Nikita met Mac in the hall as she was leaving Section.  He looked like he was waiting for her.  That's all I need, she thought.

        "Nikita, I want to apologize for the way I've been acting.  I know I've been a jerk.
You and Michael obviously have something special, and I won't give you anymore grief over it.  I've always been a little jealous of Michael, and now I guess I'm really jealous." He gave a small laugh.  "Just watch yourself and be careful with Michael.  You have no idea of some of the things he's been put through.  He's not a healthy person, but if he can love anyone, I guess it would be you, Nikita."

        "Well, thanks, I guess, Mac."  Nikita smiled, but was puzzled.  She thought by now, she knew almost everything there was to know.  Maybe not.  What was it Mac had kept saying on the Paris mission--ask Michael about Madeline.  Nikita thought of his familiarity with where Madeline lived.  Nikita decided she didn't want to think about Michael and Madeline.  Better not go there, she thought.

        Nikita arrived at her apartment and started the straightening process.  There was no food in the refrigerator--nothing except bottled water.  Nikita opened one and took a long thirsty drink.  She had just enough time to make a grocery run and was on her way out the door as her cell phone chimed.

        "Nikita, I am not going to make it tonight.  I won't be out of here till late.  There's so much left to do.  I'm going to take it home with me or stay in my quarters here.  That won't be any fun for you,"  Michael's voice was soft and hesitant.

        "No, you're not.  You have all day-- hell! You have all week to do nothing but paperwork.  You need to eat.  If you don't want to come over here, I'll bring you dinner to your place.  And if you don't let me do that, then I'll just bring it to
you at Section. Let's see now, candles, flowers, violinist and dinner right there in your office.  Get the picture, Michael?  We'll have a nice little  romantic--"

        "I get the picture, Nikita,"  Michael sighed.  When did she become so damn pushy, he asked himself.  It was getting harder and harder to refuse her anything. "All right, you win, but this is becoming a dangerous precedent," he said softly.

        "I'll be there at 7PM," she said.  "You be there, too.  No excuses.  Love you."

        "Nikita this is not a terribly secure line," he protested.

        "Say it," she insisted softly.

        "Je t'aime, Nikita.  Je t'aime."  Michael had given up trying to direct the relationship.  He was well aware that Nikita was in control, at least for that night.
 

        At 6:45PM Michael closed the top of his laptop and stood up to leave.  He had accomplished a small mountain of work, but the feeling of deep depression had not abated. As Michael walked out, he met Madeline.  Just what he needed, he thought.

        "Everything all right, Michael?"  Madeline noted his unease in her presence. "Anything you want to talk about?"

        "No.  I'm fine, just a little tired.  I'm on my way home."  Michael's inclination was to run, but he never would.  He knew his only recourse was to remain calm and wait till she tired of her sport.  Maybe he was being paranoid.

        "You could come by my place for a drink.  It might help you relax," she suggested knowing he was probably on his way to see Nikita.

        "I  don't think so, Madeline."
 
        "As you wish, Michael."  Madeline smiled, but wondered if she had gone too far in baiting Michael.  Probably, but it kept him enough off balance that she was always in control.  Madeline and Michael rode in the elevator together and in a ‘companionable' silence.

        They went their separate ways as they reached the parking area.  "Good night, Michael,"  she said as she slid into her elegant, white Rolls Corniche.

        "Night, Madeline."  Michael did not allow himself to shudder until he was safely in his car.  And now, in his present mood, he still had to see Nikita.  This was one night he wanted to be alone and needed to be alone with his thoughts.

        A short drive and Michael was home by  7PM, and Nikita was not there yet. Typical, he thought.  She would be thirty minutes late and come running in with her arms full of bags.  This visualization of Nikita brought a smile to his face.  He
started turning on the lights in the apartment.  As always, his Tiffany lamp was the only spot of color in the room.  He supposed he had carried the ‘black' theme a little too far.  He ought to do something about all that black, before Nikita took it on herself to start ‘redecorating.' He shuddered at that thought.  He might be ready for a little color in his life, but he certainly wasn't ready to trade gray and black for all white.  He smiled again.  Maybe he did need to see Nikita tonight.  Every time he had thought about her, he realized he had smiled.

         Michael headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower.  He knew he would have time before Nikita arrived with dinner.  He quickly stripped and stepped into the shower.  Michael stood in the pulsating stream of water and let the heat and
steam fill the shower.  Finally he shut off the water, he could hear a pounding at the door. He quickly wrapped a white towel around his waist and went to the door.

        "Took you long enough, what were you--" she started to ask, but then she saw a tall tanned body wearing only a towel.  Wavy, wet hair was dripping on his shoulders, and he had a sheepish smile on his face.  Nikita dropped her packages.  "Eye
candy, mmmm." she said as she started grabbing at them.

        "Sorry, I didn't hear you," he said as he pecked her on the cheek and helped her with the packages of take-out Chinese food.
 
        "Either I'm going to have to take some clothes off, or you're going to have to get dressed, Michael.  This is very disconcerting.  I feel overdressed."

        "I'll put on something," he offered.

        "Well, don't put on too much, and I'll take something off.  What should I take off, Michael?" she asked with a big smile and batted her eyelashes at him.

        "Surprise me," he suggested in his soft, sexy voice.  He put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips.  "Back in a minute," he said and patted her on the butt.
 

        He used the next few minutes sitting on his bed thinking of dark and light, of despair and hope and Nikita and how their relationship had changed over the years.  There was no longer a struggle to hide their feelings from each other.  Their
evolution was only beginning, and Michael knew that the future without Nikita would be no future.

        Nikita busied herself by lighting the multitude of candles she had brought with her. She had also picked up a bouquet of flowers at a sidewalk stand.  "Hmm.  Kung Pao Chicken, Cashew Shrimp, Fried Rice, Egg Rolls, Pot Stickers, Lo Mein and
sauces.  That looks about right."  She set the cartons on Michael's glass topped table. Michael would probably prefer to eat on a plate, she thought.  How boring!  "Now," she said out loud, "wonder what should I take off."

        She looked at her image in the mirror.  She was wearing a pink see-thru blouse tied at her waist over a white bandeau bra.  White Capri pants hugged her lithe hips and legs.  Pink braid in a helix design was applied down the side seams.  Chunky
white heels completed her outré ensemble, and Nikita didn't care one whit about the old saw of not weaning white after Labor Day or before Easter.  She looked great, and she knew it. Her hair was pulled back with a plastic pink head band that had two big hearts in the middle.  She guessed the bandeau would have to go, and quickly rearranged her blouse just as Michael came back into the dining area, wearing gray athletic shorts and a white tank top.

