring his protest. Nikita waited out a long moment of silence.

"When will you learn to see the big picture?" Michael questioned, when he could no longer bear the tension between them.

Nikita bit her lip and blinked back tears, then she told the truth. "Probably never," she confessed. And she felt a sense of regret. But she couldn't change who she was. Nikita had warned Michael of that many times. In many ways. "I'm human, Michael," she whispered. "I make mistakes."

He nodded, but still wouldn't face her. "So do I," Michael acknowledged. He made mistakes that cost the lives of those he cared about. But that was to be no more. It was time to face the truth, time for both of them to accept it. Michael turned to Nikita now, and his eyes were cold and empty. "I try to learn from my mistakes," he said flatly. "But you continue to make the same ones, over and over again, Nikita. Your actions are selfish, and people die because of them." His words were harsh and meant to hurt. But he saw only sorrow and regret in Nikita's eyes, and Michael's resolve weakened. He went to her and pressed his palm to her cheek. Warm tears wet his skin.

"I know that I'm being held in abeyance again," Nikita whispered, as she let her head rest into Michael's hand.

"Not anymore," he replied, suddenly pulling away. Michael took a deep breath, then returned to the window. He had to put distance between them.

Nikita wasn't surprised. She stared at his back then said, "You found a way to protect me again," she stated. "What did you have to promise them this time, Michael? You've already given them your wife and your son." Nikita saw him flinch at her words, but she continued on. She didn't want to hurt him, she wanted to shake him up. To make him open up to her. "What's left? The Section owns you...body and soul. But what about your heart?" That was what Nikita needed to know. Who had claim to Michael's heart. He might deny having one, but she knew differently.

Michael was about to answer her when he sensed a presence. Glancing over, he saw Petrosian smiling at him from the doorway.

"It's time to go, Michael," the other man said. He stepped aside as the young operative came around the desk and glided from the room. Interesting that he didn't even say goodbye to Nikita. Petrosian was pleased. He turned to follow, but a hand gripped his arm. "Yes, Nikita?" he asked.

She glared at him. The man gave her the creeps. "Where is Michael going?" she demanded.

Petrosian hesitated for a moment, then decided to answer her. "To Athens."

"Why Athens?" Nikita prompted, feeling her stomach muscles tighten. She knew that she wasn't going to like the answer, but she needed to hear it. It would explain Michael's attitude.

"To cancel Lisa Fanning," Petrosian replied. Then he shook off Nikita's hand and left the room.

Nikita choked back a sob. She suddenly understood. Michael had chosen her life over Lisa's. Bitterness filled Nikita's soul. Section one was like a vampire, sucking the life and soul out of Michael. They were cold, sadistic killers without hearts or conscience, and they wouldn't be happy until they made Michael one of their own. Nikita closed her eyes against hot tears. Whatever it took, she would fight them. Michael believed himself to be like them already, but Nikita knew better. Michael hadn't lost his soul...he had only lost his way. But Nikita would be there for him. He was always there for her, now it was time to return the favor.

Wiping the tears off her face with her shirtsleeve, Nikita drew her legs up till her knees were tucked under her chin, then she laid her head down on her folded arms. However long it took, she would wait for Michael to return.

It was twenty-four hours later that Michael entered his office. He was surprised to find Nikita curled up in the chair he had left her in, still dressed in the same clothes. He didn't want to face her now, so he turned to leave. But froze at the sound of his name.

"Michael..." Nikita whispered, as she rose from the chair. His back was to her and she laid one hand on his shoulder. She felt him tremble at her touch.

"Please go, Nikita," Michael begged, hearing the desperation in his voice and hating it.

She didn't listen to him. Nikita stepped around Michael till she stood before him, then she lifted her hands to his face. She felt his tears fall on her fingers and her own slid down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. She slid her fingers into his hair, then pulled his head down so that she could kiss away his tears. A moment later Nikita felt Michael's arms slide around her waist. He held her tightly and his body trembled against her. Nikita wrapped her own arms around Michael's neck and offered what comfort she could. Whatever he needed she would give to him.

Michael didn't want to need Nikita. He wanted to pull away from her and order her to leave. But he couldn't. So he held her and let her feel his pain. He felt hers as well, and their shared grief seemed to mingle and then disperse. The sorrow remained, and the regret, but it became bearable. Michael found himself wanting to share his feelings with Nikita, but even as he opened his mouth, the phone rang.

Nikita wanted to curse. She had sensed Michael about to open up to her. But as the ringing continued, she felt him stiffen and begin to pull away. So she reacted first. She released him and reached for the phone. Putting a smile on her face, Nikita held it out to Michael. When he took it, she stepped by him and left the room. The moment was shattered, and Nikita knew that Michael would rebuild his wall. But she wouldn't give up. She would simply bide her time. So the smile remained on her face as she left Section One and headed for home.

In his office, Michael stared at the phone, but he saw only Nikita's face. Still, the shrill ringing finally penetrated his awareness, and he punched the talk button. "Yes," he whispered.

It was Madeline. "I want to see you in my office, Michael," she said.

"Of course," he replied. Michael heard her hang up and he did the same. He put the phone back in its cradle then left his office. Michael's face was expressionless as he headed for the unknown, leaving his heart...and Nikita...behind.

***********

Madeline was sitting behind her desk when Michael entered her office. She gestured for him to take the chair across from her and he did so, without protest. Madeline could sense that Michael was preparing himself for a battle of wills with her. She smiled at him. "How did it go in Athens?" she questioned, her eyes locked on his face.

Michael showed no reaction to the question, he had been expecting it. "Lisa is dead," he said softly. "I did what was expected of me." Michael held Madeline's gaze without flinching. He wished he could read her mind, then thought better of it. No doubt it was an even scarier place than his own.

