Section

"Man, Nikita sure took a beating!"

That stopped Michael in his tracks.

He and Nikita had been send on separate missions five days ago and Michael had just finished his debriefing. He had been walking past the group of men sitting around the center of the command room, watching a video monitor.

Michael, trying to keep his straightest face, turned back to the group of operatives and waited for them to answer his unspoken question.

"Uh, Nikita was running point, entered the compound with Stuart. The rest of us would set charges, while Nikita would access their database and download their files. When she reached the command center, it had been abandoned except for some huge mercs. Somehow, instead of it being a shooting match, Nikita taunted the largest of them into a fist fight. We just watched the fight on tape. Stuart's cam filmed the whole thing."

"It was incredible," another chimed in. "They must have been going at it for 10 to 15 minutes. Brutal."

The original agent continued, "Nikita finally laid the guy out. She had the other thugs so surprised by this little woman taking down their biggest, that they were easily captured by Stuart."

Stuart finished the story, "And she still sat down at a terminal and downloaded all their files to Birkoff. I didn't know she was hurt much at all until she started coughing up some blood on the way back to Section."

Michael had listened to this entire story with the same expression as when they started. Without another word he turned and made his way to MedLab.

****

MedLab

"You let her leave?"

The doctor, to his credit, didn't flinch at the tone of Michael's voice, which conveyed some powerfully menacing undertones.

"We would have kept her here. But, she convinced Madeline to let her recuperate at home. We had her for 24 hours to make sure her concussion wasn't serious." Michael raised an eyebrow slightly at the doctor and the man interpreted the meaning as if Michael had spoken aloud.

"We are not shirking our duties. She refused an aide to go home with her, but we call in to her apartment on a regular basis and she gave her permission for the surveillance cameras to be used if we can't get her to answer her phone."

In his quietest voice, Michael demanded, "Tell me again the extent of her injuries."

"To be honest, after seeing the tape of the fight, I am surprised that her injuries were not greater. You trained her well." The doctor clearly hoped that a compliment would soften Michael's attitude. It didn't. He waited for the doctor to continue.

"Slight concussion. Bruised ribs. Didn't dislocate her shoulder, but wrenched it. She took quite a beating to her abdomen but testing revealed no internal bleeding. She took a hard hit on her cheekbone, but no bones were broken in her face and her retinas were fine. Pupils were even and responsive. Sprained right wrist and ankle." The doctor was getting increasingly unnerved by Michael's penetrating stare.

"She just needs rest. We would have kept her here if Madeline hadn't authorized her release. To be honest, I think Nikita downplayed her condition to Madeline." Michael could believe that. Nikita hated MedLab as much as Michael did. She would be her most persuasive to get released. Even if it may not have been in her best interest to leave. Stubborn female.

Michael finally spoke. "Anything else?"

"Well, yes, actually. Nikita left her pain meds here. Deliberately or accidentally, I don't know. But, I am sending an aide over to her apartment to bring them to her. She needs to rest and she won't be able to do that if she doesn't have some respite from the pain."

"Give them to me. I'll take them to her."

The doctor, sensing that this tension filled conversation was almost over, left the room, returning almost immediately with a small prescription bottle.

Michael took it from the doctor with a curt, "Thank you," and left the room.

****

Nikita's apartment

Nikita heard the knocking at her door. She groaned and tried to rise by sitting up. Oh, geez, that's not the way. Waves of pain from her ribs and shoulder radiated through Nikita and caused her heart rate and breathing to speed up. Sweat popped out on her forehead.

She mumbled to herself, "I don't care who it is at the door. It's not worth getting up off this couch to find out. Go away, please, whoever you are."

The knocking resumed. Nikita rolled off the couch sideways and landed on the floor face-down. OOH, that hurt. Now, just need to get up. She tried to, but the pain forced her back down on her face.

"Nikita?" It was Michael.

"Michael?" She said this to the floor, with a plaintive note in her voice. Softly spoken, it still reached the keen ears of the man on the other side of the door. He finally used the key that he had picked up in Section before leaving. It was common practice for extra keys to be kept to all personnel residences.

Upon entering, he looked around for Nikita, but didn't see her body hidden by the couch from his angle. He headed for the stairs to the bedroom. Michael looked at the bed, around the bed, in the bathroom, but couldn't find Nikita. From the top of the stairs, he finally saw her blonde hair spread out on the floor in front of her couch. In no time at all, he was down by her side and gently turning her over onto her back.

Moaning at the movement and breathing rapidly to get on top of the pain, Nikita looked up at her rescuer. She had a good idea of what he saw. She was wearing a soft, pale pink sweatshirt that normally came down to her mid thighs but had twisted up by her waist, thick white socks bunched at her ankles, and a brief pair of cotton underpants. She also wore 2 butterfly bandages on her left cheekbone for the cut that graced the deep purple bruise encompassing her cheek and into her eye. Her right wrist and right ankle were wrapped in ace bandages and, out of his sight, she wore a wrap around her ribs. Her lower arms and legs visible to Michael were covered in various shades of bruises from the slightly darkened tan to yellow to dark purple. Because of her habit of watching his gaze and interpreting it correctly most of the time, she managed a small grin.

