The lights came up in the huge auditorium and Nikita sat motionless still staring at the stage. They were sitting in a balcony box seat to stage left and the ballet, Giselle, had just concluded. The applause had died down and the cavernous room was now filled with the conversations and shuffling noises of the retreating patrons. Nikita sat as still as Michael had even seen her. Her face was full of emotion, although Michael had trouble differentiating the different ones. Wonder, yes it was there. Amazement, also. Delight. Her lips curled into an even larger smile and she finally turned and looked at Michael.

"That was...." She seemed at a loss for words and her hands moved slightly to indicate this. "It was....(*sigh) incredible."

Michael allowed his happiness at seeing her joy penetrate his eyes and his curving lips. They didn't move from their seat yet. He watched and waited for her additional reactions. In the meantime, he admired again the beautiful picture she made in her elegant formal gown. It was a renaissance style gown, made of midnight blue velvet, with a fitted bodice and long form fitting sleeves. At her waistline the fitted lines stopped and flared out into a full sweeping skirt of the same material. A moderately-low, shaped neckline teased the tops of her breast and cream colored lace edged both the neckline, wrist openings, and bottom of the hem. Nikita had added his gift of pearls and he could see simple pearl studs in her ear lobes underneath her softly upswept hair. It was a totally romantic look and Michael was struck anew by how incredibly lovely she was. Michael was dressed in what he knew was Nikita's favorite tux for him. Classic, simple, no bow tie at the neck, just a simple black stud. Her eyes had given her feelings away when he had arrived at her apartment to pick her up for their dinner at an elegant restaurant, then her first ballet performance.

Nikita started to sort out her thoughts, "That was such a romantic story, although I like my fairy tales with the standard ending... you know, prince marries his princess...happily ever after." Her hands were very expressive tonight and flowed with her words.

Michael spoke, "Some have wondered if Albrecht really loved Giselle or if he was just playing with her affections." He was amused to note that she already was shaking her head. Little romantic, he thought.

"No, he just didn't think of the consequences of dressing like a peasant and walking among the villagers. I think he loved her from the very beginning, he swore his love for her, but he was trapped by his lies of being a commoner." Nikita thought more and continued, "He didn't have to come to her grave when she died of the heart attack after learning who he really was."

"And what do you make of the second act." Michael prompted her when she seemed lost in introspection.

Nikita's eyes widened and she raved, "That was an indescribable scene. All the spirits of the young girls who had been jilted and died trying to dance Albrecht to death. The makeup and costumes and lighting were so elaborate, so gorgeous. Yes, Giselle saved her prince's life until daylight made the spirits lose their power. She saved him because she had really loved him and she forgave him."

Nikita looked into Michael's eyes and they both knew they were thinking of their own circumstances and comparing it to the story. Michael reached out and captured Nikita's hand.

"They are turning off the lights. We have to go." Nikita nodded and rose with Michael and they left the box.

Walking down the sweeping long staircase from the second floor balcony, Nikita still held Michael's hand. He seemed not to want to lose the contact either. She stopped on the middle of the steps and looked around. Up at the elaborately detailed ceiling with its flowers and cherubs forever cast in carved stone, at the marble columns supporting the staircase and along the walls. She gazed at the plush carpeting under her feet, the velvet and satin curtains and material covering the couches and chairs scattered in random elegance around the room. Michael had stopped a few stairs below her, stilling holding her hand, and had watched her perusal of the enormous entry hall.

Nikita finally spoke her thoughts. "This is so far away from my childhood. I tried to imagine these places when I was young, but I didn't do it justice, I see." She looked back down at Michael and said simply, "Thank you, Michael, for bringing me here."

Michael didn't answered right away, but then, in a rough whisper, as if to himself, "It was my pleasure."

****

The next morning. Section.

"Lucy Tyler, mistress of Robert Townsend, high ranking member of the Parliament, has fled from her lover. Mr. Townsend has reason to believe that she removed classified documents from his safe to ensure her safety in the event that he tried to find her. She has no family, no friends. Townsend plucked her off the streets and kept her entirely secluded on a country estate. He has a wife and family already and has carefully kept Miss Tyler as a virtual slave to his pleasure. Normally, we wouldn't get involved in this sordid affair, but she made the mistake of stealing sensitive information and it must be secured or destroyed and her knowledge of their contents evaluated."

Michael asked, "Do we have any idea where to start?"

"Birkoff?"

"Intel suggests that she has returned to where she spent her childhood." He named a major city.

Nikita spoke, "So, we just go and pick her up."

Birkoff continued, "It's a bit more complicated than that. She grew up homeless on the streets."