"I'm sorry about Lisa, Michael," Madeline replied. She left her chair to move to the front of the desk. "You understand why it had to be done, don't you?"

"I know that you felt the need to punish me," Michael shot back, his eyes flashing silver for a moment. Then the shimmer faded and a smile curved his lips. "I've gotten used to it, Madeline. The only thing I wonder about is...why bother? What is it that the Section wants from me?" It was a question that had haunted him for years, but Michael had never been willing to ask it. He had learned, early on, to do the job. He had suffered the consequences of failing to do so. Never really running the risk of his own cancellation, but that of those around him. Of the people he showed any fellow feeling towards. Those feelings....his weakness...was always used against him. So, maybe he hadn't learned at all.

"You are valuable to Section, Michael," Madeline explained. "You're the best of our best. We don't want to lose you." Not that they didn't run that risk everytime they sent him out on a mission, but that couldn't be helped. Michael was a survivor. But it was never for his ownself that he survived, but for the sake of others. From the moment Michael had joined Section, Madeline had come to realize that he was not afraid to die. That a part him would welcome it, but that he was too strong to freely take his own life. So she had made certain that Michael always found a reason to survive. Be it Simone, or his son. Birkhoff....Nikita. There was always someone that Michael bonded to, in spite of his best efforts to close himself off from his emotions. He felt too deeply to ever be free of his heart.

Michael listened to Madeline's words, but they meant nothing to him "Why am I here?" he asked, bluntly. At Madeline's confused look, he clarified. "Right now," Michael whispered. "What's the point of this little conversation? To see if you have finally pushed me too far?" Michael was pleased to see Madeline have to hide a reaction to his words. "I crossed that line a long ago. But I decided that although you had claimed my soul, I would never let you break me. So....no matter what you do, I will always bend.....never break." It was a warning to her. To Section.

Madeline understood it, and nodded to show that she did. She also respected Michael for his honesty. But that was not to say that she was finished with him. Not yet. Locking eyes with him once more, she asked, "Was it a hard choice to make, Michael? Killing Lisa to save Nikita?" Madeline knew that Birkhoff's proposed cancellation was secondary in the scenario. They would have followed through if necessary, but all parties knew it wouldn't come to that. Michael would always put Nikita first. "Do have any regrets for what you've done?" The last question was the one Madeline was most curious to hear an answer to.

"For what I've done..." Michael repeated, his eyes flickering away from Madeline for a moment. He was lost in a surge of memories. Faces of those he had loved and lost shimmered in his mind's eye. Then there were the *innocents*. The true innocents. The ones who weren't a part of Section. Lisa...Rudy...Angie...and countless of others. Nikita's name could be added to the list, but Michael shook his head. He looked Madeline in the eye and said, "Section gave me a second chance at life, at a time when I wanted to live. Ever since then... I've done whatever you have asked of me. Most of the time I can convince myself that what we do here is for the greater good. That those who are sacrificed...their death's are not in vain. They died for the cause...which is our fight against evil. But somewhere along the line the distinction between good and evil...innocent and guilty...has become blurred."

Michael stood up and moved towards the door. The walls were beginning to close in on him and he needed to escape. But he had one last thing to say. "I used to feel something when I killed someone. Be it regret, or satisfaction. It was something. But I kill now and there's nothing there. It's simply a reflex. My gun is an extension of myself." Michael paused for a moment, remembering a sweet smile, blue eyes and tawny-gold hair. But his face was expressionless as he continued. "I wanted to feel something when I killed Lisa." He refused to use the word *cancelled*. In a twisted way, it would cheapen her memory.

Madeline's eyes were locked on Michael's face, searching his eyes and finding only emptiness. "And did you feel anything?" she prompted, curious to know.

Michael took a breath then closed his eyes. A smile curved his lips as he whispered, "Envy." Opening his eyes, he didn't see the look on Madeline's face. He simply turned and left the room.

"So now it begins," Madeline said to herself as she watched him go. She and Operations had been waiting for the moment when Michael would finally come to terms with who he was, and his place in Section. She knew now that he was on the road to discovery and that it was going to be a bumpy ride...for all of them.

Nikita watched Michael from her end of the conference table. He was seated next to Madeline, Birkoff was beside her, then Nikita. But there were empty chairs in between. Operations was briefing them, but Nikita was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying. She couldn't keep her eyes off Michael, yet he seemed oblivious to her. His gaze was glued on the vidscreen, where a picture of an attractive woman shimmered. She was about forty and had auburn hair. Nikita barely glanced at the screen.

Operations was aware of this, so he moved to stand before Nikita, claiming her attention, before he continued. "This is Celeste Harmon. She's wealthy, powerful and dangerous. She has class and connections that would prove useful to Section" This was Operations' way of letting it be known that he wanted Celeste Harmon alive at the end of the mission. "She's what you might call a commodoties broker for the rich and powerful, be it an individual...or a country. Whatever demand is made, Celeste fills the need. From the intel we've gathered, we know that she is looking for an assassin. Who for, we don't know. Nor do we know who the target it. But we can make an educated guess, only there are five possibilities. None of them will are acceptable."

"Political ramifications?" Michael guessed.

"Costly ones," Operations confirmed. "We're talking about hundreds of thousands of lives at stake, just for starters."

Madeline picked up the tale. "Michael, you and Nikita will pose as a married couple who just happen to be freelance assassins."

Nikita grimaced. "Let me guess, Peter and Sage?"

