"Peanut Butter! I need some more. Creamy and crunchy." Nikita's eyes gleamed with her excitement at purchasing one of her favorite snack foods.

"Nikita, you eat too much peanut butter. On apples, celery, bread, crackers,..." Michael's voice trailed off in exasperation as Nikita reached down for her favorite brand of peanut butter.

"Need some jelly, too. I feel like something different. Blackberry preserves? Hmmm?" Nikita looked up at Michael and noticed the slight interest in his eyes as her hand reached for the preserves. She hid her smile as she turned to the grocery cart and placed the jars inside. Looking back at Michael, she saw his mild disapproving look at her peanut butter. Nikita raised her head as if she were scenting something in the air. She sniffed delicately.

"Is that coffee I smell?" Michael knew what Nikita was getting at. In exchange for his looking the other way at some of her food preferences, she would not give him any grief about his coffee addiction. He inwardly sighed and with a small nod, gave Nikita the point.

She smiled smugly. "What culinary delight are you making me for dinner tonight?" Nikita reached for her favorite pickles. Michael chose some olives.

"I thought we might eat out and go dancing." Michael noticed Nikita's eyes lighting up already. She loved dancing with Michael and being held in his arms.

"Oh, yes! I would love that." Michael pushed the cart further down the aisle and turned the corner into the baking aisle. His gaze fastened intently on the spice display.

He spoke absently, "On second thought..." His hand reached for a particularly obscure spice that Nikita couldn't even fathom what it would be used in. Nikita sighed. Oh well. We can dance in my apartment after dinner. That is actually more convenient. Closer to the bedroom. Her eyes lit up impishly.

Michael chose his spices and seemed satisfied with his selections. His eyes seemed to be introspective. Nikita knew he was mentally running through a recipe and planning his search for the rest of the items needed. The cart went into motion and Nikita strolled along for his latest mission. She played a game in her mind of wondering what the meal would consist of as new items were added to the cart. What on earth? What was that? This might be a stranger meal than most.

Michael found the meat counter and ordered his cuts of beef. Okay, Nikita thought, we're having something with beef. Michael accept the wrapped package from the butcher and they strolled towards the checkout. He stopped dead at the top of the aisle that would lead directly to the registers. He tried to back out of it.

"Oh no, you don't." Nikita grabbed their cart with one hand and led it into the aisle. "We have to get some cookies. Oreos, if Birkoff comes over to visit. Those peanut butter things for Walter. I like the chocolate chip cookies.... Michael, don't give me that look." Michael tried to wipe the disapproving look from his face. He looked down at the cookie selection to try to generate some interest in Nikita's selections. She was having such a good time reading the packages and giving incredible thought to her choices. Michael's gaze was caught by the word gourmet.' Gourmet oatmeal pecan raison biscuits. This may have promise. His hand reached for a package and he examined the ingredients carefully. When Nikita returned to the cart, she was amused to find a package of cookies already in the cart. Michael had an innocent and blank look on his face. You, fraud, she fondly thought to herself. I knew you had a sweet tooth. Is the big bad Section operative too tough to show it? Nikita placed her packages in the cart and took her place by Michael's side. He silently pushed the cart to the front of the store.

"Joey!" With only that warning, Michael and Nikita watched as a laughing young boy barreled into their aisle, looking back over his shoulder and laughing at the young mother pursuing him. Nikita reacted quickly and moved in front of their cart to protect the young boy from colliding with it.

Nikita crouched down and caught the young boy just as he looked around and his eyes had widened comically as he realized his imminent crash with Nikita's body.

"Whoa there, young man." Nikita laughed. "You need to slow down before you get hurt." She held the boy steady as he found his footing. Their eyes locked and his relaxed, as if he sensed that the young woman was a kindred spirit and meant no harm. Joey's mother finally caught up to them, flustered apologies on her lips.

"I'm so sorry. He should have been watching where he was going." Sternly, to her son, "Joey, apologize for almost running this lady down."

Joey grinned unrepentantly and irrepressibly. Nikita grinned back in understanding.

"Sorry." That was it. Joey's mom looked like she was going to take issue with the brevity of the apology.

Nikita intervened, "That's okay, Joey. I don't want to see you hurt yourself, okay?" Joey nodded sheepishly. He instinctively liked this pretty lady. Michael watched in silence.