Nikita grew extremely still. She could see Michael staring at her in her peripheral vision.

"Initial attempts to locate her have been met with... resistance. The homeless are very suspicious of authority and wary of those who don't fit it, so she could conceivably disappear forever right under our noses."

Madeline spoke, for the first time, "So, we need an undercover operative to integrate into the population on the streets and find this woman." Nikita sensed what was coming. Madeline looked at Nikita and she knew then who that operative was going to be.

So did Michael and he tried to deflect the assignment from Nikita. "I will do it."

Madeline shook her head, "No, Michael. A woman would have a better chance of receiving answers to her questions than a man."

"I'll go with her."

Madeline was patient, but firm, "No, it's not necessary and we need your talents on another mission, in the meantime."

Madeline turned to Nikita, "Do you know what to do?". Nikita nodded solemnly in acknowledgment.

Operations spoke, "This assignment may take weeks. We will not monitor it closely, but will require daily check-ins until a substantive lead is found." Nikita remained totally still and focused on the table.

Madeline outlined the rules. "We don't have pictures of Miss Tyler, but a fairly good description. She's about your age, dark hair, blue eyes. Tell people that you are looking for your sister. The use of deadly force is not authorized. We want you to maintain a low profile. If you feel your life is threatened, disarm the situation and retreat. Otherwise, your reactions must be believable. You must act as Lucy Tyler would. Alone, unprotected, desperate. Birkoff has already compiled a list of shelters. Start there."

Operations asked, "Any questions?" Nobody spoke. He continued.

"Nikita, Walter has your comm unit, Madeline, your wardrobe, Birkoff, the profile on our fugitive. Pick it all up and then go to transportation and get on your way."

Nikita got up numbly and followed Birkoff out the door. Michael started to rise from his seat.

"Michael, stay, we have another situation that we need you to handle."

****

An hour later in Michael's office

Nikita popped her head in the door. "You wanted to see me before I left?" She carried a nylon bag filled with her clothing. Michael thought to himself that her look was entirely too calm and blank.

"Are you going to be okay on this mission?"

Nikita answered, automatically, "Of course." But, her eyes betrayed a hint of apprehension.

"Come in." Michael ushered her in and closed the door behind her. She leaned against his desk and waited for him to speak. He walked up close to her, pulled her to a standing position, and gently took her in his arms. Nikita laid her head on his shoulder, her hands on his chest, and closed her eyes, inhaling his fragrance and essence and committing it to memory for the long weeks ahead.

Michael struggled for the words to say. Finally, he spoke, "Be careful."

She didn't answer. She just nodded against his chest.

More silence went by as they tried to ignore the fact that Nikita had to be leaving for her plane flight.

"I....care for you."

This stunned Nikita into raising her head and looking into Michael's eyes. He couldn't use the 'love' word yet, but this was an amazing step forward for him anyway. He had verbalized feelings for her! His penetrating gaze seemed to look into her soul. "Remember that and come back to me safely."

Nikita felt warmed inside by his words and with them, she found the strength to leave. She cupped his face in her hands, pressed a warm, sweet kiss on his mouth, and drew herself back out of his arms, her hands caressing his cheeks and mouth as they left his face. . His hands stayed out, as if considering to draw her back to himself. She smiled, knowing that this would reassure Michael. His arms dropped.

'I'll come back. You promised to cook for me....," Nikita struggled with the name, "Magrets de Canard aux Poires?"

The corners of Michael's mouth lifted at her bad pronunciation. He didn't correct her though.

Nikita picked up her bag and left his office without looking back. But, she felt like her heart had been left behind.

****

Nikita didn't remember much of the plane trip to the city. She changed her clothes on the plane. She was now wearing a strange collection of mismatched clothing. Jeans, patched and torn, 2 pairs of nondescript ratty socks covered with scuffed, dirty old sneakers with holes in them. A well-worn t-shirt was covered by a snagged, fuzzy sweater that was frayed at the rolled collar. A denim jacket, ancient gloves, scarf, and knit cap (none of which matched the other) completed the outfit. A change of clothing in similar styles filled a black plastic garbage bag, that she had liberated from a street can. Also inside were her comm-unit, a small amount of cash, a toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste. No gun, Walter had regretfully informed her that it hadn't been authorized. Nikita rubbed some dirt on her face and in her hair to complete the picture of a homeless waif with absolutely no money to her name.