"Yeah, I know it looks bad, but you should have seen the other guy. I kicked his butt."

Michael had to smile, even if it was only a slight lift of his mouth. How typical of Nikita to inject humor into this situation.

The effort to speak had cost Nikita, though. She closed her eyes to master the pain and tried to take quick breaths, but not deep ones, to supply her efforts with enough oxygen.

"Really, Michael, I'm not up for visitors right now. I'm sure you understand. Before you go, could you just help me back up on the couch?" All this spoken in fits and starts as Nikita started to get overwhelmed by her injuries.

Michael silently and gently lifted Nikita to a sitting position and then, sliding his arms under her legs and behind her shoulders, raised her in his arms. Nikita had closed her eyes and trembled from the pain, even though he had been as gentle as possible. Instead of putting her on the couch though, he carried her up to her bedroom and laid her on her bed. Michael lowered her carefully to the pillows. Nikita kept her eyes closed a few more seconds, feeling better now that she was in her soft bed, but also enjoying the sensation of Michael's fingers as he tenderly brushed his hand against her forehead in a soothing gesture. She finally opened her eyes.

Used to coping on her own, Nikita tried again, "Michael, thank you, but I can manage. You can go now."

Meeting his eyes, she was shocked and surprisingly thrilled to hear him murmur, "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Oh, Michael, be careful of what you offer me. I could work that into a lifetime commitment, Nikita thought sleepily. The efforts of the last few moments had exhausted her. Her eyes closed again, this time in fatigue. Michael got up from the side of the bed and returned a few moments later with a glass of water from her bathroom. He reached into his jacket pocket for a prescription bottle and sat down carefully at her side.

Nikita wasn't so far gone that she didn't know the significance of the bottle. "I thought I had left those in MedLab."

"I brought them for you."

"No, Michael, no. I don't like how spacey they make me. No."

"Yes, Nikita. You need some relief from the pain, so that you can rest and get better. Don't argue with me."

She set her mouth mulishly. He sighed, "I'll be here, watching over you. You don't have to feel alone or unprotected while you are on the pills." Her eyebrows lifted in amazement at his perceptiveness. Being on the streets and unprotected had taught her that a clear mind and awareness of your surroundings could mean the difference between being ambushed or attacked or avoiding trouble to begin with. Michael had guessed one of her deepest fears. Not being in enough control of her senses to protect herself. Nikita nodded her head wearily in acceptance of the medication and then winced at the headache that the movement aggravated.

Michael placed the water on her bedside table, read the label, opened the bottle, and shook two pills out onto his hand. Lifting Nikita's head slightly, he placed the tablets in her opened mouth and placed the water glass at her lips to help her swallow them. Satisfied that she had swallowed the pills with no difficulty, he laid her head gently back on her pillow. Michael stood up, reached for the soft blanket folded at the base of the bed, and opening it, spread it gently over Nikita. Reaching down again and repeating the tender gesture of brushing his fingers over her eyebrows and pushing back her hair, he gently kissed her forehead and gave her one last order.

"Sleep."

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

Nikita on pain medications was an interesting experience.

Michael never worried about Nikita spilling top secret information if she was interrogated with chemical substances. She had been trained to resist all standard and some unusual forms of drug control. Frankly, he doubted she could string together her own telephone number right now. But, what he found interesting, in watching her behavior during her times awake was how the pain meds unlocked her feelings just seething below the surface. In the space of 24 hours, Michael learned more about Nikita than she certainly would have wanted him to know, at this point. She seemed to be floating in a dream world somewhere just out of touch with this reality and she had no curbs on her tongue. Michael was, at different times, stunned, amazed, charmed, aroused, worried, heartbroken, and amused. It was a roller coaster experience that Michael treasured and examined for years afterward.

Nikita slept for 3 hours before awakening the first time. Michael, sitting on her couch and reading a book from the considerable collection from her bookshelf, heard her stirring in the bed before she regained consciousness. He had removed his jacket and was comfortable in a black ribbed turtleneck sweater and pants. As he walked towards her bed, her eyes opened sleepily, and watched him approach.

"Michael?" She whispered this in a singsong voice that told him right away that she may not have been at her sharpest.

"Yes, Nikita. Is there anything I can get for you?" Michael spoke gently, in a hushed voice, hoping that she would drift off back to sleep.

"Why are you in the Robin Hood outfit?" Michael looked down at himself in puzzlement. He looked at Nikita with keener interest and asked a question, hoping to find out where her mind was. This was interesting.

"Isn't this what you wanted me in?"

She sighed and regarded him dolefully, "I want the Tarzan outfit. Go put it on for me, please?" Her eyes were half open and drifting lower.

Why that little minx! She had been picturing him in costumes from the movies they had been watching as part of the Friday night classic series. Shaking his head, he chuckled. A rusty, unused sound. Then heat flooded his body as he imagined what Nikita must have been fantasizing about. His mind briefly pictured her in the skimpy 'Jane' jungle dress. Looking back down at her, he saw that she had drifted back to sleep, a small smile playing around her lips. I would love to see what she's dreaming about right now, Michael thought. After checking to make sure that her blanket was secure and covering her warmly, he went back to his reading, not as calm as he had been before.

