It was difficult for Nikita to sustain anger. She was a forgiving soul, by nature, and to hold onto anger for any length of time took effort. She would have to remind herself over and over why she was hurt and disappointed in Michael. But, in all honesty, she would allow the thought that maybe, just a small possibility existed that, she had behaved badly in deceiving Michael about her true relationship with Jurgen. She had been ready to sleep with Jurgen and remembering that, she would mentally cringe inside. No, it was harder to hang onto the anger when she wasn't so guiltless herself. Nikita examined the notion that she was still immature and somewhat shallow. It was strange to feel so old with experience, yet feel so young and naive at the same time.

So, gradually, the anger and hurt feelings faded and Nikita started an introspective study of herself. The anger was in her control and she discarded it and began trying to understand all that had occurred to her in these tumultuous years in section. Her task may have been easier if the dreams hadn't begun.

Oh god, those dreams.

All she could remember when she fully awoke were impressions, physical sensations. Nikita would drift into consciousness still smiling, her hands moving and reaching, her body softly moving against the sheets. She floated above her bed, filled with a happiness and contentment never before felt in her life. This was what life was worth living for. Loving, being loved, being accepted in spite of your faults.

She sensed that in the dreams Michael spoke, at length, but in a few seconds after awakening, the substance would disappear, no matter how hard she tried to keep it in her consciousness. Whispers of french endearments, soft fleeting touches, what seemed like hundreds of gentle wet kisses over every part of her body... these things she would retain. What she struggled to hold onto was the intimacy of what occurred after lovemaking; exposing your true self through your words. What did he say? He spoke, so many words, but what were they? Pillow talk, what a trivial sounding term, but this, she reasoned, was the missing piece between Michael and herself.

Communication. Holy cow, they had done a mess of physical communicating 'that night.' She knew now how he made love and what he enjoyed in lovemaking. They had not slept that night on the boat. Even though the initial lovemaking had been one of dominance tinged with desperation, afterwards, the following sessions had been gentler while no less intense. They had tried to please the other person more than themselves, vying for the time to explore what felt the best to the other. But one-word questions and answers had been all the words spoken between them that night. "More?" "Yes" "Harder" "Stop?" "No." "Enough?" "Never."

Yes, in that one night, they had achieved intimacy of a physical nature. She shivered when she thought of the roller coaster ride of arousal and satiation that occurred again and again. But, what they had lacked, really didn't take the time for, was the emotional intimacy of communicating their deeper thoughts afterwards. But, on the heels of recognizing this lack of understanding the 'real' Michael was the sobering thought that this may never be a real possibility. She remembered no 'pillow talk' from her dreams because she still didn't know who or what Michael really was inside. He was a wildly exciting man, that was never in doubt. Sensual, intriguing, intelligent. But, he doled out words like a miser doling out precious pennies. And let's not forget that he was a consummate actor. Which of his few words were truth and which were deception? Was she like so many other females before her? Did she only see the outer package; the gorgeous body, the sophisticated air, the tortured dark soul that women felt compelled to heal? Would she still have strong feelings for Michael if she learned more about the person? What was he hiding or protecting in that other side of his psyche? And could she love, tolerate, or even stomach what she found?

Did he have a sense of humor? What kind of humor would make him laugh? She couldn't picture slapstick doing it, but Jerry Lewis was real popular in France. Limericks, puns, clever twists on words? Smiles were more rare than words from Michael. And she had never, no never, heard him laugh when he wasn't on a mission.

What did he like to read in literature? Fiction or nonfiction? Or did he even like to read? Music? Religion? Television or movie preferences? Did he even own a television? What were his favorite foods or drinks? He was so meticulous in his dress, but was he neat in his living space? Did he wash dirty dishes right away or stack them in the sink? Did he leave the top off of the toothpaste, did he hang wet towels? So many unanswered questions that many couples would have answers for after the first few dates. The more Nikita thought about it, the more she realized that she honestly didn't know squat about Michael.