        The candles brought a warmth that Michael's apartment lacked just as Nikita brought the warmth that his life had lacked.  He smiled at her appreciatively. "I see you took off a little something," he said as he reached over to caress her breasts
through the transparent blouse.

        "Uh Uh, you can look, but no touching.  We are going to eat dinner first. I've lost five pounds in the last month, and I'm starving."  She made a moue as Michael looked from her top to her bottom and walked around her--his eyes giving her entire
body their attention.

        He smiled and shook his head wonderingly.  She looked like perfection to him, but then she always had since he had first seen her in the white room.  The wild- eyed terrified nymph that was now his love.  "May I have a kiss before dinner?"  His voice was a soft as a caress on her ear.

        "Only one, Michael.  No tongue."  Nikita thrust her chin at him as she delivered this order.

        "No tongue," he giggled.  "Who made you the manager of my tongue.  It has a mind of its own.  No touching, no tongue.  So many rules, Nikita.  I don't know if I can remember them all.  What will you do, if I break one of your rules?  Will you
punish me?" The pitch of his voice was so sensuous, that it made shivers run down Nikita's back.

        "Michael, no games till after dinner."  Her voice was husky with emotion. She was not sure she was ever going to get dinner if he didn't stop teasing her with his eyes and his body.  She reached over to touch him and give him the one kiss.

        "No,  dinner first," Michael teased.  He could see from her reactions that she was a hair-breadth from tackling him.  Two could play this game, and he could play it well.  He pulled a chair for Nikita so that she could sit.  He began filling a plate for
her.  "Nikita, do you have any idea of the fat content of this meal.  It is very high.  It's a good thing you have lost some weight, because this meal will take care of it."  He gave her generous portions  being precise and sensual with his movements as he did.  All the time his voice never changed its seductive tone.  He could have been reading Khalil Gibran to her as he continued to talk about the sodium content and the dangers of monosodium glutamate reactions.  "You did tell them no MSG, didn't you?  I'm sure you did.  At least the vegetables look like they were fresh.  You did check to see that they used fresh vegetables, didn't you.  Of course, you did."  Michael's eyes positively twinkled as he went through this spiel.

        Nikita sat there with her mouth open.  She had never seen Michael in such a playful mood.  Michael, seeing the perfect opportunity, picked up a bite of cashew shrimp with the chopsticks and placed it into her mouth.  "There, how is it?  Is it
good, Nikita? Do you like it?"  His sultry voice continued to caress her ears and send shivers down her spine.

        "I love it, Michael."  Nikita picked up her own chopsticks and proceeded to give Michael a taste of lo mein.  She could play any game he could.  "Is it good, Michael?" Only Nikita's skills with the chop sticks weren't as good as Michael's, and part of the lo mein landed on his chest.  "Oh.  How clumsy of me.  Let me clean that for you."  Nikita rose a little from her chair and began to eat the lo mein off his chest, finishing with a lingering and sensual swipe of her tongue.

        Michael moaned.  He had known all along  this dinner would end with Nikita in his arms.  He wouldn't have had it any other way.  Michael reached for Nikita as she reached for him.  Nikita threw her head back as he kissed her long white neck.  His hands were every where at once, caressing her, pinching her, stroking her. "Michael," she moaned and her breath grew ragged.

        "Talk to me, Nikita.  Tell me what you want.  Tell me how to please you." His voice in her ear, was a warm breath that eddied as he spoke.

        "I want you, Michael.  That's all I've ever wanted.  That and your love."

        Nikita had deviated from the playful script.  Her sincere answer required more than a seductive and glib response.  He gathered her tenderly in his arms and led her to the sofa and sat there with her.  "Shh, you already have that, Nikita.  You have my love.  You have always had it. From the first moment I saw you, in the white room, I knew what Madeline had done when she gave you to me to train.  You were to be my healer.  I knew I was lost when I saw your wild blue eyes, crying over the photograph I gave you.  I fought my feelings for you and tried more than once to destroy  those feelings, because I never felt I deserved to be healed.  I never felt I deserved to live, much less to love or be loved again. And in spite of all we have been through and done to each other  in trying to hide and even deny those feelings, we are here together for whatever time there is left to us."

        Tears rolled down Nikita's face.  She had never heard Michael speak so emotionally and openly to her.  She looked into his eyes and saw the unshed tears there. Nikita stroked Michael's cheek as she gently kissed him.  "I love you, Michael.  I always will."

        "No promises, Nikita, just love me for now," Michael whispered.  He still did not believe his life should or would be rewarded with her depth of love.

        "No, Michael, I will ‘always' love you," Nikita said as she looked directly into his shining eyes.

        Michael shut his eyes at her response, and the unshed tears fell,  a silent vow to his love for her.  He kept his arms around her as he buried his head on her shoulder and sobbed.

       Nikita was stunned by Michael's loss of control.  She rocked him in her arms and murmured, "No one has a better right than you, Michael.  No One."  Nikita knew Michael had never dealt with his losses.  It was as if he had taken those losses,
wadded them into a ball and then hidden the ball where he could never find it again.  He had first lost his parents, and she really didn't know how.  Then after the bombing he lost his future and with that the relationship with his younger sister.  Then he lost his son and finally Simone. Finally, he had been forced to betray his friend Rene.

        Eventually, Michael's sobs quieted.  Nikita kept her arms around him.  This was perhaps the sweetest moment in their relationship.  Michael had given up any pretense of control.  He never would have expressed any of his emotions before their
relationship had really started to develop.  He would have looked at her, looked away, and walked away.

        Nikita's shining blue eyes looked into Michael's silver-green eyes with all the love and tenderness she possessed.  Michael's aching heart absorbed her feelings like a thirsty sponge.  For too long his heart and soul had dwelt in the desert of emotional drought. Nikita with her heart and her light had brought him the elixir of love that restored his life and reasons for living.
 
        "I love you, Michael."  Nikita stroked his cheek with her hand.  She kissed his eyelids tenderly.  "I have been so stupid.  I've done such immature things..."

        "Shhh.  I never blamed you for anything, Nikita.  I always knew that if I were a different man or in a different situation, you would have been different as well.  I gave you so many mixed signals.  You didn't have a chance, Nikita."

        "None of that matters now, Michael.  We have each other and we have now." Nikita murmured in his ear.  "We have our love."

        Michael exhaled with a big sigh.  He still believed he did not deserve her love and loyalty.  There were so many secrets and even betrayals that she could not know.   "There is so much than I cannot share with you."

        "Let the past be over, Michael.  We can't change the past, and we don't know the future.  All we can do is live in the present.  ‘Suffer what there is to suffer, and enjoy what there is to enjoy.'  These are the facts of life, Michael."