An hour later she awoke, the pain medication wearing off. Michael was at her side as soon as he heard her small moan as her injured muscles made themselves known to her again.

Nikita tried to stretch and failed. "Ow."

"Time for more pills." Nikita's eyes popped open at his words.

"Michael! For a minute there, I forgot you had stayed." She spoke between increasingly fast breaths. "And no, I think I've had enough of those. I had some... weird dreams."

Michael kept a straight face. Thank goodness for the practice he'd had over the years. It was second nature now to 'not' react. He didn't let on that he knew the nature of some of her dreams.

"You still need the pain meds. Trust me. I'll know when you can stop them."

Nikita regarded him for long moments. "Maybe a few more."

Michael helped her to take two more tablets. She was thirsty and finished the whole glass of water.

"I have some soup simmering on the stove. Do you feel up to a light meal?"

"Maybe later... Are you sure you don't have to go..." Michael stopped her before she finished her sentence.

"No, I can stay. Madeline okayed it. She says to tell you to get better soon. She'll drop by in a few days to see how you're doing. Birkoff and Walter are waiting to see you also."

Nikita smiled slightly. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Close your eyes and try to sleep. I'll be in the apartment." Especially when you're on the medication, he thought.

2 hours later, he heard a sob. He was at her side instantly.

"Nikita? What's wrong?" Her eyes had pooled with tears.

"Michael..." Her voice cracked. "Michael, I have to go to the bathroom. And I can't move!"

Michael eyes grew more tender. Poor Nikita. The pain was lessened, but her muscles had stiffened and refused to help her to make her way to the bathroom.

"Let me help you." With the trusting ease of a child, (he ruefully thought that her mind wasn't much beyond that point anyway) Nikita lifted her hand in mute appeal for his assistance. Michael placed her hand on his shoulder and lifted her in his arms easily. Carrying her into the bathroom, he set her down. They stared at each other. Nikita, with the wide eyes and confused look of someone high on drugs and Michael, with a patient look in his eyes. Reaching a decision, he reached for the waistband of her underwear.

Shocked, Nikita pulled back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you to use the restroom." Michael spoke slowly, hoping to penetrate her fog.

"I can do this alone!" In a more reasonable tone, "Michael, privacy please.' She had focused on his face. Maybe she wasn't as far gone as he thought.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please close the door behind you."

Michael didn't like it, but he still allowed himself to be cajoled out the door. He closed the door and called out, "I'll be right out here. Call when you're done and I'll help you back to bed."

Nikita finished her business as quickly as her sore muscles would allow. Unfortunately, her mind had pockets of clearness and the last one was fading. She looked down at herself in confusion. I feel tacky. She fingered her hair. Yuck. Needs a washing. And with a shower in mind, Nikita started stripping. Her sweatshirt came off first and she stared in temporary bewilderment at the elastic bandage covering her ribs. That's got to go. Nikita found the pins and once freed, the bandage popped off her body and fell to the floor. She found that funny and giggled.

Michael pressed his ear to the door. Was she laughing? "Nikita, are you done?"

Nikita looked over at the door. Sweet Michael. Sexy Michael. He was waiting for her to take her shower and come out to him. Better shave my legs while I'm at it, she thought. "No, I'm not ready Michael. Just a few more minutes."

Michael shrugged and waited. She sounded all right, didn't she?

Inside the bathroom, Nikita unwound the bandage on her wrist, grimacing in frustration as the long bandage wound itself around her fingers and tangled into a clump. She finally reached the end and dropped the material in the sink. Is that it? Was that one on her ankle? Oh nuts. She bent down to reach her ankle and a lightening bolt of pain made its way through her delirium. Catching a deep breath, eyes wide in her disorientation, she gave up on reaching her ankles and instead pushed her underwear down to her knees. Using her feet, she hooked it and her underwear reached the floor. Using her feet again, she managed to work her loose socks off. Good enough. Nikita reached over and turned the shower on.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Michael burst into the bathroom. Nikita had stepped into the shower, but now stood there staring at him in bemused surprise.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Nikita cocked her head at the obviously silly question. "I think... I'm showering."

Michael closed his eyes for a second and opened them in resignation. He needed to do some quick damage control here and get Nikita tucked back in bed, for a variety of reasons.

First, she looked wobbly on her feet. She had, since his arrival, leaned her body into the shower wall, and balanced her body on one foot, holding her injured ankle (still wearing the bandage?) up off the shower floor. It was a precarious position, at best. She could fall any moment. The water had turned warm and now Nikita leaned her head back into the stream and groaned with appreciation at the warmness streaming down onto her head and down her sore ribs and back.

"Oh, that feels so good," Nikita sighed and she closed her eyes.

The second reason Michael needed to get her back into some clothes and into bed was the effect that her nudity and sighs of enjoyment were having on him. Scanning his eyes down her luscious body, he frowned when he noticed the extent of her bruising. Dark blue fist-sized bruises covered her ribs and stomach. Some in her kidney area. The guy who worked her over knew his business well. Michael focused on her injuries, tried to tamp down his libido.

"Nikita, you need to get out of the shower and back in bed."

