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

The briefing began when the head of Section One clicked on the holographic screen. There before those seated appeared an attractive man, mid-forties, graying temples against dark brown hair, blue eyes.

"This is Rick Page. He's an arms dealer living in Southern California, suspected of trading valuable Agency intel for a large shipment of weapons headed for US urban centers." Operations quickly scanned the operatives sitting before him ... his best and most skilled.

"How did he get the intel?" Michael's mind began processing the data.

"There appears to be a mole in the department. We need to find out who that is. Page is the key. It's a simple in and out -- bring him in for interrogation. Any questions?" Operations quickly scanned his operatives.

Michael waited for a moment, then locked on to his boss's eyes. "This is a standard bait and trap; profile and execution meant for first year operatives. Why aren't we using them?" Michael had better things to do than menial 'bait, grab, and go' scenarios.

Operations studied him carefully, and gave him a tight, menacing smile, "You've been personally requested. You leave in two hours. Michael, Nikita, see Madeline for more details and wardrobe. That will be all." Operations turned swiftly and left the operatives sitting at the briefing table, exchanging inquisitive looks.

The team would be small, Michael and Nikita would infiltrate with a cover as a wealthy married couple looking to buy arms for a small rebel group out of Central America. They'd get close to the mark, seize him, then bring him in. Birkoff would monitor from Comm and Ken would serve as backup to Michael and Nikita, covering as Michael's driver and gofer.

Michael and Nikita arrived simultaneously at Madeline's office. As they waited for the door to open, their eyes met momentarily, and then they stepped down into the office in perfectly-timed unison. This action was not lost on Madeline as she studied her seasoned operatives and was once again, fascinated at the remarkable similarities in their movements. Graceful and powerful, they moved as a pair, like a lion with his lioness, careful and controlled, walking together, stopping together at the very same moment.

"Please sit down," she commanded gently. Michael motioned to Nikita to take the chair as he held it for her and then sat beside her. Both watched Madeline closely. "Rick Page has some very interesting 'tastes' -- something like Perry Bauer."

Madeline looked pointedly at Nikita to gauge her response and was pleased to see Nikita roll her eyes and let out a disgusted sigh. Michael, as expected by Madeline, stared at her blankly, providing no hint of his internal emotions in hearing this news.

"He *will* hit on you, Nikita," she stated in a cool and factual way, just like she had said about Bauer. "And, Michael, our intel suggests that he will only be interested in Nikita -- this time. But, he will want you to watch." Michael stared at her as she smiled slightly. He showed no outward emotion, but internally he was incensed.

Madeline continued in her irritatingly calm manner, "In order for you to get to him, you must allow for some ... flirtation, and then more. Our intel indicates that he will most probably make a liaison with you, Nikita, a part of the deal. You will get him to take you to his home. While Nikita is *entertaining* him, Michael, you will direct Ken to download his files. Once complete, bring him in with his files. Questions?"

"Who has requested my personal involvement in this case?" Michael posed the question that had been nagging at him since the earlier briefing with Operations.

"The Agency, of course. And, they not only wanted you Michael, but they specifically requested Nikita." Madeline smiled tightly, watching for Michael's reaction. As always, he was guarded.

"Why?"

Madeline looked from Michael to Nikita. "They want Page alive and very badly and they think you are the two to get the job done. And, Page ... likes blondes."

Nikita rolled her eyes. How many times in her short lifetime would she have to hear these idiotic words. Already, it had been too many. Sometimes, she wished she was a redhead, or brunette, anything but blonde.

Madeline looked over to her computer, signaling that the meeting had concluded. "Any questions?" Without waiting for a response from either operative, she said, "That will be all."

As Michael walked to his office, he shook his head. Of course there were no questions. They knew the drill. They had lived it more times than each of them ever wanted to remember. Made all the worse, that they would have to subject themselves and each other to the torment of this profile, yet again -- watching each other suffer, the jealously it *always* provoked even without the 'husband watching' twisted element, the whole gamut of feelings exposed and raw. It would be another nail in the coffin of their relationship.

Why the hell couldn't they just grab the guy, Michael wondered. But he already knew the answer: It was another test designed to measure their individual loyalty to Section versus loyalty to one another. Michael was disgusted and infuriated -- how many times would they have to prove themselves to Operations and Madeline? Was it not clear enough? They were *not* sleeping together, hell, they were barely speaking to each other.

But, this was Section One. Cruelty and betrayal was the name of the game. Was to be expected. Should be anticipated. Didn't make it easier.

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

The trip was long and tiring. The team had transportation problems from the beginning, having to change transports twice just to get to San Diego. What should have been a four hour journey turned into nine, and Nikita was irritable. She behaved like a petulant child, maybe understandably, given the mission profile, but annoying nevertheless.

As the flight wore on, she constantly asked Michael, "are we there yet?" Michael grew increasingly intolerant of her complaints, and just before touchdown, he finally told her to sit down and shut up, at which point Ken could hardly contain his laughter. But, Michael's edgy remark had infuriated Nikita.

Traveling and working with Michael and Nikita had become the most unwanted assignment in Section. Ever since the Lisa Fanning/Andrea/Formitz encounters and Michael's own 'I'm no longer your mentor' blast, Nikita was nothing short of furious at Michael, and Michael barely spoke to Nikita. When he did speak to her, it was to the point and spoken with rough edges.

Being on assignment with them was like living a nightmare -- once the sequence was in place though, working with them wasn't a problem since they *always* got the job done, better than any team in Section, but, nonetheless, no one in Section looked forward to being on a team with Michael and Nikita these days. The job was unpleasant enough just trying to stay alive and follow mission parameters, without dealing with their negative attitude toward each other.

To his advantage though, Ken liked both Michael and Nikita very much. He had come to respect and admire them, and he felt sure this was mutual. Even the closed-off Michael seemed to be somewhat relaxed around Ken, he noticed.

It was Ken's opinion, which was also widely agreed upon throughout Section, that Michael and Nikita were the strongest pair Section ever had. Even through the rough times, like now, they had a connection that was beyond compare. The silent language between them had become legendary among the Section ranks, and Ken had seen them 'communicating' many times first hand. Once, it had even saved his life. He didn't mind being their backup because he knew they were the best, and Michael was a brilliant strategic planner, thorough in every angle. Ken knew he was as safe as he could be with Michael calling the shots, given their occupation.

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

The team arrived in San Diego at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon in late summer. The air was clean, the weather was hot. There was an offshore breeze. As Nikita departed the transport, she got a beautiful view of the bay beyond. It took her breath away. She had been in hundreds of airports, but how could one be so picturesque, she thought.

Well, it was Southern California. One of the most beautiful places on earth, she had heard. Too bad she wouldn't get to see much of it. The plan was to spend most of the time cooped up in a hotel room. She resolved to try and change that once they arrived at their destination.

As they climbed into the limousine that had been waiting for them, Michael and Nikita did not speak. The tension between them was palpable. Ken, thinking it was safest to say nothing, assumed his role as driver. He felt relieved when he rolled up the window between him and his passengers and turned on the radio.

Riding along, Michael immediately opened his laptop and began working, ignoring Nikita. Nikita turned her attention to the scenery around her and became mesmerized by the beauty of the city. They would be staying in a small, chic beach community north of San Diego ... Del Mar. It was well known in California for its horse racing and exclusive resorts that were nearby -- Torrey Pines, La Jolla, La Costa -- playgrounds of the rich and famous. A perfect place for a wealthy arms dealer like Rick Page.

The limousine carried its passengers through La Jolla and up the beautiful coast. Nikita was entranced with the views of the ocean, rocky beaches, and the sun's rays sparkling on the water. Palm trees swayed in the breeze everywhere she looked. Carpets of green grass met sandy beaches.

Colorful sun umbrellas dotted the shoreline. There were surfers, skateboarders, rollerbladers, bicyclists, and bikinis galore. To Nikita, it looked like paradise. She sighed deeply. She wished with all her heart that she could sit on the beach, throw a frisbee, and play in the surf, while rubbing her skin with cocoa butter.

Cocoa butter. She remembered that chocolatey scent from her younger days in Australia. Sometimes, especially in the summertime, she'd walk along the beach watching families enjoying their holiday. She remembered the sweet scent of the stuff people would rub on their bodies to get a tan. It always smelled like someone was baking a cake at the beach. Nikita smiled at this recollection.