Section ops dropped her off at the city outskirts. She had to make her way into the city herself. It wouldn't do to let anybody see her emerge from the section van. Missions had failed because of little details like that. She gazed at the vista of the city in front of her. It looked pretty from this angle. Skyscrapers in steel and glass reflected the sunlight. Wispy streams of steam curled and blew away in the breeze. You couldn't see the people, the ugliness, the heartbreak from this vantage point. Nikita thought, I will see it soon enough when I get down inside of it. For just a split second she considered turning the other direction and running away. This was too much to ask of her! But, Michael's face filled her mind and she smiled as she remembered his halting 'I care for you."

She had to do this.

Then, Nikita could return home.

Nikita squared her shoulders and started walking towards the city.

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

In the city

Nikita sat on a metal folding chair in an assembly room waiting for the services to begin. She had arrived in the city in the early evening, so she made her way to the first shelter on her list, a mission. To stay the night, 'guests' must attend the church service. Nikita estimated the number of people to be around 400, an average number that this shelter served every night. Men dressed in suits and ties patrolled the aisles, telling the homeless not to lean against the walls and not to wander around the room. Rectangular signs hung from the walls with Bible verses proclaiming the wonders of salvation. Nikita tried to scan the faces of the people around her without appearing to. Some of those seated in the chairs were dressed in shabby, dated clothing. Many men had shaggy beards and messy hair. Some others were better groomed and wore newer clothes. There were many children, some babies. Nikita didn't see a young woman fitting the description of Lucy.

"You either feel like you're in the military or in jail!" a young man spoke loudly, "They treat us like animals, like we don't have no mind, no feelings!"

People around him acted like he hadn't even spoken. They sat there blankly, shell-shocked possibly, whipped by life's burdens. These people also knew not to make waves. Nikita remembered reading that, in this city on any given night, 15,000 people were homeless and there were only 5,500 shelter beds available. Nikita had been lucky to get in the door on her first night in the city. 15,000, Nikita thought. It will be very difficult for her to find Lucy. But, it was her job to try.

8:00 p.m.: The church service began. A college student opened the service with a prayer. A group of junior high girls sang. A preacher delivered his sermon. Nikita sat and remembered similar services in a city far away. How amazing that they were the same as here. She had spent many a night in a shelter. Not all of her nights, but if you wanted to sleep safely, if you wanted to take a shower, if you wanted some food, you would go to a shelter. She was so lost in memories that the services were over before they seemingly began.

9:30 p.m.: The men and women were separated. A plate of sandwiches and fruit were offered and Nikita took one of each, all that was allowed, and put them in her garbage bag for tomorrow. She wasn't hungry tonight, but the old habits were surfacing. Never turn down food or walk away from food. Food was survival.

Belongings were left in a locked room on the downstairs floor and the women were quickly frisked before walking up to the second floor. They were given hangars and told to strip in a communal dressing room next to the showers. A staff member walked into the room and sprayed the floor with an aerosol disinfectant, while Nikita placed her clothing on a hangar, stuffed her socks in her shoes and tied them on the hangar. She then handed it to the attendant and got into line for a mandatory shower. At the head of the line, she walked into the shower room to the next available shower head. She was allowed to take a timed two-minute maximum shower. A small towel and thin hospital gown were issued after the shower and the nude women made their way through the bunk room to the next available bed or a place on the floor. Nikita was one of the last women in the room to have a bed but when she saw a mother and small girl who looked to be around 8 years old without a bed, she made eye contact with the woman, indicated her bed with a tilt of her head. The woman nodded her head in grateful understanding and Nikita waited until the child was dressed in her gown and sat on the bed before moving away to a place on the floor. No words were exchanged. She was handed a blanket and she dropped it to the floor and quickly toweled the remaining water from her body. Donning the gown, she arranged the blanket into a pad and laid on top of it.

Nikita had been looking over the women in the room and didn't see a strong possibility for her mark. She would take a better look around in the morning. Nikita folded her arms under her head and stared at the high institutional ceiling with its bright fluorescent lights, exposed power cables and pipes running the length of the room. Pale green paint seemed to cover everything on the ceiling and walls. Every woman or child in the room wore the hospital gown, save for the attendants. It was a scene that few could imagine unless they had seen it personally. Mostly everybody settled down quickly, but cries and sobs of both women and children could be heard. First-timers, more than likely. It will be a night in hell for them, Nikita thought.

11 p.m. The lights were dimmed. The room was less noisy, only the sound of soft crying, shuffling of bodies trying to get comfortable, snoring. Though everybody had bathed, the room still smelled of sweat and fear. Talking was prohibited. But, Nikita could hear the thoughts of the women around her. Where am I going to go in the morning? What is the weather going to be like? Will my child be safe if I try to interview for a job? Where would I leave her if I found one? I miss my husband's arms around me. Where...what....why did this happen to me?