She smiled as that thought registered, then giggled. "Michael, you naughty boy. Can't you wait just a bit longer? I'll be back to bed soon. Wait! Better yet, join me in here." Her eyes had opened and gleamed at him with carnal intent. The way her eyes traveled down his body left no doubt as to where her thoughts had gone.

Michael groaned this time, inwardly. "Come out of there." And he reached for her arm to help her out.

"No! I want to wash my hair." There was that stubborn mulish look again, Michael mused.

"All right, quickly then. Turn around." Nikita responded to the order in his voice and turned her back to him. Michael allowed himself a quick look at her magnificent behind, then applied himself to the task of washing her hair. His sweater sleeves were pushed quickly up to his elbows, but not before they became soaked.

"Rinse." Nikita obediently placed her head under the stream of water. The resulting spray wet Michael's sweater in the front. He sighed.

"Out now!" Michael bit out.

"Conditioner?"

"Don't press your luck.... What's wrong." This was in response to Nikita's sudden look of alarm.

"Michael, the bathroom is spinning." Michael quickly turned the water off and reached in for Nikita as her legs started to buckle underneath her. He lifted her into his arms. She leaned her head back in seeming enjoyment of the visual show her senses were supplying to her brain.

She giggled, "See what you do to me, Michael? The earth moves." Her head lolled from side to side and her look became less amused. "You can stop it now, please." Michael snared a towel with his fingers at Nikita's shoulders and carried her into the bedroom. He debated a few seconds on his next course of action and risked placing her on her feet.

"Hold onto my shoulders while I dry you.... Nikita, concentrate!" Nikita grasped at the only solid object close enough to her, his shoulders, as Michael quickly dried Nikita off in record time. He was close to her dresser, so he reached back and opened a top drawer. Hallelujah, more sweatshirts. He grabbed a pale blue one and, as gently as possible, pulled it over Nikita's head, threaded her arms through the sleeves, and pulled it down around her knees. He glanced briefly back, wondering if he should bother with underwear. Her beginning tremors of weakness and swaying movement decided the issue for him. Picking her up again, he carried her back to her bed.

Wet hair. She has wet hair. Michael ducked quickly back into the bathroom and plucked another towel from the rack. Returning to Nikita, he wrapped the towel around her hair to keep her from getting a chill. Glancing down at her feet, he noticed the wet elastic bandage on her ankle and removed it. She should have her injuries rewrapped. She'd be better off, more comfortable. Twitching the blanket over her sleeping form, Michael opted instead for a stiff drink, for himself.

Thankfully, Nikita slept for six hours before waking again. In the time she had been asleep, Michael had removed her hair towel, replaced it, removed that one when her hair had finally dried. He had dried his sweater in the drier and made himself a peanut butter sandwich and ate it with some of the soup he had kept warm on the stove. Nikita didn't have much in the way of food in the apartment. He resolved to stock her pantry and refrigerator, as soon as she was off the medication, and he felt he could leave her alone for an hour. Then again, maybe Walter could be pressed into service to watch her. The rest of the time, Michael amused himself with reading, calling in an update to MedLab and Nikita's friends in Section, and standing in, what he knew was, Nikita's favorite spot in the apartment: the open doorway to the patio. She had a wonderful view and Michael let his thoughts roam freely, as he enjoyed this quiet time in her personal domain. He was in the doorway when he heard her stir again.

The pain was back. Michael had previously decided to keep her medicated for 24 hours, so he helped her to take another two pills. Even though she still felt no hunger, he insisted that she swallow some of the soup from a mug. When she had taken all that she could stand, he sat beside her and watched as the pain medication took effect and her eyes grew dreamy, instead of pain-filled. She had closed her eyes and started humming.

Michael listened to the melody. When he figured out that he didn't know the song, he asked, "Nikita, what's that music from?"

She stopped, smiled, and opened her eyes to regard Michael fondly. "I have a secret." Michael doubted that, but he tried to make her reveal it anyway. He didn't have to try very hard.

"And it is..."

"I love Disney cartoon musicals. That song was from the Lion King." Well, he was surprised, he thought. She continued in a hushed tone, as if to tell a secret, "I go to see every new movie when it comes out."

Then, in a whimsical conversational tone, "You know, I always identified this song with you." And Michael was then charmed to his toes when she broke into a lovely melody.

"Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things"

She hummed a bit more, than told him, "Take it Michael!"

"What?"

She had closed her eyes and was still humming. In her mind, she heard what she thought was Michael singing, with full orchestration,

"So many things to tell her
But how to make her see
The truth about my past? Impossible!
She'd turn away from me."

Nikita opened her eyes and gazed mistily at Michael. "That was beautiful. You sounded just like the lion, Simba, in the movie."

"Nikita." Michael started.

"Huh? Oh, you're right. My part..." She sang again.

"He's holding back, he's hiding
But what, I can't decide
Why won't he be the king I know he is?
(Nikita reached up and touched Michael's cheek)
The king I see inside?".

"Together, Michael!" He didn't make a comment this time. He was too enthralled watching her sing. Her quiet voice was lovely and clear and he waited to hear her next part. She flung her arms out to her side.