        Michael looked at Nikita in amazement.  "When did you become so wise?  Have you been talking to Walter again?"  A tiny smile at the left corner of his mouth told Nikita he was coming back to her, especially if he could joke about Walter.

        The pair who were opposite sides of the same coin, sat closely hip to hip on the sofa. Michael turned to face her and began to stroke her face with a light and sensual touch that sent shivers down her neck and spine.  Her body's response would
have been evident to Michael, but his eyes were closed.  He continued to softly touch her face, as if blind and memorizing every square centimeter.  He ran his fingers around the margins of her lips.
 
        Nikita could stand no more.  She captured one of his fingers with her lips and began to suck one, then another finger.  Her mouth was warm and wet and all Michael could think was, I have to have her now and forever.  Nikita took Michael's
hand and placed it on her breast.  He could feel though the transparent blouse that she was aroused. He groaned.  Nikita started to unbutton and remove her blouse, but Michael whispered, "Let me."  Carefully, Michael undid the tiny rhinestone buttons.  The wisp of a blouse floated to the floor as Michael gave a tiny tug and lofted it over his head. Michael's eyes were open now, and he knew he would never tire of the sight of Nikita, who was sitting in his lap wearing her white capri pants and nothing else.

        "No fair,"  she said huskily as she started to pull at his white tank top. She soon had his chest exposed as well.  She ran her nails over the well developed chest muscles, and Michael's body responded with a shiver.  Nikita smiled.  She liked that
she could affect him with so slight a touch.  Nikita grabbed his head with her hands in his damp locks and pulled him to her.  Her mouth fastened on his, as if she required his very breath for her continued existence.

        Michael drew his own sustenance from Nikita's passion.  Michael stood and Nikita wrapped her long legs around his waist.  He carried her into the bedroom, never stopping his assault on her lips.  Nikita's hands were still tangled in his hair and
she would not let him go. Michael attempted to remove his athletic shorts, but Nikita was in the way.  He fell with her on the bed.

        "Mmnp.  Are you trying to kill me, Michael?"

        "No, I'm trying to ‘relax' you," he breathed with a grin.

        "Well, falling on me is not the way to do that."  Nikita began to see what the problem really was.  He just needed some help with those athletic shorts and getting them over the impediment in front.

        "Why do you always wear these skin tight pants that take two people and a can opener to get you out of them?"  Michael's voice was desperate and almost harsh in her ear.

        "So you can admire ‘my' butt for a change," she giggled, as she began sliding them down easily over her slim hips.  Finally, there were no more impediments (clothing or otherwise) to their loving.

             Skin to skin,
             Lips to lips.
            And every other part
            Of the body matched and rearranged.
            The night was captive to their sounds.

         Cries of desperation,
            "Hurry."  "Now."

         Cries of joyous exaltation,
            "Michael!"  "Nikita!"

        The sweet peace that comes
           With lying in the arms
           Of one's beloved.
 

        He and Nikita had made love most of the night, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave her here alone.  He stroked her hair gently where it was spread over the pillow. He knew that he loved her more than he had loved any woman, including Simone. Simone had not been an innocent corrupted by Section One.  She had earned her place there like everyone else.  He had loved Simone, because he was young and needed someone to love. And he had needed to be loved at that critical point in Section.  She had given him a focus besides his misery and his fear.

        Michael showered and dressed with quiet haste.  He stopped by Nikita's bedside and leaned down to give her a soft kiss.  Her blue eyes opened.  "What time is it?"  She asked sleepily.

        "Nine-thirty, go back to sleep.  I'll see you later.  I have to be down town."  He kissed the tip of her nose.

        "Do you think these visits are helping, Michael?"  Nikita leaned up on her elbows as she looked at him.   He looked a little sad to her, but then with Michael it was usually so hard to tell.  Maybe this was a good sign, but she didn't know for sure.

        "I don't know.  I seem to be losing control.  I just don't know."  Michael shook his head, and a curl fell in front of his ear.  Nikita resisted the impulse to place it behind his ear again.  Instead she pulled his head toward her face.  "Mmm.  Peppermint
toothpaste," she said as she kissed him.

        He returned her kiss and sighed.  "I have to go."

        "I know.  Go. You'll be late for the doctor."  Nikita reached and patted his butt as he turned and walked reluctantly away.  Nikita often wondered what the shrink made of Michael and what he told her about their lives.

        As she yawned and stretched, Nikita could feel that slightly ‘worn' feeling left by a night of love making.  All in all, it was a good feeling.   No lover that she'd ever experienced  had ever equaled Michael's passion and skill.  The simple truth was that they could not get enough of each other, and they were in love.  With this thought, Nikita snuggled with Michael's pillow, savoring the unique scent of him and went back to sleep.

        As Michael walked in, she noted that his face was slightly drawn.  He did not look like he was sleeping  well.  Yet it seemed as if there were a subtle difference in his body language.  He looked more relaxed, but it was difficult for her to pinpoint
exactly what the difference was.

        "Good morning," he said as he smiled briefly and activated the ubiquitous scrambler.  Michael's body had retained the languorous feel of his all night session with Nikita.  His posture was not as rigid and controlled as it usually was.

        "Good morning, Michael.  How was your weekend?  You still look tired, but differently somehow," Therese remarked as he reclined into the comfortable leather chair.

        "Well, we had a mission, which left for Paris on Friday afternoon.  It was rather quickly accomplished, and I have been back since early Sunday morning, but I have not had a lot of sleep," he said giving a Gallic shrug.

        "A mission?  I thought you were not going on any missions for the next few weeks."  The thought that something might actually happen to Michael alarmed Therese more than she wanted to admit.

        "According to mission parameters, it was a very brief mission.  There were no real complications, and the agency is very short of ‘qualified' help at present, so it was necessary that I participate."  Michael gave a rueful smile.
 
        "And Nikita, was she on the mission as well?

        "Yes, she was."  Michael closed his eyes as he thought about his and Nikita's session in the airplane.  His breathing became very relaxed.

        "Are you still in sync, Michael?" she asked.  Therese intuited that Nikita was the cause for his very apparent languor.  He was so relaxed he appeared to have melted into the chair in front of her.

        "I would have to say yes to that.  We are very ‘in sync.'"  Michael opened his changeable eyes and looked at Therese.  "She continues to amaze me with her maturity and understanding.  She is like the Nikita I wanted her to be, but I don't
feel I deserve."

        "Maybe, just maybe, Michael, her maturity and understanding come from her being more secure about your feelings for her.  It sounds to me as if the games you both have played, have made for an uncertain relationship."