Michael stopped working long enough to look over at Nikita. His eyes softened as he saw the innocent delight she took in looking at her surroundings and wondered exactly what it was that had caused her to smile. This was one of the many things he loved about her -- she found beauty in everything ... her enthusiasm and love for life was fascinating, intoxicating.

As they approached the main street of the town, Nikita was awed by the plants and flowers that adorned the shops and boutiques. All the structures were wood or stucco with tile roofs, very Mexican-Californian. She recognized the look from reading home and garden magazines while she was redecorating her apartment. She had fantasized about living on the California Coast.

There were bistros and outdoor cafes that overlooked the ocean. Expensive jewelry stores and art galleries sported richly-colored awnings and large potted trees adorned their entrances. This place was a tiny diamond nestled into the side of steep cliffs overlooking the blue Pacific Ocean.

Ken pulled into their hotel, L'Auberge Del Mar, a resort and spa only a block away from the ocean. The building was made of wood and brick about three stories high, looked very French and had ivy growing over trellises and gables. Flowers of every color spilled out of terra cotta pots, and wooden window boxes. There were lots of green grass, well manicured bushes and trees. The walkways were flagstone and meandered throughout the grounds. It was old, wealthy, and elegant.

Nikita looked over at Michael and noticed that he was surveying the surroundings. It was clear to her from the sparkle in his eyes that he approved, perhaps reminding him of his homeland.

Ken stopped the limo at the front entrance of the hotel. He got out to deal with the bellhops, the luggage, and the registration details.

Nikita began gathering her belongings when she felt Michael's hand on her arm. He stared into her eyes for a long moment. "We have to seem like we are ... happy together. Do you understand?" Without realizing it, his fingers had begun to gently rub her forearm. Nikita's eyes glanced down at his hand and then quickly looked back into his eyes.

"Yes, Michael, I understand." She smiled slightly, looked away, sighed deeply, and exited the car. She did not see the pain reflected in his eyes as he watched her stretch her body and look toward the ocean. He hated putting her in this situation and he knew she'd hate him for it too, albeit Section-ordered.

Ken motioned that their suite of rooms was ready and soon they were in the elevator headed to the third floor.

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

The entire wing of the hotel consisted of this private suite. It included a full living area and bar, dining room, a master bedroom, master bath and dressing room, a large second bedroom, and study. Huge picture windows opened up to majestically display the spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean.

Nikita slowly circled the elegantly appointed suite, eyed the complimentary basket of fruit and wine, touched the soft petals of the massive flower arrangement, and then got to work unpacking her belongings.

Once done, she strode over to one of the windows and looked out to the ocean. Breathtaking. The view was beyond compare. She had to go there as soon as possible, she thought, but was brought out of her reverie by Operations' voice. Michael had already set up the laptop and communication equipment.

"Michael, report." Operations stood behind Birkoff looking at the transmission from his third in command.

"It's 16:30 Tuesday. We have settled in our suite and are ready." Michael, in his usual all-business demeanor, reported succinctly. Nikita and Ken, quiet and attentive, stood behind Michael as he spoke to their leader over the satellite transmission.

"Fine, you will meet Page tomorrow. His quarterhorse is running in the daily double at the race track. You will meet him there and begin the sequence. Meanwhile, become familiar with the area. Any questions?"

"Do Page's people know we are here?" Michael asked.

"No. There should not be any surveillance on you until tomorrow. But be prepared. Assume your cover. I will expect a report again in 15 hours. That will be all," and his face disappeared from the monitor.

"Well, what now?" asked a slightly sarcastic Nikita. "It's 4:30 in the afternoon, Michael. What are your instructions?" she asked matter-of-factly.

He knew that she wanted to explore the grounds. It would fit their cover and he had work to do, analyzing the data, checking, and rechecking the intel. Just as well to get her out of his hair, he thought with an inward smile.

"You may go and look around, if you wish." Once he turned and looked into her magnificent face, he half-hoped she would invite him to join her, although he would have decline if she did. She did not.

"Fine. I'll have my cell if you need me." Quickly she turned, grabbed her backpack, and shot out the door. He watched as she left, his heart aching at the distance between them.

It was Ken's voice that broke Michael from his thoughts, "Michael? Michael ... should I go with her?"

Michael let out a deep sigh and looked over at Ken. "No ... she'll be fine. We have work to do. Re-con the hotel, sweep the rooms and the halls. See what we've got."

"Yes, sir." Ken left to complete his assigned duties.

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

It was a beautiful afternoon, warm and breezy. As she strolled to the beach, she admired the boutiques that were along the way. Window boxes spilled with pink geraniums, blue cornflowers, and golden star lilies. There was an expensive dress shop, an art gallery filled with sculptures and fountains, and a kite shop.

The kite shop was adorned with colorful fabric and the kites took many different shapes. She thought of Birkoff and wondered if he had ever flown a kite. She knew she never had. Maybe she would take one back to him. He could hang it on the ceiling in his quarters.

Nikita strolled down the sidewalk taking in the beautiful sights and sounds of the beach community. She passed a couple of beach cottages on the way and wondered what it would be like to live there -- next to the beach, waking every morning to the sounds of the seagulls flying overhead, and the waves crashing on the shore.

She crossed the narrow cobblestone street and walked along the paved path of the lush park. It was magnificent. There were three terraces. The top terrace had large expanses of grass with pine trees, eucalyptus, and palms. Park benches were scattered about so that visitors could take advantage of the beautiful view. Lovers were sitting on the park benches watching the sunset. Families were playing frisbee with their kids. Rollerbladers whirled by, steady and confident on their skates.

The next terrace had a railroad track running through it. It was narrow, but beyond the tracks were patches of grass. Periodically the commuter train would rumble by, enhancing the charm and uniqueness of the place.

The third terrace was the sandy white beach, long and winding, sometimes scattered with large rocks that hid the tide pools. People were inspecting them carefully, delighting in finding the sealife that lived there. Dozens upon dozens of beachgoers were scattered along the beach, even though it was early in the evening.

Nikita sat down on the grassy knoll of the top terrace, enjoying the view and the people around her. How she wished she could spend some time here, playing on the beach, swimming in the ocean, feeling the warm sun on her skin. But, she knew, that was only a wish, a dream -- this was as much as she would ever get. So, she set about memorizing the sights and the sounds, so that she could draw upon them again when she wanted to feel at peace.

She leaned back to lay on the grass, knees up, feet flat, looking up to the blue sky. Suddenly, she was surprised to see a dozen helium balloons drifting above. She sat up, turned around and found that the sky was filled with colorful balloons. She then recalled seeing something about this in the location data -- a large contingent of helium-balloon enthusiasts sailed their balloons from a nearby heliport. They were stunning, a sight she had never seen before.

They were incredibly colorful, gliding gently in the sky, bringing smiles to the people in the park and squeals of excitement from the children. Just as quickly, they were gone, in what seemed only moments, lost beyond the steep cliffs of the shoreline.

Nikita laid back down on the grass, taking in a deep breath and was pulled from her thoughts when a deep voice startled her, "Nikita?" She opened her eyes and saw Ken looking down at her. He was holding a brown paper bag.

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

Nikita sat up and smiled at him. "What's up?"

"Michael sent me to get you."

"Why didn't he just call?"

"We could see you from the window at the hotel and I told him I didn't mind; it was such a short walk."

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"Brought us a beer -- Corona. Want one?" Ken pulled out the beers and handed her one.

"Thanks, Ken."

"It's beautiful here. Looks like good surfing." Ken said as he scanned the waves in front of them.

"Do you surf?"

"Did when I was a kid in Samoa. Was pretty good at it too, before ..." Nikita could see familiar sadness in his eyes.

"How did you get into Section, Ken?" She wondered if he'd answer.

"Killed the guy that raped my sister," he said matter-of-factly. He looked out over the Pacific Ocean and his thoughts were suddenly far away.

"Did you leave someone behind?" She was genuinely curious.

"Yeah ... I did. A girl. She was beautiful ... I loved her." Nikita could see the regret shining in his brown eyes.

"What happened to her, do you know?

"I've looked her up in the computer at Section. She's a writer now. And, she helps youth groups through the church we used to go to. Ironic, after I was taken away to prison, she decided to help kids stay out of trouble. She was very special to me." Ken looked out to the water, his mind wandering back to his younger years, regretting the love he lost. Nikita felt pangs of sadness for him.

Nikita smiled at him, but remained silent. She knew how difficult it was to talk about life before Section, to know there were people that were left behind. She had left no one. Except her mother, who could not have cared less that she disappeared.