"No." Madeline smiled. "I've created a background for you that is distinctly different from Peter and Sage. You will be Michael and Nikita. Young, in love, wealthy and diverse." She saw the confused glimmer in Nikita's eyes and explained. "You and Michael will be like fire and ice. He'll play calm, cool and collected, you'll be hyper, unpredictable and over the top. But you both will retain a sense of refinement and class. Celeste admires and respects that." Madeline now turned to Michael. "She will make a play for you, Michael. Let her."

"Wait a minute," Nikita blurted out. She did so without thinking. "Ummmm....I thought Michael and I were supposed to be married...and in love?"

Madeline nodded. "You are, but you have an *open* marriage. It's necessary, given the profile I've worked up."

Michael's first thought was that Madeline was setting them up for yet another test. A part of him didn't care. He looked at Operations. "What is our objective?"

The older man perched on the corner of the table. He was watching Michael closely, and was pleased that young operative seemed completely focused on the mission. There were traces of the Michael he had been post-Simone and pre-Nikita. "You need to get close to Celeste and find out who the target is and who wants the hit. By going in as assassins, you'll also be in place to stop it."

"Once we have the names, you want us to bring in Celeste?" Michael questioned, but he was only seeking confirmation of what he already knew.

Madeline answered him. "Yes. We'll be able to put her to good use."

Nikita swallowed a sigh. So once again, Section would embrace the serpent. What else was new. She let it go to ask a question. "So how do we make Celeste's acquaintance?"

"You'll be introduced through a third party," Madeline replied. "Suba."

"What?" Nikita was surprised enough to sit up in her chair. "That little twerp?" she challenged. At Madeline's nod she queried, "Why him?"

Operations was amused by Nikita's reaction. "Suba and Celeste are old friends. She trusts him, and his recommendation of you."

Nikita could accept that, but she was still doubtful. "What makes you think that Suba will cooperate?" He wouldn't be feeling friendly towards Section after they had deported him. And was probably still pissed at Nikita for shooting him.

"He'll cooperate," Madeline assured her. A cold smile curved her lips. "We've assured him that Michael will take great pleasure in killing him...slowly...if he attempts to betray us. Suba doesn't like pain...and he fears death. He'll do what we ask of him."

"Of course he will," Nikita drawled. "Is that it?"

Madeline rose from her chair. "Both of you need to come to my office to be outfitted. You'll leave at dawn."

Michael stood up and followed Madeline out. He brushed past Nikita, but didn't even look at her, but he could feel the heat of her gaze burning into his back. He was only glad that it couldn't reach his heart.

Nikita finished dressing and stepped out from behind the curtain so that Madeline could appraise her. She was wearing a black skirt, ankle-length and slim fitting with a slit up the back, paired with a pink, cashmere crop top. Black suede knee-boots completed the outfit. Nikita turned in a slow circle. "Will I do?" she asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

"Nicely," Madeline replied, with a smile. Nikita was beautiful, as always. But then Madeline's attention was diverted as Michael came down the stairs from the second level. He was dressed in formfitting, black leather pants, boots, and a white, long-sleeved body shirt, which outlined every muscle of his arms and chest. As he walked towards them he pulled on an ankle length, black-leather duster. "You look wonderful," Madeline told him.

He didn't react to her compliment. "Are we through?" he asked, his voice toneless.

Madeline nodded, then pointed to a garment bag and two suitcases stacked by the door. "That's your luggage. Don't forget it. I've packed everything you should need. Get the rest of your gear from Walter." A beep from her intercom cut Madeline off. She answered it then looked at Nikita and Michael. "Finish up here then get some sleep. You're on close quarter standby till you leave." With those parting words, Madeline breezed out of the room.

Michael turned to follow, but found his way blocked by Nikita. "Yes?" he questioned. He didn't betray his impatience to leave, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that was a reflection of his reaction to being so close to her.

Nikita let her eyes study him for a moment. He was so beautiful, yet so cold. She could almost feel the chill emanating from him. Yet this wasn't the real Michael. Nikita knew that now. Something had happened since the moment in his office. Since he had cancelled Lisa. Something that she feared would change him forever. "Can we talk?" Nikita beseeched, her eyes now locking with his. She recognized his present state of being. Michael was in *machine mode*. All his focus on the mission at hand. No regard for outside issues. her heart sank.

"There's nothing left to talk about, Nikita," Michael replied, seeing hurt flickering in Nikita's crystal-blue gaze, but he finding himself unresponsive to it. And it was for the best. For both of them.

"I see," Nikita whispered, unconsciously repeating the words Lisa Fanning had once spoken. She had closed her eyes, so she didn't see the glimmer of reaction in Michael's silver-green gaze. Her hand dropped from his arm and she sensed him walk away from her. It wasn't until Nikita was certain that she was alone that she let her tears fall. But she wasn't crying for herself. This time....she was crying for Michael.

***********

Suba sat across from Michael and Nikita in the back of a white, stretch limosine, chauffered by a Section operative. He sat fingering his split lip, curtesy of Nikita. When he had tried to cop a feel, she had decked him. Since then Suba had remained quiet.

Nikita was quiet as well, thinking about the role she was about to play. Michael's wife. They were heading to Celeste Harmon's estate where she was throwing herself a fortieth birthday bash. Suba, under Section's direction, had gotten himself invited, and had let Celeste know that he might bring some *friends* along. All of that mattered little to Nikita. She was thinking of what it was going to be like to spend the next few days playing Michael's wife. Being attentive and affectionate to him wouldn't be hard in a physical sense, it was the emotional ramifications that were bothering Nikita. How would she handle acting out loving him, when it was the truth?

Michael felt Nikita's eyes upon him, even though he had spent most of the drive looking out the window. But as they pulled into the circular driveway, he looked at her and said, "We're here." When Nikita nodded, Michael turned his attention to Suba. "You know the rules," he said softly, his eyes locked on the small man's face. "If you break them, you die. It's that simple."