        "It has been a veritable hell at times, doctor. I have been trained to manipulate situations and women, but with Nikita, I have been at a loss.  It is like we trained in different worlds."  Michael's gray green eyes were sincere, and his body language began to alter.  He was less relaxed, but still not the rigidly controlled  man she had seen so many times.

        "So tell me how you and Nikita breached your differences.  Last Friday you told me how you made sure that Nikita had the means to escape during the mission that was supposed to kill her, and that you did not hear from her for months.  When did
she finally return your message?"

        Michael straightened his body in the chair as began to relate how he found Nikita again.  "She didn't return my message.  It had been six months of no responses.  After her ‘death' I had reacted so erratically and inefficiently that I had been removed
from team leader status.  I was no longer felt to be focused enough to lead a team, and indeed I was not.  I don't know how close I was to being canceled, but I really did not care.  I knew I couldn't go on much longer without knowing if Nikita was alive or not.  I knew that Nikita had made me want to live again after Simone.  With Nikita I had a purpose. Without Nikita, I had nothing but an existence that grew more and more tedious.

        "I was sent on  reconnaissance with another operative.  We were to observe an FL kidnapping and follow them to their base.  As we were  ready to exit the facility where the kidnapping had taken place, we came under fire.  The other operative was trapped in the car and died, but I escaped.  I took out several shooters, but I heard shots fired from another angle, and two shooters who could have taken me out were felled by those shots. As I looked in the direction of the shots, through the heat rising from the explosion, I saw Nikita standing there with her gun drawn.  She had taken out the shooters. She had saved my life.  I heard more men coming, so I turned my head in their direction. When I turned back to where Nikita had been, she was gone, like a mirage.  Had she been there or not? The only proof I had were the two men lying dead on the ground.

        "I went back to the agency, listened to the team leader make excuses and apologies about not giving me enough backup.  O. asked me if there were any anomalies on site.  My years of training kept me from betraying what I had seen.  As
quickly as I could, I went to my office and sent the message to Nikita one more  time. This time  she answered yes and gave me her current location.

        "I went ostensibly to gather intel and went to the dock where she had hidden in a deserted trawler.  My mind was spinning.  I felt relief because she was alive. I felt anger because she had not answered my pleas for six months.  But I also felt I
understood because I probably would not have answered in her position either.   The moon was full and shining over the harbor, and I was trembling so much, I could hardly walk. My heart was pounding because I felt like I was on my first date.  I wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.  I located her hiding place, and I could see through a port hole that she was sitting propped up with her gun.  She looked exhausted and was almost asleep.  I made enough noise opening the door so that she would be  alert when I entered. She jumped to her feet and held her gun on me.  She still did not trust me, and who could blame her.  I had sent her on a suicide mission, and as far as she knew, I was still the enemy.

        "Because she was so tired, it was simple to distract her attention and disarm her. Once she was defenseless, so was I.  There were no cameras, no comm units, and I knew I could not hold back one second longer.  I grabbed her arms and in one second we were on the bed. I began kissing her as if there were no yesterday or tomorrow.  There was only that moment.  I could feel her initial hesitancy and surprise, but she responded with her own burgeoning passion.  Nikita and I made love until the dawn and reality came.

        "Morning after regrets, Michael?"  Therese asked.

        "No, not regrets.  It was more the reality of knowing ‘that time' would probably be the only time we would ever have together.  I offered to help her.  I could manage to get money to her to make her life easier.   She refused my help, saying it would be better for both of us if I didn't know where she was.  I offered to bring her in, not having any idea  how to accomplish such a thing, but she refused that as well for obvious reasons.   I didn't want to leave her and maybe never see her again.  At least I knew she was alive. But I also knew I couldn't leave her, if I touched her again.  So I left, without an embrace or a even a kiss.  I walked away with my heart pumping  like lead was running through my veins instead of blood.  It was a cold thing to do, but it was the only way I could get off the boat.
 

        "That must have been a very difficult thing for you to do, Michael.  The first time you and Nikita made love, and to have to leave her like that...."  Therese's voice trailed.

        "I tried to tell myself, I was making it easier for her, but I knew I was making it easier for me.  I wanted to  put my arms around her and never let her go, but at least I knew that she was alive and free.  You know that Nikita's beauty is such that she doesn't require makeup for enhancement, and her soul is still as pure as anyone's can be and live the life we do.  She had given me the warmth of her body and heart the night before, but as she sat there in the morning sun, not making any kind of demands, I realized her inner light was shining even brighter.  Again, I consoled myself that she at least was free.

        "I went back to my agency, and gave them the location of the FL base which I had supposedly garnered from another connection.  Then O. showed me a video of Nikita taken while she was a prisoner.  O. and M. both felt she had betrayed the
agency after her capture.  They were under the impression that she had been captured after the explosion and held prisoner all this time.  I managed to appear somewhat surprised.  I am not sure M. believed it, but she said that if it were possible, Nikita would be extracted.  This is how I was able to bring Nikita back to the agency.  During the raid, Nikita hid until the last moment.  She had already demanded that I hit her enough to make it look convincing that she had been tortured.  It broke my heart to do it, but it was necessary.

        Michael's head dropped as if the shame of this admission was unbearable.  "I have committed much violence, but never intentionally on someone I loved.  Never."

        "Nikita knew it was necessary, Michael, as did you.  The shame belongs to the ones who made that deception necessary."  Therese consoled him, and if she could have she would have hugged him.  Therese knew she was getting dangerously close to inappropriate feelings.  She didn't desire him, not really, but she did have that annoying  urge to try and make him feel better.   She spoke angrily to herself, that is what he is here for, but not that  way.  Counter transference is what it was called.  His pain and his youth brought out the maternal feelings in her.  She would have to see her own therapist before this case was finished, and the sooner the better, she knew.

        "What happened next, Michael?"

        " Nikita was placed in observation.  She needed a little time to recover from the beating I gave her.  I was able to see her before we were parted.  I wanted to hold her, but we both knew we were being watched, possibly taped.  She asked me if we were going to be able to see each other on the outside, and if I had really expressed my feelings for her on the boat, or was it all a dream.  I gave her a cryptic reply that, sometimes all we had were our dreams.  She was my dream and I held her in my heart, even if I could not hold her in my arms.  She did not seem to realize the danger we were in.  She had me lower my face to hers, and asked me why I went to all the trouble to bring her back.  I could not tell her what she wanted to hear.  I finally told her to be patient.  Foolishly, I thought she understood.