They sat on the grass, quietly, enjoying each other's companionship for a few more minutes, looking at the sunset, drinking their beers.

"Can I ask you a question, Nikita?"

"Sure ... I guess."

"What is it with you and Michael? He obviously loves you, but you guys are so distant and, well, screwed up ...."

Nikita had to laugh at that. "He l-o-v-e-s me ... You know Ken, everybody tells me that. How do you know this anyway, because it sure isn't very clear to me."

Ken chuckled, "You've got to be kidding, Nikita. You don't see it? Are you blind?"

Nikita looked over at him, lips drawn tight, anger starting to well up. "Noooo, I am not blind!" She let out a deep sigh. Ken watched her as the amusement left his eyes. Suddenly he realized, she *was* unsure of Michael's feelings towards her. He set out to explain how he saw it.

"Nikita, Michael is not a man of emotions, or even of many words. He certainly is scarce with his feelings -- sometimes I wonder if he's human. All he has to give you is protection ... you know, looking out for *you* ... and he is FIERCE when it comes to you. Christ, nobody dares to go up against him or question his authority under any circumstance ... but when you're on the team .... Uh uh." He shook his head purposefully to each side.

"It's an unspoken rule -- everybody knows it --you are part of *his* territory." Ken's meaning was clear -- no one went up against Michael, especially when it came to Nikita -- they did not dare.

Ken watched her looking out to the ocean, while she fidgeted with her hands.

"Nikita, how many times have you and Michael, and I worked this profile? Collectively, probably dozens of times. It's rookie stuff and yet what were we doing up in the hotel room while you were down here? Going over it, again and again, down to the tenth of a second. Jesus, Nikita, that's all he thinks about -- keeping you safe, and as unharmed as possible. Why can't you see that?" Ken was not angry, but his voiced carried surprised, even sympathy for his mission leader.

Nikita's heart hurt hearing these words from a colleague like Ken. She trusted him and *knew* these things were true. But still her security with Michael was tenuous. Tears welled up in her sky blue eyes and she looked out at the ocean, not wanting Ken to see her tears forming.

On the other hand, Nikita was feeling somewhat safe with Ken, enough to tell him why she was so uncertain with Michael. She took in a deep breath and let it out.

"I know he cares ... about me," she whispered. "But I'm a woman that needs affection ... touching," she looked over shyly at Ken, knowing that this was an intimate detail that she might regret sharing with him. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to continue as she caught his understanding eyes.

"Michael ... Michael, can't ... well doesn't know how ... I dunno, maybe he just doesn't need what I need." Confusion and frustration colored her words. She felt trapped in a situation from which she knew she would never be free -- Michael.

Ken snorted and let out a small, sad laugh. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed in a kindly, brotherly gesture, "He's not a demonstrative kind of guy, Nikita. You gotta accept that. But the man has heart; honor."

The friends sat quietly for a few minutes, looking at the sunset, finishing their beers, both thinking of the silent, brooding man left back at the hotel. Both thinking about what it was that drew them to Michael, each in their own diverse ways -- Nikita loving him with all her heart; Ken respecting and admiring Michael's heart.

"Come on, Nikita. Michael's ordered dinner for us. It ought to be there by now."

"Ordered room service ... why? Why don't we eat in the hotel restaurant?" Nikita looked over at Ken as she stood and brushed the grass from her legs.

"You can't guess? We're going over the damn profile, *again*!" He laughed and walked with her down the path back to the hotel.

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

"Let's go over it again," Michael stated.

Ken and Nikita let out a deep sigh signaling imminent mutiny.

"Michael, with all due respect, it's late. This is Section textbook, man. We've gone over it a dozen times. It's been a long day, please give me a break!" Ken had never talked this way to his superior leader before, but it was not disrespectful and Michael knew it.

Michael knew, too, that the profile *was* textbook 'bait and trap.' In fact, it irritated him to no end that he was there running the goddamn mission. This was a Sim that was taught to rookies, a mission often given as a test to the first-year recruits. It was absurd that these three seasoned operatives were in this hotel room, preparing to run this mission.

Easy it would be. They'd go to the race track where Page was expecting to meet them. Nikita would do her typical 'charm the pants off him' routine. Ken would set up the meet with Page though one of his goons. They'd meet briefly. Michael would feign that they had to leave the track early for an appointment forcing another meeting, at night. Dinner. Small talk. Deal negotiation. Nikita stalls in the bedroom for seven minutes, Ken downloads the files, they grab Page when done, and bring him in. How simple could it be?

Michael stared at Ken for several moments, then said quietly, "Go. 8:00 AM recon the floor and the limo. 9:00 AM for breakfast here. 10:00 AM we'll contact Section and go over it again. Understood?"

"Perfectly. Good night." Ken nodded to Michael and smiled to Nikita, giving her his *he's all yours* sympathy look, and turned, shutting the door to his master bedroom.

Michael looked over to Nikita and silently drank in her perfection. She sat on the sofa, lounged back in the crook where the arm met the back, her long shapely legs, draped over the cushions. One knee was bent, allowing for her sundress to pool in her lap exposing some of her beautiful, creamy thigh.

He ached for her. Wanted to touch her. In the privacy of this room, it took enormous control for him not to go to her and sweep her into his arms, tearing away her clothing, caressing and kissing every part of her perfect body, feeling the coolness of her skin against his. As always, though, he held back. Watching. Longing.

She regarded him quietly, spoke no words, but smiled at him slightly. Turning her attention back to the PDA, she allowed him to continue his loving assessment of her, knowing, sometimes, this is what he needed from her. But it was so opposite of what she needed from him.

Nikita needed to touch him, feel him, wrap her body around him. Feel the electricity burn her skin ... his electricity that she felt screaming at her from his position across the room. She *knew* he wanted her. She could feel it. They were alone ... no cameras ... no surveillance ... no one but them. Why wouldn't he show her that he wanted her?

She sighed and he turned back to his monitor. He looked at the codes on the screen, but all he could see were blue eyes, soft porcelain skin, pouting lips, and golden blonde hair.

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

Nikita got up and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need some air, Michael. I'll be by the pool."

"It's closed; it's past midnight." She shrugged her shoulders and turned to leave. He watched as the door to the suite closed quietly behind her.

Nikita rode the elevator down thinking about what lie ahead the next day. She would have to flirt with the slimebag, act like she wanted him, and Michael, her ever-so-loyal husband, would allow it -- he would sell her to him as part of the *deal.* She knew it was all an act -- all for the big picture, but it was hard not to feel hurt.

Michael would sell her body for the greater good; just like he'd sold himself plenty of times. Why could she not get around it, she wondered. Why couldn't she just do the job, and separate herself like he could. Oh, she knew the right questions, that was half the battle, wasn't it, in trying to solve problems. But why, why couldn't she find the answers?

Earlier Ken had told her that Michael loved her. *Does everyone know this but me,* she wondered. *How do they figure that? Because he has saved my life? I've saved his, too. Is this how he shows it?* She shook her head.

Nikita wandered out toward the pool. It was dark -- all the lights had been turned off around the pool and the water was inky black, but the gate was still open. She opened the latch and walked in slowly. She could see her way from the light of the moon and a few distant lights that illuminated parts of the building. Soon she laid down on a chaise that was in the dark shadows.

She looked up at the midnight sky and wondered on the stars that twinkled brightly above her. So beautiful and clear, like diamonds sparkling against black velvet. It was these elemental moments that Nikita found most comforting -- looking up at the stars, listening to the slight warm breeze rustle though the palm trees.

She could smell the salty ocean air mingling with the musky sweet scent of nearby night blooming jasmine. She breathed deeply, enriching her soul with the surrounding beauty, and tried not to think about the ugliness she would face the next day.

After a while, she thought she would put her toes into the pool water and cool down. The water felt sublime against her agitated skin, and on impulse she suddenly stripped away her sundress and panties and was swimming nude in the pool.

It was so refreshing, even cleansing, she thought. Gliding along the cool water, her movements created a gentle current that tickled her skin. It felt very natural, very free, almost erotic to be swimming in a darkened pool, naked and alone.

Nikita floated on her back, still in the water, her hair gently wafting around her, ears under water, shut off to sounds above. She gazed at the moon and stars above and in this quiet underwater space, she felt peaceful, serene. She pushed away all the ugly thoughts of what was to come. She thought only of this moment, the quiet solitude, hearing only the soft movements in the water she was creating, looking at the midnight sky, basking in its beauty, thinking only of how much peace she felt at nature's splendor.