"Can you feel the love tonight?
You needn't look too far
Stealing through the night's uncertainties
Love is where they are."

Nikita finished, smiled, and whispered, "Wasn't that so beautiful?"

Michael cleared his throat and spoke, "Yes, love, it was very beautiful." Michael leaned over and gave her forehead a kiss. When he leaned back, her eyes were closed but a small tear had made its way down her cheek. But, she was asleep again.

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

And so this pattern of wakefulness and deep sleep continued through the daylight. Michael was able to convince Nikita to eat half a sandwich, but that was it. When he called back to MedLab, he inquired about an appetite loss and was told that it was a common side effect due to the medication. The doctors agreed that 24 hours would be enough time for Nikita to recuperate with the pain pills, but after that, the pain could be managed with over the counter painkillers.

Michael helped her to the bathroom once more and, this time, she didn't try to strip her clothes off or take a shower. For that, he was very grateful. He sent her in with a pair of her underwear to put on. The thought that she had been lying there without any on was dominating his mind too much. Michael re-wrapped her ankle and wrist with elastic bandages. It was during those and other quiet times that Nikita would talk.

It was if she was speaking in her own mind, yet the words were being vocalized. Michael learned things he knew, contradictions of things he thought he had known, and brand new insights into the fascinating woman that Nikita was. Michael heard of her love for Walter and Birkoff. Birkoff, as a younger brother, and Walter, as a favorite uncle. How she believed in what Section was doing for the world, but how it was hard to accept some of the methods they used to achieve their ends. Nikita spoke of the six months she had spent away from Section and how scared and lonely she had been. How much their night on the boat had meant to her. How she had never experienced fulfillment of that depth before in her life. He shook his head ruefully. Neither had he.

And, as he had been wrapping the bandage on her wrist, Nikita had told him about her feelings for Jurgen. It was as he had thought. In a vulnerable time in her Section life, Jurgen had offered uncomplicated friendship while Michael had been seemingly playing the old game of manipulating Nikita's feelings for the greater good of Section. Tears pooled in her eyes as she wondered if Michael would ever really forgive her for turning to Jurgen for comfort of a physical nature. Oh Nikita, he thought, my crimes against you far outweigh whatever wrongs you imagine you have done to me. You want my forgiveness? Granted, with no reservations. But, you never needed it to begin with. When the time was right, Michael resolved to clear up this matter with her.

Sometimes Nikita knew who she was speaking to, sometimes not. She only knew that anything she spoke of was safe with this person who cared so gently for her, in her time of need. Michael didn't think she would have told him personally that Michael speaking French was an incredible turn-on for her. Michael had to smile. Now that was useful to know. He decided to sprinkle more of that language into his conversations with her, maybe even teach her the language himself. At least, certain fun words.

Just in case, Michael tested her once. He tried to get her to tell him where the location of Section was and she wouldn't. The conditioning blocks were still firmly in place. The day passed uneventfully and Michael cared for Nikita with all the tenderness and gentleness she would have loved to see, if only she had been in her right mind.

The darkness of night triggered an unfortunate response in Nikita.

*****

Michael had been talking on the phone with Walter, who had called to check on Nikita. It was late evening, a cloudy night sky made the darkness even deeper. Nikita seemed to be in another deep sleep cycle, although she had been very restless in the hour prior to her finally settling down. Michael had placed a blanket and pillow on the couch where he planned to sleep and had changed into a pair of black athletic pants and black muscle shirt. He had requested some changes of clothing as well as a few grocery items to be brought to him at Nikita's apartment and Madeline had arranged the delivery.

"So, you think it might be tomorrow that Birkoff and I could come visit Nikita?" Walter asked of Michael.

Michael answered back cautiously, "I will assess her condition in the morning when I see how she feels after discontinuing the pain meds."

"Okay. We just want to come and cheer her up, but we don't want to make her worse. Just let me know." Walter knew he could trust Michael to decide the correct course of action to take on this matter. The man was crazy in love with Nikita.

Michael started to close the conversation, "I will call you in...." Terrified screams broke the stillness of the night and Michael reacted instantly. Walter only had time to stutter, "What..." before the connection was abruptly severed and he was listening to a dial tone.

Michael vaulted into Nikita's bedroom, stopped at the doorway, and automatically scanned the room for threats that may have had something to do with Nikita's screams. Light from the room behind him illuminated the bedroom enough for him to locate Nikita and ascertain there was no threat to her safety. When he looked at her, he saw that she was now crouched at the head of her bed with her back pressed against the wall, her hands, palms forward, placed in front of her, as if she were trying to retreat from an unspeakable horror in front of her. Her screams had died down to whimpers and disjointed words that Michael strained to hear. He moved cautiously towards her, not wanting to become part of the imaginary scene that she was visualizing.

"Don't!.... Stay away!..... Please, don't do this!...." She covered her face with her hands and dropped into a ball.

"Nikita?... It's Michael." He sat down carefully and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered and tried to move away, all without lifting her head."

"Please, look at me. See who I am." He kept his hand on her shoulder, stroking her hair and continuing the litany of comforting words. Finally, she lifted her head.

"Michael?" Her voice was hushed and her eyes were wild and still drug clouded.