        "In retrospect, I know that Nikita had the same emotions that I did, but did not have the strength of will to control them.  Nikita had not had years of building walls around and within.  She had needs.  Our night together brought her emotional and physical needs crashing and exploding together.  We've never really discussed that night in depth, but I know how it affected me.  Making love to Nikita was like the most natural act in the world.  It was at once the depth and height of animal passion and spiritual love.  I worshipped her with my body and heart.  It scared me to death."

        "Scared you?"

        "It terrified me.  Everything I have loved, I have lost in one way or another.  I felt so much that was wonderful that I could only think how little would be left if I lost her.  I remembered how Simone and I tried to hide our relationship from the agency,
and how they saw right through us.  Although I was now much more in control of myself, I knew Nikita with her open face and heart could not hide anything that she felt strongly.   I knew I had to distance myself as much as possible at least until she was through her rehab.  To make matters worse, the operative who was my trainer J.  was made her trainer for the rehab period.  J. knew me as well as I knew myself, and he is the one person I feared would break Nikita and learn the truth.  I began to plan for contingencies, but I knew I was under suspicion as well.  We both had to be careful and bide our time."

        "I have the feeling that Nikita was not ‘patient,'" Therese said with a small smile. All the things she had heard about Nikita thus far, made her wonder what Michael could have been thinking to expect Nikita to play any kind of waiting game.

        Michael's soft voice rasped out the answer,  "No."  Michael closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered Nikita's involvement with J.  "He did obtain the truth from her, or at least he knew that she had not been a prisoner for six months, and that I had something to do with her being free.  J. dealt in knowledge.  That was his specialty, and it gave him power over us.  Nikita did not seem to understand that.  She was intrigued by his ability to do as he wished.  After her rehab was completed, Nikita continued to be  his material, not mine.  He asked her out for coffee, and appeared to be interested in her.  I am not saying he wasn't, because Nikita is a very beautiful  woman.

        "What man would not be interested in pursuing a relationship with her.  Only a man such as I, who had experienced too many  losses.   Only a man such as I, who tried to be cautious, and almost lost her anyway.  She just could not understand that I backed away to protect us.  She even told me.  "He's different.  Different from you." I felt the knife of betrayal as she slipped it into my heart.   She walked away from me this time as so many times I had walked away from her.  Intellectually, I did not blame her, but the pain was still there, deep and sharp, and it ached everytime I saw them together.

        "Everyone was watching us.  Especially O. and M.  They were waiting for us to make a mistake.  J. protected us for the moment, but I knew his repayment would come. It was only a matter of time.  J. continued his pursuit of Nikita, and Nikita
lacking any sign of response from me continued to see him.  She appeared to be watching me for any reaction.  She was always looking for signs of jealousy, but I walled them within, most of the time.  She would not listen to my warnings, because she thought she knew better.  I had lost control  of Nikita, which was a new experience for me.  I knew that Nikita had a strong will, and that eventually she would succeed at anything she tried, but I felt she was a long way from not needing my guidance and protection anymore.  But in the end, I had no choice, since Nikita made her own decisions in her own way and in her own time.

        "J. and I clashed over the outcome of a mission which I had led.  Some operatives had been lost that J. considered ‘his.'  In the end, we fought.  Male hormones, chest beating, whatever you  want to call it, we did it.  Neither of us ended up standing.  We could barely walk out of the room, but we had come to terms over a lot of things.  He had been my trainer, and pushed me unmercifully, he  challenged my judgment on the mission, and he was closer to Nikita than I was.  It was not any one thing, but we had to get it out of our systems.  Nikita knew that we fought.  I don't know if she thought we were fighting over her, or what.

        "I was called to M.'s office shortly after, and in her unemotional way, she reamed me for ‘too much externalizing of emotions.'   She  reminded me that J., Nikita and I would be on a mission together, and that our enemies would not be distracted by personal considerations.  She is the only person who can make me feel like a puppy dog with my tail tucked between my legs.  She has this power to make me feel like a raw recruit sent to do her bidding."  Michael shuddered as he thought of Madeline and their past.

        Therese noticed this and made a mental note to ask Michael about Madeline, but she wanted him to continue his  story.  That his fifty minute hour was long over, made no difference.
 

       Nikita awoke finally around noon to the persistent sound of her cell phone. "Yeah," she answered sleepily as she yawned.

        "Josephine, come in."  It was Madeline's voice, not Michael's.  Nikita always grew concerned when someone besides Michael called.

        "Okay, but I need a shower first," she protested.  "I just woke up."

        "No, come in now."  Madeline's voice was abrupt as she disconnected.

        Nikita was beginning to feel as if she would never have any true downtime. It was always being interrupted, and when it wasn't interrupted by Section one, she and Michael were together and  falling all over each other.  She hadn't had a full meal in
what seemed like a couple of weeks, or any time to herself for anything.

    "I guess ‘now' means now," she said aloud to the empty room.  She looked at the clothes she had worn the night before.  The transparent blouse and bandeau bra might be a big hit with the other operatives, but somehow Nikita didn't think that
Madeline or Operations would appreciate the attire.   Going to Michael's closet, she knew her choices would be limited.  Black, of course, there would be no getting around that. She pulled out a pair of black jeans, black tee shirt and leather jacket.  She liked wearing men's clothes anyway.

         "Shoes, Shoes,"  she said as she rummaged around his closet.  All she had were her chunky white heels from the night before.  She gave a little bang on the side of the closed in frustration, and the back of the closet slid open.  Nikita's eyes
widened.  Michael could outfit a mission force himself from what she saw.   There wasn't a piece of surveillance equipment or small arms that he didn't have.  Wonder what he plans on doing with all this stuff, she thought.  Then she decided that what she didn't know in this case, probably couldn't hurt her.  After a few attempts she managed to close the panel.

        Nikita decided that she might as well wear the white shoes.  There was no way she could wear Michael's.  If there was a mission on pad, she could just wear Section issue boots.  If anyone noticed her wearing white heels and Section black, well, tough!   That was the attitude Nikita took with her when she arrived.

        "Hi, Walter.  What's going on?"  She  asked the grizzled older man.

        "Look at you, Sugar.  What's going on yourself?"  Walter leered at her apparel.

        "Walter, you know I'd never be with anybody but you."  She gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

        Walter grinned and said, "Yeah, I know, but you're not gonna fool anyone else around here.

        Nikita gave Walter a squinchy smile as she sauntered toward the briefing area. She found Birkoff at his computer station.  "Hi, Birkoff.  What's up?  Why did Madeline call me in?  It doesn't look like anything is going on around here."

        "Madeline wants to see you, I guess.  Uh, Nikita, interesting combination you have there."  Birkoff snickered as he popped another Oreo into his mouth.

