Author's note: This is my first effort at LFN fiction, with a sequel to follow. It's a story of Michael and Nikita in the beginning, before the lies and the betrayals. It's my version of their earliest encounters. As always no copyright infringements intended.

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"Ni-ki-ta!"

Michael's voice was hoarse with exasperation. She had taxed his nerves for the umpteenth time this day. Seven months into her training and she was still forgetting the basic rules of Section life. Michael's eyes were fixated on the huge pink bubble emerging from between Nikita's lips. "Lose the gum… now."

Nikita threw back her head. "God, can't a girl have any fun around here? Lighten up, Michael. You're becoming a real bore"

"You know chewing gum isn't allowed in Section. It's considered a distraction. It's a simple rule, just follow it. Let's go, we're wanted in Madeline's office in 5 minutes." As he turned to leave, he could feel Nikita's warm breath on the back of his neck, followed closely by a large pop.

"That's it". Michael was losing his temper now. He turned, approaching Nikita with an outstretched hand. "Give me the gum."

She was playing him and he knew it. *This would be so much easier if she weren't so damn irresistible.* So young and full of energy . Michael abhored having to rob her of her spirit. But a Section operative had to play by the rules…all of them. It was his job to see that Nikita understood that.

"If you don't give me the gum right now, I'll be forced to take it from you".

Nikita chuckled. "Yeah , right. What are you going to do Michael, ram your fingers down my throat?"

Michael inched his way toward her, his green eyes never leaving hers as he backed her into the corner of the corridor.

"No, although it's not a bad idea," he replied as his hands reached up to touch her shoulders. "No, you are going to give it to me willingly." He was on her so quickly, she had no time to react. His lips devoured hers in a swift, but gentle split-second, his tongue reaching deep inside her mouth. She'd thought countless times of what it would be like to kiss Michael. This wasn't exactly the circumstances she had imagined. She felt her arms go limp and she thought her knees would buckle under her weight. Thankfully she was leaning against the wall or she'd have been on the floor in a heap.

No man had ever kissed her like this. Blood rushed to her head and she could hear her own heart beating in her ears. Suddenly Michael released her, stepped back and blew a large bubble inches from Nikita's face.

"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice," Michael explained. "You have a lot to learn about Section, Nikita. You just have to remember who's in charge. I'll see you in Madeline's office." He turned to leave, catching a parting glimpse of her beautiful face, mouth slightly agape from the shock of their encounter.

Nikita was seething . "You enjoyed that a little too much for my liking, Michael. I'll get you for this".

Michael was halfway down the hall, his reply fading in the distance. "I can hardly wait".

***********

*Damn him.. I didn't see that one coming.* She fidgeted in her seat as Madeline briefed the team that would be going out on a recognizance mission to the Balkans. She heard the words, read the intel. She went through the motions all the while hoping that Madeline wouldn't notice the faraway look on her face. Her hands were clammy and her pulse raced. She was sure that someone, Birkoff, Walter, hell, anyone, would notice her heart beating through her t-shirt. "Please, anyone but Michael," she murmered to herself.

"Did you have something to add, Nikita", Madeline inquired.

"Uh, no… I was just thinking aloud. Sorry." Nikita could feel Michael's eyes watching her.

"Nikita, you seem somewhat preoccupied. Please stay for a minute after the briefing, I'd like a word with you. The rest of you are dismissed."

Michael and the team rose from their seats to leave. He managed a passing glance Nikita's way as he walked by her and was startled by the steely glare of her eyes. *If looks could kill* . She wanted so badly to stick her leg out and trip him, send him sprawling head first on the floor. But that would hardly seem sufficient revenge for what he did to her. He wants to play rough, so be it. Two can play at that game and Madeline was just the one to help her do it.

"How is your training going, Nikita", Madeline asked.

"All right I guess," Nikita replied. I'm kicking butt in marksmanship and the martial arts lessons are going well. There's just so much to learn."

"And Michael?"

"What about him?"

"How is your relationship going? He is your mentor; it's important that you two work well together. By the looks of things earlier today it appears he got the best of you."

Nikita cringed. She had forgotten about the surveillance cameras in the corridor, sure that they had captured every sorry moment of her rendezvous with Michael.

"He caught me off guard is all. No biggie. She pushed herself up from her chair. God, I hate him!" She was shrieking now, her fingers clenched into tight fists. "He doesn't play fair!" She could feel herself visibly boiling with emotion as she paced the length of Madeline's office. Her hair, previously tied up in a tight ponytail atop her head was now down and flowing. Her fiery eyes and lithe body reminded Madeline of a caged panther. This was the Nikita that Madeline wanted to see. She would be a formidable match for any man, the perfect combination of brains and beauty. The fact that she was a trained assassin was just gravy.

"Nikita, compose yourself. Anger is wasted energy; in time you'll come to realize that. Besides, Michael isn't going anywhere. You two are going to be spending a lot of time together. If you become angry and frustrated every time you're near him, it's going to get you into trouble. Michael knows the effect he has on you and he'll use that to his advantage every time."

"Meaning what?", Nikita glared at Madeline, her eyes flashing. "What has he said about me?"

"Very little. Michael is a man of few words but his eyes give him away. It's obvious he has feelings for you and he senses that you feel something for him as well. You're becoming each others weakness and weakness in Section can be deadly."