"I hear ya," Suba drawled, although he was far from feeling nonchalant. He had no doubt that Michael would pump a bullet into him without blinking. The man was cold. Suba reached for the doorknob. "Shall we go?" he questioned.

Nikita waved her hand. "After you." She followed Suba out then waited for Michael to exit the limo. Side by side, the trio entered the mansion.

A small, private, party to Celeste meant about fifty of her closet friends and acquaintances. Although a more appropriate description for those in attendance would be *associates*, for Celeste never missed an opportunity to do business. So as she made her rounds and kept everyone entertained, she was also establishing more contacts and making deeper connections. For her, business was pleasure. There were a few people she genuinely liked, however, and Suba happened to be one of them. Main reason being that he had never betrayed her trust. So when she spotted him entering the main salon, Celeste ran forward to greet him with a kiss. "I'm glad you could make it," she offered, sincerely.

Suba kissed her back then smiled. "I wouldn't miss one of your birthday parties, Celeste," he drawled. "You know how to entertain me."

"So, where's my present?" she teased, seeing that he was empty-handed.

""Well," Suba replied, laughing softly. "I heard you were looking for a *unique* item," he emphasized unique, to let her know he was aware of her latest quest for an assassin. By the look in Celeste's eyes, Suba knew she had gotten the message. "So I brought you something...I'm sure you can put to go use." It was a definite, double-edge, statement. Suba turned and waved Michael and Nikita forward. Then he turned back to Celeste. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine," he told her.

Celeste nodded, but that was all. Her eyes were locked on the man gliding towards her. There was a beautiful blond on his arm, but Celeste closed her out. The young man was the most gorgeous creature that Celeste had ever laid eyes on, and in that moment she determined that she would have him in her bed. A birthday present to herself. "Welcome to my party," Celeste offered in greeting, stepping forward to greet the lovely duo. Suba picked up the introductions. "Celeste, this is Michael and Nikita Matisse."

"PLeasure to meet you," Celeste purred, as she reached out to shake Michael's hand. His skin was warm and his fingers strong as they curled over hers. She liked a man with a firm handshake.

"The pleasure is ours," MIchael replied, offering a warm smile. He released the pressure of his fingers, but Celeste didn't release his hand.

Nikita noticed, so she nudged their hands apart to offer her own. It was obvious the other woman didn't like it, but Nikita simply grinned at her. She took Celete's hand and said, "My husband is rather...overwhelming...isn't he?" Nikita laughed at the startled look on Celeste's face. She glanced over at Michael and saw a similar, but much more subtle, expression on his. This was going to be fun, she decided. "Michael has that effect on woman of all ages," Nikita drawled. "It annoys the hell of me sometimes. But overall, it's rather flattering."

Celeste was quick to regain her composure. She rather liked Nikita's bluntness. "You're a lucky woman," She said, and she meant it.

"I know," Nikita was quick to agree, as she reached for Michael's hand. She sensed his reluctance to be touched, but didn't let it deter her. After all, they were playing a part.

Michael decided that it was time to take control of the scenario, guiding the focus onto the mission at hand. "Suba tells that you might be interested in our....services."

Celeste nearly choked at Michael's choice of words, for she was most certainly interested in what ever services he, personally, had to offer. So she nodded. "We might be able to do business," she allowed. "Tell you what, Michael. Why don't you and Nikita spend the weekend with me. We'll get to know each other, then we'll talk. I like to know the people I do business with, if you know what I mean."

"Makes sense," Nikita replied, a big smile on her face. She knew exactly what Celeste meant and it irritated her to no end. The woman was staring at Michael as if he were some kind of luscious dessert and she was craving a sweet. It was a look that Nikita was familiar with, for that's how most of the men she came in contact with looked at her. Even Walter. But Michael had never looked at her that way. Nikita knew that he found her attractive, but his eyes glimmered with appreciation and respect, even when they warmed her with the reflection of the passsion that burned deep within him.

"I'm very good at what I do," Celeste stated, firmly. "So...it's settled then. You'll stay?" At Michael's nod she turned to Suba. "Will you be staying as well?"

Suba shook his head. He had orders to return to Section and he had no intention of disobeying them. "I have business of my own to take care of, Celeste," he told her. And, in a sense, it was the truth.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Be a good boy then and mingle," Celeste directed him. "I'm going to make the rounds with Michael and Nikita." She stepped forward and took Michael by the arm, leaving Nikita to follow them. Glancing at Michael's handsome profile she asked, "Are you from this area?"

Michael smiled at her. "Not really," he replied, noncommittally. "Nikita and I like to travel. It's mostly work related, but we like it that way. Home is wherever we're together."

"That's...romantic," Celeste," remarked. It was obvious, even to her cynical eye, that Michael and Nikita were in love with each other. She could respect that, but it wouldn't stop her from luring Michael into her bed. She somehow sensed that Nikita wouldn't object. Not that it mattered if she did. Celeste was used to getting what she wanted, that's why she was so successful at her business. But she put such thoughts aside for now. It was time to enjoy the party.

Nikita and Michael were shown to their bedroom suite at just after two am. The partyers had all gone, including Suba, and a servant had brought in their bags. Celeste wasn't surprised at the luggage. Michael had explained to her that they had just arrived in town and hadn't found a residence yet.

Celeste also gave them free reign of the house. She had nothing to hide. So Michael and Nikita decided to do some exploring, since neither of them was ready to face being alone in the bedroom, or sharing the bed to sleep. And they would have to do so to keep up the pretense. No telling if there were hidden cameras, or when Celeste..or a servant...might walk in on them.