        Nikita glared at him over her black shades.  "Up yours, Semour," she said softly as she patted him on the top of his buzz cut head.  Nikita continued down the hall to Madeline's office, wondering as she went, what she had done wrong this time.

        As always, Madeline was perfectly composed as Nikita entered.  "Do you know why you're here?"  Madeline asked as she had many times before.

        "Actually, no.  I can't think what I might have done this time."

        Madeline gave Nikita her Mona Lisa smile.  "Why would you assume that you have ‘done something.'  Have you?  Why wouldn't you assume that I have called you in for a friendly chat?"

        "Oh, I don't know.  Come in ‘now,' maybe.  It didn't sound like a call for a friendly chat, Madeline."  Damn, Nikita thought.  What does she want?

        "I wanted to talk to you about Michael--" Madeline started.

        "Why not just talk to Michael, Madeline?'  Nikita interrupted.

        "Because I value your unique perspective, Nikita.  You have an intimate relationship with him and would have a very good idea how he is responding to therapy. Talking to Michael would not likely be as productive as talking to you."

        Nikita crossed her arms in a classic sign of self-protection.  "Well, of course, Madeline.  What do you want to know?  How often we do it?  Who's on top?  Is it good?"   Nikita  didn't like anyone prying into her relationship with Michael, but whether she liked it or not, she knew that Madeline would have her answers one way or another. Nikita also knew she wasn't going to make it easier for Madeline than necessary.

        Madeline's smile never faltered, but the corner of her mouth did twitch.  "I am more interested in his emotional and mental states, rather than the physical. I have no doubt that Michael is able to perform to your satisfaction."

        Nikita took a deep breath, as the thought ran through her mind--ask Michael about Madeline.   She thought carefully before answering.  She feared giving Madeline some subtle hint that Michael was not progressing or was emotionally unstable. "Michael and I are developing trust and are getting closer.  We are spending a lot of our time together, and I don't know what else to say, Madeline.  He's more open and expresses his feelings to me.  I don't see any sign that he would be unable to perform in ‘any' way."

        "What about nightmares?  Does he still have them?  You ‘are' spending your nights together, aren't you."

        "Yes, when we can. Nightmares?  No, nothing like I observed the time you sent me to watch him.   Will I ever get out of here, she thought.  I hate playing cat and mouse with her, and she absolutely loves it.

        "Do you have any indication that Michael will finish his therapy on time.  I know we ostensibly gave him six weeks, but we may need him sooner."  Madeline's brown eyes were flat, showing no emotion that Nikita could see.

        "I have no idea.   I'm not the shrink.  You are.  What do you think?"  Nikita was impatient to leave and bounced the questions to Madeline.

        Madeline smiled.  "That'll be all, Nikita.  Thank you for coming in.  Try getting a little more sleep and a few more meals.  We want you at the top of your form at all times."

        "Of course, Madeline," Nikita nodded as she left the office. Only one lonely surveillance op. picked up the rest of her response, which was  muttered under her breath, "Bitch."

        "Did anything happen on the mission, Michael?  Therese asked when he paused.

        "Yes, we had almost completed neutralizing the terrorist team, but there was one left that I could not reach in time.  I had to set a charge to eliminate him, but there was J. running toward the area where the charge was set.  Apparently, his comm unit was down, because he kept on running.  In order to stop him, I shot at him and wounded him in the leg.  Nikita saw me aiming at him from the distance, and she thought I was trying to kill him.  I tried to explain after I pulled J. away from the explosion site, but at that point Nikita really wasn't listening to anything I had to say.

        "Nikita was back on full operative status by this time, and as I saw her leaving, I told her that she'd done good work.  I asked her where she was going.  When she said she was going to have some dinner, I asked her if she wanted some company.  She looked through me with those beautiful blue eyes and said ‘Not really.'  Another knife in my heart, but I was learning to expect it."

        "It had only been a few weeks, since we had first been together.  I had asked her to be patient, but I guess our definitions differed."  Michael smiled ruefully as he experienced the emotions of that time again.

        "Nikita is younger than you are, Michael, and she lacked your previous experience in this type of situation.  It  must have been a very frustrating time for both of you." Therese could just imagine how Nikita felt.  Nikita was young and after what was probably an mind-bending lovemaking experience, she had been brimming with feelings and desires and no avenue to channel or express them.  Michael, on the other hand, had also had the same experience, but was much more mature and cautious.  He was patient.

        "She began going out with J. to dinner.  I went over to her apartment once, and he was there.   She was cooking for him, although that is a dicey proposition in itself."  The corner of Michael's mouth twitched at the thought of Nikita's cooking.

        "I take it that Nikita doesn't cook well?"  Therese saw the small movement of his mouth recognized this sign that Michael was amused.

        "Nikita is very good at calling for take-out.  She excels at it.  She is even good at shopping, but cooking, no."  Michael shook his head sadly, but his eyes were almost twinkling.

        "What happened when you went over there and found J. there?"

        "It was tense.  Nikita asked me to stay, but, of course, I did not.  I was under instructions to determine if Nikita and J were becoming closer."

        "Why would anyone want to know that, Michael?"  Therese was surprised.  She had not expected Michael to be spying on Nikita.

        "J. had files in his computer at home that were hazardous to the health of the agency.  I never knew the exact details, but it was my task to find a way into his house and destroy those files.  Madeline felt Nikita was the answer, so I was to encourage Nikita's relationship with J.  Push her into his arms, I guess you could say.  It wasn't very difficult, as she was already leaning toward him."  Michael's face looked resigned as he continued his story.

        "All I had to do was not respond when she asked me if I was jealous.  Part of me wanted to shove her up against a wall and show her just how jealous and passionate I was over her, but the other stronger part of me just stared back.  She was hurt.
I could see it in her eyes and facial expression.  I knew she would turn to him at the first opportunity, and she did."  Michael's face became impassive and his eyes flat.  Therese could see for herself the ‘blank stare."

        Therese was still puzzled.  "How did having Nikita in the house help you, especially if she was turning away from you to him?"

        "She was wired without her knowing it.  Actually, there was a dummy mission, and Nikita was wired for that.  The mission aborted, and as W. was removing her transmitters, he was called away.  I finished removing them, but left one in the middle of her back.  She finished dressing and joined him at his house.  With the information we were able to obtain from the transmitter, we were able to configure the appropriate devices and codes to circumvent his security system.