Nikita gave Madeline a devilish grin. "I just want to level the playing field. You know, give him a taste of his own medicine."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Nikita," Madeline's voice was tinged with warning. "Michael is a master at manipulation, there's no one better in Section. But a little retribution might be just the thing to keep him on his toes."

Nikita was loving this. Madeline wasn't exactly her favorite person in Section but she was the closest thing she had to a "girlfriend". If anyone could help her set a trap for Michael it was Madeline. Nikita had heard the rumors about the stunning brunette, how she was adept at seduction. Supposedly she taught all the new operatives about the ways of the heart. She shuddered to think just how intimately Madeline knew Michael. But that was history…now it was Nikita's turn.

"We're having a little get together for Birkoff's birthday. Tonight, at a place called Venue. It's rare that we get to socialize outside of Section but Birkoff's annual birthday party is always a lot of fun."

"Fun and Section. Kind of an oxymoron wouldn't you say Madeline." Nikita laughed aloud. "I'm up for some fun. Who's invited?"

"Walter, Birkoff, a few of his colleagues from intel. It should be a good time. And yes, Michael will be there."

"Hmm," Nikita sighed aloud, feigning indifference. "But it's such short notice. I know I don't have anything to wear."

"That won't be a problem. Come with me." Nikita followed as Madeline threw open the double doors in the rear of her office to allow Nikita to take in the immensity of the room before her. From floor to ceiling were rows and rows of dresses and suits, lingerie, shoes, handbags. For once in her life Nikita was speechless.

"Take anything you like." Madeline's tone was nurturing. "I've taken the liberty of having some items made in advance that are just your size. You never know when you might be called out on an assignment that will require you to have the proper attire."

"Geez", was all Nikita could manage to say. She was dumbfounded. Her eyes flitted over the rows of long flowing gowns and short backless spandex dresses. "Something that will take his breath away," she whispered. "This looks like it might work." She ran her fingers across a chocolate brown spandex mid-thigh dress with a drop shoulder. "Tight, lots of skin, lots of leg." She made a mental checklist. Yes, this was the one. She slid off her purple warm-up pants and shirt and poured herself in to the dress. Stepping back she glanced into the full length mirror before her. The sight of herself in such a dress took her by surprise. "I look damn good."

"You look better than good, Nikita. You're lethal." Madeline had been watching Nikita from a monitor in the next room. Nikita had come a long way since her first days in Section some seven months ago. She reminded her of herself 20 years earlier.

"Madeline, thank you so much. It's like Cinderella. Tonight is going to be a blast and I owe so much of it to you."

"No need to thank me Nikita. Consider this a part of your training." Madeline's voice turned cautionary. "A woman can render a man speechless with her looks and powerless with her touch. It's a powerful gift that you've been given. Use it to your advantage."

"I'll make the most of it, don't worry," and with that Nikita was off.

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

Michael sat at his desk, piles of mission briefings strewn in front of him. It had been two hours since his encounter with Nikita and he could think of little else. It was just after three o'clock when he glanced at his watch. He was fighting off an ungodly headache. Coming off a six day mission was usually no problem for him. He required little down time and was fairly low maintenance . But he couldn't get her out of his mind.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Besides having to teach Nikita everything she needed to know to survive in Section, he had to become her friend as well. Aside from the obvious pleasure of spending time with a beautiful woman, Michael found that he was genuinely becoming fond of Nikita. Still immune to the darkness and betrayal a life in Section would undoubtedly bring her, Nikita was childlike, her innocence touching him in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. Sure she pushed his buttons and tested his patience but he'd been in her place, too. It wasn't that long ago that Michael was where Nikita is now. Curious, daring to push the envelope. They were alike in so many ways, yet so different.

His mind flashed back to the first time he had seen her in Section. A ragtag street rat, she was crude and belligerent yet there was something about her eyes that he never forgot. They were a shade of blue that he'd never seen before or since. Gangly with a mass of long, flaxen hair she was beautiful despite her disarray. That's what he remembered. Beautiful.

"Stop thinking about her", he muttered to himself. His mind was in rewind, playing back their first kiss. He wished it had been different, more private, softer, more sensual. In his dream she would come to him of her own volition, their eyes exploring one another, lips meeting in softest passion. He could taste her on his lips and smell her on his clothes.…

"Michael?" Walter stuck his head into the doorway of Michael's office. "Got a minute?"

"Yes, come in," Michael replied a bit startled. "I'm not getting much work done anyway. What do you need?"

"Birkoff's party is tonight. You haven't forgotten have you?" Walter looked at Michael with raised eyebrows.

"No. I'll be there. Just tell me where and when."

"Venue, 8 o'clock."

"Again, Venue! Michael shook his head in disgust. "Must we go there? It's dark and noisy and too much disco music for my taste."

"Yeah, but they've got the best looking women there. I think we can get past the bad tunes. Seems like a fair trade-off to me."

"I suppose. It's Birkoff's party after all. Can I expect the same group to attend?"

"Yeah, but Operations is up at Agency, thank God. He tends to throw a damper on a party real quick. Oh, and we can't forget about Nikita. How could anybody forget Nikita. She's coming, too."

"Nikita?" Michael's head snapped up from the computer screen. "She's going to be there?"

Why wouldn't she be included, she was part of Section now. It was clear to Michael that Nikita was quickly becoming everyone's favorite.

"Well how in the hell are you supposed to have a party without Nikita?" Walter thought Michael was positively insane. "I don't know about you, but I can't wait to party with her. She's sooooo bad."