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

He had followed her and was leaning against a palm tree just a few feet from the pool's edge as he watched her float in the dark water. He could feel the heat inside him rising rapidly as he watched her beautiful body adrift. The erection of her nipples against the cool air and the light golden mound that protected her feminine core was clearly visible and set him on fire. He wanted her -- wanted to touch her, kiss her, feel her cool skin against his, to be inside her.

Suddenly, she was aware of him. Although she did not see him immediately, Nikita could feel his presence, feel him watching her. She pulled up from her peaceful meditation, scanned the deck and saw him, left shoulder resting against the trunk of the palm tree, right hand in his pants pocket, watching her every move intently.

Slowly, Nikita swam over to the edge of the pool, never taking her eyes from his. She pulled herself to the edge and folded her arms against the coping to hold herself in place, staring deeply into his passionate eyes all the while.

"What are you doing?" he whispered looking down on her radiant face.

She held his gaze for a moment, until a slight, sexy smile turned up her lips. "Well, Michael, I'm swimming." She stated the obvious with slight sarcasm.

"At 1:00 in the morning -- naked?" his eyebrows raised, questioning. She was beautiful, incredibly sexy, he thought for the ten-thousandth time. Golden blonde hair swept back from her perfect face, droplets of moisture on her eyelashes and sensuous, full lips.

*My God,* he thought, *she takes my breath away.* How did this woman completely steal his heart? When did it happen? Why did he let it happen? As he looked down upon her, he realized, yet again, that he had been lost to her the moment he saw her four years ago. Nothing he could have done then, or could do now, would change the tight grip she had around his heart. Nothing.

She considered him carefully, lowered her eyes, then replied shyly, "It feels good -- cleansing, sort of. Just trying to prepare myself."

She looked up to his eyes quickly and then found a spot on the tile of the pool to focus on, then captured his gaze again, "It's dark, no one can see me. Is it a problem?"

He thought for a moment and replied quietly, "No." His gaze was intense, passionate, burning.

She smiled and shyly, sadly looked back at the spot on the tile.

After a few minutes of watching her, he softly, but gently reminded her, "You've done this scenario before, Nikita. Many times."

"And I've hated it before, every time." She paused and looked up at him. "I can't easily separate my feelings like you can, Michael." It wasn't meant to be hurtful, only truthful. But she could see a quick flash of pain in his eyes. She turned back to the imaginary spot.

"I've planned it carefully, Nikita. If you stall him, he won't succeed ... completely." He watched her reaction.

"Still ... I hate it. I suppose there is no other way?"

"No."

He turned as if to walk away, and her heart dropped in disappointment -- she wanted, needed him to stay to comfort her, reassure her. But she didn't expect this from him. He rarely reassured her about anything.

She looked up to watch him walk away, and was startled to see him quickly stripping away his shoes, shirt and pants. The next thing she knew, he dove in, and surfaced before her, within a foot of her body in the inky water.

She watched his eyes intently as he reached up and smoothed the water out of his long hair, pushing it behind his ears, away from his handsome face. His body was close enough for her to feel his magnetic pull, but he did not touch her. She backed away from him slowly as he continued to close in on her.

Slowly, circling one another in the darkened shoulder-height water, occasionally brushing their legs together, feeling the fire ignite inside them at the slightest touch, their dance began.

"Mich-ol...?" She was wary, uncertain what to do next. What *he* would do next. His closeness always clouded her judgment.

"Ni-ki-ta?" he whispered, slightly playfully, raising an eyebrow. He continued to move forward, Nikita moving away, Michael advancing on her like a lion stalking his prey. He continued to move forward, backing her against the wall of the pool.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, breath shaky.

"Helping you prepare," he replied sincerely, softly, gazing into her eyes, moving his fingertips over her hands, up her arms, and then placing them securely on the pool wall on either side of her pinning her there. His lips were a breath away, and she could feel his body molding into hers.

He gazed deeply in her eyes, moving to her lips, caressing them with his eyes. Michael pressed his muscular chest into hers, feeling the erect peaks of her nipples brushing against him. He closed his eyes at the sensuous feeling of her silky skin, lubricated by the cool water, against his hard chest.

Michael pressed his hips tightly into hers and rubbed her abdomen with the now very hard arousal of his manhood. She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. He brushed her lips with his, once, twice, and then licked them with his tongue.

Under the water, he spread her legs with his powerful, muscular thighs, gently pushing her tighter into the wall of the pool. She could not move, his body was molded to hers, fitting perfectly, feeling sublime, as he slowly rubbed his body against hers. He smiled to himself when he heard a small moan escape from her parted lips.

"Do you think I will let him hurt you, Kita? Don't you know that I would never allow that? You must trust me." Michael stared deeply into her eyes looking for some assurance that she trusted him.

She thought for several moments while captured in his loving gaze. She wanted to believe him. "I'm afraid it'll go too far. Seven minutes is a long time." She breathed finally, wondering how in the world she had been able to string that coherent thought together.

Trying to appease her reluctance, he continued, his lips touching hers, breathing into her mouth, as if giving her the life-supporting oxygen she needed. "I'll be with you."

Still sensing hesitation, he moved his hand slowly down her breast bone, teasing her belly button, rubbing past her tummy and resting on her soft, wet, golden curls, massaging there gently. "Do you think I will ever let him touch you ... here?" He pressed his lips to hers softly.

Still holding her, watching her eyes shutter at his erotic touch, he eased his finger inside her silky, hot, wet core. "This is mine, Kita. It belongs to me and no other."

Nikita's breath was ragged, unsteady, melting into him, into the water, giving way to his complete, earnest seduction.

She knew he would protect her to the best of his ability. And with his body so close to hers, feeling his silky skin rubbing against hers under the cool water, feeling his fingers inside her, caressing her, she made her decision. She leaned up and pressed a deep, hungry kiss against his parted lips and they let go, losing themselves to each other.

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

Michael's body was directing his mind. He pulled her to him and they fell under the water, kissing and touching. Surfacing for air, Michael pulled her body up and pushed her to the wall, securing her there while his hands roamed wildly over her breasts, her hips, her thighs, all the while ravishing her mouth with his tongue, biting her lips gently then licking to soothe them.

"God, Kita ... you feel so good," he breathed into her mouth when the onslaught of her hands exploring him soothed his weary mind, and comforted his aching body. Nikita grabbed at his shoulders and smoothed her hands over his wet back, down to his slim waist, cupping his buttocks, urging him to enter her.

A nearly incoherent sweet sounding word like "Mich-o" whimpered from her perfect lips in a mantra-like chant. She kissed his face, rubbed her cheek against the soft stubble of his cheek, nibbled on his earlobe, was lost in his touch, his feel, his soul.

"Make love to me, Kita ... I need to be inside you," he begged hoarsely, desperately. He had lost control of his body, being underwater, the silkiness of her skin in the water, had brought him to complete arousal, harder than he'd ever been before.

It was the most erotic sensation he had ever felt, being naked with the woman he loved, in the darkness of a hotel pool in the middle of the night. She was here with him, completely tuned in to only him, seemingly oblivious of their surroundings, giving herself willingly to him, appeasing his every whim, and she was clearly wrapped up in this erotic encounter too, feeling immense pleasure, living it with him.

Again, he reached down past her flat stomach, massaged the soft curls below, and slipped a finger into her hot, wet core. She was ready, slick, and wet. He pulled her away from the wall, captured her swollen lips in a searing, deep kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Slowly, he entered her, pulling her hips down around his throbbing shaft, and pressed her tightly against him.

In utter ecstasy, she threw her head back and moaned softly, feeling the full power of him inside her. Nikita arched her back, and her hair dipped into the water. He licked her breasts, suckled her nipples and kissed her neck. His lips scorched her skin as he kissed her frantically.

In the weightlessness of the water, Michael circled them slowly in the dark, velvety water, thrusting deeply inside her, pressing her hips down on him at every deep upward movement. The lovers could feel the silky water caress their bodies, heightening the intense erotic sensations of their lovemaking.

Soon, he began to quicken the pace and thrust himself in her with even, powerful stokes. She grasped his shoulders and pulled herself tightly to him, kissing his lips, exploring his hot, sweet mouth with her tongue.