So, now, Nikita thought, it may be that the next step was to ferret out the Michael that waited on his other hidden side. If she disliked what she found, that may solve the problem of the sexual tension. In her naivete, she reasoned that she couldn't be attracted to someone she found unattractive in personality. And if her subconscious had truly understood that Michael was worthy of love, then the potential rewards of their relationship could be staggering in intensity.

Oh yes, this was a good time to set aside the destructive emotion of anger and intelligently expand this bond between the two of them. But how? She shuddered to think eating a meal with Michael. No, too much history surrounding meals or invitations to them. Maybe later, with luck. Movies? Opera? Ballet? Putt-putt golf? No, no, she didn't want to create the sense that they were on a date. And she had to take it slow. No rushing into discovery. Maybe she should try to investigate his likes and dislikes, one at a time. Where to start then?

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

Nikita strolled confidently into section one morning. There was no mission brewing, she didn't have to be in this morning, but she needed to be with Michael to start what she thought of as 'plan A.'

When Nikita neared Michael's office, she was glad to see him in there alone, typing on his keyboard. She came in the open door, left the door open, sat on the couch against the back wall, a vinyl utilitarian government issue, and opened her purse. Michael didn't speak, but she could sense his interest in her movements and she felt his tension increasing as he waited for her to speak. She pulled a paperback from her bag, opened it, and began to read to herself. Minutes passed, the silence continued, until, finally, Michael spoke.

"Nikita."

She looked up from her book, distracted, and focused on his face.

"Yes, Michael?."

He had a slightly puzzled look on his face and asked the obvious question on his mind, "Why are you here this morning?"

"Just wanted to read this book and I'd always liked your couch." His mouth moved in acknowledgment of the absurdity of anyone liking that couch, but he remained silent, staring at her and trying to understand this new behavior on her part.

Nikita had gone back to reading her book and he watched her for a few more minutes before giving in and going back to his report.

15 minutes later and Michael had stopped looking at Nikita every few seconds and seemed more comfortable with her presence.

"Michael?"

Without looking up he answered, "yes?"

"What is a Sea SLAM?"

He answered without looking up and without wondering why she asked, "It's a ground-attack variant of the Harpoon anti-shipping missile. It's a sea-launched weapon, primarily for precision strikes against land targets." And then he looked up, finally connecting the question with the person.

Nikita loved that oh-so-slight stunned look on his face, but she allowed herself only a peek at it before she looked down at her book again, mumbled, "thanks," and resumed reading.

"Nikita, what are you reading?"

"Hmm? Oh, just a book I picked up at the bookstore this morning. Looked interesting." Actually, she had spent an hour at the bookstore, looking over brand new titles, trying to imagine what would really interest Michael and start some interesting conversations.

Romance? No, too obvious. He might interpret it as some kind of hinting about relationships and theirs in particular. Nature books? She loved the pictures and accompanying text, but didn't have a clue if Michael would be interested and what kind of long conversation could you have about animals and landscapes? Dramatic fiction. Getting closer, but not all men were interested in emotional sagas. Science fiction? Maybe, but she kept looking. She needed something that would spark a debate, something to educate and hold their interest, some action to make it exciting. Nikita instinctually felt that Michael would enjoy a cleverly written contemporary novel with a strong hero and fast-paced action. She thought of the Clancy novels featuring Jack Ryan, but wanted something that she knew Michael wouldn't have had a chance to read yet. She finally decided on a military thriller, set 20 years in the future that revolved around the tense situation surrounding a revolutionary new Naval stealth destroyer. The reviews were favorable and in glancing over the book, it looked like non-stop action with lots of technical details.

Nikita curled her legs up under herself and started getting interested in the book, in spite of Michael's distracting presence. Whew, this was getting exciting.

"Michael?"

This time he looked up immediately. "Yes."