"If I don't get some work done here, I'll never see 8 o'clock. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Walter scurried out of Michael's office, grinning from ear to ear. Just the mention of Nikita's name had sent Michael into a tailspin and Walter knew it.

"So, are we set?", she breathed into his ear.

"Nikita darlin', I have a feeling this evening will go down in the Section Hall of Fame. You should have seen the look on Michael's face when I mentioned your name. It was priceless. The guy's got it bad, lucky son-of-a-bitch."

"Walter, I'll save you a dance. I owe you one." Nikita thanked Walter, rewarding him with a peck on the cheek. She felt Walter lightly grab her arm as she turned to leave.

"Sugar, I hope you know what you're doing. Michael's a player, you've got your work cut out for you. But, if I were a betting man, my money would be on you. He won't know what hit him. I think I can speak for most of the ops around here. We all live vicariously through Michael, if you know what I mean."

"You're the best Walter, see you tonight".

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

Birkoff couldn't imagine how they could possibly fit another person in the place. It was a Fire Marshall's worst nightmare. Wall to wall humanity, strangers mostly, all seeking a friendly face and a warm body. He loved Venue.

It was a different world than he was used to. Being sequestered deep in the bowels of Section headquarters was difficult for him. He had little personal contact with people on the outside so a night like this, with colleagues he considered almost like family was a time he cherished. Never mind the fact that it was his birthday, that seemed almost secondary. It was the feeling of being alive, of being almost 'normal', as normal as one could be when you worked for Section.

Madeline cringed as she stepped out of the limo into the night. Resplendent in a red cocktail dress she bit her lip as she sized up the mass of young people waiting in line to enter. Thankfully, Walter had made arrangements for the group to slip in the side entrance thanks to his buddy Gino who tended bar. Gino had reserved a table for them on the second level with the best view of the dance floor below. Walter and Birkoff loved this vantage point because of its clear view of the entrance enabling them to size up every available female that entered.

They waded through the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Birkoff wished he had a dollar for every person he'd bumped into. Ascending the winding mahogany staircase, Walter pointed the group to the table and made his way to the bar for the first round of drinks.

"Gino, buddy. Champagne for everybody. I'm runnin' a tab."

"Hey, Walter. Small group tonight?"

"A few stragglers, but they'll be here soon. The place is rockin' tonight, man.

"Always. Hey, Madeline's looking fine. I can't believe you talked her into coming back. She despises this place."

"Yeah, anything for Birkoff. You think Madeline's lookin' good. Wait until you lay your eyes on Nikita. You may not have met her, but believe me, you'll never forget her."

"Looking forward to it." Gino made his way back down the bar. "Let me know if you need anything".

"Later". Walter returned to the group with the drinks. He raised his glass in a toast. "To Birkoff."

"We can't start yet," Birkoff snapped. "Nikita and Michael aren't here."

"Relax", Walter replied. "You know Michael hates this place, so he's not in any hurry to get here. And Nikita. She's probably waiting to make her big entrance."

Madeline had long passed being restless. There was way too much testosterone in the vicinity for her liking. She wished Nikita would arrive so she wouldn't feel quite so outnumbered.

Nothing had gone right for Michael this day. A crashed computer program greeted him at the crack of dawn . This followed by a dressing down by Operations, an aching jaw thanks to a sucker punch from Jurgen during a workout. Add to that the debacle with Nikita in the corridor. He shook his head as he got out of his car. "Things had better start improving and fast."

8:24 p.m. So he was a few minutes late. *This night would be an eternity anyway.* Of all the places to have to spend an evening. He was clearly out of his element and he was noticeably uncomfortable. He hated the music, the stench of cigars hanging thick in the air and the din of hundreds of voices blending into one loud shriek pounded in his head.

"You're late," Walter noted as Michael approached the table.

"It couldn't be helped. What have I missed." Michael took a seat between Walter and Birkoff and unbuttoned his jacket. He took Madeline's hand in his and gently kissed it in greeting. She was all too aware of his discomfort. The only thing that mattered to him was that Nikita was conspicuously absent.

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

Nikita felt like a school girl. Earlier in the evening she had called her neighbor Carla to see if she wanted to join her for the party. Carla was the only friend Nikita had made outside of Section and they enjoyed each others company. They decided to dress together and do each other's hair and makeup. Despite Nikita's obvious natural beauty she was still learning the fine art of enhancing one's looks with the use of makeup. This is where Carla came in.

"Nikita, less is more, remember that," Carla advised. Nikita turned her face to Carla's. "You are so beautiful, you don't need a lot of help. Maybe just a little something to make your eyes jump out. And we can't forget those lips." She set to work putting just a touch of shadow and mascara on Nikita's already luminous eyes. "It's not fair, you know."

"What?", Nikita asked.

"Nobody should be allowed to look this good." Carla applied the finishing touches on Nikita's lips. "OK, step back and let's see what we have."

Nikita stepped in front of the mirror and a chill ran down her spine. She'd seen herself in the dress in Madeline's office earlier in the day. That wasn't what struck her. It was her face. She walked closer to get a better look. Her hair was loosely piled atop her head allowing several tendrils to fall softly framing her face. The drop shoulder of the dress drew attention to her long, shapely neck and strong, defined shoulders. Her eyes smoldered with the color of the evening sky. As a girl growing up on the streets, she didn't dare dream of a moment this magical. She managed a humble smile.

"Wow". *This can't be me.* She never thought of herself as beautiful; no one had ever said that to her. It was incomprehensible. Yet somehow she saw it with her own eyes and she began to believe it.

