The young man looked at the psychiatrist and observed that she was an attractive middle-aged woman with blonde hair and kind blue eyes.  Not another pair of 'blue' eyes, he thought.   His silver-green eyes appraised her, as she stared back at him intently.  She had a blank expression on her face as she did her own appraisal Michael opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and closed it again.

        "Tell me about yourself, Michael.  Why have you come to see me?"  She leaned back in her comfortable wing back chair.  She waited patiently because she knew that the first visit to the "shrink" was always uncomfortable for both the patient and the physician.  Her advantage was that she had weathered many such first visits, and he presumably had not.  He was quite handsome with a long, somewhat thin face, marvelous eyes and a mouth that he obviously struggled to keep under control.  He looked very athletic, and he had risen gracefully to greet her when she had entered the office with a fresh cup of hot tea.  Not many men bothered with that formality anymore.  His manners were old-fashioned and elegant--guaranteed to please someone in her age group she thought to herself.   He's trying to impress or manipulate me, and I wonder why, she thought to herself.  She continued to watch him intently, as his eyes flashed an answer that his mouth would not yet say.

        Michael was stalling for time, because he was not here by choice.  Madeline had actually ordered him to see this, this...mind-melder.  He had no illusions that this psychiatrist was anything but a Section One hack, and he would be damned before he revealed anything to this self-satisfied, self-assured person before him.  Anything he said to her would be bound to be fodder for Madeline and her schemes and manipulations.  It was difficult for Michael to guess her age, but he guessed she was older than she looked.   Her skin was clear and fair  with very few wrinkles, but somehow he placed her at fifty because of the weariness around her eyes--the eyes  that were the same rich blue of Nikita's .  What was Madeline thinking?  A real psychiatrist could never be allowed to hear what was really on "his" mind, and a Section psychiatrist would place their loyalty to the Section first and not to the patient.   As far as Michael knew, no one in Section had ever been sent to see one before.  If an operative's mental status was that much in question, cancellation was the cleanest and quickest solution.  It must be a indication that the Section valued him enough to consider this option, but he was not going to cooperate willingly.  He would just wait for this Dr. Dupre to blink first.

        Therese waited.  She was familiar with hesitant patients, but he was beginning to wear her down a little.  No matter, she thought.  I have out-waited patients before, and I will this time as well.  He has to know from the beginning that I am in control of these sessions, and that he is not.  The air grew warm in the office.  Therese desperately wanted to fan.  Damn hot flashes, she thought.  She was well aware at this point of his disconcerting stare.  He's used to always being in control, and doesn't want to relinquish it especially here, she surmised.  She wondered what he did as a profession, and pitied the people under his control.  Time for a little meditation, she decided.  I'm not going to let him rattle my composure, and this is really starting to become a battle.  Therese mentally thought  her mantra, and as it began calm her, her heart rate slowed and the peaceful effect showed in her face and body language.

        Michael observed these changes and mentally gave up the struggle.  She was going to fall asleep if she became anymore relaxed, he thought.  The left corner of his mouth twitched in a tiny smile admitting that the doctor had won.  "They call me Michael, but I was born Michel," he began in a voice so soft that it caressed the ear like a lover.

        Nikita strode into the main computer station like she had something on her mind, and as usual, it was Michael.  He had been very mysterious, for even Michael, the last couple of days, and now he was no where that Nikita could find him.  Granted he had a right to some down time, but after the recent night they had spent together (only their second) , she had thought this time it would be different.  If it had not been for the soft look that came into his eyes when no one else was around, Nikita would have decided again that it was all a dream- -World War II, the French Revolution, their previous lives and deaths, which had culminated in a long night of expressing their physical passions and their love for one another. Michael had actually told her he loved her.

        The next morning Michael had made love to her again, before tenderly kissing her good-bye.  "We can make this work, Nikita, but I don't know how yet. Madeline knows," he whispered in her ear as he kissed her neck.
 
        "Madeline knows!  How?"  Nikita sputtered as she jerked away and glared at Michael.

        "She was there listening with me, in the beginning, when you were at Jurgen's.  She heard you admit that there was something between us.  Then she gave me a choice some weeks ago.  One of us was going to be relocated, if we didn't come to some kind of understanding.  I had decided to take the relocation, until the morning I woke up with you in my apartment.  I changed my mind that morning, but I didn't know how to tell you.  I didn't know what you would say after all the times I had backed away from you. You were so ...so...matter of fact that morning.  I was wanting to choke you and make love to you at the same time."  It took Michael at least three deep breaths before he could utter all these words to Nikita.

        She was amazed.  Two complete sentences would have been a novelty, but a whole paragraph of emotions from the usually taciturn Michael amounted to what would have been an hour's speech from anyone else.  "So," she said as she smiled at him, "that's why you hid in the bathroom."

        "Yes.  I was afraid you were going to come in there with me, and we would end up in the shower together.  I was fantasizing about it as I slammed the door." Michael had smiled a small rueful smile.

        Nikita had thrown her head back and laughed.  "If you only knew how hard it was to keep a straight face, and not attack you as you stood there without a stitch of clothing.  You were so angry you were shaking.  You were quite a luscious sight you know," she said as she kissed his mouth.

        When Nikita laughed, she did it like she did everything else, from the depths of her soul.  "This time, Nikita, can you really be patient?  I still don't have a plan."

        "Michael, you're not the only one capable of making a plan!  There are two of us here, not just you.  Let's work this out together, okay?"  Nikita had looked at him with a challenging look, but one that was pleading as well.

        "Okay, but please, be patient.  We can't just start holding hands during briefings.  We still need to be discreet," he had begged for her to look at the situation with reason.

        "What's the point in being discreet, if Madeline already knows," she had protested.

        "The point is that it is nobody's business but our own," he had countered.

        "No, Michael, the point is that you want to be in control of the relationship, and that I am your windup doll.  ‘Yes, Nikita, I love you.  No, Nikita, this is not the time.'  We're getting back to where we were before."  Nikita had begun to whine to her own chagrin.
 
        "Before what, Nikita?"  Michael's voice grew steely.  He could hear her response before she uttered it. Before Jurgen, he had braced himself to hear it and to show no reaction.

        "Before we made love again last night, Michael.  I'm sorry.  I don't mean to ruin what we have just shared.  Old habits die hard, I guess."  Nikita tilted her head for a kiss and was rewarded with the sight of his shining green eyes as they looked into her blue ones, before he kissed her tenderly.

        "Nikita, you surprise me sometimes. You really do."  Michael had left an hour later.

        Her mind still full of that other morning's events, Nikita stumbled into one of the desks.  Birkhoff  finished stuffing an Oreo into his mouth, as Nikita came up behind him.  "Have you seen Michael, Birkhoff?"  She asked with a puzzled expression on her face.  Her hair was pulled back from her face by a leopard-spotted head band, which had the effect of making her hair into a pale blonde mane.

        "Yes."  Birkhoff was intent on fishing the last cookie out of the bag, so his lack of intel was irritating beyond belief to Nikita.

        "Well, where is he, Birkhoff," she demanded in a slightly louder voice.  Her body language was saying, tell me now, as she towered over him.

        "I don't know, Nikita.  I don't keep tabs on everybody every minute of the day you know," he protested as he held the Oreo bag upside down to make sure he had all the crumbs.

        "Birkhoff, you're going to get fat, if you don't stop stuffing your face with those Oreos.  You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in the gym.  Do you evah work out?" Nikita was getting more agitated by the minute.
 
        "What's the big deal, Nikita?  Michael said he would be gone for a couple of  hours.  Since it didn't seem to be mission related...."  His voice trailed as Nikita looked like she was ready to cancel someone, and he looked like the only candidate in the area.

        "No big deal, Birkhoff.  Why would it be a big deal?  I just wondered where Michael was.  That's all.  I needed to talk to him about, uh- about tomorrow's mission."  Nikita's voice was beginning to trail as well.  She realized she was over-reacting, and luckily for her, Birkhoff was the only witness.  Good thing Birkhoff is usually so clueless, she thought.  Michael and I could be doing it on Michael's desk (if only we were), and Birkhoff would just get that puzzled
look on his face, and stumble out again.

        Birkhoff's face grew speculative, then curious.  "Nikita, I don't know about any mission tomorrow.  What are you talking about?"
 
        Nikita tossed her head in frustration and walked off muttering to herself about infantile, Oreo-scarfing, computer nerds.  Where the hell was Michael?

        "Michel?  Were you born in France then?"  Therese asked, thankful that at last he had opened his mouth to speak, rather than just breathe.  She was almost hypnotized by his softly-accented English.

        "No, I was born in Quebec, but I went to school in Paris. I guess that's where you could say all my problems began."  Michael hesitated.  He was still uncertain about just how honest he could be with this psychiatrist.  He knew that it would be cold day in hell before he told her about anything about Section One.   Madeline had not given him much warning about her plans for him to see this Dr. Dupre.  In fact, he had had about 30 minutes in which to prepare
a scenario to present--in case he decided to say anything at all.

        Michael had been working in his office, preparing a study comparing outcomes and variances of the last three missions.  It was dry, studious work, but one to which his logical mind was well-suited, and one which was usually accomplished with only a little effort.  Nikita was often listed in the variances.  He smiled to himself.  Yes, she is definitely a variance always to be considered.  His phone chimed annoyingly, and he answered brusquely, "Yes?"

        It was Madeline, and she wanted to see him now.  She was insistent and he knew better than to argue.  It was just simpler to go see her.  The report could wait another hour.  It was already late due to his being able to think only of  Nikita's eyes and mouth and breasts and.....and his lack of concentration on a dry mission report.  Michael sighed and walked down the hall to Madeline's new high-tech office.  Michael much preferred the old one.  It was the only place in Section that could ever have been considered cozy.

Michael walked past Birkhoff, who was busily tracking something at his computer station.  "I'm in Madeline's office, if anybody needs me, Birkhoff," he said.

        "Yeah, sure, okay, Michael."  Birkhoff barely noticed anyone when he was playing "Riven."

        Madeline looked up as Michael entered her office.  He was looking a little tired.  There had been several intense missions lately, and there had been many stressors recently in his relationship with Nikita.  She had first been sent on a suicide mission, and Michael had been aware that she would be sacrificed along with five other abeyance operatives.  Nikita  had managed to escape a fiery explosion--most assuredly with Michael's assistance.  Madeline was not certain how he had accomplished that feat, but she was certain that he did.  The uncertainty came after the explosion, because apparently Michael did not know that Nikita had actually escaped.  Routine monitoring of encrypted messages had revealed that Michael was sending multiple messages daily.  "Nikita, are you there?"  Then as his hope waned, only two or three messages were sent daily.  There had never been any response to his messages though, and Michael had disintegrated before her eyes.  He had been spinning out of control, even worse than when Simone had been thought to be killed by Glass Curtain.  However, Nikita had not been killed, and more recently, his relationship or lack of it  with Nikita had been plaguing him.  Section had so many times manipulated him, as much as Nikita had been.  The stress was visible in his face and body language.  Madeline felt pity, but it was tempered with what was best for Section One.

        "Sit down, Michael."  Madeline motioned him to a comfortable sofa as she relaxed in her leather chair.  "How are things going, Michael?"  she asked as she watched his responses.

        "Fine.  The study is almost completed," he offered quietly.  He gave her the most obvious answer  to her question, and felt pleased because he knew that was not what she was asking him.  The left corner of his lip twitched in amusement.

        "No, Michael.  How are things with you and Nikita?"  Madeline's brown eyes saw
his lip twitch, and knew Michael was in the mood the play a little.  She knew she would have to be relentless to get him to do what he needed to do.

        Michael leaned back and folded his hands on his lap.  He often did this to keep his hands from playing with his chin as he often did in times of stress.  In fact Madeline had taught him this little trick of self-control, and they both knew it.  "Nikita and I  are talking.  We are making some progress toward defining what we both want, or think we want."

        Madeline knew that if Michael admitted this much to her that *matters* were moving along indeed.  She smiled and said, "Good.  I really would hate to lose either one of you to another substation.  I have had some time to think about you and Nikita, and I think it would be beneficial for you Michael to talk to a psychiatrist.  I know you are too intelligent to be upset by this suggestion, so I will tell you that your appointment with Dr. Therese Dupre is in 30 minutes, and you have just enough time to make it.  That will be all, Michael."  Madeline handed him a card with the address and turned back to her computer screen and started a new entry.

        Michael took a moment to breathe after he left Madeline's office.  He always hated being called to her office--just like the principal's office at school as a child.  Jurgen had not been his only trainer when he came into Section One. Madeline had a hand in his training as well, and Michael had learned a lot from her about suppressing emotion and using his innate sensuality and appeal to manipulate women.  No, being in her office was never easy.

        At the sound of her voice, Michael's eyes snapped into focus so quickly it sent shivers of alarm down Therese's back.  His gaze held hers.  "This is not going to work.  I don't have time for it.  I am used to dealing with things myself, in my own way and in my own time.  You can tell Madeline to forget it."  After making this quiet statement, Michael rose and strode purposefully from the doctor's office without a backward glance.

        "Madeline?  Who's Madeline," Therese asked to his back.  Well, he was gone for
now, and he had reacted in the typical manner of  a person with control issues. Unable to sit for longer than a few minutes on someone else's turf, he had taken the only avenue of escape available.  She wondered why and how long he had been doing that.  She spent the next few minutes making notes and recording them into her hand-held recorder.  Therese had no idea if he would return, but she hoped he would.... He needed help, and of that one thing she was certain.

        Michael's right hand was trembling ever so slightly as he unlocked the car door.  He was so angry with Madeline.  What was she thinking?  The very idea that he would sit calmly that  psychiatrist's office and talk about his problems, his day to day assignments in dealing with terrorists and his feelings for Nikita!  It was laughable, and he would tell her so as soon as he
got back to Section One.

        Nikita could see that he was distracted and barely noticed her.  "Well, sure, Michael," was all she could manage to say before he was gone.  She had seen the back of his head one too many times in the past several days, and she stalked after him-running to catch up.

         "Now, Michael!" she said in ‘sotto voce' as she grabbed him by the arm. She knew she only had a minute before he would break away, so she hurriedly said, "Dinner, tonight, my place.  Be there!"

        His confusion cleared for a moment.  "Okay," he said hoarsely surprising them both, and he was back on his mission to see Madeline.

        "How did it go?  How do you think it went, Madeline?"  Michael forced himself  to take a couple of deep breaths in order to calm down.  It was another of the relaxation techniques Madeline had taught him many years ago.  Control.  Life in Section One was all about control--who had it, who used it, and who kept it.  Michael ran his hands through his wavy hair, a sure sign that he was failing in his attempt to gain control of himself.

        "I went there.  We stared at each other.  What was I supposed to do, Madeline? Did you really expect me to sit dere and tell dis total stranger what's been on my mind for the last fourteen years.  Either she's a total innocent, or she's on Section One's payroll.  The more I thought about it as I sat dere, the more certain I became that it was going to be a waste of time."  Michael's accent was much thicker than it was normally.  It was  especially obvious as his usually careful "th's" were being dropped  as he spoke.

        Madeline was definitely enjoying the sight of Michael in distress.  Michael normally so self-contained and self-controlled was breathing heavily.  However, Madeline would never allow Michael to see that she was amused.  "What did you think of Dr. Dupre?  Did you like her?"  Madeline really wanted to know.  She had spent a lot of computer time ferreting out just the "right" psychiatrist for Michael.

        "Makes no difference.  I won't be going back," he declared as he leaned over her desk and stared right into her all-knowing brown eyes.  The challenge had been issued.

        "Michael, you've been through a lot--more than anyone really-- since you came to us.  You have had some deep losses.  You now have a chance to make a life for yourself, as much a life as anyone in our situation can have," she added wryly. "I'm not sure that the damage you've experienced is irreparable.  We owe it to you to find out.  This has never been done before, Michael.  You must know that. You must recognize that it is a sign of  the esteem you generate by your total devotion to doing the job.  We've asked terrible things of you, Michael.  We've
asked you to lie and manipulate someone you cared about.  We even expected you to send someone for whom you cared deeply on a suicide mission and--expected you to get over it.  You will go back to see Dr. Dupre, for a while anyway.  She's not Section, Michael."
 

        Madeline's soft voice and words had the calming effect on Michael that his own attempts at control had not.  Michael's body slumped in a momentary defeat as he sat back in an office chair.
        "That will be all, Michael.  Aren't you having dinner at Nikita's tonight? Better go on.  Don't keep her waiting.  I didn't know Nikita had learned to cook."  Madeline smiled at Michael.

        "Humph.  She hasn't," Michael snorted.

        "Well, have a good dinner, anyway."  Madeline said enigmatically as she turned back to her computer display screen.

        Michael fumed to himself as he walked slowly down the hall.  There is no privacy anywhere in this place.  Madeline knows everything that goes on here.  Nikita only asked-demanded I come to dinner 2 minutes before I entered Madeline's office, and already she knew.  I feel like my body must have internal transmitters.  I have put up with this intrusion into my life for fourteen years, and I am heartily sick of it.  Michael continued down the hall to
Birkhoff's computer station.  He leaned over the computer whiz's shoulder and  said quietly.