"Could a destroyer really hold this much armament?" She started reading, "36 Harpoon Twos, 12 Standard HARMS..." She kept going down the long list, finishing with, "4 BRAVE drones and a Zenith round. Wow, I don't know what half that stuff is, but it sounds impressive."

Michael answered, a half a beat later, "A fully equipped destroyer could hold all that and more. One ship, fully armed, is capable of sinking a small fleet, downing a small air force, or leveling a small city. Expending its entire load could incinerate a small nation." He looked and sounded more animated than Nikita had ever seen him. Bingo, she thought.

"Is this also legitimate?" She read a paragraph in her book about the computer controlled command center of the destroyer, and looked up to see Michael totally engrossed in her words and nodding slightly.

"I can read out loud, if you think it wouldn't bother you?" To her consternation, Michael looked back down at his keyboard and paused before resuming his typing. But he answered her, "no, it wouldn't bother me. Go ahead."

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

Quietly, Nikita read the book to Michael. He didn't react outwardly and he still typed on his keyboard, but she somehow sensed she had his attention and that he was enjoying the actions in the book and enjoying her voice as she read aloud. Occasionally, she would stumble over a word and look up at him with a question in her eyes. He would pronounce the word without looking up, give an understandable synonym for her, all without missing a beat in his report making. The low light conditions of his office made reading slightly more difficult, but the darkness helped to create the sense that they were in a pocket of existence outside of the section. One that contained just the two of them, living inside the story being revealed in those pages. Unfortunately, it wasn't a place that was going to contain just the two of them.

Birkoff wandered by. And stopped, puzzled by the sounds of words spoken, not as if in a briefing, but in a narrative. He paused by Michael's open door and listened to the meaning of the words. Wow, this sounds kind of neat. Computer guided control systems of weaponry, satellite downloads of climatics, geo- and oceanography, military intelligence and deployments, all that he had in section on board a floating stealth navy destroyer. Love to see this baby in action. All of this spoken in Nikita's soft slightly accented voice. He came in and sat on the couch next to Nikita, just intending to listen for a few more minutes.

Walter was next. As he looked at the computer control consoles of section, he was struck by the realization that something was missing. No, someone. Birkoff. He was going to replenish his oreos and get them both a coke on his way back from his quarters. But, that was at least an hour ago. Wonder what's up with him? Walter wandered down the hall that let to the lunchroom.

Passing Michael's office, he heard Nikita's voice, "Tornado fire-control radars lighting off... active seeker heads!... missile launch! Confirm multiple Exocet launch!... Missiles closing the range!... impact in twenty-eight seconds!....The captain's voice rang out over the clatter, 'Initiate full-spectrum stealth and ECM! All weapons systems commence firing!'" Walter stopped, stunned. What the heck is going on? He abruptly detoured into Michael's office and stopped dumbfounded at the sight of Michael totally focused on Nikita, Birkoff with his mouth open staring at Nikita, and Nikita herself reading from a paperback with an animated excited expression on her face.

She stopped, looked up at Walter, smiled, and said, "Hello, Walter. You okay? You look upset."

"I'm fine, sugar. Just looking for Birkoff. He was going to bring me a coke. What are you reading?"

She showed him the cover without losing her page. He appeared unable to form any comment. This wasn't a normal occurrence in section. But, his sugar was always surprising him. She's doing something here besides just reading a book. And if his beginning suspicions were correct, it was one of the more intelligent moves she had made towards Michael since she arrived in section. She was going to try to sneak in Michael's mind through the back door. This is going to be interesting, to say the least.

Birkoff stirred impatiently. "Aren't you going to continue, Nikita?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, here we go again. Where was I?" She scanned down the page and began reading again.