        "In the process of gathering this information,  Madeline overhead Nikita admit to J. that there had been something between the two of us, but that it was over. Madeline did the only kind thing I had ever seen her do.   She left me alone and told me to let her know when we had what we needed.  I had the unique privilege of hearing Nikita and J. start to make love.  I heard her hesitate, then renew her wish to continue. All the while I was splitting in two.  I thought B. would never make the appropriate connections.  All I could say was ‘Hurry.'  Finally, the lock was achieved, and I called her in, as if for a  briefing.  In reality I just couldn't stand there and listen as things between them started to progress."  Michael drew his hands through his hair in frustration and sighed.

        At this point Michael had been talking for two hours, and Therese knew he needed a break, as did she.  "Michael, I suggest we continue tomorrow.  I think we are both exhausted by your revelations."

        Michael rose and studied her.  Her face was flushed and her eyes were a little weary.  "I'm sorry.  I have taken more than my share of time."  Michael gave a courtly bow before he turned gracefully on his heel and walked out of office.

         Therese had wanted to curtsey, but thankfully had resisted the temptation. Instead she picked up the phone and called her therapist to make a 5PM appointment.

        In an unguarded moment, an irritated Michael spoke aloud.  "Merde, what now?"

        "Yes, Michael now, and I'll tell you ‘what' when you come in."  Madeline's voice took on a sharp edge.  She was not accustomed to Michael showing any kind of emotional response to any request she made.    Must be the therapy she thought.

        "Fine, I'm on the way now."  Michael severed the connection.  Rehashing all the details of the past months events with Dr. Dupre had brought to the surface the many emotions he had carefully kept submerged.  He really didn't feel like talking to Madeline, or Nikita or anyone else.  His cell phone chimed again.

        "Michael, I need to talk to you."  Nikita's voice had a edge as well.

        "Nikita, I have to see Madeline as soon as I come in.  What do you want?  Can it wait?"  Michael knew the curt tone of his voice was not what Nikita wanted to hear.

        "No.  I just talked with Madeline.  She was grilling me about how you were doing in therapy.  I just wanted to warn you."  Nikita thought, well, he sounds like he's in a cheerful mood.   Not.

        "Thank you, Nikita, but I can handle Madeline."  Michael's voice was softer, but without inflection.

        "Fine, Michael.  Handle Madeline!"  Nikita disconnected.  What's the matter with him, she wondered.  He acts like someone peed on his petunias.

        Michael sighed.  He knew he had not handled the call from Nikita very well. She would just have to get over it.  He had too much on his mind, and he was sifting through too many memories that he would rather forget.

        Michael entered Section One and went directly to Madeline's office.  He took a deep breath, entered  the access code, and the door whooshed.  Michael's composure was flawless as he entered.  "You wanted to see me."

        Madeline looked up and smiled.  She made no mention of his earlier irritation. Anyway, Michael would never admit he had been irritated.  "Yes, Michael, I thought maybe you would like to update me on how therapy is going and how long it will
continue.   I know we promised you  six weeks, but certain events are making increasing demands on our staff which require us to utilize everyone available."

        "I'm fine now and I'm ready to do whatever is necessary.  I never felt that therapy was necessary.  Therapy was ‘your' suggestion, Madeline."  Michael was anxious to get away from the administrative duties and to really be in the field again.  He was also anxious to prove his worthiness in the field.

        "Good,  there will be a briefing tomorrow at 7AM.  Until then you are free." Madeline smiled again.

    "Good.  I have the weekend mission reports to complete.  I'll use the time for that."   He continued to stare into her enigmatic brown eyes.

        "Fine.  That will be all."  Madeline smiled for the third time.  She watched Michael as he walked gracefully from the office.  He had come such a long way in his years there, and she was very proud of him.  She would hate to lose him.  His potential was still unlimited, and she wondered if she had made the right decision in choosing Nikita for him. It was right at the time, because Nikita had rescued  Michael from his black depression after Simone's death.  The real question now  is:  Is Nikita ‘still' the right partner for Michael?  Madeline pondered how she might test them.
 

        Nikita was free until the next day's 7AM briefing.  There was nothing at Section that needed her attention, so she decided to go home and attend to petty every day stuff like cleaning and laundry.   Before she left, she cruised by Michael's office.  She could see through the blinds that he was mired in paperwork.  Oh, well, what the hell, she thought.  She would just tell him she was going home, in case....

        "Michael?"  Her voice hesitated.  For some mysterious reason, she felt uncertain again.  Uncertain of her feelings and his.  She couldn't pinpoint anything specific, other than his abrupt tone earlier on the phone.

        He looked up impatiently.  "Yes, Nikita?"

        "I'm going home.  I uh have some stuff to do.  If you want to come over later...." She left the invitation hanging in the air.

        "I have to finish this report of the weekend mission, Nikita.  I don't know how long it will take.  Don't count on me tonight."  Michael bent his head to his work.

        "Okay.  Whatever.  I have an early briefing in the morning, so maybe I'll see you then."  Nikita could tell that he didn't even hear her as she  babbled.   She turned and left. She strode down the hall not seeing anyone or anything, but  McClure saw her as she left Michael's office, and he could tell that something was definitely wrong with the love connection between Nikita and Michael.

        Michael had heard Nikita, but he chose not to acknowledge it.   Today's therapy section had really ended too soon.  There had been no resolution, and he felt as if he were back in that time, feeling the same emotions and frustrations he had felt then with Nikita. It was not a time he wanted to revisit.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he felt incredibly petty in that he was punishing Nikita for something that was not entirely her fault.  The blame, if there 'was' any,  should be shared by them both. Michael decided he would go by and see Nikita after all, once he finished his report.

        "Nikita,"  Mac called.  "Need someone to talk to?"

        Nikita turned and saw Mac leaning against the hall door.  "What?"   She had been in another world and hadn't even heard what he had said.

        "I couldn't help noticing your mood.  Do you need someone to talk to?  No pressure.  I know where you heart lies.  Sometimes it just helps to have someone you can sound off to."  Mac was warming to the situation.  He was sincere, but it
didn't hurt any that Nikita looked the way she did.

        "Oh, I was going to clean the apartment and do laundry.  You know, stuff like that."  Actually, having coffee with someone neutral didn't seem like that bad an idea.  The thoughts of spending an evening without Michael were beginning to cast a pall
over her entire mood.  "Okay.  A cup of coffee.  That  would be great."
 

        Therese Dupre was the patient this time.  She hadn't felt the need to consult her mentor in quite some time.  Actually, it had been years since she had called on Caroline for anything but social reasons.  Caroline Wood, MD, Ph.D. was 60 years old, tall, and as slender as she had been in her youth.  She had pale blue eyes that sparkled with wit and intelligence, and she was exactly the person with whom Therese wanted to share her experience about Michael.

        "Therese, welcome.  Your call seemed urgent.  Tell me what's the problem."