It was decided that Nikita would explore the east end of the mansion, Michael the west end, including the pool area. It was there that he ran into Celeste. She was skinny dipping. When Michael appeared, she stepped out of the pool, not at all embarrassed at being caught naked.

Smiling, Celeste went to Michael and pressed her wet, naked body against him, her fingers sliding into his hair. She then pressed her lips to his, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Celeste was pleased when he kissed her back.

Nikita arrived on the scene just as Celeste was slipping her hands beneath Michael's shirt. "Whoops!" She declared, giggling. After all, she had to play her part. "Want I should leave you two alone?" Nikita asked, even as she moved to stand behind Michael. Her hands pinched his buttocks and she felt him flinch. It pleased her to get a reaction out of him, especially such an unexpected one.

"I was just keeping him warm for you," Celeste drawled as she stepped away from Michael and retrieved a terry robe from a nearby lounge chair. She slipped it on then looked back over at Michael. She noticed how his arm had slipped around Nikita's waist and the two looked like they fit together, perfectly. It rather irritated Celeste, but she put a smile on her face. "I think I'll go to bed. I need my beauty sleep. I'll see you two at breakfast. We'll eat on the terrace."

"Sounds good," Michael replied. He smiled but was relieved when Celeste walked off. The moment she was out of sight, he disentangled himself from Nikita. She was too close, to warm...and far too inviting. He had to remind himself not to lose focus and it bothered Michael that he was so easily affected by Nikita's mere presence. It didn't bode well for their mission.

Nikita was a bit hurt by Michael's rebuff of her affections, even if they were only for show. But she got over it quickly enough. She smiled at Michael. "I guess we should go to bed too," Nikita said. It was an innocent statement.

Michael took it as such. "Yes," he replied, gesturing for Nikita to proceed him. His eyes burned into her back as he followed her into the house and up the stairs.

"I'm not tired," Nikita announced as they entered their rooms. She watched Michael close the door behind them, then lock it. He was always cautious, and Nikita knew he didn't want to run the risk of someone walking in on them uninvited. "What about cameras or bugs?" Nikita inquired, her voice barely above a whisper, which meant she was standing close to Michael.

"I think we're clear," he replied. He doubted that Celeste would go that route unless it was for a specific reason. She would have no reason not to trust them at this point. Not that he didn't intend to remain alert to the possibility.

Nikita nodded but didn't move away. She intended to stand her ground. "Michael...can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, even though he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it. "Ask."

"What's it like for you?" Nikita queried as she watched him move over to chaise in the corner where his duffle bag resided.

"What do you mean?" Michael countered, as he rummaged in his bag till he found his PDA. He wanted to make some notes.

Nikita moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "What's it like when you make love to a woman you don't desire?" she clarified. Then she smiled when she saw Michael stiffen in reaction to her question. Good, Nikita thought. She wanted to shake him up a bit.

Michael hadn't expected such a question, especially coming from Nikita, so he was ill-prepared to handle it. So he went on the defense. "Why do you want to know?" MIchael countered. He refused to turn around and face her.

"Because I know how I would feel if I were in your place," Nikita replied, softly. In the time that she had been free of Section, she had done alot of thinking. "You protected me from having to sleep with Bauer. Even from having to sleep with you. And you rescued me from Suba, and it took me a while to realize all the times you ran interference for me. You always managed to find another way to get the job done." Nikita bit her lip as she slid off the bed and went to Michael. She wanted to see his face. To see his reaction to her words. So she moved to stand before him. "When Madeline set it up for you to seduce Lisa, all I could think of was how she would feel. And then there was the part of me that was jealous." Nikita laughed although she felt the flush of embarrassment as she made continued her confession. "When Madeline suggested that it bothered me to see you and Lisa together, I insisted that it didn't. But I was lying." Nikita was surprised at how easy it was to admit that now. At the time, she would have died before doing so, especially after realizing that Michael had heard the exchange.

"What's your point?" he asked now. Nikita's eyes were burning into his, seeking entrance into his soul, but he held her at bay. He couldn't let her in. It would be a mistake.

Nikita smiled, knowing what Michael was doing, but determined to keep pushing. Still the smile faded as she answered him. "I would feel...dead...inside if I had to prostitute my body for the sake of getting the job done." Nikita was surprised to see Michael flinch at her words and shadows darkened his eyes. But she pushed on. "I want to know how you felt when you had to make love to Lisa."

Michael closed his eyes as the memory of that time washed over him. Lisa was dead now, he didn't want to remember. So his eyes were cold and his voice harsh as he replied, "It's just a job, Nikita!"

"Really?" she countered, not believing him for a minute. It was obvious that Michael was affected by it. "Tell me something. How many women has Section asked you to seduce, or be seduced by? Including me."

"Never you, Nikita!" Michael hissed. The words were out before he could stop them. It was a confession of sorts that Michael had never intended to make.

She felt tears fill her eyes, for Michael was finally being honest, with both of them. Nikita reached out to him, but he pulled away, and she let him. Baby steps, Nikita, she reminded herself. Michael had just taken his first, and he was wobbly, but still standing. For now....it was enough.

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

Michael and Nikita spent the weekend with Celeste. For most of the time, the older woman flirted outrageously with Michael. That is, when she wasn't trying to cop a feel. Nikita spent the time keeping a close watch over Michael. She played her part, alternating from being the obsessive wife to indulgent observer, as Celeste made her moves on Michael. He allowed it, even returned her kisses and caresses, but Nikita sensed that Michael was exerting a suffocating control over himself. He was walking on the edge and could stumble at any moment. If that happened, it would jeopardize the mission. And if that were to happen, Nikita knew that Michael would never forgive himself. So she was determined to help him keep his focus.