4:30 a.m.: The lights came on abruptly. Attendants called out for everybody to awaken and come to morning church services. Like the night before, if you wanted to eat, you were required to attend the services. Nikita collected her hangar of clothes, used the gang restroom that consisted of a line of toilets against one wall and a line of sinks along the opposite one. If you had brought your own soap, you could wash. Nikita resolved to buy herself a bar of soap with the small amount of cash that she had tucked away in her belongings. Downstairs, she collected her garbage bag and went into the assembly room and sat again in the metal chairs for the service. After the service, the food was ready in pans on the side of the room. Scrambled eggs and toast and coffee were offered and Nikita was served her portion. It was surprisingly good. Sometimes it happened that way. Nikita spotted an attendant walking among the chairs and stopped her.

"Please, could you help me? I'm looking for my sister. She's my age, darker hair, same eyes? She has a beauty mark on her cheek right here." And Nikita pointed to the location on her face of Lucy's mark. The attendant listened to Nikita and shook her head regretfully. "I hope you find her." And she moved off.

7:00 a.m.: Nikita left the shelter. Everybody left the shelter. It was still summer although the nights were getting cooler. The shelter would be open 24 hours in the winter, but not in the summer. Nikita thought to herself, it was going to be a long day. She started walking. For the entire day, she questioned policemen, hookers, men, women, anybody who could provide her with information in finding her 'sister.' In the evening, before finding a shelter, she would contact Section and report her lack of leads.

****

For over a week, Nikita followed this pattern. A different shelter every night. Slightly different rules and procedures, but basically the same. Some didn't have religious requirements, some didn't have limits on the amount of days in a row that you could stay. You didn't have to take a shower in another, but could if you wanted to. The food varied from extremes of nearly inedible to fairly good. One of them washed her clothes for her. That was a treat. But, they were all the same in the humiliating way the people were treated. Of a necessity, because of sheer numbers, Nikita understood that to serve the most people, they needed to 'herd' the people from room to room. To keep tempers to a minimum and to appear fair to all, everybody had to be treated the same impersonal way. It just turned out to be a demoralizing experience that tortured the souls of the sensitive and lowered the self-esteem of all.

On the streets and in the shelters, she saw the faces of the homeless. Had I looked like that? Do I look like that now? She would carry the memory of these people for the rest of her life. Mack, a Vietnam Vet who lived outside the entire year round. Greg, an older man, who had gone bankrupt after his wife's long fight with breast cancer. Sarah and Dave, a couple in their mid-thirties who lived in their car....young, old, newborns. So many stories, so many sad faces.

Nikita was infuriated to hear of a new law that had just been enacted. It was being talked about in all the shelters and on the streets. The law required homeless people, required them!, to stay at least three feet away from all persons in the city. This city wasn't the only one passing such laws. How can they do that? Nikita pondered this and more. Whenever there was a human interest story in the media about the plight of an individual or a family, it would bring in showers of donations. But, each day is a disaster for homeless people and yet, they seemed ignored, feared, despised, and now, periodically harassed by law officials. I guess it's because of the sheer numbers. Or the fear that it could happen to you?

Nikita didn't know all the answers. She only knew that she wasn't being personally traumatized by this experience, as she had thought she would be, because of her childhood. Section's training had given her the self-confidence to know that she could reasonably defend herself, Michael's 'caring' (she smiled) and her friendships with other people had helped her to recover some self-esteem she had lost. But, the big difference was that she knew that her time here was limited. She had a home, she had a job, and she would be leaving this behind when she found Lucy.

Michael was with Nikita, in spirit, at all times. She tried to imagine what he would say to her in different situations. Nikita pondered how Michael still had the blank stare and emotionless face that people came to expect in Section. He would fit well within the homeless community with that look. Outwardly, he still looked the same as the man who stood over her bed on her first day in Section. He had spent so many years perfecting and honing his blank mask that it was now a part of him. That made the rare smiles and tender looks all the more precious to Nikita. She alone got his real emotions shown to her. Granted, it was in rare bits and pieces, but they came to HER. She wondered how he would have reacted if he had been there when the young punk had come up to her on her fourth day, as she had stood on a street corner talking to some hookers about her 'sister.'

"Hey, hey, hey, pret-tay lay-day." The mating call of the average young gang member, Nikita thought. She ignored him and moved away. He followed her. Nikita kept walking. Finally, he reached out a hand and grabbed her sleeve to stop her.

Nikita jerked back, "Don't touch me."

The wild young man with the long stringy black hair and pockmarked homely face, sneered, "Hey, mama, you too good for Manny? I don't think so. Be nice and I'll get you some food."