"Wow is right," Carla echoed. "I hope there's a guy that's going to be on the receiving end of all of this. It would be a shame to waste a dress like that. God, Nikita. You are gorgeous."

"Yeah, with your help." Nikita turned to face Carla. "You're a good friend. And to answer your question, yes, there is someone who will hopefully be getting some of this. Only, he doesn't know it yet."

"I like the sound of that." Carla went and stood next to Nikita, still admiring herself in the mirror. She was pretty in her own right and had an air of confidence about her that Nikita loved. "Well, I say we get a move on."

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

Michael snuck a glance at his watch. 9:26 p.m. By now Birkoff and Walter had danced with at least half a dozen women. Michael had noticed a handful of attractive women in the crowd but none of them peaked his interest even mildly. They weren't Nikita. Madeline sipped her champagne, her eyes catching Michael's as he surveyed the crowd.

"She'll be here, you know she will," Madeline said calmly. Michael looked at her, a seemingly uninterested look crossed his face. He was never one to give too much away. Too immersed in his own thoughts he didn't even notice that Walter and Birkoff had returned to the table.

No Nikita yet?", Birkoff inquired as his eyes roamed over the dance floor. "I'm giving her another 15 minutes. If she's not here by then I'm…" His voice trailed off as his eyes fixated on the beauty coming through the front entrance. Walter noticed the look on Birkoff's face.

"What is it?"

Birkoff's throat suddenly felt like the Sahara desert. "See for yourself".

Walter knew just by looking at Birkoff that Nikita had arrived. He, too, spotted her almost immediately.

The throngs of people in front of the two women seemed to part like the Red Sea allowing them to pass. Heads turned and Walter could have sworn that the noise in the room had grown noticeably softer. It seemed as if everyone in the place were keenly aware that someone special was in their midst.

Walter tapped Michael on the arm, his eyes never leaving Nikita. "You better come look at this." You won't believe it." Michael had poured himself another glass of champagne. Holding it tightly, he rose to join Walter and Birkoff at the railing. Madeline eyed them all with a smile. They were like Pavlov's Dog, just as she knew it would be.

Michael felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed hard and blinked twice just to make sure his eyes weren't betraying him. Was this really his Nikita? He took a long drink from his glass and placed it on the table, never allowing her to leave his sight. His eyes soaked up her body from head to toe taking in every inch of her. This was the first time Michael had seen Nikita dressed in anything other than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt or workout clothes. He couldn't have imagined her now in anything else. Nikita was born to wear that dress.

"I feel a heart attack coming on," Walter mumbled breathlessly. " No one should be allowed to look that good". He sat down hard in his chair.

Birkoff had always loved Nikita. Theirs was a brother and sister kind of love, a deep and lasting friendship. But tonight he was forced to see her through different eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was a mental picture of her that he knew he would carry to his grave.

Madeline rose to stand next to Michael. She saw an entirely different Nikita; a confident, sexy young woman all too aware of the power she had over men. "She certainly knows how to work a room, wouldn't you agree?", Madeline whispered in his ear.

"Yes". It was the only response Michael could manage. He knew Madeline was right. Nikita was at the top of her game and he was at a serious disadvantage. Nikita snaked her way through the crowd, her hand dragging Carla behind. She could feel a thousand pairs of eyes upon her. As she searched to find a familiar face she stopped and glanced upward, her eyes locking instinctively with Michael's. She gave him a nod and began her ascent up the stairs. He wanted to run like hell. "I'm in trouble," he muttered to himself, knowing it was all too true.

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

She approached them seemingly in slow motion. Michael loved to watch Nikita walk, coming or going. "Hey everyone. Sorry I'm late. The traffic was unbearable."

"Sugar, you should have walked here. Looking like that you could have stopped traffic on the way." Walter walked over to her and lightly kissed her cheek. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm sorry." Nikita did the introductions. "Carla, these are my friends, Walter, the birthday boy Birkoff, Madeline, and that's Michael."

"Happy to meet all of you. I hope it's OK that I tagged along. Nikita insisted."

"We're glad you could come Carla." Madeline smiled and offered her a seat next to her.

"The pleasure is mine." Michael reached out and took Carla's hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. Carla was caught off guard by how handsome he was. She felt her face flush.

"Back at 'ya."

"Nikita, we couldn't start the party until you showed up. I was about ready to leave. Your timing is perfect." Birkoff was positively beaming. It made Nikita smile to see her friend so happy.

She sauntered over to Birkoff and promptly sat herself down in his lap, totally throwing him for a loop. His arms fell to his sides. The closeness of her was intoxicating. She took his face in her hands and lightly kissed his lips.

"First kiss goes to the birthday boy,", she growled. She swung around to meet Walter's eyes. "But first dance goes to Walter." Slithering over to his side, she curled her arm in his. "Let's get this show on the road".

"Later guys," Walter bubbled. "I've got a date with an angel."

"What do you say, Carla. You and me, let's go." Birkoff grabbed her hand not giving her a chance to say no. "You can't refuse me. It's my birthday remember."

Michael watched all of this unfold before him. His eyes followed Nikita and Walter to the dance floor. A song he had heard before was playing, but it hardly mattered. He was fixated on Nikita's body, moving and flowing in sensual time with the music. She was keenly aware that Michael was watching her and she relished every opportunity to bump and grind a little more or to pull Walter just a little closer. Walter was the perfect foil to get Michael's blood racing. After all, that was the whole point. Several times she purposely glanced up at Michael, running her hands down the length of her body, tempting him to come and do the same. She was making him want her; every move premeditated.