"Yes, it's me... Tell me how to help you." Michael ventured cautiously ahead.

"They're here, all around us. Can you keep them away?" She still spoke in a whisper, as if not to attract the attention of the mystery group.

"Who are they? Tell me and I'll protect you. You know me. I would give my life before anyone would touch you." Michael spoke urgently to penetrate Nikita's delirium.

Nikita unwound her arms and launched herself into his arms. "Don't let them hurt you too! Maybe we can hide... maybe we can run... "

"Who, Nikita, who!"

"Gangs... gangs of boys... they know I'm alone... I'm safe during the day, but some nights they try to find me....chase me through the alleys.... they want to hurt me..." Nikita buried her face in Michael's chest and clung to him with desperate arms.

God. Michael realized that this must be a portion of Nikita's homeless years as a teenager in Sydney. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her still shaking form. She must have been terrified. Vulnerable, alone, being stalked and attacked. Add to this the continual fight for survival: food, shelter, clothing... all the things that children should expect. How had she ever survived such a time and become the loving and giving woman she was today?

"Shhh, listen to me, Nikita. They're all gone. The boys, the gangs. They are not here. You're safe. "

She had quieted and listened to him and repeated one word into his chest, "Safe." And as quickly as the storm had come, it had passed, and she gradually relaxed her tight muscles, her grip on Michael lessened, but did not release, and she took him at his word and allowed herself to fall back asleep.

Michael, on the other hand, was emotionally stripped bare, and long into the night, he held Nikita in his arms and stared into the darkness of the cloudy night outside the windows.

Back in Section, Walter turned off the monitor to Nikita's bedroom and closed his eyes, as if in pain.

****

Morning sun streamed into the room and finally penetrated Michael's sleep. He opened his eyes and analyzed the situation.

Morning. He looked at the bedside clock. Early morning, 6:30 a.m. Nikita was nestled in his arms with her head on his chest, still sleeping peacefully. He had pulled a blanket over her body and she felt warm and cuddly. Her breathing was deep and even.

She had slept through the night after her nightmare. Nikita had seemed to draw comfort from Michael's embrace and he had decided to give her the security of his body through the rest of the night. Michael hadn't gotten up to give her anymore pain pills. Enough was enough. The darkness and the pills had combined in an unfortunate way. They had unlocked a painful memory from her homeless years and Michael didn't want to chance a repeat occurrence of something possibly worse.

Michael moved one hand from her back up to her face and brushed back strands of blonde hair away from her face. His fingers stayed to linger against her cheek. He noted the healthier pink color of her cheeks and the fact that her cheekbone cut had closed up well and the bruising was fading slightly. He was grateful for her normally healthy constitution. She would heal rapidly.

Nikita stirred and stretched like a kitten. Her hand, on his chest, flexed restlessly, and she smiled, as if with her eyes closed, she realized whose arms she was securely held in.

She confirmed this and murmured, "Michael."

"Wake up, Nikita, and tell me how you are feeling." Michael's fingers traced over her smile. Nikita finally opened her eyes sleepily and peered up at Michael's face.

"I feel better, I think. Sore, but not too bad." Her normally optimistic personality was surfacing. Her eyes crinkled though and she then looked thoughtful. "It's morning again? What happened to the day and night?"

Michael questioned her, "Don't you remember any of yesterday? You were taking pain medication and it did cause some.... disorientation." Michael tried to downplay her delirium, so she wouldn't get worried about what she might have said or done.

"It's all kind of a blur.... Disorientation?" She considered that word when he didn't speak. He saw her mind thinking over the possibilities and he saw when she decided that she might not want to know more of what she might have been like. Nikita changed the subject. "I'm hungry." She announced that face and waited for Michael to come up with a solution. He smiled tenderly.

"Stay here. I'll go make you some eggs and toast." He gently laid her down on the bed as he slid from her side.

"I'll get dressed and..." Michael cut Nikita off in mid-sentence as he stood by the side of the bed.

"No. I want you to take it easy, at least another day. Stay in bed. Let me take care of you." The last sentence is what appealed the most to Nikita. Maybe it would be nice to prolong this time together. And she still did feel kind of weak and beat up.

"Okay," she smiled up at him, "but, I could get spoiled by this." Michael's smile faded and he looked serious again. Nikita's gaze grew puzzled.

Michael murmured, "I would spoil you forever, if it was within my power." And he left a perplexed Nikita staring after his retreating figure as he went into the bathroom.

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

"I'm bored." This announcement from Nikita had been expected by Michael. After breakfast in bed, Michael had allowed a fully alert Nikita to take a shower, dress in some comfortable soft knit pants and top, and get back in bed for a nap. After she had woken from a two hour sleep, she had gotten restless. Michael had discovered that a conscious Nikita was a bit more difficult to handle than an unconscious one.

She had tried to read a book. Her concussion was still affecting her and she developed a headache and eyestrain from trying to concentrate on the words. When he offered to read to her, she considered that, but regretfully declined. "I'd already read that one anyway. I need a trip to the library." She looked hopefully up at Michael.

"Not today." A pout formed on her mouth. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm still full from breakfast." She sighed.