        "Birkhoff, I need one of those PAS419 units."

        "Yeah, right!  Michael, they're making me sign those babies out now.  So, if  you want to put your name on the line, be my guest."  Birkhoff leaned back and smiled a smug smile at Michael.

        Michael's voice lowered again.  "Just do it.  Then I won't have to tell Madeline who taped her singing "Muskrat Love" in the shower, and then played it for all of Section One to hear.  I want it now, Seymour."

        Birkhoff decided discretion was indeed the better part of valor and gave Michael the PAS 419.  Boy, he thought, some people have no sense of humor around here, and that definitely includes Michael and Madeline.

        With finesse, Michael placed the unit in his pocket.  He was certain that no camera had caught the interchange between Birkhoff and himself.  The PAS 419 was a high tech audiovisual scrambler, much prized in an area where information was control and power.  This one was a great improvement over the older models which only provided interruption of equipment for a couple of minutes.  This new unit could work for up to two hours at a time.  At least he could guarantee that he and Nikita would have some private time together.

        As Michael walked up to Nikita's apartment door, he could smell tantalizing odors wafting  into the hall.   Eating at Nikita's could be termed an adventure as a rule.  He hoped tonight, she would order something in, as her last excursion into the world of nouvelle cuisine was an abysmal failure.  As he knocked, he thought, I don't need Nikita to be everything.  She has beauty and an uncanny intuition for situations in the field.  She has heart and light, and I just don't give a damn that she cannot cook.  Besides he knew that a normal life would not be one that they would ever have the opportunity to lead.  He heard a high-pitched screech and the sound of a pan dropping.  Michael used his key and opened the door.
 
        His lovely Nikita stood there sucking  the fingers of her left hand as she motioned with the other hand to the pot roast on the middle of the kitchen floor.  Lovely browned potatoes and carrots were everywhere.  The odor was intoxicating.  It looked like it would really have been a good dinner.  "Damn! Michael, I burned my hand getting the roast out of the oven and dropped the damn thing."  Nikita looked like she wanted to cry.

        "I see," he said as he walked over to her and took her burned fingers into his mouth.  He closed his eyes as he tasted and savored the sweetness of  her hand. He never wanted to let her go.

        "Uh, Michael, hello!  I think some ice cubes might actually be better for the burn."  Nikita was amused at how quickly Michael snapped back to reality.  His eyes flew open and his mouth twitched on the left.

        "Right.  Ice cubes.  Perfect for burns."  He carefully stepped over carrots, onions and potatoes to get to the refrigerator. Grabbing several cubes out of the bin, he deftly crushed them and had them wrapped around her burned hand in less than a minute.

"Here, you sit down, and I will clean up the mess."

        Nikita marveled at the sight of Section One's best cold op. cleaning up spilled pot roast off her kitchen floor, and he was very efficient at that too.  "Michael, don't eat that!   It's been on the floor!"  God, I sound just like my mother, she thought.

        "This side wasn't on the floor, Nikita.  I'm hungry.  Tastes good, too. Here have a taste."  Michael tore off a piece of roast and fed it to her, although she did seem a little hesitant at first.

         She had looked up at him, standing there with a chunk of roast in his hand of offering it to her, and she had been unable to say no.  Nikita swallowed the roast, licked her lips and said breathlessly,  "Michael, I'm hungry too."

 
        Nikita placed her arms around Michael's neck and proceeded to nibble on his ear and neck as she rubbed her body against his and felt a gratifying response to her pressure.

        Michael shuddered and wasn't sure he could control himself long enough to do what had to be done first.  "We have to talk first, Nikita."  Michael disengaged Nikita's arms, looked around and casually placed the PAS419 unit beside the refrigerator and activated it.  Nikita saw this and her mouth dropped open.

        "How did you get one of those new ones, Michael," she asked.

        "I have means," he replied cryptically with the barest of smiles.  "We have two hours to talk and whatever...." he smiled again.

        "Michael, you've smiled twice in five minutes.  You know you're going to turn my head if you're not careful," she teased.   Nikita proceeded to insinuate herself into his arms.  It was sheer heaven to be held by this man she decided.  All the chaotic emotions of earlier in the day evaporated as he held her close to his chest and favored her closed eyelids with soft light kisses.

        "Nikita, we do have to talk.  We didn't talk much the last time I was here," Michael started, trying to focus on not carrying Nikita directly to the sofa.

        "I know.  It was wonderful, Michael.  Mmmm.   I remember very well.  I was here."  Nikita was reveling in the feelings and sensations that she had so long denied, but Michael would keep talking....

        "We merely reacted to the emotions that our dreams had evoked.  Those feelings had validity, and still do."  His hands were tenderly caressing each side of her face as he tried to talk to her.  His green eyes were shining with emotion.

        "I hear a big "but" coming in there somewhere, Michael." Nikita jumped to the offensive.  "Please, is this going to be a game of 1 step forward, 2 steps back?  Honestly, Michael, I don't know how much more of your wishy-washy dancing around I can take!"  Nikita freed herself from Michael's embrace and turned her back to him.  She took 3 deep breaths in order to calm down, and then turned back to face him again.

        "Wishy, washy?  You are comparing me to a Laundromat?"  Michael seemed incredulous and confused at  her description.  "Pardon me.  Would you repeat that?"  Sometimes English being his second language was a definite advantage, because Michael knew he could use it to make Nikita laugh.

        Nikita looked at Michael and saw that his mouth was twitching again.  "You know what I mean!"  She couldn't maintain her angry expression, she started giggling. "Yeah, you know going round and round and up and down," her giggle turned into a leer as she pressed her hips against his, and repeated the demonstration of round and round and up and down.

        "Stop that, Nikita," Michael whispered softly as he took Nikita and pushed her to arms length away from him.  "We have to talk."  He took her right hand in his left and led her to the sofa.  He motioned for her to sit at one end, while he took a place at the opposite end.

        "Can't we talk later, Michael?"  Nikita was giving him her puppy-dog look.  Her blue eyes were luminous and reflected the glow of candle light in the room. Nikita did not plan on fighting fair tonight.

        "No, now," he said softly.

        Operations entered the code to Madeline's office, walked in and asked anxiously.  "Well,  how long are we going to give Michael with this psychiatrist thing?"

        Madeline looked up at Operations, and smiled.  "We gave Nikita a six week vacation.  I think Michael deserves that much time at least.  I don't think he will stand for being out of commission for any longer than that.  I have arranged with the psychiatrist for him to be seen daily during that time."

        "It's just that we've never done anything like this before.  I don't feel comfortable bringing an outsider into the outer fringes of what we do here." Operations paced back and forth, each step bringing him closer to Madeline's personal space.

        "We've never had anyone like Michael before.  His future success here in Section is assured if we can just manage to keep his emotional status at a comfortable level of only mildly dysfunctional."  Madeline allowed herself a small smile as she made that remark.

        "That's a mighty big ‘if,' Madeline. This Dr. Dupre is an innocent.  What is she to make of Michael?"
 
        "That will depend entirely on Michael and what he chooses to tell her.  Dr. Dupre is extremely ethical, highly recommended, and" she paused for effect, "I think she is just the right person whom Michael will be able to trust.  Michael relates well to women.  That's something we have exploited time and time again, but she is older, and while attractive, I feel she is beyond the age that I think Michael would willingly choose to seduce or manipulate.  I think she is a very safe choice for Michael.  She is kind and has a very happy marriage with children who are almost Michael's age.  I also feel that  Michael will feel safe with her, maybe not immediately, but given a little time."

        "So you've found Michael a Mommy?  Is that what you're trying to say, Madeline?" Operations asked with a half smile, his grey blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

        "Exactly.  Now is there anything else?  I still have these figures to go over." Dismissal was in her voice and mind, and Operations took the hint and left.

        "Michael, I don't disagree with anything you are saying.  I know we have to be careful and not flaunt our relationship.  But if Madeline knows, then Operations knows, and we're both still alive.  Hello!  It can't be  that difficult.  You and Simone---."

        "Exactly!  Simone and I were married in Section and went on missions together.  We functioned as a team--just as you and I do now.  And you know how that ended. I have had so many losses in this life.  I am so damaged.  I am not whole.  I am a terrible bargain for you."  Michael abandoned his place at the end of the sofa and held to Nikita's shoulders as he uttered these sorrowful statements.

        The pleading look in his face and eyes broke her heart.  "Michael, I don't know whether we have lived and lost other lives together as we both dreamed.  All I do know is we have life and time now, and I don't want to waste it--not one-more- precious- minute of it."  Nikita took his face in her hands and tenderly kissed his lips, cheeks and eyelids with each word.

        Tears formed in Michael's eyes as he returned Nikita's kisses.  "Enough talk," he whispered.

        Dr. Therese Dupre looked at her daily appointment schedule, and was shocked.  Her mysterious new patient from the day before was booked for daily appointments for the entire week.  She had not really expected him to return.  She scanned the week after, and the same thing was in evidence.  He had made daily 10AM appointments for that week as well.  She flipped more pages, and  unbelievably for the next six weeks, this uncomfortable young man was going to be sitting in her office.  She went into the outer office.  "Tina, is this correct?  Did Mr.
Smythe-Jones really make daily appointments for the next six weeks?"  Therese was still incredulous.

        "Oui, Madam.  At least his secretary Madeline did.  She said he wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible.  She said he didn't have time for weekly appointments," Tina giggled at the thought of this arrogant man who thought he could schedule his emotional recovery into a fitted span of time.

        Therese was simply mystified, but looking forward to the challenge--maybe the challenge of a lifetime if her intuition was correct.

        At exactly 9:15AM, Michael left Nikita's bed, unwillingly, but resolutely and went to her kitchen.  He quickly made coffee, toast and juice for the two of them.  They had never made it back to the kitchen last night, and Michael was starving.  Nikita was still asleep when he carried the coffee to her bedroom.  He kissed her awake, and the heavenly aroma of the French Vanilla coffee did the rest.  "I've only got time for a quick shower, and then I have that damned appointment down town."

        "Mmmm, a shower with you.  That would be nice," Nikita was almost purring. Michael had brought her breakfast (well as much as she ever ate anyway) in bed. She stretched and yawned and reached for the coffee.

        "No, I don't have time to shower with you, cherie.  I really have to go."  He kissed her again.  He could  taste the sweet coffee and licked off the toast crumbs at the corner of her mouth.

        "You're never gonna get outta here, if you keep that up, Michael.  Where are you going anyway?  What's this appointment you have at 10?"  Nikita's curiosity was aroused.

        "That's what I wanted to talk about last night, but somehow...."  He gave a Gallic shrug and leer.  He was busily picking up his black pants, shirt and coat, trying to shake out some of the wrinkles.

        "Mmmm, I remember.

        "Later, Cherie.  No time now."  Michael laughed and raced to the shower with Nikita a close second behind him.

        At exactly 10AM Michael walked into Therese's outer office, and introduced himself to Tina.  His wavy brown hair was still wet at the ends.  His green eyes were clear and sparkling, and in Tina's opinion, he absolutely exuded sensuality.  Tina could hardly speak two intelligible words, and she was so enthralled that she forgot to ask him for his insurance card, or for payment.

        Michael walked into Therese's office.  Once more into the fray, he thought.  He dreaded this more than any dangerous mission.  He unconsciously brushed back a stray curl, and sat down facing her.  He folded his hands in his lap and gave her a small smile.  "Good morning, Dr. Dupre."  His voice was soft and had a soothing and seductive quality.

        "Michael, it is good  to see you again.  I wasn't sure you would return."  He has lost the agitated look he had yesterday.  "Would you like to tell me why you are here, and how you think I can help you.?"  We begin the dance, she thought. Now where did that idea originate, she pondered as he began to speak.

        Michael spoke quiet, but clearly.  "I work for a secret government agency, so it is vital that you understand that my being here may at some time endanger your life.  If you wish to continue these sessions with that in mind, I am ready."   He had decided that if this psychiatrist was indeed a Section One cover, then she already knew a great deal about him, and if she was not, then she was bound by the rules of medical ethics forbidding her to reveal what he said here.  If he was going to be chained to the desk doing paperwork at Section One for the next six weeks, he was going to have some fun at these sessions.

        Therese heard these words with some amusement.  "A secret government agency? Well, you are my first secret agent, Michael.  Pray continue."  Unbelievable, this new patient was going to be her greatest challenge.  She would let him have his fun for a few sessions, but she would find the chink in his armor, and then the real work would begin.

        "I was a student activist in France convicted of a bombing that killed several people.  Make no mistake, I was guilty of  this crime.  I don't plead innocence for the  murder of those people. I was then recruited from prison when I was't twenty years old.  As far as the world and what was left of my family knew, I died in prison.  I was taken by this agency, and I was trained for 2 years.  At the end of that time, the powers that be decided that  I should live and continue to work for them fighting terrorism.  My only other choice was death." Michael said this simply and with little emotion.  He knew she would never believe him.  Michael watched the disbelief in her face which was quickly replaced by a patented blank stare.  She was almost as good at that stare as he was, he thought.  He wished Nikita could be here to see both the blank stares. Nikita would find it amusing, well maybe she would.

        Therese wondered how long he would be able to keep this ridiculous pose going.  He was probably some petty bean counter, who had an active imagination, and was using it to have a little fun--expensive fun considering what she was charging for these sessions.

        Michael continued to speak, "I did every mission I was assigned, and I was good at it.  There were no forms of armament I could not master.  I became quite expert in computers and martial arts.  I was found to be especially suited for the seduction and manipulation of women.  I never failed in any task I was assigned, and I became the perfect machine for this agency."  Michael's eyes took on an intensity as he looked at Therese and said, "I guess you could say that I got off on the adrenaline rush of it all."

        Initially, Therese was still amused, but as his riveting gaze held hers, she felt the heat of a blush start up her neck and mark her face.  Damn fair skin, she thought.  It's not fair.  "Got off?"  she reflected back to him like the excellent clinician she was.

        "Yeah, after a mission we would all come back and be sky high.  Maybe it was just that we were still alive, but we didn't need drugs.  Adrenaline was our drug."  His voice grew softer as he drew out his words seductively and continued to stare at her.

        "So, Michael, it sounds like you really enjoy your job.  It sounds like you are perfect fit.  So, why ‘are' you here?  Are you ready to tell me that?"  Therese felt he was getting far too carried away with this scenario of being a secret agent, and thought she should jerk his chain a little.

        She's a smartass, he thought.  That sounds like something Nikita would say.  A brief flash of amusement crossed his face as he thought of Nikita sitting in the wing back chair and what he would like to be doing to her right now.

        "Michael?"  She didn't like his seductive demeanor.  If he kept this up, she would have to refuse him as a patient.

        "I was just thinking that you reminded me of a friend of mine.  She would have just said the same thing.  Unfortunately, when I think of her, my mind travels...." he gave his first genuine half smile as an apology.

        "Unfortunately?"

        Michael's eyes grew clouded.  "We have a very complicated relationship, doctor."  Michael began to rub his chin as he thought about how to tell about Nikita and life in Section One.

        "Complicated?"  Now I'm seeing something genuine, she thought.  Maybe we won't have to waste anymore time playing games.

        Michael sighed deeply and rolled his eyes back.  He ran his right hand through his wavy hair, trying to stall for time and trying to express how he really felt.  "Nikita is a fellow operative that I met a little over three years ago.  She was my material.  That's what we call the new trainees.  Material to objectify them.  She had been convicted of killing a policeman, sentenced to life in prison.  She was recruited.  I was told only that morning that I had a new trainee.  After I reviewed her file, I thought I knew everything about her.  She was a street kid, and she stabbed a cop in cold blood.  I entered her room that day, and my life has never been the same since.  She cleaned up really well, you understand?  She was incredibly young, about 19 at the time.  Pale blonde hair and luminous blue eyes.  I think I was bewitched from the first time I saw her."  Michael paused in his story as he voice grew hoarse.

        "Michael, would you like something to drink, coffee, bottled water?  I can get Tina to get it.  I know these first sessions can be difficult."  She smiled apologetically.

        "Coffee, black would be fine, if it's not too much trouble.  Whatever you have will be fine."   Tina brought the coffee and managed not to spill it as she sashayed in.

        Michael was grateful for the small break, but he continued quietly.  "When material is recruited, they go to sleep in prison and awaken strapped to a bed in a white room.  Each recruit is given two choices--work for us or die.  When the drugs we had given Nikita had worn off, she awakened screaming and crying, scared to death.  I went through the usual spiel.  "This is where you will train."  It's very cold-blooded, but these are cold-blood people we recruit. Nikita was, as I said, screaming and crying.  I showed her the picture of her funeral, and she became even more upset because her mother wasn't there.  I tried to explain to her that a woman with her looks who could kill in cold blood would be invaluable, but she became hysterical, screaming that she "didn't do it."  Well, I had heard  all that before, and  the agency doesn't  make that kind of mistake."