Birkoff stilled and looked off at the wall as he lost himself in the action occurring in the story. Walter looked at Michael, caught him still with his penetrating gaze on Nikita, and upon noticing Walter's perusal, he looked back down at his report and continued typing. Walter made a motion to turn out the door, then as he heard more of the naval battle occurring in the story, he stopped and listened to see if any of the armaments were realistic or just hokey fiction. He was stunned to hear technical details that he didn't know were declassified. Absently he sat on the arm of the couch nearest Birkoff and listened further. Oh man, they need to pop some countermeasures and flood the radar channels with electronic white noise from cascade jammers. Geez, they just did!

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

And so Nikita read on.

And in the manner of Birkoff and Walter, more section personnel wandered by, were snared by the story, and stayed to hear more. Michael looked bemused the first few people, but as long as they didn't invade the space around his side of the desk or impede his report making, he didn't want to stop Nikita's voice. It flowed over him like warm water. Bathing his senses and easing his tension. The story was interesting, well written, and Nikita had chosen a book that was very near his own tastes in casual reading. Michael reveled in these hours, for even though they weren't alone, there was something so intimate about her reading. The crowd in his office was quiet, extremely quiet, as they focused on the words and visualized the story. It was a scene never before witnessed in section. And he didn't want to stop it.

Lunchtime came and went. Nikita noticed this because in her excitement in reaching Section this morning, she had skipped breakfast. So far, all she had felt was some empty stomach twinges, but before long she knew that her stomach would start growling loudly. And all this reading was getting her thirsty. But the few times she had stopped reading, to breathe deeply or at a chapter break, all the listeners in the room and those in the hallway had given her impatient looks that clearly stated that they wanted to hear more. Finally, she couldn't hold off any longer.

At a chapter break, "Guys, I am really thirsty and hungry..." She waited for some signs of pity for her condition. Not noticing any, she forged ahead anyway, "I am going to break for some food and something to drink."

Nikita slowly rose from the couch. Her body felt stiff and uncoordinated from sitting so long in one place. As she rose, people around her started rousing and talking to one another. Snatches of conversation reached her ears as she tried to stretch out her back muscles by rotating her torso slightly. "I don't think the Argentinians would have scrambled Panavia Tornadoes. They would use their Rafale E's." "You're full of it man. E's are underpowered that far out at sea." Similar discussions about armament and naval battles were beginning to heat up. Birkoff was starting to expound on computer controlled guidance and its superiority over heat trackers and Michael sat quietly, clearing at a loss for dealing with this crowd of debaters in his office. Nikita gave him a helpless look, shrugged, and made her way through the group to the door.

"Hey, sugar, where are you headed."

"Lunchroom, I guess."

"Well, hang up, I'll go with you and get my coke."

As Nikita and Walter entered the hallway, the group, not wanting to give up the comradery and friendly debates that were occurring, followed them down the hall towards the lunchroom. To those not involved in the story telling, it was a strange sight in Section. Nikita and Walter leading a parade down the hall. Laughing and friendly shoves punctuated their movement and at the lunchroom, everybody entered.

Nikita was allowed the luxury of choosing her soda and pre-packaged sandwich first from the refrigerated case, then all of the group descended on the displays and ravaged them for chips, candy, sodas, and sandwiches. Nikita sat with Walter in their metal and plastic chairs at a round table, while the group pulled up chairs around them, still laughing and discussing the story so far and conjecturing where it was going to go. Nikita looked around at this festive group and couldn't believe this was Section she was sitting in. Somehow, someway, she had just held the first Section book club meeting. She looked at Walter with wonder in her eyes.

"Yeah, it's amazing when this happens."

"It's happened before?"

"Not for a long time. You're a breath of fresh air, sugar, to these battle-hardened warriors. Sometimes, you just need to forget where you are and what you do, and just enjoy the moments like these when they happen."

Nikita thought for a moment, then, "I only wanted to reach Michael. You knew, didn't you, Walter?"

"Yeah. It's a good plan still. Keep working on him sweetheart. I still don't know if he belongs in our 'club.' but I think there is a chance for him if he has someone like you to love him." He paused, "unconditionally."