First off, Nikita managed to find ways to keep Michael from having to sleep with Celeste. Her methods were extreme, but they worked. Such as practically going at it while Celeste was present. The other woman was too classy to remain in the room while Nikita was groping Michael. The moment Celeste was gone, Michael would pull away from Nikita. She didn't allow herself to feel hurt. Nikita felt that she understood. Since Michael's revelation in the bedroom the first night, Nikita hadn't pressured him further. She realized that she had rocked him. Michael was off-kilter and finding it hard to regain his emotional balance. The physical intimacy he was forced to endure just made it all the more difficult for him.

A part of Nikita was glad. Michael had locked away his emotions for so long, that it was time for them to surface. But she allowed that her timing could have been better. That's why she stayed close to him, every minute. Michael had protected her time and again in the past. Now she would return the favor.

It was the third night at the mansion, and Nikita and Michael were both becoming restless. Celeste refused to discuss *business* with them, insisting that they needed to get to know one another better. And when she spoke her eyes would rove over Michael, shimmering with lust. He accepted her perusal, but it was becoming more and more difficult for Michael to play his role. There were times when he wanted to strangle Celeste. Times when he came too close for comfort, and in those times Nikita would be there.

The touch of her hand on his arm, or her fingers in his hair, a gentle reminder of where they were....and what was at stake. She was his focal point. When Michael looked at Nikita, or even thought of her, the chaos of his soul was calmed. It had been that way for him during the War with Red Cell as well. He hadn't lied to Nikita about his torture being bad. Michael would never have revealed the location of Section, but thinking about Nikita had made the pain bearable. She was the only reason he was still alive. And the truth of that fact was a startling revelation, to Michael. And one that he had no time to indulge in. Not now.

Nikita was fully aware of Michael's tension. It was becoming her own. He sat on the couch in the Living room and Nikita stood behind him, trying to massage the knots out of his shoulder muscles. She wasn't having much luck. Michael was wound tighter than a spring.

Celeste was pouring them glasses of wine. As she handed Michael and Nikita theirs, she made an announcement. "I've decided that I will hire you. The hit takes place tonight, so let's make a toast to a successful...partnership," Celeste drawled, holding out her own glass to clink against Michael's.

He drank, as she did, then said, "You don't know our fee."

"I'll pay you one million. Take it or leave it," Celeste countered. Her eyes flickered between Michael and Nikita.

Nikita moved around the couch to sit on the arm. "Who's our target?" she inquired. Now came the moment of truth. once they had the name, the mission would be near completion.

Celeste offered a smile as she sat down in the chair across from them. "Don't take this as a sign of distrust, but I'll give you the target once you're in place. Via cell phone."

"We understand," Michael replied, returning her smile. He was disappointed, but didn't let it show. "We'll go and get ready." Michael rose smoothly to his feet as he spoke.

"That won't be necessary," Celeste replied, waving for him to sit back down.

Nikita caught her breath as the living room doors opened and three men entered, holding rifles. "What's going on?" she demanded, glaring at the other woman.

Celeste never lost her smile. "You'll be going solo on this assignment, Nikita," she drawled. "Michael will stay with me."

"I see." Nikita put down her glass, then folded her arms over her chest. Her attitude wasn't fully a characterization of the role she was playing. She was furious, and concerned. Things were not going at all as planned. "Let me guess," Nikita continued. "If I fail, you kill my husband." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Not at all," Celeste countered, her eyes locked on Michael's face. His beautiful eyes glittered coldly, but otherwise he betrayed no emotion. "If you fail, Nikita, YOU die. My associates will be watching, and they will kill you, on the spot."

Nikita hadn't expected that, but she didn't let it throw her off-track. "What about Michael?" She found that she was far more concerned about his fate, than her own.

Celeste laughed softly. "Oh...don't worry, my dear. I'll take good care of him for you." There was no doubt as to her meaning, and Celeste's eyes glittered as she locked eyes with Nikita. Neither woman backed down, until Michael cut them off.

He stood up and drew Nikita to him. Michael knew they had no choice but to play along with Celeste. The success of the mission was at stake. So he cupped Nikita's face in his hands and kissed her, tenderly. Then he pulled her into a hug so that he could whisper in to her ear, "Do what you have to do, Nikita."

"Will you be all right?" she whispered back. Nikita was surprised to find that she was trembling. She was frightened, for both of them.

"I'll be fine," Michael replied. He pulled back and kissed her once more. Then he smiled at Nikita as his thumbs gently brushed over her cheeks. "Be careful," he bid her, then he stepped back. It occurred to Michael that he suddenly felt empty, deep inside of himself.

Celeste had watched the exchange between Michael and Nikita with an indulgent smile on her face. Let them have their last moment together. Nikita didn't know it but she was dead, whether she succeeded or not. "You'll need this," Celeste said, reaching for a large, black leather hand bag that was tucked behind her chair. "It's the latest in fashionable artillery," she joked, leaving no doubt as to what was inside.

Nikita accepted the bag, but her eyes were cold. "We brought our own tools," she countered, but she didn't expect to be allowed the use of them. Celeste had covered all the bases, and Nikita was smelling a set up. But they had to play things out.

"You'd better go," Celeste countered, not deigning to respond to Nikita's comment. She offered a salute with her glass as she watched the young woman being escorted out by one of the three guards. The other two remained.

Nikita was driven to a luxury hotel and informed by the driver that she had a reservation under the name of Jillian Waters. She was to go to the suite and wait for Celeste's call. Then she would receive further instructions.