        He sipped his coffee and continued, "I had lost my wife Simone on a mission about 6 months before Nikita came to us.  I had blamed myself, still blame myself, for her death, and knowing how operatives are manipulated, I was sure there was a good reason Nikita had been given to me to train.  After Simone died, I had shut myself down.  I did the job, but I couldn't manage to do anything else.  It was the only way I could survive.  Anyway working daily with Nikita was a healing experience.  She was rebellious, but smart.  She learned quickly all I had to teach her.  She also underwent training in etiquette, clothing, makeup, in addition to the martial arts, physical conditioning, and computers.  The two years went by quickly, and I had a difficult time maintaining my distance from her.  The more polished and stronger she became, the more she fascinated me.  Her rebellious nature was still evident, but she had a lightness about her that transcended everything." His eyes grew shiny as he thought of  Nikita as she had been.

        Therese sat as if hypnotized listening as his story took shape.  Could all this be true?  Surely, he was the most delusional paranoid schizophrenic ever to walk in her office.  It was the most involved delusion she had ever heard, and she had the feeling that he was just getting started.

        Nikita had some down time coming.  There were no briefings or missions that required her presence at Section One.  She passed the morning by cleaning the apartment.  There were potatoes and carrots still on the kitchen floor, which had now hardened to a congealed, starchy mess.  She wondered  about where Michael had rushed so hurriedly.  He was being so secretive, but kept saying they needed to "talk."  They hadn't talked much last night.  Michael had been passionate and tender in turns.   It had seemed to Nikita, now that she was able to think rationally, that he was trying to memorize every inch of her body's landscape.  He had been lavish with his attentions, but so sweet at times that it brought tears to her eyes even now.

        Nikita continued scrubbing at a lump of desiccated potato.  The phone rang. "Hello," she answered.

        "Josephine,  come in."  It wasn't Michael calling, but Madeline instead.

        "What's going on?  Why are you calling?  Where's Michael?"  Nikita was very puzzled that it was not Michael and concerned.

        "Just come in.  I'll explain when you get here."  Madeline disconnected.  Madeline never wasted words.  Nikita, after all this time, did not expect any more.

        Birkoff was the first person Nikita saw on entering Section One.  "What's up? Where is everybody?  Madeline called me in."

        "Nothin' going on that I know of, Nikita.  Madeline's in her office."  Birkoff went back to his computer terminal and became totally absorbed in whatever he had been doing before Nikita had interrupted him.

        Nikita walked down the hall to Madeline's office.  The doors opened at a signal from Madeline.  Nikita walked in.  "Well, what's up.  Is there a mission or not? I don't see anyone else here, and where is Michael?"

        Madeline turned to her and smiled her semi-cold, totally uninformative smile. "Michael is fine. This is a mission for you, Nikita.  It's a very simple, straightforward B&E.  We have intel that a certain individual, who's name is on a need to know basis only,  is the possessor of some information that we need in order to prevent a terrorist attack in Tel-Aviv.  We believe his contact is his psychiatrist,  Dr. Therese Dupre.  We simply need for you to plant a couple of listening devices in this doctor's office.  That's all.  I don't envision that there will be any need for backup."

        "No, backup, Madeline?  There's always supposed to be backup.  Granted it doesn't sound like a complicated operation, but-" Nikita protested.

        "No backup, Nikita.  Go to Walter, and he will give you the devices."  Madeline turned back to her terminal.

        "But what time?  What's the rest of the mission profile?"  This was not making any sense.

        "I'll leave that up to you, Nikita.  This is a private mission.  Walter knows what you need, and the rest is..."  Madeline gestured toward Nikita and smiled again.

        Nikita turned and left Madeline's office, but she was disconcerted by this departure from Section routine.  She strode swiftly to Walter's area, and didn't waste time with the usual pleasantries and flirtation that accompanied being outfitted by Walter.  "Walter, do you know what the hell's going on here?"

        "You know sugar, they don't pay me to think around here.  Madeline said to give you these KK290's, and here they are.  Have fun!"  Walter turned his back to Nikita and busied himself straightening the shelves.

        "Is that it?  Doesn't this little mission rate a weapon, Walter?"  Nikita asked him sarcastically.

        Walter turned around and said, "Sure, sugar.  Wouldn't want to send Section One's prettiest op. out without a little something to punish any bad guys she might run across."  Walter tossed her a semi-automatic 9mm pistol.  "Wouldn't be right to send you out undressed, now would it.  Although...." he let his face assume a leer for her benefit.  "If you want to come back and get undressed, we could have some real fun."

        Nikita leaned over and kissed the older man's seamed face.  "Yeah, Walter, you just wait right here, and I'll be back to do that."

        Not for the first time, Walter said, "She's sooo bad."

        Michael paused.  He had been so caught up in talking about Nikita, that he noticed that Dr. Dupre wasn't taking any notes.  He didn't see a recorder either. "What kind of records do you keep Dr. Dupre?  I don't see a recorder, and you don't take notes."

        "I make my notes up here,"  she laughed as she tapped her temple.  "Then between appointments--the famous fifty minute hour, you know, I record my thoughts and impressions on a hand-held recorder.  I find it leaves me free to observe my patient, if I wait till after he or she has left my office.
 
        "I do not feel comfortable with tapes of my sessions being available."  Michael started playing with his chin as he thought of the material he had already given her.

        "Now Michael, my office is very secure.  You don't have anything to worry about."  She felt this was just a part of his paranoid delusion system.

        "Dr. Dupre, there is no security system than cannot be breached.  The technology is there, and simple with my connections to obtain." His gaze was intense and challenging.

        "Well, Michael, then I challenge you to breach my system, and present me with proof that you have.  Ordinarily, I am not one to leap to conclusions, but you seem quite truly paranoid."  Therese felt very confident that Michael would not be able to do any such thing.

        "All right, I will accept your challenge.  We need to get this trust issue behind us."  Michael said quietly.  "I think our time is up.  I will see you tomorrow--with my proof."  He rose gracefully, and walked out without another word.

        Therese watched him walk out, leaned back and let out a deep breath.  "Mon dieu, what have I gotten myself into," she said aloud, and thought unprofessionally to herself, what a butt!

        Michael went back to his apartment in order to inventory what he equipment he had, and what he would need for tonight's little mission.  Michael no longer worried about his apartment being watched by Section One.  He swept his place for cameras and microphones at least daily.  This was one of the days when he decided an extra-thorough sweep would be advisable.  He quickly deactivated the 3 microphones he found, and used another PAS419 unit to scramble the camera signal.  Michael knew he kept several lower level operatives busy trying to keep his apartment under surveillance.

        Certain now that he was unobserved, Michael went to his closet full; of black apparel , touched a panel, which caused the back of the closet to slide open revealing  Michael's private store of surveillance equipment and armaments. Picking up the night goggles, and other classified items, he smiled.  He had everything he needed for his little foray into Dr. Dupre's office tonight. Might as well take a nap, he thought.  He certainly hadn't had much sleep the night before.

        Visions of Nikita standing in the kitchen with a ruined roast on the floor and visions of Nikita exalting with pleasure in his arms kept the shadows at bay for once as he fell asleep to dream only of their loving.

        Nikita waited until 1AM before leaving her apartment.  She had not seen or heard from Michael since his leaving that morning, but she was secretly relieved.  At least he had not been there asking questions about her mission for Madeline.  He would certainly have wanted to accompany her, and she would have been tempted to let him, in spite of Madeline's instructions.

        Nikita hopped into her new Porsche.  It was not the most nondescript car for  a mission, but it was black.  There were a lot of  raised eyebrows when she had first driven it.  No one could quite figure out how she could afford it. Granted operatives had a generous allowance, credit cards galore, but this was a little special in price.  Absolutely no one knew that she had Michael to thank for the car.

        One of the things that Nikita had discovered last year during her coffee chats with Michael was that he played the stock market with his savings and bonuses. A few good tips-- when and what to buy and sell--Nikita had made a major score in last year's dynamic market.  Given her propensity for shopping at consignment stores, Nikita had no major expenses, and her savings had quickly become a nice little nest egg.  No one at Section One ever talked about the retirement plan, so Nikita decided to take her dividends and splurge on the hot little number she
now drove.
 

        Nikita quickly entered the physician's building.  The security system was a joke compared to the little deactivator Walter had given her, along with the listening devices.  She could always con him out of whatever she wanted.  She had a genuine affection for him, and never took his sexual banter seriously.

        Nikita quickly took the stairs to the 7th floor where Dr. Dupre's office was located.  She had no trouble eluding the night watchman who made desultory rounds every hour or so.  She found the door that was the doctor's private entrance and proceeded to deactivate the alarm.  No problem, she thought.  This is a piece of cake.

        Michael was already in Dr. Dupre's office searching for where she kept her records.  He had located nothing with his name.  He was beginning to think that she had taken it home with her.  It would be just like her to do that.  However, he thought I can still prove I was here, and how simple her system is to breach. Michael froze in his search as he heard a sound.  The door!  Someone was coming in the private entrance.  Michael quickly and silently stepped behind the door, ready to take down whoever entered.

        Nikita cautiously walked into the doctors private office.  Her night goggles showed that there was not even a motion detector in the room.  Her small flashlight was all she needed to survey the room.  An uneasy feeling came suddenly that she was not alone, but it came too late.  A strong arm was around her neck and she was on the floor, before she could respond.  A man's full weight held her there briefly, before she began to struggle and use every technique she knew to gain some advantage over this unknown foe.

        He was incredibly strong and powerful.  If she could just get at his eyes, she would give him something to remember.  She pounded his back in the area of the kidneys.  She was kicking and scrambling for any vulnerable area she could find.

        "Ugh!" he moaned, but would not give up.  Michael could tell that this intruder was female, but strong and well trained.  He was afraid he was going to have to break her neck to defeat her.  Michael never liked killing women, even in self defense.  It went against something that had been ingrained in him as young boy by his ma-ma.  It was good that she was not here to see what he had become. What  he had become was this machine that did the job he was assigned.  If a woman got in the way, it was too bad.  All the same, Michael looked for a way to disable this one without killing her.

        His worst fear had almost come to pass-that sometime he would be forced by circumstances to kill Nikita.  Now he had come very near to doing just that. Michael acknowledged to himself that he would have followed her.  What is Hades was she doing here in Dr. Dupre's office?  How did she even know he was coming here.  He hadn't had a chance to discuss any of this with her.

        Nikita's first impression as she came to was a headache that expanded  and pulsated as the blood supply returned to her brain.  She tried to open her eyes. Then she remembered where she was and started to struggle against the gentle hands that held her.

        "Nikita, c'est moi, Michael.  Be still.  Give yourself time."  He said all this softly and soothingly, not wanting to maker her pain worse.

        "Michael? Ooooh."  She groaned.  "What are you doing here?  Did Madeline send you here as backup after all?"

        "Madeline sent you here?"  His voice grew spikes and spurs.  That is to say his voice grew "harsh."  He would get to the bottom of this, and he would have it out with Madeline.  First things first, he thought.  "I have to do something. It will only take a moment, and then I will take you home."

        Michael turned to the doctor's computer.  He booted it up,  installed and ran a password program, and left the doctor a message as a marquee.  "Michael was here.  Your security is pathetic.  Believe me, for I am what I say I am."

        Michael returned to Nikita's side.  "Can you stand?  I will help you.  If not, I will carry you.  We need to get out of here."  He quickly looked around to see if there were  any traces of their visit.

        "But Michael, I have to plant the listening devices," she protested.

        "The listening devices?  I'll plant them for you."  Michael planted them to placate Nikita, but he would take care of them during the next session. Madeline. @#$%! he thought to himself.  They would definitely be having a different type of session the next day.

        Nikita tried to sit up, but groaned and lay back down.  "Michael, I don't think I can do this."

        "It doesn't matter, I will carry you," he said quietly, and proceeded to pick her up.
 
        "It's seven flights down, Michael."  She knew he was strong.  His leg muscles were beyond compare, as well as other parts of his male anatomy.

        "Well, at least it is not seven flights up," he said as his mouth twitched with a tiny smile.

        By the time they reached the building's floor level, Michael and Nikita were both worn out--Nikita because her head was still throbbing, and Michael because Nikita was a healthily sized woman and she was not a lot of help in the forever spiraling journey down. Michael put Nikita down at the bottom of the seven flights, and leaned back against the wall to catch his breath and ease the muscle cramps in his calves and thighs.

        "My hero," Nikita giggled as she took in the sight of her spyman gasping for air.

        "I take it that you are feeling better?" he asked with a touch of irony in his voice.

        "Hmm, some, but I don't think I can drive.  Let's go to your place.  It's much closer, and you can come back for my car?  Is that a doable plan?"  Nikita sounded like she was feeling a lot better.

        "Yes.  You are going to allow me to drive your ‘hot' car?"  Nikita had not allowed anyone to drive it until now.

        "Michael, I wouldn't have the car if it weren't for you.  Of course, you may drive it."  Nikita's playful side was emerging.  "In fact, every time I touch the stick shift, I think of you," she leered a lopsided grin at him.

        "Ni-ki-ta.  Come on."  He lead her out, arms entwined, but vigilant for the security guard, who was on his coffee break.

         They exited the building as easily as they had entered, but not undetected. Therese Dupre stood watching one landing above this teasing scene.  "Ah, amour.  So sweet.  So this is the ‘light' of whom he speaks."  She chuckled to herself and went back to her office to see exactly what had been going on up there.  She was amused to see the marquee he had left for her.

        "Well, at least this one has a sense of humor."  She could not see any evidence that anything else had been touched, but then she guessed a real secret agent would avoid leaving any evidence like that.

        Michael drove Nikita back to his apartment and put her to bed .  That was a first.  Nikita had been in his apartment only once before, and that was without his knowledge initially.  Madeline had assigned her to watch over him one night, and he had not been very happy to awaken and find her there the next morning. Oh, well, she thought, at least this time he wanted her there, and this time she was in the bed, not freezing her butt off on his tiny balcony.

        Michael looked at her white body lying on his black sheets.  Her blonde hair was spread like a fan over the pillow.  Her luminous blue eyes looked up at him with a desire that intensified his own.  He reached out and touched her hair  with his hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss.  He was always amazed at her beauty, and that she would allow him to touch her after all the times he had manipulated her feelings in the past.  He felt he did not deserve her attention, much less the giving nature that she still possessed, in spite of everything. He always called her ‘his Nikita' in his heart, but his mind told him to be wary of letting anyone come too close.  He had not been able to prevent this, and he had tried so many times and so many ways.

        Nikita shivered at the tenderness of this gesture.  She could see that his eyes were glazed with emotions too difficult for him to yet express.  She did not know when or if he would ever be able to express them.  She knew he needed her, and she knew that their connections from their multiple shared pasts had pulled them together again in this life.  She needed him as well.  It was as if each connection potentiated the other.  It was as if one plus one equaled three or four instead of just two.

        He lay down beside her.   His hand stroked her face and trailed softly down her neck.  "Are you really feeling okay now?"  He was still distraught at how close he had come to killing her.

        "I'll be fine," Nikita said as she turned to Michael and began to run her fingers through his longish wavy hair.  She always longed to do that.  She always wanted to pluck back the stray lock of hair that always escaped.  She had wanted to  touch him and challenge him to claim her as she had during that fiasco with Jurgen.  What had she been thinking!

        "Perfect Section One response," he said.  "How's your head?"

        "Really, Michael, I'm fine.  Do you want to talk about why you were at that office ahead of me, or do you want to make love?"

        "Foolish question," he said softly.  "Talk- in- the- mor-ning."  With each syllable, Michael kissed her, then deepened the kiss.  Her white body started writhing  under his kisses and caresses.  In turn her hands were caressing and demanding, and Nikita became a Valkyrie riding back to Valhalla as she  mounted a tumescent Michael.  She teased and tantalized him as she moved until Michael could stand no more.  He quickly flipped her over and continued the steadily increasing rhythm.  Michael had little control that night, as all his fears and anxieties came to the fore, as they had the first night on the boat.  Fear of  losing her battled with the reality of their every day existence.  He had lost Simone.  He could not bear to lose Nikita.

        Nikita could feel the desperation in Michael's heart and in his essential self.  He made love to her as if they would never make love again.  She felt the same desperation, because she was still burdened by years of insecurity and neglect. Their climaxes came almost together, Nikita's a moment  before Michael's.  They shuddered in each other's arms as the tears mingled on their faces, for they wept in joy that they had this love and this togetherness for now.

        Michael always awakened early, but after only going to sleep at 0500, the alarm at 0600 was an annoyance to be swatted to the floor.  At 0800, Nikita began to stir, Michael's left arm and leg were pressing her to the mattress, and she felt like half her body was aslep.  She began to nudge him gently to see if she could encourage him to roll over without  waking him.

        Gray eyes popped open and saw blue ones only an inch away.  Michael blinked and he began to remember the events of the early morning hours.  Nikita was ‘here' with him.  "Good  morning," he said and could not escape giving a loud yawn as he stretched.

        "Bored with me already, are you?  she asked, drawling out her Australian accent. looking at him with those aquamarine eyes.