        Therese  thought for a moment.  She already knew what Caroline was going to advise, and she didn't want to hear it.  Her face flushed as she thought of Michael and his tortured expression as he had left her office at noon. "I am having some difficulty in maintaining my objectivity with one of my younger male patients."  It sounded even worse when she said it out loud.

        "What form is this ‘difficulty' taking?"  Caroline asked.  She was quite surprised at Therese, who she knew to be quite happily married, but she kept her tone neutral and nonjudgmental.

        "He is very physically appealing, about 35, graceful and very dangerous." Therese blushed.  She realized that she had tried to side-step the question and had given an even more revealing answer than she had intended.

        "I didn't ask you to describe him.  I asked you to describe the area in which you were having difficulty.  However, I surmise that you are physically attracted to him.  The answer is simple and you already know it.  You must stop seeing him and recommend another therapist for him.  The ethical code demands this, and you know it very well." Caroline had always been blunt.  She never danced around an issue, and Therese knew their relationship would make no difference in her counsel.

        "It's a little more difficult than that, Caroline.  There are things that are at issue here that prevent recommending another therapist."  Therese knew she was talking to a brick wall when it came Caroline and ethics.

        "Bull, Therese.  There can be no other answer.  It's a matter of ethical standards. There can be no mitigating circumstances."

        "But there are.  Let me finish.  He is some kind of secret government agent. can't go into a lot of details, but he will never go to anyone else and repeat all he  has revealed to me.  They have given him a free spot of time for his therapy, and
after that it's back to whatever it is he normally does."

        "This sounds like so much like some kind of a romance novel.  Are you seriously telling me that you are buying this story?"  Caroline leaned back in her chair and watched Therese.

        "I challenged him to prove it, and he  proved it to my satisfaction, Caroline.  He is one of the most tortured young men I have ever seen.  He is brilliant and charming.  He is in love with one of his fellow agents.  I'm not in love with him, but he is so
compelling that I could listen to him all day, if I could afford to give up the rest of my practice." Therese gave a small, nervous laugh.  "I want to help him, and there isn't a lot of time.  He needs a lot of time.  His problems are deep.  I feel like we are only stirring the muddy water, and it will never have time to clear."

        "Excuses.  That's all you are giving me.  What's really happening?  Are you and Pierre still happy?  Are the children doing well?  There must be some reason that you are vulnerable to this young man.  You must consider what it is and correct it.
In the mean time, you already know what to do.  Now I can see you again next week, at the same time?"  Caroline asked as she wrote the appointment in her planner.

        "Yes, I'll see you then," Therese smiled, but she doubted she would keep the appointment.

        Therese's pager chimed as she stepped on the elevator in Caroline's building. She did not recognize the number, but returned the call anyway once she was back in her own car.

        "Dr. Dupre, this is Michael.  I need to see you tonight, if it is at all possible."  His voice was soft, but the urgency in it struck a cord.

        "Of course, Michael.  I'll see you in 30 minutes at my office.  I'm not far from there now."

        "All right.  I'll be there."

        Nikita and Mac walked together as they left Section, but since they each had their own car, Nikita and Mac drove separately to the nearest Starbucks.   Luckily, it was not a busy time, and they found a small table immediately.    Nikita ordered Irish cream with double latte, while Mac asked for a cappuccino.

         "So what's the matter with you and the golden boy?" Mac asked conspiratorially. He was in good spirits and didn't mind poking a little humor at Michael, especially since Michael wasn't around to hear him.

        "Oh, nothing that I can really pinpoint, just a feeling.  I don't know.  I'm feeling a little confused, I guess."  Nikita sighed.  "It's more of an intuition. Something is wrong between us, and I don't know what it is.  It's hard to put in to words."
Nikita knew she was babbling again.

        "Look, Nikita,  we've all been watching you and Michael for as long as you've been here in Section.  Michael doesn't show a lot, but there are certain signs with Michael, and he has them all with you.  He's had them almost from the very first day he walked you through  the main area to Madeline's office."

        "Really?   I certainly couldn't tell what was going on in his mind.  I just knew I had to survive in here, and pleasing him was the key.  At least that's what I thought then."

        "Nikita you can't imagine what he was like after he thought Simone had died. They were an unbeatable team.  She was as focused and deadly as he was, and they had a sort of sixth sense between them.  They were really good together."

        "Yeah."  Nikita was remembering when Simone 'really' died.  Simone had been a shell of what she had formerly been, and she had been awesome in her fury at the end when she killed herself and Sparks by destroying the Glass Curtain compound.
Nikita had never seen Michael so unguarded or emotional.

        "Well, Nikita, he became  an automaton.  He began to spend nearly all his time here in Section.  He almost never left, and he never passed the time of day with anyone. The only people he ever talked to at all were Operations and Madeline, and
that was just regarding missions and debriefings.  Michael had always been all business, but he occasionally did let his hair down, especially if Simone were around.   She would tease him, and she loved to laugh.  She loved to laugh at him, and he seemed to like it as well." Mac grinned as he remembered some of the stunts Simone would pull on Michael, when they were off mission.

        "So what's Michael done or said that's got you in a turmoil.  Tell Uncle Mac."

        "I told you it's nebulous.  This morning everything was fine.  This afternoon, it wasn't.  He was abrupt, busy.  He didn't want to be bothered.  It was like the old Michael of a couple of months ago before...."  Nikita gave a half grin as she looked
at Mac.
 
        "Before things really heated up between you?  You mean like when you were both trying to ignore each other and pretend the other didn't exist?"  Mac laughed. That had been a really tricky time in Section, when everyone had tried to stay out of
their way.

        "Yeah."  Nikita acknowledged and laughed.  "Were we really that bad?".

        "Pretty bad.  So just ask him.  But don't pick a time when he's preoccupied with something else.  Although he has seemed pretty preoccupied most of the time lately.  This business of his being on administrative duties has me puzzled.  Know anything
about that?" he asked.

        Nikita sipped her latte.  "Yeah, but it's not for me to discuss.  Sorry."
 
        "I understand.  I know how things are in Section, Nikita.  There are a lot of secrets."  Mac said as he sipped his cappuccino.

        "Really.  Sometimes I realize that we only have the tip of the iceberg.  We only know what we 'need to know,' for pity's sake!  There are so many manipulations and layers to what's going on behind the scenes that I just try to focus on what I'm supposed to be doing."  Nikita laughed.  "Actually, that's what I'm supposed to be doing, but seldom do."  Mac broke out in laughter at this very true statement.

        In the growing darkness, Michael stood and watched as Nikita and Mac laughed together over their coffee.   His heart felt another tear in its fragile fabric.  He turned and walked away.