Joey's mother herded her young son away from the couple and Nikita smiled as Joey looked back over his shoulder and waved to Nikita. She looked up at Michael as she was still crouched down.

"I like little kids. I really enjoyed teaching that class on that one mission. Remember?" Nikita straightened up and waited for an answer from Michael.

"I remember." That's her Michael. Short on words, but sometimes long on meanings.

"I wish..." Nikita trailed off. Michael tensed up slightly, thinking that she was going to make a wish for motherhood and wondering how he was going to defuse that bomb without fallout.

"Wish what?" Might as well get it out in the open.

Nikita grimaced slightly and continued thoughtfully, "I wish there was a way I could still work with kids. Be around them once in awhile. Maybe I'll talk to Madeline about it." Michael's eyes reflected his slight surprise, both at her wish and the fact that he hadn't anticipated her, again.

He answered her query, "I don't personally see a way, but I don't think it would hurt to approach Madeline." Nikita nodded, satisfied with his answer and then her gaze lit on their cart.

"Ohmygosh, our ice cream is melting. Come on, big guy, let's get our groceries home. I'm getting hungry for a snack. Maybe some peanut butter on an apple." And, with that, Nikita headed for the checkouts and Michael came up the rear with the cart, his gaze fixed on Nikita's tight pants as she strode for the front of the store. He had some definite ideas on how to fill the afternoon hours until he started dinner. Oh yes, some very good ideas. Maybe he could grow to love peanut butter if he could eat it off some interesting part of Nikita's body. Her nipples, possibly. One with peanut butter, one with blackberry jam. Michael smiled slightly as he joined Nikita in the checkout lane and the checker started reaching into their cart to scan their items. Nikita caught that smile and beamed back. She liked where his mind was going. He looked down at her chest and licked his lips slightly. Her eyes widened.

"Excuse me, miss, but the larger package of carrots is on sale for less than this one. Want me to send someone back to produce for the sale item?" Nikita tore her gaze away from Michael's and had to shake her head slightly to absorb the checker's words. She gave the woman a harried look.

"Uh no, we're kind of in a hurry. Just ring that one up." The checker gave her a quizzical look, but followed her order. Nikita and Michael continued their silent communication, not noticing the multitudes of people around them, especially the women, who also noticed their searing looks and communicated with looks between themselves. Something hot was definitely going to happen between these two when they were alone. Sigh* How they would love to be in the blond woman's shoes when the striking man made good on the promises his eyes were making.

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

"Where is she?" Michael demanded of Birkoff, fixing him with his most demanding stare. Michael was still wearing his field gear, not having taken the time to change out of his mission clothes when he had arrived in Section moments before. Michael's gut clenched at the slight look of pity that Birkoff couldn't remove quickly enough from his face.

"MedLab. But Michael, Madeline thinks you shouldn't see Nikita yet, until she's had time to work with her." Birkoff had to physically push himself back in his chair at the searing look that Michael sent his way. Birkoff thanked his lucky stars that he was on Michael's side at that moment. That look told him that nothing would keep him from seeing Nikita right now. Not Madeline, not the entire Section. Michael turned and swiftly walked towards MedLab.

"Sir?" Birkoff keyed his mike up to Operations' office.

"What is it, Birkoff?" Operations appeared in the window looking down at Birkoff. Birkoff looked up at him.

"Michael is heading towards MedLab. Do you want me to send security to detain him? Madeline did want him to stay away from there until she could thoroughly debrief Nikita." Birkoff's hands hovered over the switch that would connect him to the security team on duty.

"No. Just quickly inform Madeline that he is heading her way."

"Yes, sir." And Birkoff followed his orders and heard Madeline's regretful sigh, "I'll be ready."

*****

Michael had to shove his way past a few technicians and when he reached the room where he was certain Nikita was, Madeline was waiting at the closed door.

"No, Michael. It's best if you don't see her like this." Michael's hands were clenching and unclenching and she spoke carefully, as if to a wild animal.

He pinned his burning green gaze on Madeline. "Why? Is she hurt badly?" He waited for the answer with his breath held.

"No, the injuries from her torture are serious, but that is not my major concern. Bruises, cuts, cracked ribs, torn ligaments.... these will heal in time." Michael's gaze didn't release Madeline. She had still not revealed the cause for her orders to keep Michael from Nikita's side.