He ached for her. Their kiss that morning was proof of what he somehow already knew...that to be her lover would be ecstasy. His mind was filled with images of the glorious things she would do to him. Her hands touching his body in places he didn't even know existed. She would rock his world, make him beg for more.

"You're doing a wonderful job with Nikita", Madeline's voice bringing Michael back to reality. Together they watched their newest recruit work her magic. "No doubt she'll be one of our finest operatives."

"She's a natural," Michael admitted. "A little rough around the edges, but we're getting there."

"Getting there is half the fun as I recall. You know I've noticed quite a connection between the two of you."

"What do you mean?", Michael stared at her now. "We work well together, yes."

"Yes. But I sense there's more to it." Madeline continued to watch Nikita. "You're falling in love with her."

Michael looked down at the floor, almost embarrassed that it was so obvious. "I'm not sure I know how to love anymore. I've tried hard to suppress that part of me…ever since Simone." His voice trailed off as he looked back at Nikita, still on the dance floor.

"She moves like an angel. You know they say you can tell how a woman makes love by the way she dances with her partner," Madeline goaded Michael, searching his eyes for a response. "Have you found that to be true?"

Michael was clearly annoyed now. "Madeline, why are you discussing this with me," Michael replied curtly. "You and Operations have made it clear that I am not to involve myself personally with anyone in Section. Nikita is my material and that's all."

"But, what the heart feels and what the head says are two very different things. Nikita feels it as well."

"Nikita doesn't know what she feels," Michael shot back. "She just doesn't know me well enough yet to hate me. In time I'll break her spirit and betray her, all for the sake of Section. She doesn't deserve it and if she's smart she'll stay away."

"Do you want her?" Madeline looked deep into Michael's eyes.

He glanced over Madeline's shoulder, afraid to look at her directly. "Yes." Mercifully, their discussion ended as Michael noticed the music had stopped and Nikita and Walter were returning to the table.

"Walter really gave me a workout out there." Nikita plopped down in the chair across from Michael. "It was so much fun. Thanks, Walter. I really needed that."

"The pleasure was all mine, believe me, Sugar". I need a drink. Anybody else?" Walter turned to head back up to the bar.

"I think it's time I headed home," Madeline interjected. "I trust I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning. Michael, Nikita, please tell Birkoff I had to go and that I wish him a very happy birthday. Good night."

"Good night, Madeline". Michael rose to bid good-bye. "And thank you."

"See 'ya Madeline. It's been a slice." The two women shared a secret smile.

The silence between Michael and Nikita was deafening. Nikita uncoiled herself in her chair, slipping off her shoes allowing her long legs to stretch dangerously close to him. Her dress hugged her every curve, stopping abruptly at mid-thigh. Michael felt his eyes being drawn to her shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Nikita brought her hands up under her chin, palms together, her fingers lightly stroking one another.

Michael felt as though he were in a trance. His green eyes stared softly into hers, holding her gaze, never leaving her face. His eyes came to rest on Nikita's lips. He longed to feel her mouth on his, to taste her kiss. Nikita felt a shiver run down her back. She didn't trust the way she was feeling. She'd been in total control around Michael up to this moment but she sensed that the tide was turning. She didn't dare give him the upper hand for fear she might lose her resolve. He had a way of whittling away at her, little by little.

Nikita couldn't help but stare. She always thought Michael was sexy but somehow at this moment he was quickly becoming irresistible. The face of an angel, his long brown hair was loosely tucked behind his ears, gently grazing his shoulders. Eyes the color of jade, Nikita could have sworn they were glowing. She wanted to bury herself in his arms, tangle her fingers in his hair. Here he was this close to her and she was fighting it. *I must be crazy*, she thought to herself as she watched Michael's mouth.

Suddenly she felt his hand on her calf, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her skin while his eyes roamed over her face. The goosebumps started to form on her arms and she felt herself catch her breath. "I didn't get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look, Ni-ki-ta", he purred, purposely dialing up his French accent.

His words hit her like a sledgehammer. It happened every time he spoke her name. "Th-thanks. Can I have my leg back now?" Her attempt at humor was obviously lost on him as his fingers began inching their way up to her thigh.

"No. I like seeing you squirm". *Great. A trained killer and a sadist, too.* His response had caught her completely off guard. He was beginning to pull her in, she could feel it.

She managed a feeble attempt at a smile. "I'm not squirming. My leg is falling asleep."

"Then perhaps we should dance so the rest of you doesn't fall asleep as well." Michael rose and walked around to stand directly in front of her. "Please, Ni-ki-ta". His voice was husky and inviting. He reached down and gently took her hands and hoisted her to her feet. They were face to face now, so close they could feel the moisture from each others' breath.

It was beginning again.

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

They walked together down the staircase, Michael gently tugging on her hand leading her through the crowd. Nikita glanced down and realized she had left her shoes behind. "Uh, Michael, my shoes. I have to go back to get them."

He wouldn't let go of her, not for a pair of shoes. He never wanted to let her go. "Never mind the shoes, Nikita. You don't need them."

"But what if you step on my feet? Then my dancing days are over. I'll just be gone a second."

She turned to leave but he grabbed her around the waist pulling her back to him. "No shoes." No problem.