Michael looked around. "Do you have a television?" At that, Nikita's interest perked up and she pointed to a natural blond wooden cabinet against the wall. Michael walked over to the cabinet and opened it. Inside, filling a large portion of the cavity, sat a color television. A remote control and television schedule were also in the cabinet. Taking the control and schedule, Michael returned the items to Nikita. He turned to leave the room.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going? Can't you stay with me here?" Michael turned around at her words and considered them.

"Okay, I'll just get the book I was reading."

Nikita turned the television on and started to look for something interesting to watch.

And so the morning and afternoon passed as Nikita and Michael relaxed in her bedroom watching television. Michael sat on the bed next to Nikita with his head propped against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He would sit fairly motionless. Sometimes Michael would watch television, sometimes he would read his book if the show didn't interest him. Nikita would be in motion, when she wasn't intently watching something interesting on the television. On her side, on her back, knees bent, sitting up. She was a constant distraction to Michael. It was the worse when all she had done was lie propped on her side, facing him, and staring at him, deep in thought. Thankfully, for the majority of the day, though, she flipped through the television channels in search of diversion.

Nikita was blessed with a cable hookup, so she had over 70 channels to surf. Michael wondered if the batteries in the remote would last the day.

****

"Isn't that so cute. I just love those penguins." Michael stared at her. "Well, I'm enjoying this show. I love these nature shows. Oh look, in an hour is another National Geographic. The Secret Life of Crustaceans. Neat." Michael sighed inwardly and turned back to his book.

****

"Look, Michael, another travel documentary is coming on." Nikita playfully said it in a singsong voice.

Michael looked interested. "What's the location."

"The Inca city ruins of Machu Picchu, Peru."

"Leave it on." Nikita smiled and together they watched the show.

****

"I can't believe anybody would go to all that trouble to prepare a dinner." Nikita had been about to go past the Cordon Bleu cooking show and Michael had stayed her finger on the remote.

"French gourmet cooking delights all the body's senses. Texture, appearance, aroma, and, of course, the tastes are carefully nurtured and balanced to ..." Michael broke off at Nikita's look of amazement. He had been practically waxing poetic on gourmet cooking.

Waving a hand back at the television, Nikita asked, "You like to eat like that?"

Michael looked amused. "When I am able to, I visit a restaurant that prepares all my favorites. In fact, the recipe the chef is preparing is exceptional."

Nikita looked back at the French man on the television, busily preparing the food. "What is the name of the main dish again and what does it mean?"

Michael had noticed that Nikita had not reacted to the French chef and his accent or his use of french words, so he carefully watched Nikita's face as he told her the name of the recipe. "Feuilletes de Saumon aux Asperges" He was amused to see her eyes grow slightly dreamy as he spoke the words. She struggled to control her reaction.

She cleared her throat and asked, "I know there is salmon in it." The chef was busily cutting salmon into pieces. "But, how is it going to end up."

"Inside puff pastry bedded on top of asparagus and spinach, covered with a lemon butter sauce."

"Really? That sounds good." Nikita turned back to the show.

Michael and Nikita watched the whole show from Potage Ambassadeur (split pea soup with bacon, sorrel and lettuce) to Concorde (a chocolate meringue cake filled with Nikita's favorite, chocolate mousse).

****

Nikita giggled at the cartoons on the television. "I just love the Bugs Bunny Hour. That Daffy is such a character." Michael looked amused. He revealed a bit more of himself to her.

"I admire Pepe Le Peu."

"Ha! I never would have guessed."

****

Nikita read the caption on the bottom of the screen, "You ain't woman enough to take my man. Uh,uh. This could get ugly."

Michael looked up and grimaced. Nikita flinched as the two coarse looking women on either side of a particularly unattractive man started reaching over his head to pull at each other's hair. The stage erupted in a flurry of violence as large burly stage crew workers tried to separate the women and received a few unmentionable hits for their trouble.

"Nikita."

"Yeah, I know. I'm changing it."

****

Michael allowed Walter and Birkoff over for a visit in the early evening. Nikita had rested well during the day, eating the food that Michael had prepared and grabbing cat naps during the television shows that Michael was more interested in.

"Hey, Michael, how's our sugar doing?"

"Go on up to her room and take a look." Michael watched as Walter entered carrying five colorful mylar balloons with get well messages and tied together with a ribbon. Birkoff came in behind with two large pizza boxes, a six pack of coke, and a bag of oreos.

"Walter! Seymour!" Michael heard her enthusiastic greeting as he gathered plates, forks, and napkins from the kitchen.

Carrying them into the room, he enjoyed Nikita's happiness at seeing her friends and her childish delight in the colorful balloons that Walter was tying on the lamp.

"Michael, look, Walter and Birkoff brought pizza! My favorites." Nikita was beaming.

Over pizza and cokes, Walter and Birkoff told Nikita of the impact her video taped fight was making in Section.

"You've gained quite a bit of stature in their eyes," Walter laughed, "I've seen five or six groups watching it at different times."

"Yeah," Birkoff chimed in, "I sent a copy of it to our major substations," and at a hard look from Michael, "with Madeline's approval." He nodded in acknowledgment.