In the past few weeks, due to a shortage of manpower, Nikita and Michael had not been paired on a mission. Nikita's latest mission had gone sour while Michael had been out of the country finishing up his own sequences. Due to unforseen circumstances and some faulty intelligence, and, after she had seen the rest of her team to safety and had been the last one out of the terrorists' stronghold, Nikita had been captured and moved quickly to another location with the remainder of the survivors and their leader.

What had followed, in those few days, until her location could be determined, had been an intense torture session with the terrorists' leader's intention to learn Section's whereabouts and movements. Michael was in the process of returning to Section when he had finally been informed of the capture of Nikita and the attempt at rescue. He had to listen to reports on his return flight, fed to him by Birkoff as operatives stormed Nikita's location and found her alive. Abruptly the transmission had been blocked and Birkoff couldn't or wouldn't restore the feed, so that Michael could hear of Nikita's condition.

Right before she had been liberated by Section operatives, something terrible had happened to Nikita that was still a mystery to Madeline. Only by Nikita's reaction, could Madeline determine that it had been a particularly devastating technique employed on Nikita. Initial reports of Nikita's condition from the operatives on sight had chilled even Madeline's blood. Some sixth sense had her cutting off the transmission to Michael until Madeline heard the full reports. She was waiting for Nikita when the van pulled into access. She had accompanied Nikita to MedLab and stayed with her through the physical examinations. Now, she needed to perform her own examination and she didn't need Michael complicating the process until it was time to involve him.

"Then, why am I being kept from seeing her?" Michael's voice was getting lower and softer. Madeline carefully chose her words to try to pacify him and make him see her reasons.

"Michael...." She searched for the right words. "Michael, Nikita is in a catatonic state. From my preliminary observation, I don't think she is conscious of her surroundings. Her eyes are open, but she appears to be shock." Madeline paused again, trying to ascertain Michael's reaction. He was always so hard to read. She continued, "We have to tread very carefully, so as not to unwittingly deepen her dementia. Let me work with her first and try to find out the cause of her condition."

Everything inside Michael rebelled at her words. No, he cried aloud in his mind. Nikita needs me, more than ever before. I could help her. Only someone who loves her as I do could ease her pain. But, the pragmatist in Michael who had seen too many horrors himself and their effects on his fellow operatives, knew that Madeline may be right. He couldn't take chances with Nikita's precious psyche and, as far as he knew, Madeline was sincere in her wish to help Nikita through this crisis. He took a deep breath.

Madeline correctly interpreted his deep inhalation. She placed her hand on his shoulder and murmured, "You can watch on a monitor as I speak with her. This is the best way, for now, Michael." And with that, Madeline turned and entered Nikita's room. Michael whirled around and headed for the viewscreen in the wall near the door. Pushing a button, he quietly told Birkoff to feed the transmission from the cameras inside Nikita's room to Michael's location. Yes, he savagely told Birkoff, he had Madeline's permission. Just hurry and establish the video.

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

Madeline sighed in frustration, yet tenderly brushed a piece of Nikita's hair from her forehead. She was getting nowhere in getting to the root of Nikita's distress. Nikita had not shown any reaction to Madeline's carefully worded questions. Her gaze had lit on Madeline momentarily but her eyes had wandered away and had found the wall next to her bed. Madeline had felt panic for the first time when those blue eyes had rested on her own brown ones. Emptiness. All emotion gone. It seemed like the soul that was Nikita was no longer in residence in this body. Something overwhelming, for certain, had happened to Nikita to produce this strong a reaction in as well trained an operative as Nikita. At Nikita's level, this was almost unheard of. Madeline had grown more desperate and had administered certain drugs that would stimulate Nikita's subconscious thoughts and hopefully, bring some of them to the surface where they could be dealt with. No reaction, other than a slight rise in blood pressure and pulse. This did not bode well.

Madeline spoke tenderly to Nikita, "Rest now. I'll be back later to talk to you again. Your friends are all anxious to visit you. Michael wants to see you soon." Madeline tacked that last bit on and carefully watched Nikita's face for some reaction to his name. Nothing. Madeline briefly closed her eyes. This was going to be a tough case. I will need all the help I can get to retrieve Nikita from her well defended private hell. Madeline mentally reviewed the names of Section's best psychiatrists and left the room to order their evaluations of Nikita's condition.