        "I don't think that would be possible," he said softly in his French accented voice.  His hands started running over her back, but he stopped and give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

        "First breakfast, then explanations about last night. Hein?"  Michael jumped out of the bed, dragging Nikita with him.  "Shower time?   I will fix breakfast."

        "Michael, I don't want to get up.  Stay here with me," she wheedled with an incredibly innocent smile.  He knew she was no innocent, and that's what made her smile all the more intriguing.

        Michael pushed a reluctant Nikita into the shower and smacked her behind as she tried to pull him in.  "No, I need food.  You do too.  Stay,"  he commanded like he would have a puppy.   He quickly left Nikita in the shower and pulled on some gym shorts and a dark green tee shirt.

        Michael surveyed the pantry and refrigerator.  Almost as bad as Nikita's, he mused.  Cappuccino,  Fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, day old croissants, raspberry fruit spread and Canadian Bacon was all he could come up with on such short notice.  He had it all set up by the time Nikita came out of the shower  wearing his navy terry cloth robe and a white towel wrapped around her head.

        "Mmmm, looks wonderful and smells divine, Michael."  Nikita, in spite of her protestations  about getting out of bed, was ravenous and applied herself with vigor to her portion of the breakfast.

        Michael sipped his cappuccino and spread butter and raspberries on his croissant as he watched Nikita eat.  She had a dot of butter at the corner of her mouth, but he would take care of that before they left.  "Now tell me, why were you at the Dr. Dupre's office.  Tell me from the beginning."  He said this quietly as he leaned back and watched Nikita for any signs of evasion or dissembling.

        "Madeline called me to her office.  She said this psychiatrist was suspected of  being someone's contact.  She didn't tell me who or what he was, just that he had intel that Section needed.  You know Madeline, she said I didn't need to know anymore, and that was it.  No backup team, I protested, but she said it wouldn't be needed.  Now, why were you there Michael?"   Nikita, too, leaned back was watched Michael for any tell-tale signs that might tell her more than he would be likely to tell her himself.

        Michael considered a moment, truth, half-truth, a lie, and decided Nikita deserved to have the truth from him.  "I imagine Madeline sent you to bug the office, because I am seeing Dr. Dupre as a patient."

        Nikita's mouth dropped open.  This was the last thing in the world that she expected to hear from Michael.  "So that's where you've been for the past two mornings."

        "Yes," he said in his quiet way.  "I will discuss things further with Madeline."  Michael was beyond annoyed, but not surprised that Madeline would use Nikita to bug his sessions.

        "But what should I tell Madeline about my ‘mission.'"  Nikita wondered what Madeline would make of  the real truth, and the direction that Michael's and her relationship was taking.

        "Tell her the truth, that they are placed.  She will expect you soon to debrief.  I will take you to your car, and come back here to get ready for my ‘session' on the couch with Dr. Dupre."

        "Got it all planned out, Michael?"  Nikita was surprised at her resentment of  his ‘take charge' style, but then that was Michael, and she might as well get used to it.  She would pick her battles, and not fight this one.  She softened her query with a kiss across the table.

        Nikita decided that she would take the bull by the horns, meaning Madeline, and have it out with Madeline over the previous night's assignment.  Madeline was working at her terminal when Nikita entered.  "Why, Madeline?"  Nikita paced as she asked this.

        "Why what, Nikita?"  Madeline countered, her face and eyes conveying no emotion at Nikita's challenge.

        "Why would you ask me to place listening devices at that psychiatrist's office, when the only intel Section wanted was what Michael is saying to his doctor."

        Madeline had a fleeting look of surprise.  "Michael's doctor?  What makes you think that, Nikita?"

        "Just that when I went to place the listening devices last night, he was already there and nearly killed me before he realized who I was.  That's all!" Nikita was magnificent in her fury, which was lost on Madeline.  She leaned on Madeline's desk and was right in her face as she made her declaration.

        "Oh."  Madeline said with a small smile.  "I trust that neither of you are too damaged from the ordeal."

        Nikita's face flushed as she remembered the passionate aftermath of their encounter.  "Uh, no lasting damage," she muttered as she tried to think of a way to get out of Madeline's presence.

        "Good.  I take it the devices are ‘not' in place then."

        "No, Madeline, they're in place.  Michael placed them, while I was still trying to get my breath."

        Another look of surprise crossed Madeline's face.  "Good.  Any idea when Michael is coming in today?

        "He's gone back to his apartment to get ready for his session."  Nikita knew she had said too much.

        Madeline smiled again,  "You seem to know a great deal about Michael's itinerary today, Nikita."  She watched Nikita start to fidget with her hair.
 
        "Is that all, Madeline?"  Nikita forced heself to stop playing with her blonde hair.

        "Yes, Nikita, that's all."  A small look of amusement remained on Madeline's  face

        "Good."  Nikita turned and took her best ‘take a deep breath, slow down, don't run, retreat.

        The door closed behind Nikita, and Madeline said, "Good."

        Therese Dupre anxiously sat throughout her 9AM appointment.  Only by focusing totally on the patient's face was she able to maintain concentration.  Her 10AM appointment, whoever the hell he was, was always on the periphery of her conscious thoughts.   Finally, that session was over.  "Tina," she asked via the intercom, "have we had any cancellations today?"

        "No,  Dr. Dupre, we haven't.  Mr. Smythe-Jones is here.  Are you ready for him?"

        "No, just a couple of minutes.  I need to finish my last session's notes." Therese collected her thoughts and finished her dictation.  She then took a deep breath and signaled Tina that she was ready for her 10AM session.

        Michael walked in with an inscrutable expression on his face.  In one smooth graceful motion, he unbuttoned his jacket, sat down across from her desk, folded his hands in  his lap and asked, "Did you find my message?"  He allowed a raise of  his eyebrows as he asked this question.

        "Yes, Michael. I did.  I admit you are a very resourceful person.  You diverted my security system, and if I am not mistaken, you were not alone.  I am very curious about that situation."  Therese gave him a knowing smile.

        Surprise flashed across Michael's face.  How did she know that Nikita was here. Had she been in the office last night?  He had not sensed her presence.  "We did not come together.  She is a fellow operative, and had been assigned to plant listening devices in this very office."  Michael said this quietly and in a very matter of fact manner.  "It is important that you understand the reality of ‘my' situation and now,  by extension, yours."

        Therese swallowed.  "Listening devices in ‘my' office.  The very idea goes against every ethical standard in my profession.  What kind of people do you work for, Michael?"

         Michael pulled from his inside jacket pocket a PAS419 and put  his index finger to his mouth in order to warn her not to say anything.  He activated it and then indicated it was all right for them to continue to speak.

        "I told you. I am an operative an a clandestine anti-terrorist organization. It is our job to take out the criminals and terrorists that no one else can.  We do not play by the rules.  We do the job."

        He looked at her so gravely, that Therese began to believe.  "Michael, was that Nikita with you last night?  I saw you leave together, and  I saw the emotional connection between the two of you."  She saw the question in his eyes and responded.  " I was coming up the stairs when I heard you and your ‘fellow operative' coming down.  I merely stepped into the hall off the 2nd floor and waited till you left.  She appeared to have suffered some injury since you were carrying her?"

        "I nearly killed her in your office before I found out who she was. We were both skulking about in full black gear, masks and all," he said ruefully.  "I had to render her unconscious in order to subdue her.  I could tell it was a woman, but until I pulled away her mask, I had no idea it was Nikita.  I nearly killed her.  I was nearly responsible a second time for killing someone I loved."  Michael suddenly buried his face in his hands, but quickly regained his composure and looked at Dr. Dupre.  The look of tragedies past remained in his eyes.

        "Yes, Michael, I remember you mentioned your wife Simone and that you blamed yourself for her death.  Will you tell me about that?"

        "Yes, I will.  Michael took a deep breath and began to speak.

        "Simone and I met as fellow operatives.  We became a team, much like Nikita and I are a team now.  Simone and I fell passionately, romantically in love, and we married without permission.  You have to understand that the agency we work for has complete control over our lives.  They have given us our lives, and we would all be dead or in prison without our places in this agency.  We have free time, and we live outside of the agency, but they still control much of our lives.  Simone and I tried to keep our relationship and marriage a secret.  Relationships are not ‘condoned,' but neither are they forbidden.  Close emotional relationships with outsiders ‘are' forbidden, so it is only natural that operatives occasionally turn to each other for closeness or sex or whatever."
 
         "My relationship with Simone was different from any other that I had experienced with anyone else there.  We had this incredible chemistry when we first met.  We made love within 24 hours of meeting.  During some down time two weeks later, we were married.  We were both young, and we were convinced that we could carry off the deception.  But they saw it in our eyes and in our body language, and soon we were called in to M's office.  M is our second in command and she responsible for psych-operations both for missions and operatives.  She is a uniquely intelligent woman who seems to have almost psychic insight into everything that goes on there."

        "She was not particularly pleased, but we convinced her that our skills had not suffered, nor our determination to accomplish our missions.  We were tested severely in the next few years, but we came through each mission with flying colors.  We made each other stronger.  Our next trial came when Simone became enciente.   Again we tried to keep it to ourselves, knowing that it was futile, but not wanting to destroy our child.  Strangely enough, Madeline did not try to talk us into aborting.  She gave Simone immediate maternity leave.  That never made sense to us.  There we were thinking one or both of us might be canceled, and Simone was given 5 months before delivery and 3 months afterward to be at home.  It was the only time in my life that I ever had any idea of how other men live.  I still went on the same type of dangerous missions, but when I went home, Simone would be there her waistline expanding, waddling around showing me baby clothes she had just purchased.  Later, after the baby was born, I would come home to find her breastfeeding our son."   Tears came to Michael's eyes. "Those were the happiest months of my life."

        Therese knew there was more to this story, and she gave him time to collect himself.  "You have a son, Michael," she asked.

        "We ‘had' a son, he died."  Michael's gray-green eyes gazed in misery at Therese.  "We were both on a mission, and he was left with a nanny hired by the agency.  It became a very protracted mission.  We could not get access to the intel we needed, so it took two weeks instead of the few days expected.  When we returned, Simone and I were told that Rene had died from a sudden and severe fever, and that because of the pathogen involved, he had already been cremated.  And the reason we were not told while we were on the mission, was that the mission was too important to be compromised by personal concerns of the operatives involved."

    Therese was speechless.  She could not believe any government agency could be so cold-blooded.
 
     "Simone went into a depression, and I tore up the Medlab looking for his body, or any evidence that he had beeb there, because I could not accept than little Rene was dead.

     After a time, we put aside our grief and my suspicions.  We still had each other, but Simone was never really the same.  She insisted on having a sterilization procedure, and I agreed because I didn't know what else to do.  I still have nightmares about my son.  I don't know if he simply died sick and alone without the parents who loved him.  I don't know if  my agency killed him, or if he was taken away and given to someone.  I tried everything I knew how to do in the next few years to determine what really happened, but I have had no success.  Finally, I gave up and concentrated on doing the job.  Simone did the same."

     Some years later, about 4 years ago, Simone and I had a simple mission.  We were just supposed to go in and retrieve some information.  She must have had some flash of intuition, because she wanted us to have a back up team.  I told her that it was too simple a mission to involve others.  There must have been a leak.  I don't know but they were waiting for us.  Many shots were fired.  I saw Simone go down, and I could not get to her.  You understand, I could not retrieve my wife.  I had to leave her there.  She did not move after going down, but I had to leave her."  Michael's anguish reverberated in the office.

      I blamed myself for years for her death.  I became as near an automaton as one can and still breathe.  I would allow no one near me until Nikita came to us."

     "Yes, you told me about Nikita and how her being there began to make a difference in your life."  Therese said encouraging him to continue, because it sounded like he had covered the worst events of his life.

     "Shortly after Nikita completed her 2 years of training, she and I were sent on a mission that brought  all those feelings again.  It was a mission concerning the same terrorist group that had killed Simone.  Nikita was sent in first, and while there she discovered that they had a hostage, Simone.  She had been kept prisoner and intermittently tortured for 3 years by these terrorists.  Nikita and I were able to free her, but in the end she diverted us, and killed the terrorist leader and herself by locking herself in, and blowing the place up. She said she was already dead, and that she loved me.  Those were her last words to me."

     "I was prepared to stay there with her and die, as I no longer wanted to live. But Nikita was there and reminded me of the rest of the team.  I gave the order to evacuate,  and leaned back to await the explosion that Simone had initiated. Nikita started pulling me and pulling me, and the next thing I knew I was running like hell to get out of there.  I guess that my will to live is stronger than I thought.  I should have stayed there to die with my wife.  It would have been a tidy ending to such a tangled life."

     "Do you think that your decision to live had anything to do with Nikita?"  Therese asked.  Never again would she assume she had heard the worst someone had to tell.

     "I don't know.  Maybe."  Michael's voice was hoarse with emotion and unshed tears.
 
     "Nikita and I have been through so much in the last year and a half.  What started as a  very pure friendship after Simone died, was corrupted by the type of life we had to lead.  Our agency heads, for want of a better name to call them, continually tested us.  O.  wanted to cancel Nikita before her two years of probation was over.  I argued him out of it, and was told that if she failed, I failed.  In other words, if my judgment of her was faulty, then I could not be trusted either, and I would be canceled as well.  So you see I had a vested interest in her succeeding at whatever she mission she was assigned.  Our first mission together away from the agency was an eye-opener to me.  Yes, I  had admitted to myself that I was attracted to her, but to her I was only someone who held the power of her life or death in my hands."

     "We assumed the identities of a young married couple, who were mercenaries for hire and apparently intensely in love.  It took some doing, but we infiltrated the organization as we were assigned.  Nikita totally blew our cover story out of the water about how we met.  She has a very playful side, and the next thing I knew she was biting me on the cheek telling this man a wild tale about our meeting in Rio."

     "That bite on the cheek was like an electrical current.  It was like I had been sleepwalking for years and was all of a sudden blindingly, terrifyingly awake in the midday sun with every nerve ending exposed to its heat.  This man B was rumored to have perverted sexual appetites, and I had already picked up on his vibes that he was attracted to Nikita.  After dinner, B and his girlfriend started dancing, and they encouraged us to dance as well.  I led Nikita to the dance floor to dance to some blues number.  I pulled her very close to me, and while I stared into her eyes as we danced, I became aroused.  I could not stop looking at her face and lips, and I could see the surprise and suspicion in her eyes."

     "I was beginning to have difficulty focusing on what was supposed to be a mission.  I wasn't sure if I could keep B away from Nikita.  The sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife.  B broke a champagne glass and sent his girl away on a pretext, then offered her to me.  He also made it very clear that he wanted to have sex with Nikita, which by this time I had decided I would kill him before I let him touch her.  I told him the job was done and we wanted our money.  Then he decided he would like to see us make love."

     "I could tell from Nikita's expression that she did not care very much for this suggestion either.  We were taken to a bedroom that had a camera in the ceiling, and music began to play.  I could tell that Nikita was at a loss as how to proceed, but as always she was impulsive.  She turned suddenly and threw her arms around me and began to kiss me.  My mind was reeling from her closeness and her mouth and the bed two steps away.  I wanted nothing more than to gently lay her there and make love to her all night.  But the mission called for a diversion, so that I could get to B's computer."  He smiled ruefully.

     I tore myself away from her and told her to take off her clothes.  She started to rip them off, and I told her ‘Slowly, perform for me.'  So she does.  I am sitting there in an arm chair with this lovely woman taking off her clothes and dancing for me, and I am going absolutely crazy with desire.  She passed me the explosive device that would be our diversion and I managed to get it into the AC vent without taking my eyes off her.  It had a 30 second timer and  I picked her up and threw her on the bed, covering her body with mine to protect her, and yet knowing B was still watching, we continued to kiss.  I told her to get ready.  I meant for the blast, but from the look on her face....well, I think she thought I meant something else."

     "I was never the same after that mission.  The physical passion I had felt for her would not go away.  But it seemed that she had felt nothing.  It was back to our old testy relationship.  It was just a job, and we did it successfully.  I could tell from M's remark after we came back, about what a convincing couple in love we made, that she would be watching to see if anything developed.  B was the source of  this intel, since the agency decided to use him for its own purposes.  I pulled back a little knowing that Nikita had no interest in pursuing any kind of a relationship with me.   I did not dare risk another relationship in the agency.  Out of self defense, I began occasionally to have sexual encounters with women I knew outside of the agency.  I tried to get Nikita out of my mind.  I had thought that this would relieve some of the stress, but it only made me desire her more, not less."

     Therese hated to stop him.  "Michael, our time is up for today.  Will you be here tomorrow.?"  His story was riveting.  He had suffered so much, and still suffered.

      "As far as I can tell, as far as anyone can tell, I will be here tomorrow."  Michael turned off the PAS419, and then went about the office removing the two listening devices placed the night before.  As he drove to Section, he thought about what he would say to Madeline.