He pulled his mouth away from hers as he prepared for his release and buried his head into her neck. "Ni-ki-ta ... come with me, now ..." he begged her in desperate need to feel her pulsate around his throbbing shaft. He needed to possess her, mate with her, feel her precious warmth spill over him as they circled around and around in the darkened pool, clinging tightly to one another.

"Mich-ol ..." she moaned, and together, they exploded in a needy and euphoric release, a starburst of pleasure wracking their bodies, whispering each other's name over and over again, in incoherent soft sounds. Tightly, they held together as he waded over to a darkened corner of the pool steps where he sat down and leaned back holding her tightly on his lap, holding himself inside her, pulling her to his chest, his heart. He enclosed his arms around her in a protective and possessive embrace, feeling sated and completely in love.

She sighed deeply as she came down from ecstasy, and placed her forehead to his. She could feel his ragged breath on her face and she brought her hands up to gently embrace his handsome face. She looked deeply in his eyes and saw raw love and need. It was in these moments, of deeply intense and emotional lovemaking, that she never doubted Michael's love for her.

Nikita gently kissed his eyebrows, his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, and then rubbed her cheek softly against his, caressing his face with hers, assuring him of her gentleness, tenderness, and devoted love.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He captured her face in his hand gently. "No harm will come to you tomorrow. I won't let it."

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

They awoke the next morning, their legs and arms tightly entwined.

Michael came awake first, slowly, feeling euphoric and contented, realizing he was embracing the woman he loved, and that she had entrusted herself to him completely. He kissed her forehead gently, then her eyes and as they fluttered opened, her lips lifted, full and sweet into a welcoming smile that made his heart soar.

They had made love again twice during the early morning hours, laying in the warmth of the bed they shared. Each time provided a wild rollercoaster of emotions: slow then desperate, hard then gentle, rough then tender, but always passionately fierce, and more intense than the time before.

They lay there for long while, nuzzling their lips together, speaking silently with their eyes, licking the other's lips softly, petting their cheeks together, tenderly, gently. They soothed and comforted, assuring their love for each another.

The were pulled from their lovers' cocoon by a knock on their bedroom door. Ken was in the outer suite, had ordered breakfast, and was preparing to contact Section. Michael responded from their bed. "Give us thirty minutes."

She looked up at him with sad eyes, but tried to reassure him, "I'll be fine ... just don't let him get too close, please Michael," she begged.

"No, my love, I'll kill him if he hurts you."

She lifted up and attempted to straighten her tangled mane. "I can do this," she whispered to herself. She looked over to him and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "I can do this."

He pulled her to him in a tight embrace and kissed her thoroughly. "I know you can," but all the while he dreaded what the day would bring. He knew that there was a chance Page could take her before the file was downloaded, and he'd be watching it happen. He knew she would never forgive him this. Deep anxiety replaced the euphoria that he had felt only moments before.

Today he would put Section before her. Again.

Today she would hate him. Again.

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

Michael showered and left the bedroom to dress in the study where he had left his clothes the day before. That's where he had planned to sleep since he was certain then that he would not be welcome in Nikita's bed.

Ken raised curious eyebrows and smiled that guy-to-guy "atta-boy" smile at Michael when Michael strode across the living area clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping wet. Michael shot back an intense stare, which carried with it the clear statement of "don't go there if you want to live." Ken immediately looked away, rechecking his weapon.

Once Michael was dressed and had eaten his breakfast from the buffet Ken had ordered for them, Michael questioned Ken about the results of the recon of the floor and the limo. Once Michael was satisfied with the mission status, Ken was amused to watch Michael carefully gather up fruit, croissants, and bacon strips on a plate. He poured a cup of hot water, carefully chose a tea bag, plucked a rose from the floral arrangement, and thoughtfully arranged it all on a tray taken from the bar. A moment later, Michael picked it up and quietly entered Nikita's bedroom and left the tray there while Nikita was in the shower.

Ken watched in fascination and wondered why in the world Nikita could not see the devotion and love Michael had for her. It seemed to Ken that Michael's every thought revolved around Nikita.

Nikita showered and dressed mentally reviewing the plan. She dreaded what she must do. Page would be all over her ... these guys always were. Grabbing, groping, touching ... it was disgusting.

And, the time spent in the bedroom with Page, well, it would be close. If Ken didn't move very quickly and with exact precision, the sex act would be completed and Page would essentially rape Nikita before Michael's very eyes -- and Michael would allow it to happen. It sickened her.

When Nikita left the bathroom for the bedroom, she stopped to see the breakfast tray that had been left there for her. She gently touched the petal of the rose and smiled to herself ... Michael.

He could be so thoughtful when he wanted to be. Was this display of affection the only way he could show his love, she wondered. He certainly showed it last night, in all his raging passion, she recalled. Her eyes shuttered at the thought of him grasping her in the pool, clinging to her, pushing deeply inside her, possessing her, whispering her name in abandon like he was praying.

The thought of him inside her, holding her, kissing her body in every imaginable place made her knees weak. He made her feel things she never knew she could. Even the thought of his hand brushing up against hers caused butterflies to dance in her tummy. Michael.

But what was she to make of the situation at hand. While Ken downloaded the files, Michael would be watching Page initiate sex with her.

How could he let that happen? Wasn't there another way?

All the love and passion of the night before and this morning began to dissipate in the familiar insecurity that was Michael's so called *love.* Nikita's anger began to well up. She felt the wall building. By the time she left the master bedroom for the living area, she had worked herself up into a heightened state of rage.

Nikita entered the living area to see Ken and Michael's heads scrutinizing the screen of the laptop. They were talking quietly with one another, Michael giving Ken last-minute instructions. When they heard her enter the suite, both turned around simultaneously.

"Hi, Nikita," Ken said guardedly. She gave him a smile and looked at Michael. He was studying her carefully.

She was breathtaking, dressed in a lime green, fitted, sleeveless shift that hugged her shapely curves, and dipped deeply in a 'V' down her back. It came to mid-thigh and had a three inch slit at the front of her right leg. She wore sexy, strappy high-heel sandals that accentuated her long bare legs. A golden bracelet jeweled her right ankle.

Nikita had French braided her golden hair and was holding a natural straw hat that was decorated with white and lime green flowers. She was the picture of beauty. She would stand out from the rest. She always did.

There was no question, that Page would be immediately attracted to her, Michael thought. It was all *he* could do to keep from pulling her in his arms, throwing her on the sofa and taking her right there.

Michael rose from his chair and walked over to her slowly. Nikita was surprised to see him dressed in a cream colored double breasted linen suit with a light colored T-shirt underneath. He wore light colored woven loafers. He was stunning, the perfect wealthy yuppie, looking very casual Southern California. Together they would be a cut above. It was certain that they would garner glances from everyone they encountered.

"You look beautiful, Nikita ... are you ready?" he whispered as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips gently. She tensed and he knew that she had already steeled herself against the day's activities, and against him.

"Yes, Michael, I'm ready," she stated tightly.

"Let's go."

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

The team arrived at the race track just in time for the second race. The daily double was two races away and the teammates made their way to the VIP boxes where they were to meet Rick Page. The meeting had been arranged in a public setting, for the comfort of Page, who was known to be particularly careful about meeting his potential clients for the first time.

Michael laced his fingers through Nikita's, playing the role of a couple in love, and Ken followed a few steps behind as the attentive assistant. They arrived at their box seats and were immediately greeted by a waiter in a white coat, asking for their drink orders.

That completed, Michael scanned the area, shielded by his dark sunglasses, looking for Page. Nikita, looking radiant in her straw hat, saw him first.

"Two boxes away, sitting with the brunette, looks like four guards," she spoke quietly to Michael, Ken able to hear her through his comm link.

"Ken, go," stated Michael quietly. Ken maneuvered his way over to the guard standing by the box and whispered in his ear. Ken stood quietly, hands clasped in front of him while Page's lackey moved quickly to his boss and whispered in his ear.

Page turned around to Michael and Nikita's box and nodded. Page's eyes caught Nikita, and instantly she knew that the game was on. He was immediately captured by her beauty. It would not be difficult to persuade him into bed, she thought in disgust. But, she smiled sweetly at him as his eyes lingered on her.

Michael, having caught this entire silent exchange between Page and Nikita, immediately, put his arm around the back of Nikita's chair, his fingertips lightly, possessively, caressing her bare shoulder. He sighed deeply and Nikita could feel his tension.

Ken returned to the box and whispered in Michael's ear. "He'd like you to join him."

The couple rose and strode over to Page's box. All eyes turned as the beautiful couple made their way to the mark. Page stood as they entered the box.

