The music of Vibrolux pounded through Nikita's headphones as she punched and
jabbed and kicked through her usual evening workout. Perspiration ran down her back as the intensity of the workout increased. She could not hear the four significant knocks on her door, which were repeated a second time. As the rhythm of the music began to wane, Nikita began graceful movements of a kata and entered the slow-down phase of her routine. She turned and was startled to see Michael standing in the doorway, watching her.

    Nikita removed the headphones with one rapid movement. "Michael!" she said in
surprise. Her first inclination was to run into his arms, but she had learned caution, which kept her from acting on that impulse.

    Michael had the small half smile, which told her that he was pleased about something.  His dress was very unusual for Michael in that he wasn't wearing all black.  He wore a forest green and black plaid shirt, along with black jeans and low-heel boots.  The green of the shirt intensified the green of his eyes, the eyes that were centered on her.  Nikita realized she must make a horrific sight, dripping with perspiration, and her hair soaked with it, too.

        Michael did not find Nikita a horrific sight at all. His body never failed to respond
to the sight of her lithe one; but he had come to say good-bye, and he wished that so much of her body were not visible. She glowed with the health and vitality of youth, and to Michael, her loveliness was not dependent upon what clothes she wore or how her hair was styled. Her beauty came from the light in her heart, and it spoke to his, even today, after all that had transpired between them.

        Nikita grabbed a nearby towel and began to dry her back and arms. "I wasn't
expecting you," she began.

        "I know. I should have called first." Michael looked at his feet for a moment, then
back into her puzzled turquoise eyes. "I came to say good-bye," he said softly.

        "G-Good-bye," she stuttered in disbelief.

        "I've been ‘given' some downtime--two weeks to pull myself together. I'm going
to try to find my son. If I do find him, I won't be coming back to Section. I wanted you
to know. Maybe it's a sign of my arrogance that I think you would want to know," he
said with a shrug.

        Nikita swallowed and took a step toward him. "And if you don't find him?" sheasked.

        "Then I'll be back only until I do find him. Madeline and Operations are the only
ones who know where he is, and they will use that knowledge to keep me in line," he said with a rueful smile, as he took a step closer toward her.

        "They'll never stop looking for you, Michael. They'll hunt you down and cancel
you." It was Nikita's turn to look at her feet. "I c-couldn't bear that, Michael. I could
stand almost anything else." Nikita took another step toward him and threw her arms
around him. "I hope you find him, Michael. Live and be free."

        The heady feeling of having Nikita in his arms rushed over Michael. He tried to
clamp down the controls, but with her it proved to be a useless attempt. He held her
tightly, never wanting to let her go. He could feel her heart racing and knew that his
matched its pace. Without volition, he heard himself say, "Come with me, Nikita."

        Nikita could not believe what she had heard. "What?"

        "If I find him, I will contact you. Will you come with me and Sean? I have resources, Nikita. Money hidden away. That's all it takes, enough money."

        Nikita was still reeling from the shock of Michael escaping Section. "They'll track
us, Michael," she protested.

        "I can fix it so they can't." He spoke softly but with emphasis. "If I find Sean in
the next two weeks, will you come with me?"

        Nikita was torn. She had been free once, free from Section, but not free from her
passion for Michael. She had scrimped and saved at menial jobs, lived in a dozen places in her six months of freedom, but Michael said he had money. Maybe it would be different, if she were with Michael and his resources, financial and otherwise. "I know I've always wanted to be free of Section, Michael, but I'm scared. I don't know."

        Michael understood her hesitation. It had nothing to do with how she felt about
him, but more about leaving one type of uncertain existence for one that was more
uncertain than any she had ever known.

        "You don't have to make up your mind this minute. I have to find him first. It
won't be easy, since I have no intel on his whereabouts." Michael could resist her
nearness no longer and kissed her lips.

        Nikita surrendered to the moment and Michael's demanding lips and hands. She
could feel his arousal against her thigh as she ran her hands down his back to his buttocks.  Michael was at the point of carrying her upstairs to her bedroom, when there came aninsistent knock at the door.

        "Are you expecting someone?" he asked, frustrated at the interruption.

        "No," she breathed. "I'll get rid of them, quickly." She tore herself away from his
arms and ran for the door.

        "What?" she said to the tall blonde man standing there.