So she did as she was told and now she stood on the balcony enjoying the night breeze as she waited for the call. It came moments later. Nikita hit the button. "Yes?"

Celeste paced about her living room as she spoke, but her eyes never left Michael. He was standing by the fireplace, as still as a statue. If he were concerned, or anxious, it didn't show. She admired that about him, among other things. "Hello Nikita," Celeste drawled, into the phone. "How do you like the room."

"Let's stick to business!" Nikita hissed. "Who's my target?"

Michael was paying close attention as Celeste talked. He found himself caught off guard when she informed Nikita that the target was Cardinal Lucien of Rome. Michael remembered reading about his arrival and he quickly grasped the political ramifications that would befall should he be murdered. But Michael kept his face expressionless as Celeste told Nikita that the Cardinal would be staying at the same hotel that Nikita was in, and he would enter from the street below the balcony. Cardinal Lucien would arrive in ten minutes. Celeste warned that her associates would be watching and would call her when the hit was made. Or to inform her that Nikita had failed and was dead. Michael knew she stated the last bit for his benefit.

Celeste was rather disappointed not to get a reaction out of Michael this time. But no matter. In ten minutes she would get the call and Nikita would be dead. But Celeste would keep that news to herself, for a time. In the meantime, she intended to play. "Let's go to my bedroom," Celeste said bluntly, as she glided over to Michael.

"I'm not tired," he shot back, not feeling up to playing the game anymore. Something was wrong. Michael could feel it.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Michael," Celeste countered, her fingers gliding over his chest. "I want you and I always get what I want. You will come to bed with me, or I'll make a phone call and Nikita will be dead. Are you understanding me?"

Michael nodded, and his eyes glittered as he replied, "How do I know you won't kill her anyway?" The slight smirk that curled Celeste's lips at his question, convinced Michael that Nikita was, indeed, marked for death. He wasn't about to let that happen. So he would buy time.

Celeste took Michael by the hand and was pleased when he followed her. "Share my bed for the night and Nikita lives, you become a million dollars richer, and we all move on with our lives." She shrugged. "It's a win-win situation all around." She lead Michael out into the foyer and up the stairs. The guards followed them, but remained outside the locked bedroom door.

"Want some more wine?" Celeste offered, as she moved to stand before Michael. He was so beautiful and sensual that she felt as if she might melt into a puddle just looking at him. Nikita had been a very lucky woman. But now it was Celeste's turn. When Michael refused the wine, she buried her fingers in his thick hair and drew his head down for a kiss. She was pleased when he kissed her back, but just as Celeste was about to deepen it, the phone rang. She pulled away from Michael to snatch it up. "What?" she barked. She listened for a moment, then snarled. "Stay in place and make sure the job is done! Report back when it's over!" Celeste then severed the connection and hurled the phone across the room.

"Problems?" Michael drawled, enjoying her distress.

Celeste turned to glare at him. "The Cardinal had a flat tire, so he'll be late arriving at the hotel. This changes our time frame." Michael shrugged. "So?" he countered, not revealing the relief that he was feeling. The Cardinal had, unwittingly, bought Michael the time frame that he needed. He put a smile on his face, a sensual curving of his lips, as he moved to stand behind Celeste. "Everything will still go as planned," he whispered softly, in her ear, as his hands curved over her shoulders, offering a gentle massage.

"You're right," Celeste replied, letting herself relax beneath Michael's touch. But that proved to be a mistake and a moment later she choked on a scream as Michael's forearm pressed hard against her windpipe. His free hand covered her mouth so that she couldn't make a sound.

"I'll remove my hand," Michael told her, his voice suddenly cold and harsh. He was fully locked into *machine mode* now. "But if you try to scream for help, you die. Do you understand me?" At Celeste's barely perceptible nod, Michael removed his hand.

She swallowed against the pressure in her throat and managed to whisper, "What do you want?"

Michael dragged her over to where the phone had landed. He scooped it up then shoved it into her hand. "Call off the hit," he oredered. "Both of them."

"All...right," Celeste agree. She was wise enough not to pretend that she didn't understand what he meant. The arm about her neck was steadfast, and Celeste had no doubt that Michael would kill her without blinking. She didn't want to die, so she made the call.

Nikita sat beside Michael in Madeline's office. Operation's and Mother Maddy were standing before them, smiles on both of their faces as they offered Michael and Nikita commendation for a job well done. It wasn't that unusual for Madeline to offer praise on occasion. But Nikita didn't trust it, coming from Operations. She thanked him, but her attention was focused on Michael. It was obvious to Nikita that he was having a hard time focusing his attention on what was being said.

Operations noticed it as well. He glanced over at Nikita and she looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing. A warning to him not to mess with Michael. Operations smiled. Michael was clearly not himself, and he was willing to give him some space. For the moment. Well, relative space. "Michael, I'll want a full report on my desk in the morning," he said, then he headed for the door.

"Is that all?" Michael asked of Madeline, feeling as if he had just been startled out of a dream. His mind felt detached from his body, and it bemused Michael somewhat that he didn't care.

"That's all," Madeline confirmed. Her eyes darkened as she watched Michael stand up and walk out, without even acknowledging Nikita's presence. The beautiful blond stood up as well, her eyes also on Michael, Madeline noticed. But then the crystal-blue gaze focused on her. "What is it, Nikita?" Madeline queried.

Nikita offered a painful smile. "I need to ask a favor," she replied. "Regarding Michael." Nikita was pleased to note a definite flicker of reaction in the other woman's brown gaze.

But Madeline swiftly recovered and pulled her mask firmly into place. "What kind of favor?" she countered, moving around her desk and dropping into her chair.