Nikita started at this. She murmured, "It could be just lust."

Walter smiled, then laughed. "Sugar, I trust your instincts. Even if you are doubting them. Your heart sees something in Michael worth loving. It's interesting that after all the ways he has screwed you over with lies and deceptions on Section's orders, you don't hate his guts. Think about that. I don't peg you as an idiot or a fool."

Nikita smiled slightly at the compliment and looked around. "He didn't join us."

"Give him time. Don't let up on him, but go slowly with him and I think you'll see him opening up to you. You were busy reading, but I looked at Michael once. He was watching you. Eating you up with his eyes. Somehow I don't think you'll have too much trouble reaching him. Just watch your back. You know what I mean."

"From Michael?" At his intense look, realization dawned for Nikita, "From Ops and Madeline," she whispered. They looked into each others eyes in understanding of Section ways.

"Thanks Walter. You know I love you too, don't you?"

"Yeah, sugar, same for me. But I still envy Michael, that lucky S.O.B."

Nikita laughed and attacked her sandwich. And around her the party atmosphere continued.

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

Operations and Madeline had observed the whole scenario occurring in Michael's office that morning and continuing into the lunchroom that afternoon from Operation's glass enclosed perch "I don't like this. Why shouldn't I have stopped this from the beginning?"

Madeline answered in her typical reasonable tone, "There is nothing wrong in letting some of the tension ease up in this place. There were no urgent missions on the board." She hesitated, then, "Or is what's bothering you, have to do more with Nikita and what she was up to rather than the break in discipline?"

"I am still not convinced that any kind of relationship between Michael and Nikita should be permitted. They are performing adequately well on missions. I have to wonder at your motives in pushing me on this."

"You are doubting me? I have never done anything to compromise Section policies or security. You will have to trust me on this matter. I am keeping a close eye on those two. If at any time I feel that their relationship is jeopardizing their effectiveness as operatives, I will not hesitate to terminate their proximity to each other. I'll reassign Nikita to our Siberia subsection."

Operations smirked slightly. "I'll hold you to that."

Madeline understood that she still had control over this situation and relaxed. As they gazed down at the floor below, they watched as Nikita approached Michael's office with her paperback novel in hand.

Madeline asked, "Was it really necessary for Michael to run surveillance this afternoon?"

"Yes, it was." Madeline looked at him but said nothing further.

They continued watching Nikita as she left Michael's office and wandered toward the exit. Ops with a penetrating stone face, Madeline with a small smile on her face as she contemplated what Nikita's next move could be.

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

Nikita was disappointed to find Michael was no longer in his office, but not especially surprised. The book party had continued until the food was gone and the last sip of soda was consumed and then a silence descended on the group; time to get serious again. Most of them would have asked Nikita to continue reading, but they all sensed that the moment had passed and that Operation's patience had been pushed far enough.

One by one they passed by Nikita, asking for the book when she was through, complimenting her on her choice, or just giving her thoughtful looks. Walter smiled and winked, grabbed another coke, and made his way back to his station. Nikita made a mental note to pick up a few more copies and pass them around. She smiled and made eye contact with them all. It was a special feeling she had that defied description. In aiming for Michael's tender side, she had somehow missed her mark and hit a larger group of people, just as needy and battle scarred as Michael. Amazing. And she treasured the warm feeling she was left with.

Nikita stood before Michael's desk sorting through this experience and concluding that maybe she had pierced a bit of Michael's shell after all. Time to formulate 'plan B." She was a cold operative, well trained to produce closure on each mission, so she placed the book in front of Michael's keyboard, typed a quick note to him 'enjoy this and maybe we can talk about it sometime.' picked up her purse, and she left his office deeply in thought.

What next, what next? I'd love to see him laugh. Maybe I'll stop by the bookstore for some joke books. That might be fun. There was also that interesting book about teaching yourself to belly dance....

The End (continued in The Comedienne)

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