Michael took a slight detour, making a beeline toward the disc jockey. Once there, he reluctantly released Nikita's hand allowing him to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a CD. "When this song is over, play track number 4."

"I don't take requests, pal. I've got a playlist and I've gotta stick to it. Besides, your honey there will like the next tune, guaranteed." The young man hadn't realized it yet but he had just broken the cardinal rule when dealing with Michael.

Michael grabbed him tightly by the arm. "It's not a request, it's an order. If you wish to continue to have use of this arm, I suggest you play track 4 when this song is over." Nikita fought hard not to laugh out loud. The kid was clearly no match for Michael.

"All right, all right." He took the CD, looking it over. "It's a decent makeout tune I guess. You should have the whole dance floor to yourselves, though. This crowd won't like this kind of music. But I hope it takes you where you want to go." The kid winked at Nikita.

"Cut the commentary and just play the song." Michael shook his head as he turned his attention back to Nikita.

"Sorry. I had hoped to take care of that earlier, but I got distracted. Now, where were we."

Walter and Birkoff witnessed Michael's run-in with the DJ and they shared a good laugh. Carla was most impressed. "That must be some song he wants that guy to play," she mentioned. "Birkoff, what's the deal with Michael and Nikita anyway. I've never heard her mention his name. Please, tell me they're an item".

"Let's just say they're colleagues. Nikita works for Michael." He glanced over at Walter, his eyes pleading for some help.

"Yeah, Carla. Nikita and Michael work on a lot of long term projects together. He's kind of been showing her the ropes at work." Walter rolled his eyes at his own lame explanation.

"I could get used to those kind of working conditions." Carla couldn't take her eyes off of Michael and Nikita. They were a strikingly beautiful couple.

The previous song ended and Michael's song began to play. It was slow, sensuous R&B which under normal circumstances would appeal to Nikita about as much as fingernails down a blackboard. But this moment had long since gone beyond normal circumstances. They stood facing each other, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Michael, knowing full well that Nikita could bolt at any moment wasted no time. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible.

"Michael, if you were any closer to me, you'd be behind me," Nikita offered up in the sexiest voice she could muster. His closeness was leading her to a place she wasn't sure she wanted to go. But she followed him like a lemming into the sea.

"That can be arranged," he said as he moved to encircle her waist from behind. He guided her body in time with the music. Keeping his left arm tightly around her, he stroked her cheek with his right hand, rearranging her hair so he could bury his face in the softness of her neck. Nikita could feel his moist breath on her skin as she closed her eyes and let her head roll back in a lazy circle. He continued to hold her close, dotting her neck and shoulders with delicate, soft kisses.

Nikita could feel a moan forming in her throat. She had never felt so totally helpless in all her life and it frightened her. Madeline's words flashed in her head. A woman can render a man speechless with her looks and powerless with her touch. She knew she had to somehow get Michael to that place before it was too late. It took all of her will but she managed to break free of his grip on her, spinning around to face him. She placed his hands back on her hips, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes.

Nikita was growling now. "Michael, have you ever done anything against your better judgment? You know, done something you know is probably going to get you into trouble, but you do it anyway just to see what happens?"

Her words intrigued him. "It's happened once or twice. Where are you going with this, Nikita?"

"You mean where are we going." She leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "Let's go home, Michael."

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

They couldn't get out of there fast enough. Nikita and Michael stopped to bid quick good-byes to Walter, Birkoff and Carla.

"Nikita. How am I going to get home?" Carla asked as Nikita quickly put on her shoes and grabbed her purse.

"Here's my keys." She tossed them on the table in front of Carla. "Take my car, I can get it later. I'll see you guys."

Michael slapped down a fifty dollar bill on the table and left it for Walter. "For my share of the evening's festivities. We've got an early briefing tomorrow morning. I'll see you both then." Birkoff, Walter and Michael shared an all-knowing glance at one another. "Carla, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again."

And with that they were gone, disappearing down the staircase and out the side door. Michael handed the valet his ticket as he pulled Nikita to him. She was up to something, he knew it, but he would play along. He remembered her promise of retaliation from this afternoon's ambush in the hallway and figured her come-on was her opening move. He'd allow her to lead him anywhere, anything just to be with her.

The drive to Nikita's apartment was thankfully a short one, the only conversation being a small argument that ensued over her taste in music. Each was keenly aware of the other's presence but as they neared the building, the tension between them was stifling. They held hands but said nothing as they made their way to her door. It was there that she realized the key to her apartment was with her car keys, and Carla had both.

"Damn it!" Nikita cursed under her breath. A little embarrassed, she sheepishly turned to Michael. "Carla has my keys. We're locked out."

Michael moved to the door, pulling a small plastic card from his pocket. Sliding the card down the door jam several times, he jiggled the knob popping the door open. He pushed it open wider allowing Nikita to enter. He wasn't about to tell her that it wasn't the first time he'd been in her apartment.

"I should have known you'd figure out a way to get in here. You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Nikita made her way to the living room, kicking off her shoes as she walked to the stereo. "Brace yourself," her words dripping in sarcasm. I'm going to throw on some tunes I just know you'll love. But, I've gotta get out of this dress. Back in a minute." Seemingly in one swift move she clicked on the CD player before hopping up the three step landing to the bedroom loft, leaving the door invitingly open while she changed. Meanwhile, Michael made his way to the kitchen, leaning across the counter awaiting her return.