Why you slime, Nikita thought. Dangling food in front of me in exchange for servicing you? Nikita tried to control her temper and said, "No, thank you. I've already got a man." And she stepped around him and walked on. Maybe that would work.

It didn't. He grabbed her again. "Don't make Manny get mean. You too pretty to be marked up but I would do it if you don't come make me happy right now."

That's it! She remembered the rules about attracting attention with her skills, but this punk needed to be taught a lesson. The boy, thinking he had made his point, grabbed Nikita's sleeve again and dragged her into the nearest alley. She went along with him. This suited her purposes too.

Inside the alley, the boy quickly groped for Nikita's breast and front of her jeans. Nikita acted quickly. His pawing touch and scent were going to make her sick if she had to endure it much longer. She grabbed the front of his pants.

"Yeah, yeah, baby, go for it." Nikita went for it. Reaching down into his pants, she grabbed his tender parts and squeezed, real hard.

"Aieeeeeee!" The punk screamed as his eyes crossed and he sank to his knees. Nikita released her grip, grabbed his hair and slammed his face to the pavement. Darn. He was unconscious. Guess that had to be enough of a lesson. She looked at the boy on the ground and thought, be glad I wasn't Michael. He would have killed you. Of course, he might not have done it exactly the way I did. Nikita grimaced at the hand that had been in his pants and wiped it on her jeans. I have got to find some water and wash up with my soap. She left the alley. And forgot about Manny as she concentrated on her next move to find Lucy.

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

The breakthrough that Nikita had been hoping for came nine days after she had arrived in the city. Yes, an attendant remembered the pretty girl with the birthmark. She comes in when the weather is bad. Nikita closed her eyes in relief. Maybe her search would be over soon.

Nikita was there when the shelter opened. She spotted Lucy almost immediately. After searching for her for over a week, there she was! It almost made Nikita giddy with excitement. She might be back with Michael soon! Nikita didn't want to spook Lucy so she didn't approach her right off.

When the lines formed for food, Nikita made sure she was behind her in line, but she still didn't speak. When Lucy reached for a sandwich, Nikita reached for the same one. Lucy looked up, but Nikita wisely didn't meet her eyes. Just let her see me and notice me for now, she thought. Nikita put on a frightened and timid face and backed away quickly from the sandwich. Lucy did too, but indicated with a wave of her fingers that Nikita could take that one. Nikita gingerly reached out and took it and still didn't meet the other girl's eyes. When they got to the fruit, Nikita quietly asked the attendant if she could have two pieces. The expected answer was given gruffly and Nikita recoiled in alarm. Lucy looked a bit more concerned. At the end of the line, Nikita followed Lucy without appearing to and sat down within her line of vision. Nikita wolfed down the sandwich as if she were starving, longingly looked at the fruit, but then pocketed the fruit in her jacket. Perfectly pathetic.

When it was time to take the requisite shower, Nikita acted extremely embarrassed at removing her clothing and she used her hands to inadequately shield her breasts and pubic area. She was still in Lucy's area and she felt her gaze. Nikita faced the shower wall and stood in the stream without moving. The towel was grabbed and held in front of her body. She practically ran to a bed and capped her performance with a heart-rending crying fest as she sat on the edge of the bed.

She risked a look about her. Great. Lucy had taken a bed next to Nikita's. Bait taken. Time to set the hook. But, first, she needed to be 100 percent sure that this was Lucy. Lucy spoke first.

"You okay?" Nikita started at this and looked at Lucy with tear filled eyes. She nodded.

"First time?" Nikita nodded again.

"That can be rough. I grew up this way. That helps me to deal with it now." Nikita sensed that Lucy was a kind and gentle person from the words and the tone of her voice.

Nikita spoke in a whisper, "I don't want to deal with it. I want a home." Her shoulders slumped even further.

Lucy confirmed herself as Nikita's target. "My name is Lucy. What's yours."

"Nikita."

"Pretty name."

"Thanks." Nikita lowered her towel and threw on the gown. Now, all she had to do was hold onto Lucy until the morning and she could get to her comm-unit in her bag. She could arrange for pick-up for herself and Lucy. It was almost over.

"You have a pretty accent. Where are you from originally?" Lucy was trying so hard to get Nikita to forget her surroundings and talk with her.

"Australia. That's where I was born."

"Well, you're sure a long way from there. Australia. It sounds like a beautiful place. Koalas, outback, barrier reef...."

"It has that stuff, I guess, but I only saw the big cities. They look pretty much like this one."

"It still is an exotic place in my mind. I grew up here, on the streets."

Nikita laid back on her bed and turned on her side facing Lucy. "Sounds sad."