"Rick Page," he stated extending his hand to Michael, never taking his eyes off Nikita. "Michael Lewis ... and this is my wife, Nikita." Page stared at Nikita with hunger in his eyes. "It is my pleasure, Nikita," he replied as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips. Nikita smiled generously, while repulsed inside.

"Please join me," Page said politely, motioning for his brunette plaything to move away so that Nikita could sit next to him, Michael on his opposite side. The brunette glared at Nikita and left for the bar.

"May I offer you some champagne?" Page asked. Nikita and Michael accepted their glasses and Page offered a toast, "here's to ... winning." Michael stared at him and Nikita smiled warmly, then clicked their crystal glasses together.

"Shall we get down to business," Michael stated quietly, scanning the immediate area, then stopping back to look in Page's face.

"No ... not yet. I'm here for ... entertainment, my friend." Page laughed.

"We have a business appointment at three ... we cannot stay long." Michael insisted. Part of the plan maybe, but he truly wanted to get Nikita out of there.

Page ignored Michael and turned his attention to Nikita. "Do you like horse racing, my dear?"

"This is my first time, Rick ... it's very ... interesting. Do you have many horses racing today?" Nikita inquired curiously in her most charming husky voice, locking eyes with Page. He was mesmerized by Nikita's vibrant blue eyes.

Shaking from his trance, he replied, "No, only one ... my new quarterhorse 'Free Flyer.' He's running the daily double. He cost me a fortune, he better do well. It's a big purse." Nikita smiled at him and looked out toward the race track.

"Seems like a fascinating hobby, Rick ... very ... exciting," Nikita cooed, looking coyly into his eyes, accentuating the word *exciting.* She could see that he was responding to her, she could feel the heat of his body warming to hers.

"The horses are very beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes, like you my dear," Page gushed. Michael glared at Page, his lips pressed tightly together. Nikita could feel the heat of his anger and jealousy, and it was becoming clear to Rick Page as well.

Michael pushed the plan in motion. He had had enough. "Perhaps we can continue this another time. Shall we go Nikita?" verbally signaling to her to stand and prepare to leave.

Both Michael and Nikita knew she had successfully snagged Page when he turned his head toward the track and said to Michael, "Please join me for dinner tonight ... we shall discuss our business then." Page gently picked up Nikita's hand and kissed it, caressing it for a few moments. "Dress ... casual, my dear." He looked her in the eyes and breathed, "It was indeed my pleasure to meet you, Nikita," then turned to Michael to shake his hand.

Michael hesitated for a moment, but held his cool, serious stare. "Until tonight, then," he stated quietly, shaking Page's hand, wanting to crush it, flip the guy to the ground and strangle him.

Michael moved in front of Page all the while locked onto his eyes, and in an alpha-male territorial display, took Nikita's arm and directed her out of the box. Confidently, he lead her away from the VIP boxes and away from Rick Page.

Ken had gone ahead to retrieve the limo. Michael guided Nikita toward the waiting automobile, his hand never leaving the small of her back, unconsciously demonstrating control of his *territory.*

Michael said nothing to Nikita until they entered the limousine and had pulled away from the race track.

"You were convincing," he seethed through clenched teeth.

"Just doing the *job* Michael," she hissed back and turned her head to the window, refusing to look or talk to him the rest of the ride back to the hotel. He stared at her through his dark sunglasses, familiar and expected jealously seeping in, unable to control it, nevertheless.

Upon arrival at the hotel, Ken opened the door for them and Nikita got out, walking into the hotel alone, leaving Michael behind. Michael emerged from the limo, and stopped to watch her beautiful backside striding angrily toward the elevator, French braid bouncing against her bare back.

"She's pissed," Ken said as he also watched her walk away. Michael glanced at him, and then looked back to see Nikita slip into the elevator, "Meet with me upstairs in 5 minutes to go over the sequence," he said quietly to Ken and calmly walked to the elevator.

"Jesus, again?" Ken, mumbled under his breath as he climbed back into the car to deposit it in its reserved space in the parking garage.

Michael entered the suite to the sound of Nikita slamming the master bedroom door behind her.

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

Nikita did not emerge from the bedroom until 7:30 P.M. Michael had heard the filling of the bathtub at about 5:00 and knew she had soaked for a long time, in scented oils, candles burning, as was her custom before these difficult scenarios. He guessed that the water was soothing, cleansing, much like the pool had been the night before.

She was stunning, in a tight lycra-knit copper top and skirt. The three-quarter-sleeved top hugged her curves, and was deeply cut to expose the perfect cleavage of her magnificent, exquisitely shaped breasts. She wore no bra and Michael could see the slight outline of her nipples. The bottom of the blouse barely touched the hip hugger top of the skirt, exposing her navel. She wore a tiny golden tummy chain around her waist that shimmered against her ivory skin.

The skirt reached her ankles, and had slits up both sides all the way up to her derriere. Her legs were bare; there was no hint of underwear of any kind. High-heeled leather ankle-strap sandals, hugging copper-painted toenails, completed the magnificent outfit.

Her golden blonde hair flowed loosely around her perfect face. She was wearing very little makeup, just a hint of eyeshadow and lip gloss. She was a goddess. His heart contracted at the sight of her. He could smell her intoxicating scent from where he was standing, pulling him into her orbit.

He walked over and stood within inches of her beautiful face. "You look beautiful," he breathed.

She smiled sadly and lowered her head shyly. He pulled her into his arms in a gentle embrace. "I won't let him hurt you, Kita," he whispered in her ear.

She looked into his eyes, and nodded. They turned and left the suite.

Ken held the car door open for them and as Nikita moved past him, he said softly, "Nikita, I know what to do," his eyes searching hers for understanding, trust. She smiled softly up into his warm brown eyes, "I know, Ken ... I know."

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

Rick Page owned a magnificent house. The exterior was glass and wood, weathered into a warm gray by the sun and salt air. It was perched high atop a cliff that offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the ocean and city lights below.

The interior was richly appointed, done mostly in California motif, with lots of ceramic pottery, contemporary white wicker furnishings against wooden floors, and abstract paintings. Lots of tall palm trees reached up to the cavernous, wood-beamed, vaulted ceiling.

Dinner was tolerable, Page talked a lot about horse racing, flirted with Nikita, made the typical innuendo. As always, Nikita was an engaging conversationalist, able to talk comfortably about most subjects but excelling in getting the mark to do what he really wanted to do -- talk about himself, thereby sucking him into her feminine spider web, causing him to want her badly.

Michael, loathing the easiness of their dialog, was quiet and reserved, rarely interjecting commentary.

At the conclusion of dinner, which seemed like an eternity to Michael, Page asked him directly, "Michael, shall we take our coffee in the library?" Finally, the end game was in sight, and he could get this pathetic charade over with and Nikita out of there.

"Yes, by all means," Michael replied coolly. They rose from the table and Michael moved swiftly to Nikita's side. He kissed her forehead and said softly, "I'll be back before long."

"Yes, my dear, why not enjoy the magnificent view from my terrace. I shall have Maria bring your coffee or tea there." Page was all business at this point, preparing to negotiate the deal -- lots of money and Nikita.

"Pigs," Nikita mumbled under her breath once she had escaped to the terrace where she was soothed by the cool ocean breeze.

Michael and Page retired to the library, and sat across from one another in luxurious leather chairs. For several moments, they sized each other up, preparing for the macho dealmaking.

Michael started. "We would like to buy a considerable amount of arms for our cause. I trust you have seen our prospectus?"

"Yes, Michael ... it is not a problem."

"Delivery?"

"Immediately." Page replied while sipping his coffee.

"Good." Michael stared intently at the man. Next was the excruciating moment of the negotiation.

"What are your payment stipulations?" Michael's heart steeled against the onslaught of rage he was about to feel.

"Oh, the usual, payment to an offshore account, 6 hours before delivery ... and," Page looked carefully at Michael. Page had already concluded that Michael could be a dangerous adversary. He was treading carefully, but saw no reason to withhold his demands.

"And ..." Michael prompted him.

"Nikita." Page stated calmly.

"Excuse me?" Michael played the appropriately stunned husband role.

"She is a beautiful woman, Michael." Page remarked, eyes darkened with lust.

"Yes ... she is beautiful. She is ... my *wife* and not for sale." Michael seethed.

"Then, there is no deal." Page smiled. He played the game well.

Michael thought for long moments, staring at the man.

"Exactly what did you have in mind?"