Michael's eyes followed her as she bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, swatting him on the behind as she passed him on the way to the refrigerator. Startled, he retreated to lean back against the counter next to her. Nikita was clearly in charge, on her turf once again, determined to seize control back from Michael. She grabbed a quart of chocolate milk from the refrigerator, opened it, threw back her head and proceeded to gulp down its entire contents. He stared at her in amazement. He couldn't help himself; it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen.

"Chocolate milk is one of my weaknesses," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She hopped up on the counter across from Michael. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, her long legs dangled over the counter. Dressed in black sweatpants and a gray half-shirt that exposed her luscious, flat belly she was the picture of relaxed confidence. Her hair was down now, and even at her most casual, Michael was awestruck by her beauty.

"You can't allow yourself any weaknesses in Section, Nikita," Michael warned. "It can get you killed."

She eyed him warily, tossing her head back and forth. "What about you, Michael?" Surely you have a weakness, even one. There has to be something that you desire more than anything else." She'd thrown down the gauntlet now.

"There is one thing." He came to stand in front of her, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively trapping her. His eyes roamed over her face, first her eyes, then her lips. "You could become my weakness…if I let you."

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

Nikita reached up and with both hands traced her fingers lightly across Michael's mouth. "Hmm, I could see how that could be a problem. But, I think I could live with it." She reached for him, gently grabbing on to his shirt, bringing his mouth dangerously close to hers. "Let's find out." She gently bit his lower lip, brushing it lightly with her tongue. Her lips formed into a gentle kiss, soft at first. Her eyes were open eager to see Michael's reaction to her advance. He tasted so good, she kissed him harder now, her arms reaching up to coil around his neck, pulling him closer.

Michael was struggling to keep his wits. Nikita had come to him, willingly, just as he had hoped. He was caught up in a rush of emotion, fighting hard to keep a tight rein on his impending passion. His mouth enveloped hers, their tongues touching, probing. Michael could feel his pulse quicken and he fought for air not wanting to break this glorious kiss. His hands, eager to touch her, found their way under her shirt, finally touching the bare skin of her back. He cupped her butt in his hands and lifted her off the counter, her legs instinctively entwined around his waist.

"Nikita," his voice was breathy and low, "you're making me crazy." They kissed fast and furious breaking just long enough to allow each a good look at the other. Panting, their eyes were filled with desire. Michael had longed to see that look in her eyes, the same look that he had had for her the first moment her saw her. And now, there it was, burning a hole through his heart.

He kissed her again, hungrily, carrying her into the living room, pushing her back up against the wall. Nikita's legs squeezed tighter as she ground her hips into his. He buried his face between her breasts, his hands exploring her body. Nikita grabbed a fistful of Michael's hair, her breath coming faster now. Heat radiated down her body to between her legs. No man had ever gotten to her like Michael. She wanted him now, all night.

She broke his kiss. Reluctantly, he released her as she backed away from him. Her hair was a mess, tousled every which way, her lips swollen from Michael's kisses. Sweat glistened on her neck and on her belly. Eyes blazing, she circled him as if he were her last meal. This was a Nikita he had never seen before.

"Make love to me." She was like a siren before him, beckoning him and he wanted to drown in her. Even through the breathy hoarseness of her voice, they were the four most beautiful words he had ever heard. And the most dangerous. Everything he had learned in Section about self-control came rushing back to him, but it was all about to go right out the window.

"Nikita, I…" He felt his throat close up.

"I know you want me, Michael," she teased, walking her fingers up the length of his arms. "You and I would be so good together...it would be heaven." She raised her hand to caress his cheek.

He took her hand and gently kissed its palm. "No", he whispered, the words catching in his throat. "We can't do this." His voice was almost apologetic. "Relationships between Operatives are forbidden in Section. We'd be signing our death warrant." He braced himself for the reaction he knew would come.

Nikita looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "You mean if Operations found out we were lovers, he'd have us both canceled!? You're joking."

"It's happened before." Michael turned his back to Nikita, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes.

She circled him slowly, head cocked, her body tensing with anger. Seizing him roughly by the arm, she forced him to look directly at her. "Just exactly when had you planned on telling me this, Michael? When you were in my bed?" A look of disgust poured over her face and she felt her eyes fill with tears. She paced the floor in a rage. "Damn you!, she screamed. You knew it would come this far and you let it happen. Oh, you are good, I'll give you that. If you're trying to break me, you're doing a damn good job. You might be able to turn me into a killer, Michael, but you'll never have my soul!" She retreated to the opposite wall of the living room, leaning back hard against it, one leg bent beneath her, staring at the ceiling.

Michael knew better than to approach her. Minutes passed. "I don't understand you Michael. One minute you're tender and loving with me and the next you destroy me with your words." She looked over at him, her voice trembling. "I want to know why."

Michael felt as though he'd been cut off at the knees. He hadn't intended to let it get this far. His first instinct was to go to her, throw himself at her mercy. But he knew she'd have none of it. The woman whom he needed more than life itself, who minutes earlier was willing to give herself to him without question had now become his enemy. But he would be, needed to be, her protector.

"Nikita. Listen to me." Michael slumped back against the wall opposite her and sat down on the floor. They were separated by some 20 feet, but the distance they'd put between their hearts seemed insurmountable. "You've only been in Section a few months, not nearly enough time to totally acclimate. Tonight, being on the outside…it's not reality. Like it or not, you belong to Section now and being part of Section means giving up a part of yourself."