     Michael made very certain that the door was shut before he spoke.  When he did, his voice was laden with unexpressed emotion.  "Here are your listening devices, Madeline.  They are an encumbrance to my therapy.  You think I need therapy?  Then  you will just have to do without hearing me "bare it all" to the psychiatrist.  What do you think that I will tell Dr. Dupre, that you do not already know.  I have been under your personal microscope for the last 14 years.  There is very little of my private and personal life in which  you have not had involvement.  I have been trained, molded, spindled and mutilated for Section One, and I resent this intrusion into my emotional life!"  Michael slammed his fist on Madeline's desk.

      He started off softly, but by the end of the last sentence he was shouting at Madeline, who listened with her enigmatic smile.  "Is that all, Michael?"

     "Damn right, that is all!"  Michael whirled around and stalked out of Madelaine's web.

     Madeline smiled at Michael's back.  Hmmm, she thought. This is worth reporting to Operations.  "Come down, if you have a minute.  I have some progress to report with Michael.  Yes," she said.  "He shouted at me at the top of his lungs, banged his fist on my desk, used a four letter expletive and stalked out."  Her eyes were twinkling as she described the recent scene for Operations.

     "I definitely have to hear about this," he said.  "I'll be right down."

     Madeline smiled as Operations said,  "Shouted and cursed at ‘you'.  Well, something is finally getting some of the rage out.  I have to say maybe you were right about this idea of  therapy.  I wouldn't like to see this carried too far though.  Not a good example."

     "Oh, I know just how far to push him, besides he was very careful that no one was around.  The office is sound-proofed, so he felt safe."

     "Well I don't know that I'd feel safe shouting at you across the desk," Operations said with a little gleam in his eye.

     "Oh, if I remember correctly, we have had a shouting session or two ourselves in the past."   Madeline raised an eyebrow at his comment, but  basically did not feel that reminiscences were necessarily a bad thing, if they were only occasional ones.

     Operations leaned a little closer to Madeline and said, "In fact, I remember one instance that you were on the desk, and there was definitely some shouting."

     "That's it.  That's enough.  The past is past, no matter what kind of mid-life crisis you seem to be having.  I will not be involved."  Madeline turned her back to Operations and returned to her work on the agency quarterly report. "Not if you want George to have these figures on time."

     Operations smiled because he knew Madeline's predilection for her work.  "Well, maybe again after the report is finished."  He smiled again and walked out with a little lift to his step.  He just loved to remind her of old times, that could be new times, if she weren't so ‘dedicated' to her work.

     Michael strode swiftly down the hall.  He wanted to hit something or someone, and he knew he'd better get to the workout room, or he would be in trouble.  He entered the men's locker room, stripped quickly and changed into gym shorts and a gray tee shirt.  He knew that if he sparred with anyone, that someone would would get hurt, and that really was frowned on in Section.  The weight bag loomed.  Perfect he thought, as he donned the leather gloves and began pounding away at the canvas cover.  Filled with 200 pounds of sand and rocks, it absorbed some of the punishment he delivered, but his body shuddered in response to each of the powerful blows.

     Operatives began to gather in small groups as they watched Michael beating the bag "to death."  Sweat poured from his body, and his long wavy hair was plastered to his head.  His breath grew ragged as he continued to deliver blow after blow and kick after kick to its surface.  Michael had lost all sense of time and place, and he could no longer see the canvas bag or anyone in the gym. All he knew was the rhythm and the pain.   The pain in his heart and mind consumed him, and he continued to pound the bag.

     Images of Simone and thoughts of revenge swept his mind.  "Be prepared for anything," was what Operations had said to him.  Had Section known she was there all that time?  And what about his son?  Was he dead or hidden away with some other family?  He thought of all the times he had to play a role with Nikita, some by choice to save her life, but many times at the behest of Section One to get the appropriate response from her in order to accomplish some greater goal. Their greater goals, not his.  He pounded and kicked the bag not feeling the blows.  His mind felt the pain of the betrayal of everyone he loved.  He knew he was worthless as a man or friend,  as a brother, father, or husband.  He was powerless in a world where power was everything, the only thing.

     Operations and Madeline watched from his vantage point.  "He's going to be sore as hell tomorrow," Operations said shaking his head.  "He's been going like this for almost an hour."

     "He needs to get it out.  He's on desk duty for the next six weeks, so let him get it out,"  Madeline said as she assessed the scene below.  There were now at least 20 operatives and recruits watching Michael.  "Good.  Let them see the proper way to externalize emotion."

     Nikita, who was planning on a workout herself, wondered what all the commotion was in the gym.  "What's going on, Walter?"

     "See for yourself, Sugar.  Michael is getting primal with the punching bag."  He stood aside for her to see.

     "How long has he been at this, Walter?"  Nikita thought Michael looked like he was ready to collapse.

     "Almost an hour they tell me."  Walter shook his head.

     "Well, why doesn't someone stop him?"  Nikita pushed through the operatives in her way get closer.

     "I don't think anyone wants to be beaten to death, Sugar.  Michael doesn't exactly know where he is right now."

     "I don't care.  This can't be healthy."  Nikita felt frantic inside.  Michael was totally out of control in some inner zone of self-punishment.  She approach ed him slowly.  "Michael.  Michael."  He doesn't hear or see me.  "Michael! Stop it!  Slow down.  It's time to cool down."

     The canvas bag  began to rip with the repeated blows and kicks.  And as the sand and rocks began pouring out of the bag, Michael  felt no resistance, and his emotions began to ebb with the sand and rocks.  Nikita caught him as he started to fall to the gym floor.

     "No, Michael, you've got to walk this out.  You just can't stop and drop."  She put her arm around his shoulder, and together they walked around the track for fifteen minutes until Michael could breathe normally and stand alone.

     "Thank you , Nikita," Michael said as stroked her face and turned to walk shakily down the hall to the showers.  His gray-green eyes said more than he ever could aloud.

     "Anytime, Michael," Nikita  whispered to his retreating back.

     Nikita walked back toward Birkoff's computer station.  He looked up as Nikita stopped.  "What gives with Michael?  He looked like he wanted to kill someone out there.  I've never seen him like that.  Who rained on his parade?"

     Nikita gave no answer, but instead leveled Birkoff a scathing look and left for Madeline's office.  She was determined to give Madeline a piece of her mind. Just how she was going to do that without risking  Madeline finding out about her and Michael's escalating  relationship, Nikita was not sure.

     Madeline looked up from her computer screen.  "Yes, Nikita?"  Her expression never faltered, but she could see Nikita's worried face and her anger in the stiff way she held her body.  Nikita had her arms wrapped in front of her, a classic sign of  the barrier.

      "Madeline, do you think this therapy idea is the way to go?"  Nikita tried to keep her question neutral, but she began to pace around the sterile office.

     "How is it you are concerned in Michael's private life, Nikita?"  Madeline leaned back to watch Nikita.  She wondered if Nikita would tell the truth or continue to try to hide her feelings about Michael.

     "I'm his friend, Madeline.  I've been his material for 4 years.  Why wouldn't I be concerned about his welfare?  You should have seen him.  He looked like he was going to have a heart attack."  Nikita could feel the tears welling.

     "Michael is well able to take care of himself, Nikita, but I am sure he is already aware of your concern for him."  Nikita is learning, Madeline thought. She gave me half truths.  It's far easier to tell a half-truth than a lie.

     "I did see him during his workout.  He set a good example of how to externalize emotions and aggressions.  It's just that he waited a little too long to do that.  Perhaps, next time, he won't be as rough on the equipment."  Madeline allowed herself  a minuscule smile in Nikita's direction.

     "He nearly killed himself, Madeline.  Who knows what would have happened, if I hadn't come along when I did."  Nikita felt herself losing control of the situation.

     "Michael is fortunate to have you,"  Madeline paused for two seconds and continued, "as a friend, Nikita."

     "What do you mean by that?"  Nikita was alert for any implication that Madeline knew that she and Michael were seeing each other outside Section.

     "Only what I said, Nikita."  Madeline turned back to her computer screen, and gave Nikita a slight smile of dismissal.

     "Yeah, whatever!"  Nikita literally flounced out of the room, knowing that Madeline had retained the upper hand once again.

     Madeline picked up her com set and called Operations.  "Things seem to be progressing.  Nikita was just here all concerned about her ‘friend and mentor' Michael.  No, she's okay, just angry that she showed too much emotion in my presence.....  No, tonight will be the real test.  Will he be with her or withdraw into himself again......  I'll let you know...... No, I think I would rather be alone tonight.  I have a headache."

     But back at Section and while talking to Madeline, the memories he had discussed with Dr. Dupre had come roiling through his mind and heart until it felt like volcanic eruption when he first hit the punching bag.  Now his hands, especially the knuckles, were already discolored and edematous.

     The hot water continued to soothe his aches, but Michael could hear someone knocking on the door.  "Michael, are you still in there?  Are you okay," an Australian accented voice asked through the partially opened door.

     Damn, it was Nikita.  "I'm fine, Nikita."  Michael yelled, hoping she would find his assurances of being ‘fine' enough to keep her out of the men's shower room.

     Nikita looked up and down the hall outside the shower, and slipped in.  The room was full of steam.  "Damn, Michael, where are you?  No need to hide, I've seen it all anyway."  Her tone took a playful note as she reached out in front with her hands to guide through all the steam.  "OOPS, sorry, there you are,"  she giggled as she stumbled into his solid body.

     "Nikita, get out of here," he whispered hoarsely.   "I'm not up to fun and games."

     "Not up to fun and games.  That's really clever, Michael.  I didn't know you had such a funny sense of humor."  Nikita always found it amusing when she had the upper hand with Michael.

     "You know what I mean."

     "Actually, I thought you might like to come over for dinner," Nikita offered. She saw a stricken look pass over Michael's face at her mention of dinner.  "All right, we'll order Chinese, okay?"

      "No, I really need to be alone tonight," he started.

      "No, you don't!  By morning you won't be able to move, and the day after that will be even worse.  I'm going to fill you up with ibuprofen, and feed you and tuck you in bed.  And I'll sleep on the sofa.  So there."  Nikita was determined to have her way.
 
     Michael rolled his eyes and gave up.

     "By the way, you missed a spot."  Nikita picked up the bar of soap, and gave his butt a good sudsy swipe.  She dropped the bar of soap out of his reach, winked and blew him a kiss.  Michael could hear her giggling as she left him to finish his shower.  Crazy, sweet Nikita, he thought as he looked to see if there were any surveillance cameras visible.   There were none he could see, but with Section One technology, one could never tell.

     Once Nikita had left the shower room, Michael shook his head in a resigned manner. There were times when he felt totally powerless to control Nikita when she was in her playful and determined mode.  This was one of those times.  Why not let her cosset him a bit.  Heavens knew he had little enough of that.  As bad as he felt, he was not unaffected by the sight of her in the shower.  She had been fully clothed, of course, but the steam had made her hair start to fall in  waves around her face--her lovely face.  As much as he was inclined to withdraw and  proverbially ‘lick his wounds,' he wanted to be with her more. They had wasted a lot of time waltzing around the issues of their feelings and trust as well.  Even now he could think of no reason why she should trust him, but apparently she did.

     Madeline was another problem.  There was no denying  their conversations about Nikita's and his relationship and their future had taken place, but he wondered how much of this she had shared with Operations.  Michael considered Operations in some ways the father figure  he had lost, but in many other terrible ways, he was the enemy to be respected for the power he held over them all.  Michael had been a Team Leader for many years, but he had always known he could be canceled, just like anyone else, should he fail in whatever mission he was assigned. There were missions, and then there were missions within missions. Secrets and manipulations and lies too terrible to confront at times.  Things he still could not tell Nikita.

     Michael finished his shower hurriedly and dressed in his usual black clothing.  He
walked slowly to his office.  Reports and analyses of more reports awaited him there.  Merde, six weeks of paper work, and I 'will' be crazy, he thought to himself.  He sat down and booted up his computer.  No use delaying the inevitable, he thought.  Normally,  Michael was compulsive about keeping up with his paperwork, but now that paperwork was all he had to do, he wanted to clear the desk with one swipe of his arm.

     Eventually, Michael completed all the paper shuffling he could tolerate that day.  He looked out his office window and wondered where Nikita was.   As far as he knew there had been no briefings, no urgent missions.   He dreaded the thought of her being partnered with someone else for missions for the next six weeks while he concentrated on more administrative duties.  He knew he had 'control' issues, but someone else might not have quite the same outlook on Nikita's reactions as he did.

     Since Nikita had come back to Section, she had  been much more inclined to just do the job, but she still had a tendency toward to act on her own without regard to the mission profile,  when there were innocents involved.  He expected this of her, and allowed for it privately in his own interior mission profile.

     He also knew Operations, while pleased with the end results, was not always pleased with Michael's mode of achieving those results.  Operations had always been suspicious of the exact nature of his relationship with Nikita.  Michael had always denied that his feelings for Nikita were anything more than trainer and material, but Madeline had always known there was to how Michael felt about Nikita than that.  Madeline had  always known him too well.

     Michael's phone rang, and it was Nikita.   Michael opened the top right hand drawer of his desk, and punched in a code that would scramble the surveillance equipment in his office.

     "Surely you're ready to call it a day," she said.

     "Yeah, I am.  I've had it with paperwork up to my eyeballs.  What time do you want me to come over?

     "Now is fine.  I've got a big bottle of ibuprofen and a big jug of wine all ready for you," she giggled.  "I checked with Doc down in MedLab, she said it wouldn't hurt you very much, not like acetaminophen and wine would.  That'll fry your liver she says."

     "Nikita, how much of that wine is left anyway?"  Michael asked knowing how wine affected her and hearing the gaiety in her voice.

     "There's a lot left, Michael.  I promise there is.  And dinner will be here at 7:00PM sharp, ‘cause I know you will want to turn in early."  Another giggle and Nikita said, "Byeee.  Then she said, "Michael, what is ‘your' code name?  I don't think I've ever heard anyone say."

     "And you won't either, Nikita. Bye. See you shortly."  Michael disconnected, amazed as usual at the turns her mind could take.

     Nikita laid down the phone on the kitchen counter.  She sipped on her glass of  wine.  She wasn't anywhere near drunk, but she did have a nice little buzz going by the time Michael arrived.  "Here dear, have some of these."  She held out a bread plate with 800mg of ibuprofen and some breadsticks in one had and  a glass of wine in the other.

     "Breadsticks?  Anything else for dinner, Nikita?  I haven't eaten since breakfast.

     "The breadsticks are so you'll have something in your tum-tum, so the ibuprofen won't make you sick.  Hung Lo's is delivering at 7PM.  I ordered everything you like.   You do like Chinese food, don't you?"  She was wavering around having fun watching Michael's expression.

     "Hung Lo's?" he said incredulously.  "That's the name of a Chinese Food Restaurant?"

     "Oh, no.  I'm so silly.  I got it mixed up.  Charlie Chan's is delivering, and you're Hung Lo."  Nikita giggled again and gave him a quick kiss on his mouth and a rub where he was ‘hung low.'

     "Ni-ki-ta."  Michael was certain he had never seen her quite so silly, but it was charming too.  He took the bread plate from her, tossed the ibuprofen to the back of his throat and took a big swallow of red wine.

     "Now, Mikey, have a little lie down on the sofa, and take a little nappy, while I set the table. Okay?  I'll wake you when dinner gets here."  Nikita still sounded silly, but she was bustling around like a little haus frau, fluffing the sofa cushion and unfolding an afghan she had picked up at a local flea market.

     "Take a nappy?  Nikita, I don't take naps," he protested, but the idea did have a marvelous sound.  His eyelids felt like they weighed 10 pounds each.  He decided he would at least sit down on the sofa and watch Nikita finish the dinner preparations.  She was wearing her hair pulled back from her face by a white headband, and it was waved slightly to fall on her shoulders.  She wore an aqua blouse tied at the waist and white spandex pants.  For once she wasn't wearing some cast-off looking sweater or skirt.  She looked about eighteen and lovely.

     "Come on, Michael.  Lie down," she ordered him firmly.   He obeyed, and she covered him with the afghan.  "See there, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

     "Mmmm," was all Michael could say as he fell asleep.

     "Mission accomplished," Nikita said as she smoothed the afghan over his exhausted body.  "Sleep well, Michael."  She then turned and really did set the table, but she doubted that he would awaken enough to eat.
 
     Nikita proved to be correct.  The Charlie Chan delivery boy came and went, and Michael never stirred.  She wasn't able to awaken him either, but then she didn't try too hard.

     Nikita sat in a chair opposite the sofa where Michael slept.  She sipped her wine and thought about the last four years.  She didn't know what the next four would bring, or even if they would have four months.  She had never had time to just watch him before.  He was never still long enough, and she would never have allowed all her feelings to be so visible--at least not until recently.

     Nikita adored the bone structure of Michael's face.  Her fingers ached to trace the line  from his zygomatic arch to his sensual lips.  She was dying to poke his dimpled chin and run her hands  through his curling chestnut hair.  She sat there and sipped on her wine.  She watched him and loved him till she fell asleep.

     About 1AM, Nikita awakened.  She was a little stiff from sleeping in the chair. I need to get Michael in the bed, she thought, or he won't be able to move in the morning. "Michael, Michael."  She tugged on him, but he was dead weight.  "Michael, Michael," she said this time a little louder.