        "I thought I could change your mind about dinner." He said as he held out a sack
of Chinese food and a bottle of wine. Then he saw Michael leaning against the kitchen
island divider. "Oh, sorry. I see I'm interrupting."

        He turned to go, but Michael spoke, "No, I was just leaving."

        "Michael, no, don't go," Nikita protested.

        Michael gave her a brief kiss on the lips, "See you in a couple of weeks, Love."
After a brief glance at Wellsley, he added, "Behave yourself." Michael made a graceful
exit, as he silently cursed himself for his stiff-necked pride.

        Tip gave Nikita a sickly grin, "Bad timing?"

        "Bad doesn't even begin to describe it," she replied, as she wiped the perspiration from her brow.

        "Who the hell do you think you are, surprising me like this?  I told you I wasn't interested in dinner.  What part of that did you not understand?"  Nikita said as she jerked a jacket from the closet.  "Or are you so arrogant that you think you can come here and dazzle me with your charm?"  Nikita didn't wait for an answer, but ran out the door and down the hall after Michael.

        He was already in the courtyard before she caught him by the arm.  "Michael, I never asked him to come over."
 
        Michael turned to her and looked into her eyes.  "Nikita, you don't owe me any explanations.  You have a right to see whomever you wish to see.  I came to say good-bye, and I said it."

        "Michael, damn it!  Don't leave me like this.  I will come with you, when you find Sean.  I will!"

        "It was stupid of me to ask you.  I won't hold you to that promise,"  he said as he pulled his arm from her hand.

        Michael's blank stare was in place, his green eyes cold and flat, and it infuriated Nikita.  "Yes, a damn stupid Frenchman is what you are.  You will hold me to the promise, and I will go with you.  We'll never have any kind of life, if I don't.  I guess that makes me a stupid Francophile."  With these passionate words, Nikita shoved Michael against one of the brick walls and kissed him with her whole being.  The blank stare disappeared and was replaced by a gaze of intense passion.

        "Nikita," he managed to breathe before surrendering to her ravaging tongue.  He was powerless before a strong and resolute Nikita.  He had no choice but to respond as his body deemed fit.  She was his weakness, a lovely and frustrating enchantress, who had sung her siren song to him long ago and made him her prisoner.  She was his Circe, Aphrodite and Artemis all in one.

        "Come on, you're not leaving me like this.  I'm ‘dying' for you, Michael."  Nikita began to pull him toward the entrance to her section of the building, and relished the power she felt over him.

        "What about your guest?" he asked, as he allowed her to lead him where he desired most to go.

        Nikita giggled, "If he's got the brains he was born with, he'll be gone."

        Nikita's words proved true, for as she and Michael waited for the elevator door to open, Tip Wellsley stood there in the elevator, ready to leave.

        "Sorry," Tip apologized as he left.  "Have a good evening."

        The only response was Nikita's deep and throaty laugh, as she pulled Michael into the elevator.

        Madeline was also able to tell that the child was severely depressed and angry, a condition, which while understandable, was being fostered and encouraged by his grandmother.  Moira was actively trying to turn the child against Michael, who was supposed to be dead, and Madeline was not pleased with this turn of events.  The child obviously needed therapy, but Moira was refusing to cooperate, preferring to keep him close and dependent upon her.

        Prior to his mother's death Sean had been a very precocious and rambunctious four year old.  Now, he never played outside but stayed inside and watched TV.  Moira never read to him or attempted any other method to stimulate his intelligence or even assuage his grief.  Madeline knew Section One would have to intervene.  She keyed in a priority message to Operations, for  he would have to approve her plan.

        His response was immediate.  "What is it?  I've just called in Wellsley.  He and I are prepping the Libyan mission."

        "Things are not going well in Phoenix."  She continued and gave him her assessment and preliminary plan.

        "Who did you have in mind for this?" he asked.

        "Nikita would handle this quite well, I think,"  Madeline  said.

        "We were going to use Nikita for the Libyan mission, but if you think she is necessary for this instead?"

        "I do," she said firmly.

        "All right.  What about backup?"

        "That's still under consideration.  I'll let you know when the profile is finalized," Madeline said.  She thought it too bad that Wellsley was involved with the quickly evolving Libyan mission.  She wondered how Nikita and Wellsley would interact.  He was extraordinarily handsome and very charming.  He might even prove to be an antidote to Nikita's Michael-fever.  Maybe next time, she thought.
 