"I don't know how long Michael has been with Section," Nikita began, feeling the need to explain her request. "And I only have an inkling of the kind of hell you've put him through in that time. But I thnk that we both would agree that he's reached his breaking point." Nikita paused for a moment, blinking back the tears she refused to let fall. She gathered her composure and continued, taking a risk by speaking the truth. "I don't want to lose Michael, and I don't think you do either." Nikita locked eyes with Madeline, but the other woman gave away nothing. There was a long moment of silence, then Madeline spoke.

"What is the favor?" she asked, bluntly. But that was Madeline's way.

Nikita decided to be equally blunt. "I want two days away from Section, with Michael. Two days so that we can work things out between us."

Madeline nodded, clasping her hands together and resting them on the desk. She could see the logic of giving Nikita and Michael a chance to resolve certain issues, but she was surprised about something. "Two days isn't much time, Nikita," she pointed out.

"It will be enough," Nikita replied, with conviction. She knew it would be pushing her luck to ask for more. Besides which, if she and Michael couldn't come to terms with each other and determine the next phase of their relationship within forty-eight hours, after being in a relative state of limbo for the past three and a half years, then there was no hope of them ever having anything more than what was between them now. And that was unacceptable to Nikita.

"Two days then," Madeline allowed. "Starting at midnight."

Nikita smiled, and it was genuine. "Thank you," she whispered, then she ran for the door.

Operations stood on the second level, staring out of the observation windows. Madeline was beside him and he was trying not to snap at her. "I hope to hell we haven't made a mistake," he hissed.

Madeline smiled as she placed one hand on his shoulder. She could feel his muscles bunch beneath her touch. "We're losing Michael," she said softly. "Nikita is the only chance we have to bring him back. So you tell me....is that a mistake?"

"You're sure of this?" Operations countered, unwilling to respond to her question.

"Very sure," Madeline replied. Still smiling, she turned and walked away.

Michael stood in the center of the cabin. It was small and sparsely furnished. There was a thick mattress covered with a heavy quilt in one corner, a small table with two wooden chairs, a woodstove and a fireplace. Nikita had built a fire and it was already chasing away the slight chill in the air. Michael watched as she now stood at the table, tinkering with the portable CD player she had brought with them. There was also a duffle bag that contained changes of clothes for them both, or so Nikita claimed, for she had arranged this little outing without Michael's knowledge. On the entire drive up here, he had sat in the passenger seat of the Ford ranger trying to accept the fact that Operations was allowing him and Nikita two days out of Section. Alone. Completely alone. It was a heady taste of the freedom that Michael so longed for, but never dared to even dream about. "Why are we here, Nikita?" Michael asked, as she turned to face him.

She didn't respond to the question as she crossed the floor to where Michael stood. Nikita shed her coat onto the floor and, a moment later, his followed. Music suddenly filled the air, a Blues melody that set Nikita's hips to swaying. Still silent, but smiling, she pressed herself against Michael, her arms lifting to encircle his neck.

Time seemed to stand still and they turned in a slow circle. Michael lifted his arms and his hands came to rest at Nikita's waist. For the first time, in a long time, he felt content to simply live in the moment. But all too soon the moment passed. Michael needed answers. But when he opened his mouth to ask them, Nikita's fingers pressed against his lips.

"No words, Michael," she beseeched him. "Not now." Nikita removed her fingers and replaced them with her lips. It was a tender kiss, but filled with the passion that simmered deep inside of her. As Nikita slid her tongue into Michael's mouth, her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. A moment later she slid it off his shoulders so that it fluttered to the floor. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as her hands glided over his smooth, bare flesh. But then Nikita took Michael's hand and led him over to the mattress.

They fell to their knees, facing each other. Michael pulled Nikita's t-shirt over her head, baring her breasts to his heated gaze. She was so beautiful that it took his breath away, but suddenly he found himself hesitating.

Nikita sensed Michael pulling away from her, so she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him. She felt him tremble and knew that she had distracted him. Her hands reached for his belt, but she found her wrists captured by his strong fingers.

Michael pulled back, breaking their kiss, so that he could look into Nikita's eyes. He released her wrists to gently cup her face in his hands. Tears shimmered in his eyes and he didn't even try to hide them. Michael knew that this was a moment of truth between them. "I want you to know something, Nikita," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. Emotion that he was allowing her to see, even as he was allowing himself to feel it. "This will be the first time that I have...made love....to a woman, since I lost Simone."

"I know," Nikita whispered back. Tears filled her eyes as well, then glided down her cheeks. She wasn't naive enough to believe that tonight would change the world for them. Nor did she expect it to *heal* the wounds that were bleeding deep inside Michael's soul. All she wanted was a chance to show him what her heart felt.

The circumstance of their existence made it hard for either of them to trust mere words. There were too many lies and betrayals between to simply vanish in a moment of passion. But what they felt...the fire between them...that was real. And it was what they needed to forgive each other, and themselves. The words that Michael had once spoken echoed in Nikita's head, for if her time in Section had taught her nothing else, it was to live day by day. Michael had said that they should take what they could get, and Nikita believed that. She was going to take it, and hold on to it, for as long as she could. Even if it was only for this moment in time. She whispered his name in a kiss. "Michael..." Then they fell back down onto the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs.

As Michael and Nikita gave in to the fire that had been burning between them for so long, the words of a song echoed in the air, a bittersweet melody that was a reflection of their union.

.....a woman falls in love with the soul of a man...and a man loves the heart of a woman

.....as bodies sweat and tears fill a river....redemption is sought, by saint and sinner

.....each kiss a whisper of the truth...each caress a lie of the past

.....but in the end when the dream shatters...and hope fades away

.....only the love will last

THE END