     "Um.  Ugh."  Michael sat up, but Nikita could tell from the absent look in his eyes that he was not truly awake.  He allowed her to guide him up to her bedroom.  He moved stiffly, but automatically.  With an encouraging nudge from Nikita, he sat down on the bed.  He seemed to realize where he was and smiled blearily at her.

      "Come on Michael, let's get your clothes off.  You'll rest better."

     "Good idea," he said as he raised one eyebrow and pulled her down on the bed with him.  His hands started untying and unbuttoning her blouse. "Whoa, fella.  You're in no shape to finish this," Nikita laughed as she tried to extricate herself from his strong grasp.

     "You might be surprised,"  Michael ‘giggled.'  He rolled his body over hers, and sat astride her as she continued to laugh.  He threw his jacket on the floor and pulled off his shirt in a swift motion.

     Nikita ran her hands down his bare muscled chest and started pulling at his belt buckle.  "How does this damn thing work, anyhow?"  Michael grinned and had it open and off in a second.

     "Are you sure you're all right?"

     "I'll be fine, Nikita, if you'll just stop talking."  He leaned over and kissed her, "Shut up, Nikita.  You always talk too much," he whispered.  Then he started pulling the blouse over her head.

     "Your pants, Michael, get them off, now."  She began tugging them down over his butt.  Bye the time she had them down to his knees, and she could see how ‘fine' he was...and ready.

     "What about yours,"  he asked, between kissing her neck and her breasts.  He started pulling on the white spandex stretch pants, but they were skin tight. He tried ripping, but the spandex didn't  rip that easily either.  "Nikita, help me here, or this isn't going to happen."  Michael giggled again and started running his hands through her hair and started licking her neck.

     Nikita moaned,  "Michael, just get off me for a minute.  I can get them off.  It's a girl thing.  True to her word Nikita rolled them down and kicked them off revealing her perfect body to Michael's glazed gaze.

     He quit giggling, and he moaned hoarsely instead.  "Nikita, c'est tu tres belle." Nikita wrapped her long legs around his waist and guided him to her, "Now, Michael!"  Nikita arched her back, and he was home.  The pace they set was intense, and Michael needed no further briefing to complete this mission profile.

     Much later, their bodies were glistening with perspiration.  Their breathing had returned to something resembling semi-normal.  "I need a cigarette," Nikita said.

     "You don't smoke, Nikita," Michael whispered in her ear.  He was intoxicated by her presence in his arms and in his life.  He still had trouble believing that they were together, and he still feared the consequences in one part of his mind.

    "I used to, and I think we both did tonight," Nikita whispered back as she nibbled on his ear.  "Michael, are you hungry yet?  I am."  She left no doubt to her meaning as she ran her hands down his chest to his thighs.  She used her nails to lightly tease him.

     "I guess I could eat."  Michael left no doubt to his meaning either.

     Michael barely made it to Section by 9:30AM.  He had a good night's sleep behind him and a couple of passionate interludes with Nikita.  In spite of the aches and pains of the previous day's workout, he had a spring in his step, and he was in a slight hurry. After all, he still had an appointment today with Dr. Dupre.   He walked stiffly to Birkoff's computer station.  Birkoff looked up warily.  Michael casually placed the PAS unit on Birkoff's desk.

     "I need another one fully charged, Birkoff, and I'm going to need one every day at this time for the next 6 weeks.  Got it?"  Michael said quietly so that Gail just across the station would not hear.

     "Got it."   After yesterday's display in the gym, Birkoff was not going to give Michael any resistance about anything.  Birkoff had always known Michael was the top cold op, but he had never, ever really seen him in action or any state other than one of focused control.

     "Good.  Then do it."

     "I'm going.  I'm going."  Birkoff jumped to do Michael's bidding.  Michael thought it funny.  He was still so wiped out by yesterday's workout... and last nights.  Little does he know, that I couldn't swat a fly right now, he thought to himself.

     Therese Dupre anxiously awaited the return of the most interesting patient she currently had.   She was concerned when he came walking stiffly into her office and sat down slowly into the comfortable leather chair across from her desk.  Quietly, he took out the PAS unit and activated it.

     "Good morning, Michael.  Are you ready to begin?  I must say you look a little worn today."  She smiled encouragingly.  Worn? She thought to herself.  He looked like he'd had some kind of major trauma.

     "Yeah, you could say I'm a little worn around the edges today.  I confronted M. about her ordering the listening devices placed in your office, then went to the gym and basically lost control.  All the things we talked about before that re-emerged in my mind and I was hitting and kicking a 200# weight bag until it disintegrated.  I lost all idea of where I was and what I was doing.  I just lost it.  I'm just not used to doing that," he said softly with a puzzled smile.

     "One of the purposes of therapy is to bring to the surface the things we have buried and hidden from ourselves and others.  Those things need to be faced and accepted and overcome.  It sounds like you may have had an extreme reaction, and that is probably because you have done this for a very long time.  It has been your survival technique in a very abnormal environment."  Therese stopped.  He was the one that needed to talk.

     Madeline had renewed the surveillance on Nikita's apartment after Michael had started his sessions, and she reviewed the last night's results.  She watched Nikita cover Michael with an afghan, and sit down to sip her wine.  She fast-forwarded the tape until she saw the start of the activity she needed to see, then broke open the cassette, ripped out the tape and fed it into a shredder.  Michael must have been too tired to think of activating whatever scrambling device he was currently using.  No need for Operations to know how well the relationship was developing.  Contrary to what everyone thought, Madeline kept a large amount of information to herself, filed in her computer-like memory.  Madeline had always felt that Operations didn't need to know everything, and her power was  based was what she knew, when she knew it , and what she did with the knowledge she had.

     Madeline felt that Michael and Nikita had come to some type of understanding in their relationship.   Nikita was positively glowing.  Michael was still a little difficult, but given that he was in the initial stages of therapy, it was understandable.  He seemed to be very relaxed and comfortable  with Nikita now.  She had always felt that Michael and Nikita belonged together, even more than Michael and Simone had.  She had seen the bond that formed between them and had been aware of it long before they had ever admitted it to themselves.  She had always known that Nikita would bring Michael out of his depression after Simone's death.  That was the primary reason that she had recommended that Operations pair them together in the very beginning.  Operations had his own agenda for pairing them, but they were quite different from hers.

     The stronger Nikita became, the closer she became to becoming Michael's equal, the balance of  power would start to evolve.  She knew this would pose some difficulties for Michael with his need to be in control, but he would just have to get over it.  Madeline felt he would be able to adjust.  He would have to adjust.  In time, Nikita would undoubtedly become a Team Leader as well.  She had true leadership qualities, but they needed shaping and defining.  Her initial stint as Petrosian's "second-in-command" had given Nikita a heady taste of power  before she was really ready for it.  Nikita's heart still caused a lot of difficulties, but Madeline did not want to destroy Nikita's heart, but she did need to learn control it.
 
     Madeline and Michael together still had a lot of work to do with Nikita, but some of that would have to hold while Michael worked through his anger and underlying depression.  Luckily, the growing relationship with Nikita seemed to be good therapy, as well.   Of course, Madeline could not let Nikita take 6 weeks off just because Michael was tied to administrative duties, but Madeline would be very careful about Nikita's participation, if she could without jeopardizing the goals of the mission. Section One had been unnaturally quiet for several days, but she knew that would not last.

     Michael was becoming more comfortable sitting in Therese's office and revealing his emotions.  He constantly sipped the coffee that she thoughtfully provided. He seemed to need something to do with his hands as he talked.

     "What happened there when you ‘lost it,' Michael?"

     "Well, I understand a crowd gathered, but about the time that the punching bag fell apart, Nikita sort of  ‘rescued' me."  Michael's mouth gave a small twitch as he said this.  "She knew that if I didn't walk it off and cool down after an intense exercise session, that I wouldn't be moving at all today.  Oh, everyone knew that, but she was the only one brave enough to come within range of me.  She made me walk around the gym for 15 minutes or so, until I could breathe again."  He gave a small laugh.  "I was in pretty bad shape for a little while there."

     "So Nikita took care of ‘you,' did she?  I thought you were always the one that needed to take care of her.  What's changing?  Is she becoming more your equal?"  Therese probed gently and waited to see what his response would be.
 
     "Nikita, is a very good operative, and she has saved my life more that once. We are very good partners in that respect and have been for quite a while."

     "What about in other ways, Michael.  Do you trust Nikita with your heart, Michael.  Does she trust hers with you?  You said in an earlier session that you had played a role with her in order for a particular mission to be successful. Tell me about that time."

     "That time?  You mean ‘which' time.  I have had to do it more than once, and it is the reason for the tensions that existed between us. One of the reasons that Nikita often had to be manipulated was that her face readily shows what she is thinking   Nikita should never play poker.  Anyway, so that Nikita could play the role assigned her, she had to be given only the intel that would allow her to play her role convincingly because her life would  depend on it."
 
     "This sounds interesting, Michael.  No wonder Nikita would find it difficult to trust you."

     In one particular mission, she had been set up to play a role with this philanthropist.  She was to ‘save his life."  He would be enthralled by her and ask her out.  We needed to get access to the computer system on his yacht.  He had set up homeless shelters for street kids, and used them as a funnel, shipping the kids to foreign countries into slavery and early deaths.  Nikita had been a street kid herself for several years before ending up at the agency.  O.,  M. and I all knew she would not be able to contain her disgust with this man, if she knew the truth, so she was told that he laundered money, and we needed to take him down.  She knew she was to get close to him and win his trust."

     "She did get close to him, too close.  I first realized how jealous I was as BK listened in on their evening alone on his boat.  We had to get the intel on when he was supposed to have the next shipment of kids ready, so she was wired.  They were really having a good time, drinking champagne, dancing, and laughing.  He was whispering in her ear, and we could hear it all.  At one point, she tried to pump him about his upcoming trip, but she got nothing, so she let it drop, and they continued enjoying themselves.  Once I realized that she was going to end up in bed with him, I left.  I told BK that I was going back to her apartment to ‘debrief' her when she returned."

     "I sat there in her darkened apartment for another two hours, imagining Nikita and this piece of dung having sex.  I tortured myself with the images of her body arching against his and crying ‘his' name in passion.  I would have given anything for it to have been mine that she cried, but I knew I didn't deserve her passion, much less her love.  I had lied to her and sent her to his arms for the mission, and I knew she would never forgive me if she found out the truth." Michael's green  eyes looked silvery with unshed tears.  Were the tears for himself or for Nikita?
 
        "Did she find out?"  Therese asked this softly.

     "Oh, yes.  I was about to interrogate a contact of  C.'s when Nikita came in.  We had already successfully managed to download his computer system to the agency, but I had to tell Nikita to go to him again and go with him on his next trip.  When she found that I was ready to see this man, she insisted on going. I took a deep breath and knowing what would hit the fan, I let her accompany me to the interrogation.  I think my jealousy made me want her to know what he really was, in spite of  O.'s instructions to the contrary."

     "When Nikita discovered what C.'s real business was, she freaked .  She was furious with me for lying to her, and she was even more so when I told her she would still have to go back to him and convince him nothing had changed. She did it willingly because then she wanted to take him down  Unfortunately, C. had realized that Nikita was the one responsible for the breach in his computer system.  He slapped her, and was ready to send her off as well.  ‘Still quite a marked in mature flesh, too.' is how he put it.  She was still wired, and she was able to escape.  The agency was able to stop his plans."

     "Nikita killed him at the exchange.  We were ready to make a deal with him to get to his higher contacts.  He was holding a lighter and threatening to set fire to some barrels of gasoline, while we bargained.  Nikita somehow managed to make it to the meet and kicked the lighter out of his hand.  He fell, the lighter ignited all the fuel, and he was gone in a flash.  The children were saved."

     "O. was absolutely ballistic that Nikita had acted on her own.  He gave me absolute hell over it before he even talked to her.  My instructions were to keep her from ‘ever' interfering like that again, or else.  She never knew how close she came to being canceled for that night."

     "I went to her place afterwards to apologize, and try to explain, but Nikita pulled a gun on me, and asked me to give her one good reason why she shouldn't kill me.  I knew she wouldn't pull the trigger, but if she had it would have been a relief because I felt like I deserved it.  Instead I told her I couldn't think of a single one, and I took her hand with the gun and kissed it.  Then I turned around and walked out.  That is only ‘one' of the times when I manipulated Nikita in order to obtain certain results in a mission profile.  Why Nikita now trusts me with her heart, I don't know, for I know I have done nothing to deserve it."

     Therese listened spellbound to his mesmerizing voice.   "Well, Michael, our time for today has come to an end.  We will continue tomorrow."

     Michael gave a half smile and rose from his chair and said with a nod, "Tomorrow."

     Therese watched as he left.  His carriage was graceful and powerful, and the image of a large jungle cat with feral green eyes came unbidden to her mind.  She picked up her latest issue of the APA journal and fanned her warm face and tried to compose her mind for the next patient.

     Operations called Madeline in her office, "We've got to get everybody in.  Now!"  The urgency in his voice was transmitted over Madeline's comm set.  Madeline made the necessary connections on her computer that would initiate the calls.
 
     "What's happened?"  she asked.  She had known the peaceful state of affairs would not last indefinitely.

     "What about Michael, can we use him?  Has he settled down after yesterday's display?"  Operations hated the idea of Michael doing paperwork for six weeks, but his wanted his best operative at his best, not having emotional outbursts in the middle of a mission.  In a ‘normal' fram of mind Operations would never consider cancelling Michael.  Too much effort had been expended on Michael's behalf, and Michael had given incredible performance after performance in return.

      "I would recommend against it.  He should already be on his way after this morning's session, so I haven't seen him yet.  He may be fine, but I have no idea at this stage what's being uncovered.  He's scrambled the communications that we replaced in the psychiatrist's office, so I'm not as comfortable predicting what Michael will or won't be capable of doing.  I would recommend keeping him out of the field,but he should be able to run tactical from here under my observation.  I'll have a much better idea after I actually see him."  Madeline calmly told him.

     "I really need him for this, but--" Operations started,

     Madeline interrupted.   "Well, since you still haven't told me what the emergency is, I would suggest you use McClure as team leader.  He's the best all-around TL after Michael," she suggested.  Operations began to explain the reason for the emergency call, and Madeline began to doubt the wisdom of using McClure.  Nikita would be needed for this mission as well, and Nikita and McClure had clashed before over Nikita's improvisational style.

     If anything McClure was more rigid than Michael, and he thought Nikita received much more credit than she was due, and he hadn't minded saying so to her.  There was also a rivalry (on McClure's part) with Michael.  He was always anxious to try and show Michael at a disadvantage.  Michael, being Michael, gave McClure little opportunity to do so.  This was exactly the type of situation she had hoped to avoid while Michael was sidelined.  Well, it can't be helped.  The mission is more important than the individual operatives involved, as always, she thought to herself.

     Operations paced as he gave the briefing, while  Nikita sat slumped in her chair.  Black shades covered her red puffy eyes that gave proof to having had too much wine and not enough sleep.  Michael sat across the table from her, unable to avoid a tiny smile as he watched her.  He knew exactly how she felt, although his face did not show the excesses the way her fragile fair skin did.  The slight red rash she had on her cheeks and around her mouth was evidence of a slight case of beard burn as well.  He must start shaving at night as well as in the morning, he thought.

     Nikita watched Michael as he watched her and resented his apparent good health and spirits.  Wine always gave her a hangover, and she felt terrible.

     Madeline observed the subtle interchange between Michael and Nikita and would have been amused at any other time.

     The holographic display lit up, and a new face appeared on the screen.  "This is Ramon Riverra.  We have just received word that he and his faction of terrorists known as Freestate have kidnapped the American Ambassador to Colombia, his wife and his two children."  Four more faces flashed up on the screen--a handsome couple in their late forties and two young teenage girls.

     "In exchange for their release, he is demanding a ransom of 50 million dollars. He is demanding that the ransom be brought to him by a lone woman. Nikita that's where you come in.  McClure, you and a back up team of twenty will be needed to get the ambassador out of there. The Ambassador has a microdisk that is needed by the agency.  The wife and his children will be extracted if possible, but the ambassador is our target.  We have to get him out before Riverra discovers he has the microdisk detailing the future invasion plans of Columbia by the United States."

     "Just how did the Ambassador come to possess such sensitive data?"  Nikita asked her Australian accent sounding her disbelief.  "What about the children and his wife.  Surely, we can't just leave them there?"

     "Never mind how, Nikita.  That's on a need to know basis only.  The Ambassador's wife and children are acceptable collateral if need be.  The Ambassador and his disk are vital to this country's interests."

     Michael started stroking his chin and playing with his mouth, a sign that he was upset by this mission.  It was a recipe for disaster in the making:  Take One Nikita plus 3 innocents, add one McClure and shake well-->kaboom!

     Operations hesitated, but after a minuscule nod from Madeline, continued. "Michael, you will run tactical from here.

     "From here?"  Michael could not believe his ears.  He was not going to be allowed to be in any position to protect Nikita from McClure or from herself.  This had to be a test of them both, and he dreaded the result.