*****

Madeline sat at her computer console at her desk talking to five other doctors in five different subsections around the world. Her computer screen was split into five parts with a different face in each division.

"Have you tried this test?"

"Electro-shock therapy would be my recommendation."

"Hypnosis?"

"A stronger combination of drugs would induce...."

Their voices droned on and Madeline found no solutions in any of their words. If there was an obvious answer to Nikita's problem, Madeline hadn't heard it yet.

She interrupted them all and called for silence. "Does anybody agree with anybody else about an approach to therapy?" She hadn't heard any agreement and nobody spoke up. No. It was back in Madeline's court.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for your time in reviewing this case. I will be contacting you again if I need your assistance." And with those words, Madeline deactivated her screen, cutting off the five doctors simultaneously. She rubbed her temple, then reached for a button on her console. Nikita's MedLab room came into focus. A technician was with her, checking her IV and monitoring her condition. Madeline had given orders that Nikita was not to be left alone for any reason. Plus, she had no less than three sets of eyes watching her movements every second. Four, if you count Michael.

Madeline had ordered a series of psychological tests to be administered to Nikita. They were passive tests, similar to the kind given to subjects undergoing interrogation. Images were shown to Nikita and her physiological responses were recorded. In this way, any image that produced a reaction of any sort could be analyzed and examined for relevance. Nikita had not reacted to any image. She was so deeply traumatized that her brain wasn't even processing images from her eyes. Additional tests using sounds had been given. Here, they had gotten a small reaction. Nikita's heart had sped up to an alarming rate when the sound of a child's crying had been played. Her muscles had not twitched, her face remained motionless, but her heart had responded. This was significant. Something had happened to Nikita and it had involved a child.

When the team had liberated Nikita and subdued the remainder of the terrorists, a sweep of the building had been performed. Nothing out of the ordinary or unexpected had been revealed. Weapons, there were huge caches of them. Sophisticated computers. Some. This group had just been starting to become savvy to the uses of computers. A crude medical facility that had not included any drugs that could have been used in Nikita's torture had been discovered. Her injuries had been limited to the physical; punches, kicks, shallow knife cuts. No innocents were found. Why then did a child's crying produce a reaction in Nikita?

Madeline ordered a deeper inspection of the building. Something was still there to be found. Madeline was convinced of this. If what she suspected were true, Madeline gave orders for possible shallow graves to be exhumed.

*****

Michael sat in his office staring at the same image that Madeline was.

His mind cried out to her. Nikita!

His fingers twitched with the need to touch her. To stroke her face, to rub his fingers through her soft hair. His arms ached to hold her close to his heart and heal them both with his embrace.

Madeline had not bothered to lock any records or orders on Nikita, so Michael knew of the results of her tests and Madeline's subsequent orders for another team to examine the site of Nikita's torture. He also knew what Madeline suspected. Somehow, someway, a child had been hurt or killed in Nikita's presence, probably as an inducement to make her talk. Michael couldn't imagine a more damaging blow to Nikita's soul. Children, the ultimate innocents were her greatest weakness. It had been noted in her file that she could possibly crack under interrogation if a surrogate, likely an innocent or individual close to her, were tortured instead of herself. Fortunately, considering the types of individuals that Section recruited, terrorists usually didn't think of this kind of mental torture. Hardened operatives were unlikely to care if anybody else was harmed instead of themselves. Nikita had only shown this weakness once before. When she had broken to save Michael from being injected with the drugs that would have driven him to madness.

Suddenly, Michael couldn't wait another second to touch Nikita. And maybe, just maybe, he could reach her where others had failed. She would respond to him. She had to, for if she were to remain in this state, Section would have no choice but to cancel her. And in killing her, they would be losing two operatives. Michael wouldn't live long after her death. He erupted out of his chair and determinedly made his way to Nikita's side.

*****

Madeline was informed of Michael's movements towards MedLab and cleared him for entry into Nikita's room. She watched her monitor with interest. Maybe Michael could reach her. But, Madeline suspected that even he wouldn't be able to break through the walls that had been erected to protect what remained of her fragile soul.