"It wasn't so bad." Nikita thought to herself that she and Lucy were very much alike. They both had an upbeat personality that put a more positive slant on events that most would have in similar circumstances. In another world, another time, they would have developed a very close friendship. Nikita allowed herself to relax and she and Lucy talked long into the night until they couldn't get away with it any longer. The room was too quiet even for their whispered conversation.

"Lucy?" Nikita whispered, one last time.

"Yeah, Nikita?" The whispered reply.

"Thanks." That's all she had to say and Lucy understood the obvious meaning, but not the underlying one.

"You're welcome. Good night."

Lucy had spoken in general terms of her life with a certain politician, and with the information that Nikita already knew, she put together a young woman's life filled with pain and loneliness on the streets, followed by the domination of that sick bastard. Nikita sighed. How she wished that she could just walk away from Lucy. But, she couldn't.

****

In the morning, Nikita hadn't had to worry about losing Lucy. Lucy had appointed herself Nikita's guardian and appeared ready to guide her through the ropes of being a homeless person. Nikita's actual problem was trying to get away from Lucy long enough to talk to Section.

But, it turned out to be a glorious sunny day, the temperature was going to be in the mid seventies and the humidity low. Lucy wanted to show Nikita one of the more beautiful sights in the city and Nikita wanted to see it with her new friend. It was wrong of her, Nikita knew. Lucy didn't know that Nikita wasn't, couldn't truly be her friend. But, she would know soon enough. Nikita relaxed and walked along side of Lucy through a lovely park with a rose garden that was blooming profusely. The women walked along paths that wound around beautiful fountains and small ponds filled with Japanese Koi fish. Nikita fished a quarter from her pocket and they bought fish food from a vending machine placed by the pools. They laughed at the antics of the carp as the fish fought for every dried morsel of food.

The rest of the day passed quickly. The two women discovered many things in common and each treasured the bond that they had so quickly formed. When dusk fell, Nikita found herself temporarily alone while Lucy used a public restroom in the park. She could put it off no longer. Nikita called Section and arranged for a pickup at eleven in a remote part of town, not too far from their current location.

****

"Why are we going this way?" Lucy asked of Nikita. They had spent the evening on the streets near the pickup point.

"I found this neat place where we could spend the night. It's safe, not too dirty. Please? Check it out with me?" Nikita put on another award winning performance and felt lower than dirt.

"Of course, I'll see it. Lead the way." Lucy trusted Nikita now.

Nikita smiled wanly and walked with Lucy down the sidewalk. The sudden flurry of commotion ahead stopped her in her tracks. What on earth?

Young men and women, dressed in gang colors and shabby clothing ran towards them. Brandishing knives, guns, and clubs, they headed straight for Nikita and Lucy's position. The women flattened themselves against the wall and prayed that the gang would run past. They had obviously just come from a fight and were running from the aftermath.

Almost all of them had passed and Nikita was just beginning to breath a sigh of relief when one of the last runners got a look at her face and he stopped, stunned, in his tracks.

"You bitch. Manny is going to cut you up into little pieces!" Nikita prepared herself to disarm Manny. Even with a knife, he couldn't know that he was still no match for her skills. She waited for his lunge.

But, Lucy had other plans. She grabbed Nikita's arm and whirled her around. "Run, Nikita, I'll hold him off. Get away!" Manny easily pushed Lucy out of the way and thrust the knife at Nikita in one motion. It was too late for her to react in the position she was, her back to him. The knife penetrated her back to the right of her spine. Manny jerked the knife out.

Sirens filled the air. With a glare over his shoulders at the cops rapidly approaching with their cars flashing lights and a vengeful glance at Nikita on the ground, bleeding profusely from the wound in her back, Manny took off like a jackrabbit in the direction that his gang had taken.

"NIKITA!" Lucy crawled over the curb from where she had been flung in the streets. She cradled Nikita's unconscious body in her arms and frantically pressed her hand around Nikita's body to the deep wound in her back. "Help us! Somebody please help us," Lucy screamed out to the city.

****

"Sir?"

"What is it, Birkoff?" Operations approached him at his computer terminal. Michael, alerted by Birkoff's tone, joined them.

"Uh," Birkoff looked up at Michael. A chill passed down Michael's spine.

Birkoff spoke to Operations, but his sad eyes were on Michael. "We just received a report of a gang fight in the area where Nikita and the woman were going to be picked up. She never showed up. The police scanner reported that there were five fatalities as a result of the fight."

Operations growled the question, "So?"

"Sir, one of them was a blond woman, fitting Nikita's description."

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

After the moment of stunned silence, Operations ordered Birkoff. "Send operatives out to the morgue for positive identification."