     "Yes, from here, Michael.  Is that going to be a problem?" Operations challenged.
    "No," Michael responded hoarsely.

     "Good.  The mission leaves in one hour.  Study the mission parameters closely. There will be no room for errors on this one."  Operations left the briefing area and rushed back to his aerie.

     Nikita rose to leave, but was stopped by McClure.  "None of this rescue the innocents crap from you, Nikita.  Step out of line once, and I'll cancel you on the spot.  Do you get my drift."

     "Perfectly, McClure.  Chill out,"  Nikita drawled as she gave McClure an insolent smile and blew him a kiss.

     Nikita walked off, but Michael grabbed McClure by the arm,  "Think of even breathing on her, and I will cancel ‘you' on the spot," he said so quietly that no one heard him but McClure.  "Are we clear on this point?"

     "Ugh, clear, Michael."  McClure hurried off determined to get even, if not that day, then some day.

     The suitcases of money were rigged with explosive percussion devices.  They would not be activated until Nikita was well out of harm's way--provided Riverra decided to let her go.  If he did not, she would be left to her own devices to make it to the egress point.  Nikita had gone over and over the mission parameters, trying to figure out how to rescue the real victims of this
diplomatic nightmare.
 
     Instructions had been given for the ransom to be brought by jeep to the Riverra compound.  Nikita drove the jeep over the rutted jungle road.   The air was suffocating and hot.  Plus, the humidity made it feel like she had stepped into a steam bath.  Her tee shirt was already soaked with perspiration.  She had just left the northern climes where winter lingering, now south of the equator, summer was in command.  Perhaps it would soon be cooler she thought, as she beg an to approach a more mountainous area.  She looked around, but didn't see Juan Valdez, the famous coffee picker,  anywhere.  She wondered where McClure and the assault team were.  She hadn't seen any evidence of them, but that was a good sign not a bad one.  No one else who might be watching would see them either.

     Michael felt very out of sync with Nikita on the mission.  He remained in his Section quarters, resting while he knew the flight was taking place.  He had left instructions to be called as soon as the plane reached Colombia.  After that he knew he would not rest till Nikita was safely on the plane on the way home.

     He continued to still be amazed by the depth of his feelings for Nikita.  Those feelings were like Pandora's troubles, once freed from their constraint, there was no putting them back.  Her blue eyes, her radiant smile, the firm body, her sense of fun and fair play all were part of the totality of Nikita.  That she found it in her heart to love him, amazed him more than did the depth of  his feelings for her.  She had not done the kinds things to him that he had done to her.  She had the audacity to want a life, while he had merely wanted to live.  Now, he wanted her and a life with her, but they were both going to have to prove that they deserved to be with each other and could handle whatever assigment Section gave them.  This mission was truly a test, and he knew it deep within  the marrow of his bones, and dreaded it to the depths of his soul.

     "Sure, Michael,"  Nikita adjusted her glasses in a practiced movement.  "How's this?"  She looked around the overgrown terrain.  Nothing but lush jungle growth, turning gradually now to a heavily forested hillside.

    "Good, Nikita, just don't lose them."

     "Ha, Ha, Michael.  How much further is it anyway?  This is a pretty boring drive if you want to know the truth."  Nikita was getting anxious, but using humor to hide it.

     "You're about 10 kilometers from Riverra's compound.  He could already have you under observation, so stay sharp, Nikita."  Michael's voice was music to her ears through the miracles of satellite uplink technology.  He sounded like he was in the Section van and right around the corner, except of course he wasn't.  His reassuring voice in her ear kept her from feeling so alone on this mission.  In Nikita's mind, twenty assault operatives were nothing compared to Michael.

     "McClure, report."  Michael's voice lost it's soft quality.

     "We're about 1 kilometer from the compound, Michael.  Just waiting on your girlfriend to show up.  We had to slog on foot through the rain forest, and she gets to ride in a plush jeep.  Go figure."  McClure's insolent tone made it clear to everyone that could hear that he was not joking.

      "Keep your mind on the mission and the target, McClure," Michael said abruptly. "Birkoff, report."  Michael's mind was totally focused on the mission, and he expected personalities to be extraneous and not part of the mission profile.

     "We're at exit point A, Michael.  We're tracking Nikita, and McClure's assault team.  I'm already sequencing.  Buehler is at the alternate exit point already. It's all up to Nikita now."  Birkoff's fingers flew over his keyboard as he talked, but this mission had him on edge as well.

     "Good."  Michael paced as he waited for the next phase of the mission to unfold. He wanted to be there to back up Nikita, but he trusted her skills and instincts.  If there were no innocents involved, he would not have such a feeling of foreboding.  He knew Nikita would try to get them out, no matter what the mission parameters were.  That was the reason he had insisted on a second exit point.  Operations and Madeline conceded that Michael was correct, and that Nikita would attempt to go beyond her orders.   Perhaps, secretly, they hoped she would succeed.  Michael had known Operations and Madeline long enough to know that they weren't the heartless robots Nikita thought they were, but he had good reason to know just how ruthless and focused on the greater good they could be on occasion.
 
     "Madeline, uh,"  Michael hesitated because of all the ears.  He was missing his session with Dr. Dupre today.

     "It's taken care of, Michael.  You're on a business trip.  Let me know as soon as Nikita makes contact."

     Nikita continued to drive along the winding, now increasingly steep road.  The mountains were very visible now, and she hoped for the sake of the jeep's transmission that she would not have to down shift much more as she made the gears grind with greater frequency.

     "Nikita, where did you learn to drive anyway?"  Birkoff's flippant voice asked in her ear.

     "Same place you did, Seymour.  Up yours."  Nikita didn't mind Birkoff's harrassing, in fact, she preferred it.

     "What's the matter, Nikita?  Are you PMSing?"  Birkoff loved to tease Nikita, but this interchange was calculated to keep Nikita relaxed until....

     She was suddenly surrounded by five men with semi-automatic weapons.  "Whoa, fellows, here we go.  Showtime," she said quietly.  The adrenaline kicked in, and Nikita was ready for action.

     Another jeep came around the curve ahead with three men, two up front and one in the back.  She recognized Riverra as the man in back.  The plan was that she would hand over the money as he handed over the hostages, but kidnappers never went by the ‘rules.'  She could see no sign of  Ambassador Reid or his family. Figures, she thought.

     The leader of the men surrounding her let go with a spurt of Spanish.  Nikita knew just enough to know they wanted her out of her jeep and into the other one.
What was Madeline thinking sending her to Colombia, when her Spanish consisted of a few obscenities and common phrases.  Luckily, Michael was translating for her from Section One.  "Nikita they are not going to let you go.  Go with them, try to  keep the suitcases of money in sight.  It wouldn't do for them to investigate them too closely or too soon."

     "Hey, these go with me," Nikita yelled.  The men laughed at her accent, but they basically understood what she said.  Nikita stepped down from her jeep and started yanking on the suitcases of money.   $50 million dollars takes up a lot of space, she thought.  She lugged the suitcases to the other jeep.

     Riverra  was a bullish man with thick shoulders and neck.  His face was tanned, but pitted, and he favored her with a sickly, wolfish smile.  She watched his protuberant eyes travel from her face to her breasts to her hips and back up.  He didn't try to hide his interest or disdain for the woman foolish enough to deliver herself alone into his hands.  His gaze made the hairs on the back of her neck quiver.

     Michael, through the visual-cam that Nikita wore, could see Riverra and the look he gave Nikita as well.  He didn't have to believe in intuition to know this man would be a major problem for Nikita before the mission was completed. He signaled Madeline that contact had been made.  This mission didn't need both of them, but Michael understood Madeline's reasons for staying close.

     Nikita hauled the suitcases into Riverra's jeep, and was forced to sit beside him the rest of the winding climb to his compound.  His  gaze continued to unnerve her.  He started to lay his hand on her knee, but halted as she leveled him a very cold look with blue eyes that had turned to steel.
 
    The jeep jogged and bumped along finally coming to the house proper.  Nikita wondered how many terrorists lived in the luxurious manner that Riverra did. The house was an old one which appeared to date from the Spanish Colonial era. Graceful columns rose to rounded Romanesque arches.  The vegetation was lush and well maintained.  Freestate indeed.  This pig was lining his pockets by destroying the lives of the people of the country he pretended to be freeing. He was just another opportunist, and Nikita had seen too many of those.

     "McClure, report."  Michael barked.

    "We're right outside the compound.  We've already had to take down a couple of  his men that we stumbled across.  As soon as it's dark, which won't be too long, we will be in place inside the compound ready for Nikita's signal.  It looks like we may be out numbered, but I don't believe we're gonna be out gunned.  Now if your little pet can manage to stay out of trouble, we oughta be through here in short order."  McClure was confident and he had a high POS. in this type of a ssault.  Michael bit back a reply as Madeline strode  to the tactical center.

    "Michael, bring me up to date." Madeline requested as she observed Michael closely.  He looked like he was handling the tension well.  Good.  Madeline felt  vindicated in her choice in allowing him this role in the mission.

     "Nikita has just been taken to Riverra's compound.  We haven't seen anything yet of Ambassador Reid.  McClure and the assault team are in place and ready for Nikita's signal.  Both exit points are in place and are ready.  The rest is up to Nikita."  Michael appeared calm and cool as he gave this update, but Madeline recognized that he was pacing and playing with his chin.  The suspense of waiting was wearing on him, but Madeline was not concerned about Michael.  He was at his best during a mission, whether leading it physically or doing the tactical from a remote site.

    After entering the opulent house, Nikita endured being frisked by one of  Riverra's men, but kneed him in the groin after he finished, just to make a statement.  As he rolled in agony on the ground, the other men gave her a larger diameter of clear space.  Riverra himself was impressed at her style, and told her in heavily accented English that she barely understood,  "Dat wasn verra nice, now was it, chiquita?"

    "I wasn't sent here to be nice, Senor Riverra.  I was sent here to bring the ransom for Ambassador Reid and his family.   I want to see them now."  Nikita placed her hands on her hips for emphasis.

     "Whoa, chiquita,  you are inna no position to maka demands.  I tink we shoulda get to be friends.  What do you tink ‘bout dat?"  He moved toward her and made a move to remove her  glasses.

     She smiled seductively at him.  "Please don't, I'm really blind without those things.  You wouldn't want me stumbling around into things, now would you?"

     Riverra came closer.  "Sucha pretty blue eyes shouldn be hidden.  Don you tink?"
Nikita decided not to make such a big deal about the glasses.  If her protesting too much alerted his attention, she might never get them back.  This way, she still had a chance.  She knew that all the teams were in place, and all she had to do was find Ambassador Reid and his microdisk....and his family.
 
    "Why don't we stick to business first, then," she favored him with another seductive smile which gave promise to more pleasurable transactions. Surprisingly, he left her glasses alone.  Nikita supposed he was thinking about ‘later.'

    "I really need to see the Reids, Senor Riverra.  I am told that you are a man of honor and that you will make the exchange as you promised."  Nikita was lying and improvising as she went.  He appeared to be flattered by the assessment.

    "You are mucha too bizness.  Come, I willa show you.  He lead her upstairs and down a hall carpeted with lovely Persian rugs.  He stopped before a door.  An armed guard was in place, but Nikita expected no less.  They entered a large suite of rooms.  At least they weren't in a cell or dungeon.  Riverra appeared to be taking good care of his hostages.  That boded well for his intentions, but Nikita didn't intend for $50 million dollars to fall into his hands.

    Ambassador Reid was a tall man with worry and guilt etched across his face. His wife was petite and dark and she clung fearfully to him.  The teenage daughters  were tall like their father, but they both affected a disinterested air.  Their eyes, however, darted around as they took in Riverra's entrance with Nikita, and their faces fell as they saw it was just a woman.

    Nikita had brought no weapons, but of course she was not without options.  She needed to take Riverra out silently and quickly.   He was standing beside her on the left.  His gun was drawn, but his guard was down due no doubt to her seductive manner.  She could see the muscles in his forearm were not tense, and she made her move.  She spun to the left with a quick crushing blow to his larynx.  His eyes registered shock, as his knees  started to buckle, Nikita gave his neck a sharp resounding snap.  She grabbed his gun off the carpeted floor and signaled the stunned Reids to be quiet.

     "Michael, Riverra's dead.  I've located the Reids.  We're all together in an upstairs bedroom, sound the signal for the assault," Nikita' voice was drawn and tense.
 
     "The disk, Nikita.  What about the disk,"  Michael asked.

     Nikita pointed the gun at the Ambassador.  "Where's the microdisk, Ambassador?  We don't have much time.  We're going to have an all out battle here in about 1 minute."

     Reid's wife and children looked at him dumbly.  "I-I- don't know what you're talking about."  His face was red as he stuttered. Nikita didn't believe him for a minute.

     "Ambassador, my people  say you do.  Now I want the disk, or you and I are going out of here alone.  My agency doesn't care what happens to your family. They are expendable!   They want the disk.  ‘I' want the disk, and I want it now.  Do you understand me?"  Nikita's voice was quiet, but her intentions were convincing.  "So choose.  Who do I kill first? It's your choice-the disk or your youngest daughter."

     "You're crazy," he hissed.  "You're as crazy as the men out there."

     "With one difference, I can get you all out of here, if you cooperate," Nikita could see the decision made in his eyes before he spoke.  He tried to rush her, and Nikita backhanded him with her gun.  It was a enough to make him retreat nursing his bleeding face.

     "Daddy!" the older daughter screamed out loudly.  The guard outside came rushing in, and Nikita with no other choice shot him.  Riverra's gun was not silenced.  The reverberations of the shot echoed loudly through the house. "Michael, I'm compromised, Call the assault now.!"

     "The disk, Nikita, the disk."  Michael barked to keep her focused on the goal of the mission.

     "Listen, you idiot," she said to the Ambassador.  "We're all screwed now.  Give me the damn disk.  We've got to get outta heah!"  Nikita was already motioning the Reids out of the bed room and down the back stairs, looking over her shoulder and listening for more of Riverra's guards.

     "I don't have it anymore.  Riverra found it and confiscated it when we were taken."

     "Michael, call the damn assault!  He doesn't have the disk anymore.  Riverra took it."  She could hear guards running up the stairs.  She shoved the Reids into an empty bedroom.

      "Find it, Nikita!  Forget the Reids. The disk is vital.  We have to have it."

     "Okay, okay. Ambassador where were you when Riverra took it?

     "We were in the study, he put it in his wall safe.  It's probably still there. He had no idea what it was, just that it was probably important."

     "Michael, did you hear that?

     "Yes.  McClure, begin the assault.  Focus on the study safe, fan out from there.  Nikita, see if you can get them out." Michael felt the tension mounting in his throat.  He could hear the sounds of the assault begin with a large explosion.

     "That was the front door, Michael.  I'm going out the back with the Reids."

     "Nikita proceed to exit point B.  They are moving forward now.  You should run right into them."  Michael would not be able to breathe freely until he heard the chopper take off with Nikita and the Reids.

     Madeline noted the tension in Michael's voice, but he hadn't given in to Nikita's request for the assault until she had a possible location for the disk. That was good.  Nikita was handling herself well.  If Madeline had not known of Nikita's feelings for innocents, she would have been convinced that Nikita was about to take out the whole family to find the disk.  Yes, Nikita was performing quite well.

     Nikita rushed the hostages down the back stairs and out the back door, whirled around and took out two more guards.  The Ambassador and family weren't quite sure what to make of Nikita, but for now she appeared to be rescuing them, and they followed her orders without question.

     The dense forest growth was only 100 yards from the house.  Nikita adjusted her glasses, and received a tracking signal directly ahead.  The chopper was moving in now for pickup. "Stay here till the chopper lands. Get your family on board. I'm going back for the disk."

     "Nikita, let the McClure and the assault team find the disk."

     "I'm already on site, Michael, and back in the house."  She picked up guns from the fallen guards she had taken down only a few minutes before.  She had that feeling again  A blur of movement to her left.  Damn, another one.  She shot him as well.  She stepped over his lifeless body, and took his knife to add to her arsenal of weapons.  She was feeling better.   The more weapons she had, the more in control she felt.

     Thank heavens for simm reps, she thought as she ran to the Riverra's study.  A quick perusal of the room and she found the wall safe.  McClure ran in at that moment.  Section operatives were taking over the house.

     "I need a charge to blow this safe," Nikita demanded.   "That's where the disk is."

      "I'm in charge of this mission, Nikita, not you. Don't try ordering me around," McClure asserted.

     "Then blow the damn thing."  Nikita pointed her gun at him.  "You think you're such a hot shot.  Do it."

     "Uh, Nikita, I was only..." his reply stopped as Nikita fired twice.

      Two of Riverra's men standing behind McClure fell.  Nikita jerked the explosive charge from McClure's hand, placed it on the safe door and armed it.

     They took cover together as the charge blew the safe door.  Nikita jumped up and started going through the contents.  "Here it is.  Michael, we've got the disk.  Are the Reids on the chopper?"
 