*****

"Nikita? It's Michael. Look at me, chere. Please, just come back to me." Michael crooned these words and more into Nikita's ears and his words became progressively more desperate.

"Please, love, I need you here with me. Whatever happened to you, we can talk it over." Michael's gaze never wavered from her expressionless face. He searched in vain for any movement or change in her breathing that would indicate that she heard him.

He tried nonsense. "Would you like me to bring you some peanut butter on crackers? Or some chocolate chip cookies? I'll even order some of your favorite pizza. Doesn't that sound good?"

Nothing.

He tried a sensual attack. Into her ears, so that no one else could hear, he whispered of how much he enjoyed caressing her body, what parts he was particularly fond of, how much he thrilled to her hands and mouth on his body.

No reaction. He had been clutching her unresisting body to his chest and he leaned her back in his arms. She was like a mannequin, staring into nothingness and lying limply. Michael dropped his head dejectedly and kissed her forehead. He heard the door open behind me. He didn't turn around or respond until he felt a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. Madeline.

"Michael, come with me, please. I have a report back from the team excavating the site where Nikita had been held. They found something." She paused, then whispered, "someone."

Michael tenderly laid Nikita back against the pillows and covered her warmly. He brushed her hair back out of her face and his fingers lingered momentarily. Then his eyes found Madeline's and he rose smoothly and followed her from the room.

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

"What did they find?" Madeline and Michael were now in her office. Operations had opted to join them, for what reason, Michael couldn't fathom.

"A small child, possibly 8 or 9 years old, male Caucasian. A missing child report filed in the city identifies him as Thomas Wilkinson. Stable and normal family background. He never showed up at home after school. The warehouse is located on his route from school to home. What he was doing there is only a guess, but I would suppose that young Thomas was snatched off the street or wandered onto the property and was captured. Either way, his body indicates that he was tortured, pretty much the same way as Nikita. Time of death is consistent to within four hours of Nikita's rescue."

The group was silent for long moments afterward, envisioning the possible scene that Nikita and Thomas had been unwilling subjects in. Operations spoke first.

"Will this information be helpful in treating Nikita?" Michael looked over at him, one eyebrow lifted. Operations responded, "I want every opportunity exploited to help Nikita, before I have to make some hard decisions."

They all understood what he meant. He didn't have to elaborate. Madeline answered his question.

"Yes, I believe that we will have to shock Nikita back to consciousness. Only then can we work with her feelings and help her deal with her trauma."

Michael spoke finally, "How do you propose to go about this?"

Madeline answered, somewhat reluctantly, "She reacted to a child's crying. I think we need to exploit that further and, with the pictures of young Thomas' body, we can bring her back fully. Certain drugs will aid in stimulating her reactions."

"I want to be there." Michael spoke firmly and with utmost resolution. Madeline was glad that her answer was going to be in the affirmative.

"Of course. I insist. When she regains some level of awareness, she will need your support to keep her from falling back into her insanity. You must follow my directions exactly." Michael nodded once.

"Fine. We will start the session in one hour in Nikita's room. I have to prepare." They both seemed to remember Operations' presence at the same time and turned to look at him for some kind of approval or permission to continue. He calmly looked at them both, ending up on Madeline's face and then uttered one word.

"Go."

******

Madeline held the hypodermic needle up to the light and pushed on the plunger to make sure that all air bubbles were evacuated from the liquid in the tube. She nodded, satisfied that the injection was ready. She was going to administer the drug into a vein in Nikita's arm, for the IV had already been removed in the event that Nikita began thrashing around during the therapy. Madeline looked across the bed to Michael. He nodded his readiness. She looked at the monitor pushed closely to the bed where she knew the pictures of Thomas' body were ready to be activated. Sound files were loaded and only one button was needed to start them.

She spoke quietly to Michael, "As each level of consciousness is reached, we will introduce a new stimulant, be it drugs or sounds or pictures. Don't push her progress too fast. Wait until she focuses on your face and recognizes you before making any advances." Madeline paused, then, "Ready?"

Michael nodded and reached for Nikita's hand closest to his body.

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

Madeline searched for a vein with her fingertip and, satisfied that she found one, smoothly injected Nikita with the stimulant. Both Madeline and Michael waited for a few minutes, watching Nikita and the monitors next to her bed intently. From the sensor taped to her arm, readings of increased blood pressure and heart rate were noted. The stimulant was in effect.