Birkoff eyes were now moist and he gulped, "Yes, sir." He turned around to his console and gave the instructions. Michael still stood in the same position, as still as a statue. His face was the same as always, expressionless, motionless. But, his eyes seemed even more lifeless than they had ever been. Then, he smoothly turned and walked back to his office. Michael closed the door and the Section watched as he closed his blinds.

****

Nikita finally came to in the emergency room. She was naked and lying face down on a gurney with a sheet thrown over her. An IV solution dripped something colorless into a shunt inserted in the top of her hand. A searing pain ripped through her back and she groaned.

"Nikita?" It was Lucy. She crouched down to Nikita's face level and looked her in the eye. "Oh, thank God, I thought you had died out there in the street. Don't worry now. You are going to go to surgery in a few minutes and the doctors think you don't have any major organs damaged. They just need to check it out and sew you up. You'll be okay! Do you understand?" Lucy had delivered this entire speech on one breath, it seemed.

Nikita managed a smile, although it was mixed with a grimace. "Will you stick around?" Nikita whispered with difficulty. Her head started spinning in the peculiar way it does when she had lost a lot of blood.

"I'll be here when you wake up. I promise. You don't worry about a thing except getting better." Lucy smiled reassuringly. Nikita thought drowsily, I've had worse injuries that this. I'll be okay. Gosh, I hope Michael wasn't worried when we didn't show for the pickup, was her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her again.

"Doctor?" Lucy alerted the doctor in a worried tone. He hurried over.

He pried Nikita's eye opened, checked her heartbeat with the stethoscope that had hung around his neck. He smiled at Lucy.

"She's stable. We've got her blood supply all lined up in the operating room and we are taking your sister up there now. A nurse will show you to a waiting room where you will be told when the operation is over." Lucy watched as they wheeled Nikita to the elevator and took her upstairs.

"This way, miss. Don't worry. Your sister will be fine. We have the finest doctors in the country on staff here." And the nurse led Lucy to the waiting room for surgical patients' families.

****

The entire Section seemed to stand still in the hour that it took for the report to come back from the operatives who visited the morgue.

Finally. "Sir? We have the report coming in from the subsection." Birkoff listened intently. His face grew excited and he waited anxiously for the report to finish so that he could announce the news.

"The girl at the morgue is not Nikita! I repeat, it is not Nikita!" Operatives around him expressed various degrees of relief at the news. Some hung their heads. Others shook hands with one another. Walter, at his station, seemed to lose strength in his legs and he sagged back against his table and covered his face with his hands. When he removed his hands, his face was bright with joy and a tear rolled down one cheek. He murmured to himself, "Thank god, sugar, I thought we had lost you again." Walter suddenly seemed to think of something. He looked towards Michael's office and quickly walked to the closed door.

This was too good a piece of news to wait. He opened the door, it wasn't locked thank goodness, and he saw Michael, sitting in his chair, staring sightlessly into the space in front of him.

Walter said urgently, "Michael, we have news about Nikita! She's not the one in the morgue! She's still alive somewhere!" Michael didn't react.

He still didn't look at Walter. But, Walter saw something in his eyes that he hadn't expected to see. Wonder. And God help Michael, recognition of his love for Nikita.

Michael spoke in a whisper, "I already knew. I realized it as I sat here. I could still 'feel' her. I would know if she had died....." He looked up at Walter. "I would know."

****

"Sir?"

"What is it, Birkoff?"

"Nikita has been located. She is in a hospital. She just came out of surgery for a knife wound in her back.. Condition is considered fair. Prognosis is for complete recovery. Our operatives have already picked up Lucy who was waiting for Nikita to get out of surgery."

Michael had been standing nearby and he still didn't react when people looked at him to gauge his reaction to the news. He looked over at Birkoff and gave an order in a calm voice, "When her condition is upgraded to stable, arrange transport back to Section." And Michael started issuing instructions for the next mission that was brewing on the pad.

****

Nikita had been flown back to Section and installed in MedLab. Michael came in almost immediately. He didn't say a word. He just stood at her side and stared at her with his inscrutable eyes.

Nikita smiled wearily at him.

The corners of his mouth curved slightly.

She glanced at the Section visible outside the windows in the door.

He nodded slightly.

Nikita shrugged her shoulders. She smiled ruefully.

Michael allowed himself a touch to her hair and he turned and left.

Nikita laid back satisfied.

And the MedLab technician watching from the room adjacent to Nikita's stared in puzzlement, trying to figure out what he had just witnessed.

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

Epilogue

"Nikita, keep your fingers out of the wedges of pear." Michael said this with his back turned while he was washing parsley in the sink.