        Nikita and Michael both reached for their keys at the door, but Nikita was the quicker.  Once inside, the serious insanity began.  Hands, arms, and tongues began the battle for supremacy.  Michael won the initial battle as he swept Nikita into his arms and took her upstairs to the bedroom.

        He lay her gently on the bed and began to remove her workout clothes.  His eyes were warmed by the familiar sight of her perfect breasts, no less precious for their familiarity.  As he lay beside her and began to kiss her, his arousal became evident to them both.

        "Off," Nikita managed to say.

        "Off?" he asked.  What could she mean?  Was he too heavy?

        "Your clothes.  Take them off, slowly," she said languorously.  Nikita had decided that she was still the team leader on this mission profile. Yes, she was going to be in charge.

        Michael rose from the bed to do her bidding.  He remembered quite well the scenario she was proposing.  He began to sway his hips and shoulders slowly to an inner music, as he unbuttoned his plaid shirt, but he immediately began to feel slightly ridiculous.  He wondered if women felt that way when disrobing for men, but he remembered the trials that Nikita had endured on missions, so he persevered.  With his back to her, he removed his shirt and allowed it to drop to the floor.

        Nikita stretched languorously on the bed as she watched the muscles play in Michael's back.

        "Continue," she ordered.

        Feelings of conflict began to sweep over Michael.  He wanted to regain control and demand the comfort of Nikita's body and bed, but he also wanted to please her by remaining in the passive role.  In addition to feeling a trifle degraded, Michael was extremely aroused and painfully erect.  As he unzipped his jeans and let them slide down over his buttocks and thighs, his erection sprang free as if grateful to be released from the confining jeans.  As he stepped out of them and turned around, he heard a sharp intake of breath from Nikita.
 
         "Michael," she said hoarsely as she held out her hand to him.

        As Michael took her hand, his previous feelings of degradation and conflict  evaporated.  His eyes tried to memorize her loveliness as he cradled her in his arms.

        Her hands became entangled in his hair as she pulled him to her.  One swift maneuver and she was astride him, kissing him. She used her teeth to nip at him.  "You are so  beautiful," she said as her hands stroked down his abdomen to his muscular thighs, which began to quiver as she began to touch him more intimately with her hands and tongue.

        "Nikita, please," he said hoarsely.

        "Please what, Michael?  What do you want me to do?"  Nikita was relishing her power over him.

        "Something, anything,"  he pleaded.

        Nikita's version of ‘something, anything' was to surround his manhood with her feminine warmth.  Michael's groan, as she did, told her that he was close to losing control, and that was not what she had in mind.  Instead of riding him to her satisfaction, she lay on his chest and stroked his face and kissed him tenderly, while he held her in his arms.

        Michael did his best to regain his self-control.  His ragged breath began to slow, but his heart would not stop the pounding  that occurred whenever he was this close to Nikita.  A quick move and he rolled Nikita under him.  He hesitated waiting for her permission.

        "Yes," she breathed in a soft sigh and wrapped her long legs around his waist.

        With Nikita's assent, Michael began thrusting, slow and deep.  The lovers began moving in unison, faster and faster, until they experienced a shattering climax that left the two of them weak and still in each others arms.

        Nikita's eyes began to fill with tears, and she began to sob into Michael's chest.

        "Nikita?  What it is?  Did I hurt you?" he asked.

        "No, it's just that a week ago, I thought we'd never be together again like this.  I thought that your betrayal was too deep.  You, the lies, the manipulations, our times together were what formed the whole of my experience in Section.  I hated you and I hated myself for still loving you, and I didn't know how I could go on without you."

        Michael's eyes glistened, as he said, "You have been my reason for living for the last four years.  Initially, training you was the reason to come in here every day, then I grew to love you and fear for you.  Your innocence made me want to live again, if only to protect you.  I hated myself for deceiving you.  I know I could and ‘should' have told you, but I was too afraid of losing you if you knew the truth of my situation.  After Hector trapped you and you came so close to dying, I said the things you wanted to hear because I couldn't stop myself.  Afterwards, I left because I wanted to complete the Fogherty mission so that we could finally have some kind of relationship that wasn't a part of the lies generated by Section."