"Very good. It is important that the overall cause be considered, don't you agree Michael?"

Michael had to restrain himself. Had it not been for years of training in controlling his emotions, Michael would have killed the guy on the spot. Michael knew very well that all he ever did was consider the overall cause, selling himself and Nikita out many times before, and he sure as hell did not need to be reminded of it from the likes of Rick Page.

"What do you want?" Michael stated flatly.

"Tonight ... in just a few minutes, her in my bed, and you watching. Ahhhh, it's so exciting that way. You'll see, it's quite a turn on for me to know you are watching me f*** your wife! You know, Michael, it might just turn you on too. It has many husbands I've dealt with. They take their wives home and have incredible sex with them later!"

Michael glared at Page -- could have snapped his neck with those remarks, but held his cool. "I will have to talk with her."

"I'll be waiting upstairs. John will show you the way," Page replied smugly.

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

Michael found Nikita leaning against the rail of the terrace and moved to stand directly beside her, his shoulder touching hers. "Are you ready?" he asked softly, regret tingeing every syllable.

Nikita took in a deep breath, and let it out, closing her eyes for a few minutes. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Michael put his arm around her, and whispered in her ear, "He may be rough. Remember, stall for time. I'll be there."

Again she nodded, but could not bear to look into his eyes and, together, they turned back to the house.

The couple stopped at the staircase, Page's lackey pointing the way. Michael took her hand and led her upstairs. Both took careful note of the bodyguards that littered the staircase. Looking like he was soothing Nikita, he was talking to Ken, who was now instructing the small back-up team that had been loaned to them from the local Agency substation.

"One on the front door, two on the staircase, one at the bedroom door. Computer is in the library. Go to marks."

They stopped at the door of the bedroom. The guard motioned to Michael to raise his arms to be frisked for weapons, could see that Nikita had nothing to hide, then knocked and opened the door for them.

As they entered, the room was illuminated with dozens of candles and Rick Page had changed into a black silk robe. He was standing at the window and turned when they entered.

"Nikita ..." he breathed. "Come here, my dear."

Nikita looked at Michael and he stared back, with regret and sadness in his eyes. He kissed her on the temple and whispered, "Remember the children's lives you will be saving." And it was true, she knew. She would be saving lives, but sacrificing part of hers.

Nikita turned to walk slowly toward Page.

"Don't be afraid," he stated holding his hand out to her, "You'll like this, I promise."

Nikita could barely conceal the anguish and disgust that she was feeling, but continued to walk ahead, determined to separate herself from her feelings.

Michael walked over to the far corner and faced the window, "We're in, go," he whispered into his comm link. He hoped to God Ken would do his job with no mistakes ... he swore he'd cancel Ken himself if it went too far with Page and Nikita.

Michael turned and watched in overwhelming anger as Nikita reluctantly reached out to accept Page's hand with her trembling one. "Now, now, Nikita," Page soothed, as if he were talking to one of his spooked race horses. Once within his grasp, he pulled Nikita swiftly into his arms, smiling at Michael.

Feverishly rubbing his hands all over her body, he panted heavily, "My God Nikita, you are so beautiful, so ... soft, firm, let me touch you. He kissed her roughly and began tearing at her clothes. Nikita stood still, not moving and Michael knew she was frightened, could tell by her body language that a part of her was dying, allowing this man to ravage and rape her.

It was all he could do to stand still in the corner watching the woman he loved being mauled by an animal. Page ripped the top off and was panting heavily. His hands grabbed at her breasts and was moving Nikita backwards toward the bed.

Nikita was stunned, shell-shocked. Normally, she could think quickly on her feet, but with Michael watching and Page all over her, she froze.

Michael closed his eyes and prayed that Ken was finishing. In his comm link, he could hear the silencers of the guns taking out the guards; he could hear Ken saying that he was at the computer; he could hear Ken talking to Birkoff. The download was in process, but minutes seemed to drag on for hours.

Michael began a slow pace in the corner by the window, and he clenched his fists, listening to the soft whimpering cries from Nikita, her trying to be brave, to endure the pain and humiliation of her situation -- of Michael watching.

Michael hated this. He hated himself. He knew she would hate him too.

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

Page had begun to remove Nikita's skirt when Michael heard Birkoff announce that the transmission was completed successfully. Quietly, Michael pulled the hidden gun from the holster on his lower leg and moved toward the bed.

In his comm link, Michael vaguely heard Birkoff talking to Ken. "Ken, back-up Michael NOW. He'll be a raging maniac by now. DO NOT let him kill Page!"

But it was too late for Michael. His last hold on his control had fled the scene. He was enraged and prepared to kill to protect his woman.

Page froze immediately when he felt the cold barrel of the gun at his temple. "Let her go." Michael hissed. Page withdrew his arms and laid them flat against the bed.

Nikita scrambled off the bed like a scared rabbit and ran to the corner of the room, sliding down the wall to the floor.

"Michael, think carefully of what you're doing," Page warned, not realizing that his life was already over.

Michael grabbed the man by the throat, squeezing tightly, his anger and rage clearly at the surface. "I know exactly what I am doing!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Page gave him a sinister smile, still taunting Michael while gasping for air, "Couldn't take it, huh, Michael, watching me f**k your wife!"

Michael exploded, his control completely lost. With one hand squeezing tightly on Page's neck, Michael lifted his fist and began plowing into Page's face, battering him relentlessly.

"She's *my* wife, you son of a bitch." Michael continued to bash Page's bloodied and badly bruised face, rendering him nearly unconscious.

Ken and the team burst into the room to back up Michael, and Ken raced over to grab on to the back of Michael's coat, pulling him off the bloodied and beaten mark.

"Michael, BACK OFF! ... MICHAEL! We need him alive!" Ken quickly pushed Michael away from Page and up against the wall, in an effort to control this insane man. The team surrounded the bed and drew their guns on Page. Move he did not ... he was barely alive.

Quickly, Michael came back into control, although he was breathing heavily from emotion and physical exertion. He shook his head and suddenly realized that he needed to find Nikita. He pushed Ken away, nodding to him, signaling that he was calming down.

Michael scanned the room and found his Nikita cowering in a corner, eyes large with fear, tears streaming down her face, clothes torn and tattered, clearly afraid, and in shock.

He hurried to her and pulled her up against the wall, covering her body with his, shielding her from the eyes of the team, protecting her from the rush of the activity around them. He wanted her to focus on him and not the fear she was feeling.

Michael's hands cupped her face and forced her to look in his eyes. "Look at me ... Nikita ... look at me!" he shouted, trying desperately to get her attention. Her eyes were frantic, tears steaming down her face.

"Everybody out, NOW!" Michael demanded.

Quickly, the team seized Page, cuffed him and removed him from the room. Ken rounded up the rest of the team and ushered them out to the hall, closing the door behind them.

"Nikita ..." Michael held her to his chest and tried to soothe her. "Are you all right?" he whispered in her ear, trying to help her control her sobbing.

"NO! ... No, Michael, I AM NOT ALL RIGHT!" Nikita spat at him, pushing him away.

"Ni-ki-ta ..."

"Don't say it, Michael ... damn you ... just don't say it!" She didn't want to hear *well done* or *good job* and certainly not *I'm sorry.*

Nikita looked into his eyes with all the sadness and anguish she sheltered there. Her tears streamed down her face. He could plainly see all the torment and pain he had caused her now and in the past. He could see the pain he knew he would continue to cause her. His heart broke and he lowered his head to avoid her penetrating stare.

She turned away from him, raising her hands to cover her face, weeping quietly. After a moment of silence between them she picked up her ripped blouse, put it on, pulling the torn fabric together to cover her exposed breasts, and moved toward the door, trying to smooth out her hair and adjust her skirt.

He followed her, taking off his jacket to put it around her shoulders. She accepted this offer, without acknowledging him.

Once they were inside the privacy of the limousine, Michael reached out for Nikita, trying to comfort her.

"Ni-ki-ta ..." he whispered softly.

She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, cowering in the corner of the car. "No, Michael ... don't."

"Ni-ki-ta." He sighed, and tired to be gentle, "I hated what happened there. You *knew* the profile. We do what we have to do."

"Shut up, Michael! Please DO NOT talk ... leave me alone!" she spat, shaking her head. She could not bear hearing these words from him now. Logically, she knew it was the job, the profile, even knew it had to be done. But, emotionally, she was crushed. He blatantly sold her ... it was symbolic of their relationship -- Section would *always* come first.