"Well, I won't do it," Nikita huffed. You can't…"

Michael interrupted her in mid-sentence. "You already have." He rose and slowly began to walk over to where Nikita sat, her legs splayed across the floor. Kneeling down, he spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper. "Can I sit down here? I promise I won't touch you."

Nikita nodded and Michael sat down next to her, putting a safe distance between them. "Section owns us, Nikita," Michael continued. "Without them I'd be dead and you would be in prison. At least here we have a life."

"Some life," Nikita mumbled. "What good is any of this if I'm not allowed to feel anything." She pivoted her body to face Michael directly. Sitting indian-style, she took a strand of her hair between her fingers and began braiding it, just like she did when she was a little girl.

Michael watched her. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep his promise to not touch her. One minute a desirable woman, the next a naïve child. She would need all of his years of experience and guidance to get through the relentless months of training that were ahead of her. He vowed to himself that he would not disappoint her again.

"Michael, I'm sorry I got so angry." She glanced up at him through half-hooded eyes. "I know you were just trying to protect me. Just tell me something. I think Madeline knows there's something between us. Would she sell us out?" Her voice was tinged with apprehension.

"She hasn't so far." Michael chose his words carefully. "Madeline is loyal to a fault. To Section and to Operations. But she's also a pragmatist. She knows better than most that strong bonds form between a mentor and a recruit. I don't think we have to fear her. Only if we allow our attraction to get in the way of our doing our job would we stand to be detected. We can't give ourselves away, not to anyone."

Michael's words tore at Nikita. This was becoming way too complicated. What started out as an innocent tease to gauge Michael's interest had suddenly turned into a cold, harsh reality. She regretted not heeding Madeline's words of warning not to engage Michael in gamesmanship. She untangled her legs and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. "So what do we do now?"

Michael breathed a heavy sigh. "Nothing's to do. We continue your training and put our feelings for each other aside. It has to be this way, Nikita." He reached over and took her hand in his. "I know I promised not to touch you…but I lied."

Nikita opened her eyes to look at Michael, a smile forming on her lips. "Something tells me that you're good at it. Just don't make it a habit." She crawled into his lap, her face pressed against his chest. Their arms wound tightly around each other. "You know, sometimes I dream about being free. Now I know I'd give up my life for one night of freedom with you."

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

It was widely thought that Michael didn't have a heart. But it was breaking now. He hated himself for having to hurt her. It was the first time but sadly he knew it wouldn't be the last. Section would see to that. They sat in the darkness holding each other for what seemed like forever. Michael caressed Nikita's hair, committing to memory the feel and the smell of her. He couldn't remember a time since coming to Section when he felt so safe. He flashed back to their earliest days together when

Nikita had first killed to save his life. It had sickened her, changed her forever. Michael knew that Nikita's metamorphosis would be ongoing. Despite her fight against it, she would never be the same.

In Michael's world there was only black and white, Section's way and the wrong way. Enter Nikita and suddenly he was seeing the world in technicolor. She had touched a place in his heart long thought to be dead. She excited him and scared him to death, all at the same time. It was a feeling he needed, had longed for. With her in his life, he had a reason to live.

"Nikita, I have to go," Michael whispered. "If I don't leave now, I'm afraid I never will." They rose to their feet, arms still wrapped around each other.

Nikita looked at Michael, eyes wide with curiosity. "Would you have?," Nikita asked.

"Would I have what?" Michael replied, his voice slightly confused.

"Would you have made love to me? I mean, did it cross your mind?"

"Only a thousand times." Nikita could feel the heat from his gaze as his fingers lightly stroked her cheek. "I want you to look at me and really listen to what I'm going to say. The tone of his voice was as serious as Nikita had ever heard it. "I wanted you from the first moment I saw you walk in to Section and I've never stopped. Tonight when you were dancing with Walter, I knew why you were doing it. But you don't have to dance for me to make me want you. It's important that you understand, Nikita. Our work will require us to do things that we wouldn't ordinarily do. Much of it is unfortunately, very unpleasant. You will find your life as an operative filled with lies and deceit. Betrayal will become second nature to you. Some of those betrayals may involve me. Through it all you must never forget what we share. What lies ahead of us will never change what has happened tonight."

Nikita felt sick to her stomach. It was all and none of what she had wanted Michael to say. "I think I understand." She heard the words come out of her mouth, now if only she could convince herself they were true. "You want me but we can't be together right now." Afraid she had said the wrong thing, Nikita dropped her eyes, averting his gaze.

He was so close to her now. Taking her face in his hands, he raised it allowing their eyes to meet.

"Patience, Ni-ki-ta," her name rolling off his tongue. He gently kissed her forehead. "It will be worth the wait."

Michael walked to the door, Nikita close on his heels. Her instincts were screaming not to let him go. He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, turning to look at her one last time. "Sweet dreams." The door closed softly behind him. He was gone and she hadn't even said good-bye.

Michael had won. Not that it was a contest, but Nikita was more than happy to concede defeat. Flying and falling all at the same time, she threw herself on the couch and languished in a feeling of what she knew was undoubtedly ignorant bliss. The life ahead of her would be tenuous, dangerous and horrible but she couldn't have cared less. At that moment the only thing that mattered was that Michael cared about her, really cared.

"How are we going to pull this off!?" She shook her head in amazement as she dragged herself off to bed, stepping over her dress now in a pile on the floor of her bedroom, eager to close her eyes and experience the glorious dreams she knew were ahead of her this night.

THE END

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