        "I love you, Michael.  Heaven help me, but I guess I always will," Nikita sniffed.

        "Je t'aime, Nikita, Je t'aime.  I am lost without you."  Michael held Nikita tightly in his arms as they fell asleep, entwined, hearts at peace for once.
 

        The bright morning sunlight streamed through the window and awakened Michael, who was normally an early riser.  It was six-thirty, two hours past his usual wake-up time.     He lay there and  luxuriated in the heady  feeling of having Nikita snuggled close to him.  He wanted to lie there for the rest of his life and never leave her side, but the cruel reality of their lives would not allow that; and he had to find his son before the child was irretrievably lost to the Machiavellian manipulations of Section One.

        He leaned toward Nikita and kissed her on the cheek.  Her eyes fluttered and a lazy smile drifted across her face.  "Still conflicted?" she asked as she returned his kiss.

        "No," he answered.  "But I still have to leave you for a while," he said as he  ran his hand across her shoulder and down her arm.  He could feel her shiver in response to his sensual touch.

        "I know, you have to find Sean.  I wish I could help you," she murmured.

        Michael sat on the side of the bed, "You can.  I have two comm sets, like the one I gave you once before.  We can communicate from anywhere.  Birkoff told me that Operations has had my access reduced to email only for these two weeks.  There's nothing in the data base about Sean, but I might need to have you access it for other intel or communications.  Birkoff will help you, if you need him, but I would like to keep him out of this if possible."

        Nikita nodded, "I understand.  Can they trace our communications on these comm sets?" she asked.

        "They're encrypted, and Birkoff is the only one right now that could break the code, but if they became suspicious and were to use Hillinger, we would be at risk.  I simply have to convince them that I am going to Italy for two weeks."  Michael gave a half smile as he leaned toward her.

         "How are you going to do that?" Nikita asked as she began placing little kisses all over his chest and shoulder.  Michael's response was to return the favor.

        "By first going to Italy and then disappear,"  Michael said in a voice hoarse with emotion, as he buried his face between her breasts and let his tongue trail down her flat abdomen toward her nest of blonde curls.

        "Ahhh," was all Nikita could manage as Michael's tongue reached its target and initiated its mission  to pleasure her beyond her wildest fantasies.  Nikita ran her fingers through Michael's hair, as she reveled in the delicious sensations he created.  Her head rolled from side to side as Michael changed positions and with rapid strokes thrust home, bringing her nearly to the brink of orgasm.  He then slowed his powerful strokes as Nikita cried, "More.  Now."

        "No, not yet my love.  I will be away for two weeks, and I want this to last for both of us," he whispered in her ear.  He continued at the slower pace, until Nikita was clawing at his back and demanding completion.  All the while, Michael whispered French words of love in her ear.  Finally, he said, "Now," and began thrusting deeper and faster.

        "Yes, yes," Nikita encouraged the new rhythm, with her heels at his buttocks. Michael was at the verge of climax as well, but he intended to see that Nikita received what she desired and deserved before he realized his own pleasure.  Michael could see the signs that Nikita was close to flying over the edge. The heat of her body had escalated and a red flush spread over the fair skin of her breasts and neck.  Nikita began to sob incoherently for relief, and Michael gave three rapid and deep strokes reaching to her innermost core.

        Sensation exploded in waves and swept Nikita away.  She felt as if  her entire body were convulsing, as Michael continued to thrust.  She cried, "Michael, oh, Michael," although it was difficult to catch her breath.

        Michael began to perspire and quiver as his body demanded its own completion.  His need for control was abandoned as his more primal needs took command.  His climax  ripped from his body in strong contractions that left him exhausted and panting, unable even to cry Nikita's name.  He collapsed in her arms and buried his face in her neck as he gasped for air and savored her warmth.

        They slept a brief thirty minutes, before waking again.  Words were not necessary.  The love they held in their hearts, one for the other, shone from their eyes.  Aquamarine eyes misted with tears and looked into crystal green ones that were warm with love.   Michael took Nikita's hand and kissed it, a courtly gesture to claim her heart for all time.  Nikita swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment.  The sweetness and tenderness of the moment made the lies and manipulations retreat farther into the past.  The future was unknown, but the present was golden.

 
Part III