Walter broke the awkward moment, "So, what have you two been doing all day?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Nikita giggled, "Oh, Walter, is that all you ever think about?"

Walter grinned, "Just about." Walter was pleased to see Nikita looking so relaxed. He had been worried all day after watching the outcome of her nightmare on the video screen last night.

"We just watched television all day. I slept, Michael read books. It was a very relaxing day."

Birkoff perked up, "Television? Anything good on now?" He picked up the remote and turned the set on. "Oh, gross, boxing?" He pointed the remote at the set to change it. Walter looked outraged.

"Boxing! That's a good match up! Leave it on."

"No way. Now, here's a good show. The X-Files. The FBI stuff is a joke, but the weird stuff that happens can be cool."

"Give me that remote! Put the boxing back on." Nikita looked amused at the mock battle.

"No way, old man. I got the power, I make the rules."

Walter stomped over the television and changed the channel on the front of the set. Birkoff promptly changed it back. This channel switching went back and forth with some good natured wrangling between the two. Nikita laughed throughout the entire exchange.

Finally, "Birkoff, may I have the remote?"

"Sure, Nikita, here." And he handed the remote control to Nikita. She turned it to a movie that she had noticed on the schedule earlier in the day.

Both Birkoff and Walter exclaimed in excitement!

"Godzilla vs. Megalon! A classic! Yeah! Let's watch this."

Walter agreed, "Yeah, this movie is so bad, it's good. Have some more pizza, sugar. You'll enjoy this."

And the rest of the evening was spent in hilarious enjoyment, as Walter, Birkoff, and Nikita made comments throughout the movie and Michael watched Nikita's happiness.

****

After seeing Walter and Birkoff out the door, Michael returned to stand in the doorway of the bedroom.

Nikita sighed up at him, "Wasn't that a great time?"

Michael nodded and picked up the pizza boxes, plates, empty cans, and silverware. "Do you need any more aspirin?"

Nikita thought, "Yes, that probably would be a good idea."

"Be right back." While he was gone, Nikita heard the phone ring and then answered. Michael spoke quietly, but Nikita sensed that it was Section that Michael was speaking to. He returned with her aspirin and a small glass of water. Nikita swallowed the pills and waited fatalistically for the words she knew were coming.

"I've been called in."

"I guessed." He stood looking at her and she guessed the direction of his thoughts.

"Really, Michael, I'm much better. Don't worry about me. I am getting around a bit and tomorrow I'll be even more improved."

He went into the bathroom and came out minutes later dressed in his standard black jacket and slacks. Before he left, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

"Get well quickly," Michael murmured, "and when I come back, I'll take you out for a special dinner." He turned and left quickly, as if forcing himself to make the break cleanly.

Nikita sighed and turned off the bedside lamp, smiling briefly at the bobbing balloons. Then the darkness of the room was the only witness to her heartfelt sigh.

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

Nikita checked the mirror one more time. Yes, she looked ready. Michael had said to dress formally and she had chosen a simple cream color sweater dress that lovingly hugged her body from the high neck and sleeves to her knees. The material from her knees to the floor moved gracefully as she walked. The string of pearls that had arrived by special messenger were a perfect counterpart to the fuzzy soft texture of the dress. Her make-up was light and flawless and her bruises had disappeared in the three weeks that Michael had been gone. Nikita heard the knock at the door and her heart leaped in her chest.

"Michael." She stared up at his handsome face and took in his elegant appearance in the tux. "Do you want to come in?'

"No, we need to get going. We have a reservation." He reached for the wrap she was holding and he helped her into it. Standing behind her, he nuzzled her neck and breathed in her intoxicating scent. "Are you feeling all better?" He knew the answer though. The night he had left, he had asked Walter to check on Nikita through the night with the cameras in her apartment. She had rested quietly. Michael had also accessed MedLab reports to read about her check-ups. He had charted her workouts to regain her strength.

Nikita had closed her eyes in enjoyment of his caresses and answered him, "I'm fine." She paused. "I missed you." Michael didn't answer. He came around and offered his arm. Nikita took it and they left the apartment, Michael turned off the light and closed the door.

****

They were seated by an elegant maitre' d and handed long menus. After the man had left, Michael took her menu and laid it down on the table with his.

"May I order for both of us?" Nikita smiled and nodded.

When the waiter came to their table, Michael ordered wine with a long impressive French name and, at the same time, ordered their meal. Nikita listened as he ordered their television menu from that afternoon three weeks ago.

She laughed and told him, "Now, I get to taste the real thing." He smiled in amusement at her glowing expression.

The dinner was superb, the wine was perfect. Michael and Nikita swayed to the soft music on the dance floor. Other diners enjoyed the sight of the handsome man and beautiful woman, matched so well in their respective darkness and lightness. After returning to their table, Michael reached for Nikita's hands. He looked deep into her eyes.

"Tell me about Jurgen." Nikita's eyes grew worried and teary. "No, don't worry. I think we need to clear the air on this matter. Talk to me."

And Nikita spoke the words that Michael had already heard and he gave back the words that she had not heard. Their mutual road to recovery had begun.

The End (Continued in That Which Does Not Kill Us )

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