Nikita turned away from Michael and stared at her reflection in the window of the car. She noticed how old she looked, how tired. She did not speak again.

Michael watched her throughout the short ride back to the hotel. His heart ached at the sadness he saw in her beautiful face, sadness inflicted by him. Again.

She was right, he thought. His same, tired excuses *were* getting old. Even to him.

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

The team arrived back at the hotel suite to gather their gear. The mission was thankfully over. Michael had directed the borrowed agency operatives to detain the prisoner at transport until he, Nikita, and Ken arrived for the trip back to Section.

Michael set up the final transmission to Operations.

"Michael, report."

"We have full closure. Page is under sedation and we are standing by for transport. We will be back at Section within four hours."

"Good." Operations spoke curtly. "Anything else?"

"Page will need medical attention." Michael stated flatly.

"Why?" Operations asked in an annoyed voice.

"Could not be avoided ... he is alive and will cooperate." Michael gave Operations his renown blank stare.

"Good. That will be all."

Nikita spoke up, "May I have a moment to speak with you, Sir? Privately?" Both Michael and Ken looked at her with surprise.

Operations was silent for a moment, but responded, "Yes, of course ... gentlemen ..." ordering Michael and Ken to leave the room.

"Thank you," Nikita spoke gently to Michael, meeting his eyes for only a moment, then looking away. After the men left the room, Nikita sat down in front of the monitor and took a deep breath.

"Yes, Nikita?"

She hesitated. "Sir, I wonder if I might be allowed to stay here for a few days to rest. I've been on many back-to-back missions and I was wondering ... well ... I would arrange for my own transportation back, say in two days? I would very much appreciate it, Sir." She closed her eyes -- she knew already what his answer would be and she braced herself for the disappointment.

"Why, Nikita? Operations was sincerely curious.

"It reminds me of home here ... just two days, sir, please." She tried not to sound like she was begging; she did not want to give him or Madeline any more psych information than was necessary, but it seemed to come out that way.

Operations looked into her eyes for several long moments before he gently commanded, "Send Michael in."

***********

She awakened to the morning sunlight pouring in through the sheers. A glorious day, she thought, and a smile spread across her lips. She was alone, wonderfully, to think about her life, about him. She looked over at the pillow that he had occupied and drew her fingertips over it, caressing it. She wished it could be different between them. She did love him. Although at this point, she would settle for friendship. But even that was not to be, she knew.

Nikita rose and walked over to the window and looked out to the park that hugged the beach. The beachgoers were already beginning to arrive, pulling out their umbrellas, sand chairs, and coolers. She decided to do whatever she felt like doing, be spontaneous, with no one to command her every breathing moment.

She was grateful that Operations had had a momentary lapse of sympathy which allowed her to be here. She'd have to remember that in the future and tap into it whenever he was being his usual bastard self.

After breakfast in the suite, and a slow read of the newspaper, Nikita headed for the bedroom to change into her Hawaiian print string bikini. She would spend the day at the beach, read a trashy romance novel, and swim in the Pacific Ocean. Perfect. Relaxing. No pressure. No *Michael.*

She found a spot on the sandy beach, spread out her towel and opened the rented sand chair. She removed her long t-shirt cover-up and searched her backpack for her cocoa butter. Just as she began rubbing it on her arms, she heard the opening of an umbrella directly behind her and she froze. She then heard the pole of the umbrella being plunged into the sand.

"You're too fair to be out here without any protection," he stated quietly and matter-of-factly. She smirked and shook her head. That statement was filled with a myriad of meanings. A moment later she hung her head back resting it on the rail of her sand chair and looked up into familiar dark sunglasses. "Michael," she said with slight sarcasm in her voice. She wasn't sure if she was glad to see him or not. And he knew it.

"May I join you?" he said softly; almost unheard over the sounds of the nearby surf.

She continued to look up at him and searched his face. No expression as usual as he stared back at her. A moment later, she conceded to herself that two days alone was too much to ask for -- from Operations and from Michael. Neither intended to allow it.

"Guess so," she stated slowly. "What are you doing here Michael? ... Baby-sitting?"

He laid out his towel and opened his rented sand chair, and placed it within an inch of hers. As he settled down, she noticed he had brought a large bag with him.

"What's in the bag?" She was just too curious. He did not answer, took in a deep breath and let it out again.

She stared at him and began to assess his attire. Interesting ... she thought, he looks like he's on vacation! Dark green t-shirt, black nylon board shorts, sandals. Never thought she'd see this day. He flipped off his sandals and began to dig his feet into the warm sand. He did not speak. Moments later, he reached back and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it next to him on the sand.

Nikita smiled slightly and resumed rubbing the cocoa butter on her arms. "You need more protection, Nikita ... you will fry using that stuff," he said softly.

"It's all I have," she replied and turned her head to watch him as he rummaged through the bag he brought. "Here," he said, handing her the sunscreen, 30 SPF she noticed. And then she laughed. "Well, thanks, Michael," she smirked, thinking 'ever the protector.'

As she began rubbing it on her legs, up her thighs, and over the vast bare skin of her tummy, she felt him watching her. She looked over and smiled. He did not turn away, but instead asked sensuously, "Can I help you with your back?"

She hesitated -- she really didn't want to feel his hands on her, especially not on her back. It was one of the most sensitive parts of her body and she knew from experience, once he touched her there, she would not be able to think clearly.

He knew that too. He had memorized all her *sensitive* parts and knew exactly the kind of reaction she had when he touched those places.

"No ... no thanks. I can do it."

"You'll burn, Nikita ... hand me the lotion," he demanded softly.

She closed her eyes and handed over the bottle of lotion. Here we go, she thought. And she was right. He took her arm and gently pulled her to sit in front of him. "Lift your hair," he whispered in her ear.

Again, she closed her eyes. And then, she felt the sensual combination of cool cream and rough, callused hands, rubbing gently across her shoulders and down to the string on her bikini top, and further down her spine to the small of her back. She could feel his fingertips slip slightly under the edge of her bikini bottoms and she shivered immediately. She was reeling. His touch was so soft, so erotic. The sensations shot through her body, instantly causing a warm, wet pool between her legs.

Michael did not escape the sensation either. As he smoothed the cool, creamy lotion over her beautiful back, he eyes shuttered more than once. Her skin felt like heaven to him and it was all he could do to keep from ripping off her top, what there was of it, and pulling her back up to his chest, nuzzling her against him. It took all his control to rub in the lotion and leave it at that.

"Fini," He stated quietly. Nikita quickly crawled back into her sand chair.

"Thank you," she spoke shyly.

"Welcome," he whispered looking at her face. They watched each other and communicated seemingly telepathically. Both knew they would have to get it over with.

"Why are you here, Michael?"

He turned his eyes toward the waves and scanned the shore around them. "I thought I could use a couple of days off." He turned his head toward her.

"Why here?" She had to know. Michael waited for several long minutes before he answered. He looked out at the water, and so did she. As the moments dragged on, she begin to believe that he would never answer that question directly and was stunned when she heard his reply.

"You're here." She snapped her head toward him and lowered her sunglasses to the edge of her nose and peered over to search his face. And although she could not see beyond his dark sunglasses, he was looking straight at her, and said no more.

"Michael, you surprise me sometimes. I'm not sure what to say." She smiled, confused, and shook her head.

"Then don't say anything."

"Hard to do with so much friction between us, Michael."

"What do you want to know, Nikita?" He looked at her and then answered his own question. "The answer is, I want to be here with you. Maybe we can work out some of our problems." He looked out at the surf.

"Too many." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Maybe not," he said flatly, raising his eyebrows over his sunglasses.

He surprised her. She would never understand him. Just as she thought there was no hope for them, he'd do something like this ... whatever *this* was, she still wasn't sure. Showing up?, she didn't know.

She shook her head and snorted, "Oh really?"

"Really," he said softly. He picked up her hand and caressed it with his fingers before bringing it to his lips. He pressed gently causing shivers to course through her body.

"Michael ..."

"Nikita ... no arguing, please. Let's not talk about it now ... let's enjoy the beach ... be together."

She thought about it for a while as he continued to hold her hand and search her face. She loved him. And finally, she felt that he loved her in his own twisted way. She had no other choice, really, but to accept his presence -- she needed him. She wanted him. And, she'd take what she could get.

He knew when she had decided when she asked, "What's in the bag?"

He smiled. "Brought us a beer -- Corona. Want one?"

The End