Snuggled tightly into the leather couch, Nikita gingerly fingered the worn paperback novel. She saw none of the words written on those dog-eared pages -- the images in her mind replaced those that the unknown author created.

Elena. She was a beautiful woman with striking physical features, but mostly beautiful from within. Nikita wanted to hate her, but she couldn't. Elena had stolen her heart just as she had Michael's.

It wasn't jealousy either, Nikita knew. It was envy. Deep, longing envy for a life Nikita knew she would never have -- one she could never give the man she loved . . . Michael.

The truth was plain to see -- Elena was good for Michael. She was kind, loving, and supportive. She understood him, accepted him, adored him. He was relaxed and comfortable with her. She easily brought out his long-buried emotional side, and even with an intruder in the house -- one that should have created tension and awkwardness, Michael still felt . . . safe with Elena. She made him feel important, needed, wanted.

And, Elena had given him the most precious gift of all -- Adam. That child had single-handedly given Michael the will to live. It was Adam that caused Michael to choose life. Nikita understood now why Michael prepared his missions so carefully . . . he wanted to return alive . . . return to them. He longed to spend every possible moment with his beloved family. It was understandable. They gave him sanctuary. Shelter. Happiness.

The night before, Nikita looked up into Michael and Elena's bedroom, wishing that it was she that was there, crawling into bed with Michael, cradling between them their precious Adam -- their son. But it was Elena who held that coveted position. Elena was Adam's mother. Elena was Michael's wife, as sure as the sky was blue; legality be damned.

Memories flooded over Nikita in those dark hours. She remembered cherished moments with Michael -- so rare, so special. Those memories were all she had, and now she knew . . . those moments had been shared with another woman. It was clear that after the few glorious moments when Michael released his control and had given in to his need for her, he had always gone home to his wife.

Recently, Nikita had realized that Michael loved her, maybe even needed her. But these few days spent in Michael's home proved too much for her. Watching Michael say goodbye to Adam before the scheduled meeting with Elena's father had been the defining moment.

Nikita could plainly see that Michael loved that boy, adored him. Adam was the light of his life. It was Adam that had brought Michael hope, not her, she knew now. That child had given Michael a chance to experience the most breathtakingly monumental moment a person could experience -- parenthood. It was unconditional love, trust -- the likes of which could not be compared to any other relationship that was not of flesh and blood.

She could not stand by and allow the man she loved, and the woman and child who had so very quickly claimed their own piece of her heart, to suffer because of her.

No.

She would not do it.

She would release him . . . to be with his family.

***

It was dark when the car pulled up. The dejected couple walked toward her as she opened the door to greet them. Elena had tears in her eyes. Nikita's heart broke for her new friend. After a moment of quick explanation, Elena escaped to the solace she knew she would find in the innocence of her beloved son.

It was then that Nikita took the opportunity to do what she had to do -- let him go.

Michael's quiet whispers explained a mission gone bad. They had come up empty-handed. It wasn't over . . . yet.

"Well . . . that means they'll keep you here a little longer. That's good . . ." she said trying to make positive a situation that was anything but.

"Good?" he inquired, puzzled at her comment.

"Good, for Adam . . ." she confirmed, trying desperately to remind him he still had time with the boy he loved will all his heart.

Startled that he would reveal them to her, she watched his emotions as they passed across his sad eyes, "I don't know if I can say 'goodbye' again," he whispered.

Nikita watched him, feeling her heart sink, hurting so deeply for a man that had sacrificed too much for too long. Moments later, she asked, "Why do you have to?"

Confused by her comment, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Why say goodbye, Michael? Why can't you keep what you've built here?"

Inwardly she was amused at the expression on his face . . . what was it? Shock? Yes, shock, she decided.

She took a deep breath, and continued to explain, "Don't you think you've suffered enough, Michael? Shouldered enough guilt? You've managed to keep your family a secret for this many years, why can't that continue?"

He looked up the staircase, assuring himself that Elena was not nearby. "Section would never allow it. When will you realize that there is no such thing as free will, Nikita?"

She snorted, then argued gently, "Free will, Michael? Maybe not, but choices -- yes. I've seen them for myself. You've made many choices for me over the years . . . choices for yourself, too. This last go around with George certainly proves my point, don't you think? You have resources. People owe you favors . . . call them in. Fight for what you have here," she urged.

Nikita surprised herself at the conviction in which she said these things. Startled that the words flowed so effortlessly. Amazed that they sounded so . . . logical.

He was startled too, she could see. The shock of her . . . maturity and selflessness surprised him. But truth was truth. And one thing she always tried to hold on to was truth, as best as she could know it. The truth was clear to her now: He needed his family more than he needed her.

Long moments passed as he watched her. She could see him searching her eyes for her true feelings. They were there plainly for him to see: Honesty, sincerity, sacrifice for the 'greater good,' a lesson that had been hard learned by Nikita, but so appropriately applied now.

Finally, he asked the other truth that plagued him: "What about us?"

Nikita tilted her head and smiled sadly. Tears welled in her eyes and sorrow tinged her husky voice, "I've realized that there never was an 'us' Michael. As much as I wanted there to be, and want it now, there never was, and never will be. Your heart and your life is here, in this wonderful house, with a wonderful woman and a precious child. I can't give you this," she replied, shaking her head, lifting her hands gesturing toward the comfortable surroundings that was Michael and Elena's home.

"She loves you, he adores you, and it is clear that you love them both too," she said as she picked up his hand between hers, rubbing it, encouraging him to see the truth in her words.

"Take what you can get Michael. You've earned it. Pull some strings. Fight for your family. Choose this."

Long moments passed as he gathered his conflicting thoughts.

"I've always hoped that we could be together someday," he said softly, looking down at their entwined fingers.

Nikita closed her eyes, and the tears fell. "Once you told me, 'sometimes all we have is our dreams.' I'll always have that dream . . . but you . . . you have more than a dream here, Michael . . . you have a chance at true happiness -- it's not a dream."

"What about you?" he choked out, as emotion overtook him.

Nikita nodded and swallowed hard, then whispered, "I'll be fine." She lifted his chin and looked deeply into his eyes as tears rolled down her beautiful face. Kissing him softly, she breathed into his parted lips, "I will always be your friend."

Then, she slipped away into the darkness.

The End