      "Yes, the Ambassador and his wife are on the chopper.  Everybody withdraw as quickly as possible.  Mission goals are completed.  Nikita, get to the chopper with the disk.  McClure,  finish cleaning up, and get your team back to exit point B."

     "Point B, Michael?"  McClure asked in puzzlement.  There was no way the one chopper was going to hold the entire assault team."

    "No, no, Point A.  Get out of there  as quickly as you can."  Michael ran his left hand through his long hair.  He could hear the chopper taking off, and the adrenaline rush was gone, and he felt drained of all the previous energy.  He wondered if Madeline had heard him give the wrong exit point to McClure.  He looked at her to gauge her take on the mission.  He received one of her enigmatic glances, but it was followed by a brief nod, so she didn't consider it a major screw up.

     "Nikita, report."

     "We're airborne, Michael, and leaving the area.  We should be back at the airfield in about forty-five minutes."  Nikita's voice was almost drowned out by the noise of the helicopter.

     "Good.  Everyone okay?  Any injuries among the hostages?  Will you need medical?"  Michael was more concerned about whether Nikita had suffered any injuries, but he couldn't ask that.

     "We're fine, Michael,"  Nikita shouted over the roar of the chopper.  "A little first aid for the Ambassador, but that's all.  Nothing major."

     "What happened to the Ambassador, Nikita,"  Michael asked.

     "Oh, nothing much, tell you about it later."  Nikita wondered what repercussions would ensue from her pistol whipping Ambassador Reid.  Well, she'd always been told that the goals were just, even if the means were ruthless.  She was becoming more like Section One every day.  Not a happy thought at all.

     "McClure, report.  Any injuries or fatalities?  We won't be able to send housekeeping to this area.  Once your team is out, that's it."  Michael spoke plainly about a harsh fact of life in Section One.

     "We've lost O'Ryan and Sherwood.  I've got a couple of men with some minor stuff, but Woods has a chest wound.  I wish we'd had time to get him on the chopper.  I'm afraid we'll lose him."

     "Do the best you can.  I'll get medical to Point A.  That'll be his best chance now.
What's your ETA?"

     Another thirty minutes, Michael.  We're moving pretty fast.  Riverra's men didn't put up much of a fight once he was dead."  McClure's report was brief and factual with none of the snide personal comments that punctuated his earlier exchanges.

      "Birkoff, you heard McClure,"  Michael asked, knowing that Birkoff could hear everything at the exit point.

    "Yeah, Michael.  Medical will be here before McClure is.  I've alerted them that they have a chest wound on the way."

     Michael looked up to Operations, who nodded and said over the comm set, "Good job, Michael."

     Michael wanted to take a deep breath and exhale to relieve the tension, but he
would not allow himself to do that, not while Operations and Madeline were around to see it.  Stoically, Michael remained at the tactical center until he heard that Nikita and the assault team were back at the airfield, on the plane and in the air.  Michael then removed his comm set and walked casually to his office.  He methodically shut the door and closed the mini-blinds.  Wearily Michael sat down with his head resting in his hands, and he gave  a long overdue sigh of relief.

     Michael was instantly awake and smiled when he saw her, "Nikita, are you through with your debrief?  I was supposed to be there.  What time is it?"

     "It's 4AM, and I want food, a shower, and bed and not necessarily in that order. I couldn't sleep on the plane at  all or eat either for that matter."

     "Too much energy?" asked Michael knowing too well what the physical aftermath of a mission was like.

      "Yeah,  I felt like I could have walked back in half the time that it took the plane to fly it, but now I could drop."  Nikita truly looked worn.

      "You need breakfast, a shower and bed in that order.  I know a place that stays open all night.  Let's go,  ma petite."  Michael bundled her coat around her drooping shoulders.  Together they walked out of Section into the predawn of the gray city streets.

     Nikita curled up in the seat beside Michael, and she was asleep before he had the motor started.  He stroked her pale blonde hair and kissed her softly on the lips.  "I love you, Ni-ki-ta," he whispered.

     "I heard that, Michael," Nikita whispered back.  "I love you, too."  Nikita stroked the side of his face with her hand.  She tucked a stray chestnut curl behind his ear.

     This gentle and innocent touch gave Michael shivers of desire.  She caressed his cheek with her finger tips, and she could feel him shudder.  She traced his lips using just her ring finger, and he moaned.  She was tantalizing him in much the same way he had her one memorable time, but there would be no telephone interruption or reprieve.  Michael had known the phone would interrupt them that time, but by the time it had, he had been snared in his own net.  What a torment it had been to stop kissing her.  What torment now, if she did not start kissing him.

     Michael enjoyed Nikita taking the lead in this early morning seduction.  This too was part of the physical aftermath of a dangerous mission.  It was a physical affirmation of life and appreciation of that life.  He and Simone had often reveled in making love after a mission, but now Nikita was raising it to an art form with her innate sweetness and tenderness.

      Nikita began to rub her lips against his chin.  She started nibbling at his lips with hers.  "Michael, we're going to have to change the order a little bit. You forgot to put this first."  Nikita then began to kiss Michael.  Her tongue sought his and was rewarded.  Nikita began tugging at his jacket, and pulling his tee shirt out of his pants.

     Michael's breathing grew labored as his arousal  became wonderfully painful. Michael could not resist any longer.  He began kissing Nikita deeply. His hands began pulling at her clothes as well.  As all the necessary body parts came free and into view, Michael's last coherent thought was,  merde, we're still in the Section One parking lot....
 

        "We're still in the parking lot at Section!  What were we thinking?"  Nikita reached over and wiped the fog off the window.

     Michael giggled, "We weren't thinking."  Somehow the reality had not reached his brain, or maybe it was just the  recent diversion of blood from his brain that made him a little giddy.  "You seduced me.  If we get into trouble with our mommy and daddy, it's all your fault."  Michael giggled again.

     "Damn!  You think they have the parking lot under surveillance."  Nikita was beginning to have an attack of postcoital anxiety.

     "Nikita, Section has everything under surveillance. Whether anyone actually pays attention to my car, is another matter."  As Michael's blood flow returned to normal, so did his common sense.  "Let's go.  Still want some breakfast?" he asked as he started tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants.  Nikita was hurriedly restoring her clothes to a more normal appearance as well.

     "Only if you're cooking.  Actually, I just want to go to bed."  Nikita yawned widely.    Michael drove them the short distance to his apartment.  Once inside, Michael started  a pot of coffee, and Nikita headed for the shower.  When she came out in his robe, she took a deep breath, "The coffee smells heavenly, Michael."

     "It's decaf so you can go to sleep."  Michael handed her the cup, which was decorated with a rose design.

     "Thank you.  What about you?  Are you going to try to make your session today?"   "Yes,  but I'll rest for a while before I leave."  He kissed her lips and tasted the coffee left there. "You taste good."  He giggled again thinking of other lips and other tastes.
 
     Nikita smiled at his double entendre. After Nikita finished her coffee, she went wearily to his bed.  Michael followed her and lay beside her, their bodies entwined.  Nikita went to sleep quickly and deeply, but  Michael lay next to her and marveled at how their relationship had changed over the last four years.  First they had been trainer and material which had eventually evolved to a very sweet friendship after Simone had been found and died again.  Then he had become her  manipulator often using her feelings to save her life.  Then one passionate night they had become lovers.  After being lovers they had become estranged because of his need  (their need really) for caution. Miraculously they had eventually become friends again, and lovers again.  Tears formed in Michael's eyes as he fell asleep to dream  peacefully of Nikita and being free.

     Therese anxiously awaited her 10AM appointment.  There had been no call of cancellation today.  Given his line of work, something could have happened to him, she thought.  She had finished her dictation from her 9AM appointment, when Tina buzzed that he was there.

     "Good morning, Michael."  Therese noted the dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Trouble sleeping," she asked.  Dreams and nightmares were a  common during therapy, especially the early stages.
 
     "Morning.  No, no trouble sleeping, just finding time to sleep."  He smiled ruefully and sat in his usual chair.  "Sorry about missing yesterday.  It couldn't be avoided."

     "When we talked last, you had told me about a time when you manipulated Nikita for the agency in order to achieve their ends..  You have mentioned that you have also used Nikita's feelings for you to save her life.  Tell me about one of  those times."   Therese relaxed in her wing back chair as Michael began to speak.

     "One of the times that sticks particularly in my mind occurred after a mission that went sour.  In order to have leverage, we had been assigned to capture the brother of a terrorist.  He and his wife were supposed to be alone that night, but our intel was faulty.  Their two children were at home after all.  The brother was shot with a tranq dart, and as he went down from the tranquilizer, his wife walked into the line of fire of his weapon and was killed.  This children were there and saw this happen.

     "Nikita was very upset and was under constant surveillance at that time anyway as a new operative.  The agency doesn't leave anything to chance. During this routine surveillance, another operative was seen making contact with Nikita under some pretext of  dropping her glove.  This operative E was one of  the surveillance operatives.  That was his main duty, and Nikita was someone he was frequently assigned to watch.  He was also known to be dissatisfied with his place in the Agency.  He was only a step away from being placed in abeyance, and it made me very uneasy that he was making contact with Nikita.  We had intercepted messages from him to outside sources, about escaping from the agency and leaving a virus behind in our computer system.
 
     "There was simply no way that I could allow Nikita to be tarnished by his stupidity.  The agency does not have a forgiving nature, and anyone who had any contact with him would be canceled as well.  There were actually times when I had convinced myself that what I felt for Nikita was merely physical attraction. This was one of those times.  I decided I would  pull her closer to me personally.

     "For some reason, I felt very awkward doing it.  It did not make sense to me, because normally, I had no trouble talking to women or in achieving whatever goal I desired.  In fact, I had been seeing other women in order to get Nikita out of my mind.  It wasn't really working.  I went through all the moves that were usually so successful.  I went out of my way to speak to her, complimented her, but she called me on it.

     "I invited her out for coffee, and she asked my why.  You want to know my lame answer, ‘I like coffee.'  Nikita had very good instincts, and my awkwardness was like a red flag.  Our relationship was strained by various things, but mainly by my trying to pull away from her, and now I was doing just the opposite.  I was desperate to keep her  away from E, and she was suspicious.

      "I felt like I had foiled one escape already.  We'd had a lead that the terrorist we were seeking was in a old football stadium.  E was on this mission on tactical, and I found them together just in time I think.  Later, as we were going over the next mission parameters, I had took the opportunity to lean very close to her as I instructed her in the final scenario.  Her body language said suspicion, but her eyes said curiosity.

     "Later that day, with BK.'s help, I intercepted a cell phone call from E to Nikita.  He was telling her the final plans for their escape.  In the middle of this call, I knocked on her door.  I could tell she didn't want to let me in when I said I was there to go over the mission once again.  Then I told her we should have that coffee now.  She actually picked up her coat to go out for
coffee.  I told her no need to go out.  I finally had to tell her what ever she had would be fine.  When she said ‘what if I don't have anything?', I told her that would be fine too.  My responses were so lame I needed a cane.

      "I did not intend to leave without seducing her.  Although I knew the phone would ring before I could make love to her, I had to take this last chance to bond her to me. I put in a CD that I had always liked and held my hand out to her.  Nikita just looked me up and down, suspicious to the end.  She even asked me if I was trying to seduce her, but the feelings she had were there for me to see.  She was confused, and I wanted her to be certain that this was what she wanted.  I gave her a line about not fighting what's between us.

     "Was it really a line, Michael?"

     "If I had used it on anyone else, it would have been, but it was true about how I felt. I had been fighting what I felt for her.  I couldn't risk the pain and heart ache that losing Simone had caused, but I also didn't want to hurt Nikita anymore than she already had been.

      "As we began to touch each other, very gently and softly, but seductively, I let her to be the one to increase the amount of contact.  As we kissed and danced, I could see she was totally getting into it, and so was I.  Other than when  we had one of our first missions, we had never been alone in this manner.  My head was literally battling with the rest of my body for control.  I could have had her right then, and I wanted her right then.  Then the phone rang on schedule, and I broke away.  I wanted to throw the phone out the window and across the street.  I wanted to take her to bed and make love to her for the rest of the day and night.  Instead I took her on a mission, where she had the opportunity to escape came again.

     "The mission was successful.  Nikita performed superbly. Then she left to go meet E.  But she did not go with him. My seduction had been successful, and I was relieved. When we were finished debriefing after the mission, I told her that E did not come back, and that the virus only affected the  primary data base.  I told her that E would be caught, and so would have anyone who went with him.

     "She was livid.  She realized that I had manipulated her.  She just couldn't see the reason I did it.  She was the reason, and she was staring me in the face, and I could not face her without telling her how I felt.  I turned and walked away rather than tell her.  She didn't deserve what my love did to those I loved.

     "And now, Michael.  What about now?  How is the relationship with Nikita going?"  Therese asked.

     "Nikita and I are finally on some kind of journey. Sort of  a  ‘carpe diem' mentality, I  guess you could call it.  We have many tests ahead of us, both from within and without.  We don't know where it will lead, and if it will be allowed at all in the long run.  Anyway, we are having lots of sex, and that is tres bon," Michael laughed as he admitted this to Therese.  "We are getting a lot closer as friends."

     "It is a start, Michael.  Nikita may prove to be a better therapist than I am," she laughed.  "See you tomorrow?"  Therese extended her right hand to shake his.

     "If I can, " Michael said softly as he bowed and gave her hand a courtly kiss.

     Michael wasn't sure why he had done something so inappropriate as kissing his psychiatrist's hand.  She seemed to lose her composure for the first time, since he had been coming for his sessions.  Her face flushed and she hesitated, but she pulled her hand away.  He had purposely tried to rattle her in the initial sessions and had  failed, but this sudden impulse puzzled him.

     "I'm sorry.  I know I shouldn't have done that.  I don't know why I did." Michael was truly confused.  "You've been so kind.  I meant no disrespect."  His discomfort was apparent as he looked at her earnestly.  His eyelids were blinking furiously, and his hand went to his chin.

     "Physical contact between a psychiatrist and a patient is totally inappropriate, Michael.  I accept that this was an impulse, and it may be related to transference, but it must never happen again.  I would have to stop seeing you as a patient, and recommend that you see someone else."  Therese was stern, but this was an important ethical issue that allowed no other response, and it was best to set the ground rules early in the therapeutic process.

     "Transference.  Does that mean that I am ‘transferring' feelings I have for someone else to you," he asked.  "Like am I confusing you with my mother or something like that?"

      "Possibly, yes.  It's a little more complicated than that, but that's close enough for now."   Therese felt maybe a little counter-transference was involved as well.  She had to place the barriers early with this one.  She resisted her motherly instincts toward him.  Why  her eldest son was almost his age.  But Michael had such beauty and strength  of purpose.  He reminded her of a mistreated stallion.  His pride and strength must have carried him through many situations, but the wounds were still there, chafing  deep within damaging his spirit and chilling his countenance.  Therese smiled at him encouragingly.

     "Again, I am sorry.  It will not happen again."  Michael's gray eyes were shiny with emotion as he walked out the office door.

     "I know, Michael," Therese said softly to herself.

     "Madeline, I want to thank you," he started.

     "For what, Michael?"  Madeline wanted Michael to express his feelings, so she would not make it easy for him.

      "For the sessions.  They seem to be helping."  Dr. Dupre was so much easier to talk to, but he didn't have to say that much to Madeline.  She always seemed to know what he was thinking anyway.

     "In what way, Michael?"  Madeline wanted to pull the words out of him.

      "I am able to talk about issues, I would never talk about here.  I  have an objective listener, who isn't interested in pushing my buttons to achieve her own ends," he said in challenge.

     "Like I do, you mean?"  Madeline's enigmatic smile was back again.

     "Yes," Michael's voice dropped to a whisper.
 
     "And Nikita.  How are the two of you?"  Madeline asked, probing for a reaction.

     "Nikita and I are working on a relationship.  It's progressing."  Michael could barely get the words out.  He had hidden so much for so long that it didn't seem natural to say this much now.
 
     Madeline could see the smile in his  eyes that he thought he was hiding.  His blank stare was not blank to the one who taught it to him.  "Well, the Reid mission went well.  Nikita performed quite well on her own.  She saved McClure's life, and now he seems to have formed a fondness for her."  Madeline smiled in wardly as she told this to Michael.  His eyes snapped as she mentioned McClure's new found feelings for Nikita.  She did enjoy disturbing Michael's equanimity occasionally just for fun.

      "Yes, Nikita performed quite well."

      "As did you, Michael.  You were able to put aside any personal considerations and  stay focused on the mission.  I was very encouraged."

     "Thank you.  I think I will hit the mountains of paper on my desk."  Michael rose to leave.

      "Michael, next time, at least try to get out of the parking lot before you and Nikita make love.  It sets a bad example for the other operatives."  Madeline wanted to laugh aloud, but of course, she did not.

     Michael turned his head, gave Madeline his tiny half smile and walked out of her office.   Michael was convinced that Madeline had great powers of extrasensory perception or the best surveillance system on the planet or both.  Michael continued walking along the gray halls of Section, but there was still a smile on his face.