Nikita snatched her hand back with a chunk of pear and popped it in her mouth. How did he know she had been taking some?

"Michael, this is taking too long. A pizza could be an appetizer. We could have one here in half an hour." Nikita said this to his back as she sat on the other side of the kitchen island from him.

"No. Behave yourself. This won't take too much longer." Nikita sighed, then perked up.

"If I helped, it would take even less time." Michael turned around and faced her.

"No, you are to sit there, sip your wine, and wait for your meal. I promise you, you'll like this." He turned back to the meat that was sitting on the counter next to the stove. He was preparing the Magrets de Canard aux Poires that he had agreed to make for Nikita.

"I am feeling fine now. MedLab cleared me. I'm working out again. You don't have to coddle me." Nikita repeated the words that she had already tried to use to convince him to stop treating her so gingerly.

Michael glanced back over his shoulder as he placed the duck breast meat into a heated frying pan on the stove top. "Maybe I don't want somebody helping me who thinks that pizza could be an appetizer for a meal such as this."

Nikita smiled and dropped her head. "Good point." Nikita reached for another piece of pear. Michael gave her an indulgent look and didn't comment this time. Nikita shrugged and chewed the delicious fruit. There was plenty still left to cook with the duck.

She spoke to Michael's back, "Are you sure I'm going to like this? I've never really cared for duck."

Michael spoke absently as he was moving the duck breast meat around the pan and checking it to make sure it was browning properly. "A true magret de canard is the breast meat of force-fed ducks raised to produce fole gras. I am not using just any old duck. These have been imported from a south-western province of France."

Nikita teased, "I stand corrected. I'm going to get some great duck here."

Michael gave her a chiding look as he collected the pears and returned to the stove. He placed them in the now rapidly boiling water that he had prepared. After checking the duck, he deemed it ready to take off the heat. Michael placed the breasts on an oven ready serving dish that was inside the warm oven. The pears were then removed from the water with a slotted spoon and arranged around the duck. Michael removed a measured amount of the cooking liquid to be added to a sauce that he had already prepared of dry red wine, vinegar, veal stock, and butter. He looked around in thought. The salad was ready, the dessert was chilling in the refrigerator. Yes, he was ready to serve.

"Go to the table, please." Nikita obediently sat down and her eyes were alight with anticipation as Michael artistically poured the sauce over the duck and pear and sprinkled the dish with chopped parsley. He brought it to the table.

"Oooo. This looks wonderful. Hurry, get the rest and let's dig in." Michael turned and brought the rest of the meal. When the duck was sliced and served with the pears and sauce, he leaned back and waited for Nikita's reaction.

She chewed thoughtfully. "Michael. It's wonderful. The flavors are perfect together." Michael poured himself some wine and allowed a smile to tease his lips. He loved to please her.

As they both ate, they talked quietly sometimes. There were silences also, but they were comfortable ones. Nikita broached a topic that had been on her mind.

"Michael, what happened to Lucy?" He looked up her and for a moment, she panicked. If Lucy had been canceled, did she really want to know for sure. But, Michael's eyes held no sadness. She waited.

"She was offered the choice to become an operative or...." Michael didn't need to spell it out.

Nikita asked, "And?"

"She is in training now. Her initial scores are excellent." Nikita was relieved to hear this. Maybe she and Lucy would be able to meet again someday. Become real friends without the pretense. Nikita hoped so. Good luck, Lucy, she thought to herself.

Another time, it was Michael who asked a question. "Was it very difficult for you to be on the streets again?"

Nikita looked up from her duck and saw the small amount of anxiety he carried in his eyes. "It was difficult, but not for the reason you're imagining." He waited for her to continue. A man of many words, Nikita thought wryly. "I feel so sad for all the people who were homeless. Their tragedies and despair were heartbreaking, in many cases." Michael nodded and she continued on, "But, I wasn't a child anymore. I wasn't weak or scared or even really homeless. It helped me to put the bad childhood experiences in perspective. They are just memories now, I hope."

Dinner ended. Michael and Nikita worked together to clean up the dishes. Nikita teased Michael that she obviously was capable of cleaning dishes, if not helping the master chef at work. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and ran a finger down her spine to tease her back. She got her revenge by reaching under his hair and caressing the sensitive nape of his neck. His reaction was in the rattle of the dishes as he placed her cleaned plates back in the cupboard.

He turned around and cupped her face in his hands. "Are you truly all healed?" She sensed the urgency behind his question.

"Yes, I'm all better now." Nikita whispered this back to him. Michael slid his hands down from her face, down her shoulders, down her arms, and to her hands. He placed her hands on the top button of her shirt.

"Show me."

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

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