Madeline reached over and activated the sound file. She had chosen a child's scream and pleas for mercy as the closest approximation to what Nikita may have heard. The fleeting thought crossed Michael's brain that he didn't ever want to know how Section acquired such a sound file. A shiver ran up his back when he heard the screams and cries on the tape.

Quietly, from Madeline, "Michael, look at her eyes." Nikita had not reacted initially to the start of the loud crying, but progressively, as the tape continued, a fine tremor had spread over her body. Her hand in Michael's was quivering and her eyes were darting around, still unfocused, but emotion was crossing her face now. Michael moved his other hand onto her shoulder. Madeline warned him with a look to keep silent.

Madeline studied the readouts of Nikita's physical reactions, and considering the numbers, decided to administer more stimulant. While Michael watched Nikita, Madeline drew more liquid into a syringe. Without pausing a beat, she injected the drugs into Nikita's vein.

Madeline activated another sound file. Michael looked on in disbelief. Two of these tapes? The second voice was even more horrific than the first. He started to feel physically ill at the tension in his own body and also with the realization of just what Nikita may have been facing in that warehouse. Dear God, could she ever deal with this horror if she wakes up fully?

Madeline interrupted his thoughts. She saw something in Nikita's face that must have given her the impression that Nikita was coming back into herself.

"Nikita? Nikita!! Don't hide anymore. Face what happened to you!" Madeline spoke strongly and authoritatively. "Michael, stop her."

Nikita had tried to leave the bed, twisting her body in an instinctive move to avoid the memories. Her hands had come up to push her unknown assailants away. Her fine trembling had given way to bone shaking tremors. As Michael grasped her shoulders fully to force her down on the bed, her voice started pleading with her torturers.

"No, no, not him. Please, oh god please. He's just a child. I can't. I can't tell you what you want to know. Don't do this. Don't....don't." Her voice started trailing off and her movements slowed. Madeline stopped the audio file and then quickly issued an order to Michael.

"Force her to face the monitor." With a plea to Nikita for forgiveness in his mind, Michael moved his hands to her face and gently, but inexorably forced her to face the monitor. Madeline activated the screen. Michael flinched at the image he saw. In her fleeting glance at Michael's face, Madeline saw more naked emotion on his face than she had ever seen in all the years she had known him. Madeline had already seen the image so she was prepared, but the first look prior to this one had torn something in her own chest apart.

Nikita's mind had registered the picture, for moments later her screams filled the room.

"Now, Michael." Madeline's voice penetrated Michael's brain over Nikita's screams. He understood what she was giving her permission for.

Michael moved Nikita's face to look into his own eyes. When she recognized Michael, her screams abruptly stopped. Her face held such misery and torment, Michael's mind went blank at what he could be saying to her.

"Michael?" Nikita's voice was tiny and so full of hurt.

"Yes, Nikita?" This was all Michael could think of to say and he whispered the words.

Tears starting falling down from Nikita's eyes. Her mouth moved and her breathing was rapid and uneven. Finally, she spoke to him, the words soft and full of pain.

"His name was Thomas." She brokenly repeated, "Thomas." Michael tenderly started stroking Nikita's cheeks to gently remove her tears and communicate his caring.

Madeline's voice gently ordered Nikita, "Talk to us and tell us what happened." Nikita shuddered, but holding Michael's gaze she spoke aloud of the horrors she had witnessed, and somehow, someway, in the telling of it, found that she didn't need to run away anymore. Inside Michael's grey eyes, with his unspoken loving support, she found the courage to face the memories and put them in perspective. Madeline closed her eyes in relief. Nikita would need more than this one recital of her experiences. She would be meeting with Section psychologists for weeks to come, but the major hurdle to her recovery had been crossed.

When Nikita's story has wound to its end and she was now cradled in Michael's strong embrace, Madeline deactivated the monitor and quietly left the room, her own body uncharacteristically weak and uncoordinated. Operations was waiting in the hallway and supported Madeline with his own arm around her shoulders as he helped her down the hallway to her quarters.

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

"Come on, Elizabeth, come with me. We'll let your Mom and Mrs. Brownlee have a talk together. We have a wonderful playroom here. Can I show you some of the games?" Nikita coaxed the young girl from her mother's arms. The bruised, too thin young woman made eye contact with Nikita, communicated her gratitude and also her concern for her child. Nikita smiled reassuringly. The woman visibly relaxed.

"We'll be just down the hall. Don't worry. I won't let Elizabeth out of my sight until you come for her." With the young girl in her arms, Nikita left the room, murmuring soothing comments as she closed the door behind her. Mrs. Brownlee's assistant looked up from the piles of paperwork on her desk and nodded her thanks for Nikita's help with the child. Elizabeth had wrapped her legs around Nikita's waist and clung to her now. Poor baby, Nikita thought. Uprooted from the only home she had known, even though her father was being abusive. It was such a traumatic experience for both mother and daughter. But, here at the women's shelter, her mother was trying to break out of that hellish existence and create a better life for herself and her child. Nikita enjoyed the small part she played when she could come here and work with the children as their mothers were being counseled on their options.

A local toy store had just donated a carton of dolls that were being replaced by this year's newer models. Nikita didn't think Elizabeth would mind that fact. "Elizabeth, we have some dolls here that need a new mommy. Would you like to see them?" This got the little girl's attention. Her head nodded against Nikita's shoulder. The child and her mother had left their house in the middle of the night, not able to take any of their possessions with them. Nikita was glad she could give Elizabeth a new toy. It wasn't a major fix to their problems, but, for Elizabeth, it could help her little heart start to heal. Speaking of healing, Nikita thought, this volunteer work at the local shelter was doing the most good for her own condition. Madeline had given Nikita a long and penetrating look when Nikita had asked for the opportunity to work with children, possibly as an aid in her own recovery? Madeline had thought it over and presented Nikita with a long list of don'ts, but had ultimately provided Nikita with permission and an idea for fulfilling her wishes. Don't form any long-term attachments to people. Don't try to commit to a time schedule. You need to remain flexible for when Section calls you for missions. Don't take matters into your own hands, no matter the temptation. Nikita still had to restrain herself from going out and dealing out some punishment or correction to a abusive father. Madeline herself had suggested volunteering for the shelter. The transient nature of the system made it ideal for keeping Nikita from getting too wrapped up in one person's problems.

Truth to tell, Nikita had been doing well in therapy sessions with the psychologists and, with Michael's firm and strong presence, had dealt with her own guilt feelings over not being able to somehow stop young Thomas' ordeal; understanding that the true guilt lay with the terrorists and those who committed such heinous acts. Nikita had looked up and given Madeline a poignant look, but hadn't asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. She looked away, but the painful thought still intruded. Hadn't Section committed actions as bad or worse in the name of their own cause and agenda? While Nikita knew of no incident where a child had been physically tortured for information or to force another to give in, was Section really above this behavior if the situation called for it? It was ironic that, in Section, Nikita's empathy for the pain of others was considered her greatest weakness. In another place, another life, it would have been considered her greatest asset. Michael entered the shelter an hour later to find Nikita in a familiar spot. Sitting in a rocking chair, with a small child on her lap, the two were engrossed in Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears A Who! Michael paused in the doorway and watched as the woman he loved and the young girl spoke together a line from the book.

"After all, a person's a person, no matter how small." The young child clutching her doll to her chest and snuggled against Nikita's supporting arm, leaned back to give Nikita a radiant smile. Nikita smiled back gently and kissed the child's forehead. Two women came up behind Michael and he stepped back to give them access to the children's playroom. The director of the shelter recognized Michael and gave him a small smile and nod.

"Nikita?" Both Nikita and Elizabeth looked up at the director's voice. "We have a room for Elizabeth and her mom. I'm going to take them up now." Nikita gently lifted the small girl from her lap.

"We're done here. We were reading Horton a second time. Elizabeth and I found out that we both love this story." Nikita made eye contact with Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, I have to go now. You take good care of your mom and little Madeline there." Nikita indicated the doll. When Elizabeth had asked Nikita for a good name for her new friend, Nikita had suggested a few and she had shook her head. When Nikita had smilingly suggested the name ‘Madeline,' Elizabeth's eyes had lit up. "I like that name. It sounds pretty."

Now, in her small adorable voice, she answered, "I will. Thank you for playing with me."

Nikita leaned forward from her seated position and hugged Elizabeth. "You're very welcome. I enjoyed it, too." Elizabeth left with her mother and Mrs. Brownlee, glancing back over her shoulder to give Nikita one last fleeting smile.

Nikita put the book aside and rose. She walked over to Michael as he entered the playroom. With their growing ease with each other, she moved into his embrace and lifted her face for his kiss. After a sweet hello kiss, he lifted his head. Keeping his arm around her shoulder, he guided her towards the front door.

"Are you through for today?" They stopped to pick up Nikita's jacket hanging near the entrance.

"I can be. I think I would like to go and have dinner with my favorite guy." Nikita paused and teasingly looked up at Michael. "You think Walter is available?" She surprised a quick grin out of Michael.

"Just for that, I should take you back to your apartment and deliver some retraining about who is the most important man in your life right now." Michael was actually teasing her back. He had a light-hearted side that had been increasingly evident since her ordeal and her recovery from it. While he was still menacing and sinister to the outside world, in their own private world he was releasing some of the softer emotions he had hidden inside. It made Nikita feel extremely special and privileged that he trusted her that much.

"Oh, goody. Does it involve removing clothing? Maybe some hand to hand combat?" Michael moved behind Nikita and helped to put on her jacket. His hands stayed on her shoulders.

"More than our hands would become involved. Much more." His voice had taken on a sensual note as he leaned over her shoulder to murmur in her ear. His teeth took a tiny nip at her earlobe. Nikita shivered. She drew away and turned around enough to put her arm around his waist.

She whispered for his ears only, "I may need several sessions to be fully trained." Michael's face hardened, as well as other pertinent parts of his body. He quickly escorted her to his car and seated her. He quickly seated himself and started the car moving towards her apartment.

During the ride, Michael glanced over at Nikita and noticed her far away expression. With the experience of the last several weeks, he knew that she was, once again, thinking of a certain little boy.

Nikita had not fallen back into her depressive state after her awakening. Michael had stayed with her around-the-clock those first few days to make sure of that. Walter, Birkoff, and many others had visited and brought small gifts of flowers and treats for Nikita. Their caring attitude did much to soothe Nikita's visible and invisible wounds. Madeline and the psychologists had encouraged Nikita to talk openly about the abuse of the child. They kept her informed of what had been done to return his body to his parents.

Thomas had been returned to the shallow grave and every trace of Section's presence had been erased. With a tip to the local police, he had been ‘discovered' again and the police would eventually have to chalk his murder up to a random, unsolved crime. While Nikita was grateful that his parents would, at least, have closure in the recovery of their son's body, she was heartbroken for them that they would never know what had truly happened to him in his last hours. They would never know who to blame.

She would never be able to tell them of their son's bravery in the face of his pain. She would never be able to tell them how much she would always have his face imprinted on her mind and his death as a wound on her heart. All this little boy had been guilty of was to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time. For the terrorists had not sought him out. His curiosity had led him in and he paid an ultimate price for just being a young, mischievous boy.

"Nikita?" Michael interrupted her mental journey back to that night. She couldn't help it, it seemed, but to relive the experience over and over again. Every time she thought of Thomas, a stabbing pain seemed to center itself in her chest and she winced again at the pain he suffered.

"What are you thinking about?" The psychologists had urged Michael to always try to pull Nikita's thoughts from her mind and bring them out into the open.

Nikita smiled sadly at Michael. "That a person is a person, no matter how small." Her eyes glistened with tears that didn't fall. She paused and thought and spoke again. "Do you wish I weren't so tender-hearted? My destiny appears to lie inside Section, but my basic character seems to always put me at odds with their methods."

Michael pondered her question. "Do I wish you were different?" He glanced over at her, "I don't like to see you in pain, I don't wish to see you in danger of being cancelled." He sighed. Her heart and the light in her soul had drawn him to her. How could he wish she were different from the person he loved?

"I wish... I wish this were a different world. Where children wouldn't ever be hurt or sad or hungry or scared..... Where a tender-hearted woman wouldn't ever be penalized for being loving and sensitive." Michael spoke from his heart and Nikita touched his hand on the steering wheel.

"Maybe someday, Michael....someday."

******The End

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