"Make love to me, please." Nikita's voice echoed in Michael's ears. He pulled his pillow over his head in a futile effort to shut out her voice. He wanted her so very badly.

He dreamed about her. Every night now. He woke up several times each night. Unbearably aroused. Cold showers didn't help. This feeling did not originate in his groin. Or even his head. It was his heart that compelled him now.

He needed the other half of him. He was incomplete.

It was against his better judgment. But he couldn't argue with Nikita and himself when they were both saying the same thing.

Michael's office was empty. How odd. She was supposed to meet him here. For lunch. Their usual. Though lately, the unusual had become their usual.

Michael was so moody now. She trailed a hand over her breast and felt the nipple harden at once. She was in a perpetual state of anticipation. Excited at the merest touch. Even her own hand. How could he not see that she was ready? How could he not see that she loved him again?

She had tried to tell him, but he brushed her away, disbelieving, attributing her feelings to sexual tension. Well, she knew what sexual tension felt like, and no amount of scratching could relieve the itch she had now. Michael was the only man she truly wanted to belong to, and she would convince him. Or die trying.

She walked further into the darkened office, whirling as she heard the door click shut behind her. The lock snicked firmly into place. How did that happen? Nikita walked slowly forward, searching the dimly lit area.

Suddenly an arm reached out and grabbed her. Planting both hands solidly on the door behind her, Michael pushed her body up against the door. Framing her face with both hands, Michael bit at her mouth sharply before he regained control. Panting, he saw that she was far from afraid. Her chest heaving, she was perhaps more aroused than he was.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said, almost smiling at the passion Michael had finally allowed to slip its leash.

He raked a hand through his cinnamon-colored hair and turned away. She pulled on his arm and tugged. Hard enough to make him pay attention. "Hey…is that your idea of going slow?" she teased.

He colored. If there was anything Michael really hated, it was losing control. And losing control in front of someone he loved was the worst-case-scenario.

"I saw Madeline today," Michael said, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"And?" she encouraged.

"She said I suffer from 'can't see the forest for the trees syndrome'."

"How delightfully cryptic of her," Nikita remarked sarcastically.

He glanced at Nikita, then looked away, still feeling the sting of having lost control so utterly. "I think I know what she means…finally."

"What?"

"The only way for you to regain your memory of what we were…is to make love to you."

"Michael, I've been asking you to try that for weeks. You think her word means more than mine?"

"I think the reason you've been saying it for weeks is because it's the key, and your mind is trying to tell you something. Only I've been so stupid, I refused to listen."

"You're not stupid, Michael." She grabbed his shoulder, but he shrugged sharply, dislodging her hand.

"I've wasted weeks we could have been together, Kita. To me that's unforgivable," he whispered harshly.

She cupped a hand under his chin and pulled him around to face her. He didn't want to look at her, but she forced him to make eye contact. "Michael…I've been trying to tell you that whether or not I ever get my memory back…it doesn't matter. You've won. You've succeeded. I love you. What difference does it make when I started feeling this way? You can remember for both of us, can't you?"

He held onto her hand tightly. His eyes were riveted to hers now. "What did you just say, Kita?"

She smiled mischievously. "I love you, Michael."

She reached up and kissed him tenderly. "I…love…you."

He looked as though he'd been struck dumb.

She smiled coyly, twirling a long strand of blonde hair between her fingers. "Don't you have anything to say to me, Michael?"

He nodded silently. Pause. "Let's go home."

Operations swiveled in his chair and smiled. He nodded at Birkoff, who stood waiting patiently in the doorway. "Kill the surveillance on Nikita's apartment for the next few days." He pondered. "Better make that a week."

He wanted her with something approaching violence. How he kept his hands off her on the long, arduous trip home was a mystery to him. Once Nikita's apartment door swung shut, however, all bets were off. Michael shoved Nikita up against the door, locking the door behind her with one hand, stroking her cheek with the other.

He stared at her for a full second before he claimed her mouth. It was as if he were memorizing her features, one by one. He closed his eyes and drove his tongue even more deeply inside her mouth. His hands pulled and tugged at her clothes in an effort to get to her bare skin. When she wore only her bra, he opened his eyes a moment, to find the clasp. Unsnapping the front-clasp bra, he pushed the bra away from her breasts, each hand palming a breast. She was so responsive beneath his hands, he groaned against her mouth.

"Oh, God, I love you."

Startled blue eyes met fervent green. "Oh, Michael. I love you, too."

It was exactly the confirmation he needed. He wasn't dreaming this. It was real. He backed up, taking her with him, never completely letting go of her. As they made their way to the bedroom, pieces of discarded clothing went flying this way and that, and still, Michael continued to cling to her mouth. She felt as if she were drowning in a sea of swirling emotion, but it was such a liberating feeling. Not scary at all.

When the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, she fell gently backwards, landing on her back. Michael followed her down, his mouth finally sliding off hers, to lave her breasts. She arched, her body incredibly sensitized to his touch, and he tugged gently at her nipples. She played with the curling tendrils of hair at the back of his neck, and he smiled.

He picked up the rose that lay on her pillow and sniffed it. "You've been keeping my pillow for me, my Kita?"

"Yes," she breathed, running her hands down his chest and into his groin. He looked disconcerted for a moment, then he laughed. He buried his face against her hair, his mouth seeking her earlobe, his teeth gently nipping there.

His tongue swirled within her ear, and she giggled. "Stop teasing me, Michael."

"You don't know how good you feel to me," he said with a curious intensity that belied his playful mood. She grinned. "I think I have a fair idea of how good you feel to me," she replied.

He sighed heavily. "I want to take the time to love you properly, but I'm dangerously close to losing control, Kita."

"Mmm…when a man says that, foreplay goes right out the window."

He nuzzled her neck. "Mmm…and who was the last man who said that to you?"

"Mmm…let me think, there are so many…"

He pounced on her then, sliding a hand between their bodies to join them. When he was deep inside her, he relaxed, as if he desperately needed to know she was his. Again. She groaned as he moved within her. "Oh…"

He tried to slow down, but her groan was his undoing. His chest brushed against her breasts. He slid his cheek next to hers, his hands tightly clinging to hers. "I love you, Kita."

Their breathing at once erratic but in synch with each other, they moved as one entity. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and his hands slid down to her buttocks, pulling him even more deeply inside her, if that were possible. Her breathing hiccuped as she began to climax. "Mi-chael…"

He stroked her back as she climaxed, feeling her muscles tighten under his hands. "Come for me, my love…"

She opened her eyes suddenly, and he swore he saw a brilliant flash of blue light. "I love you, oh, Michael, I love you so much…"

He kissed her throat as she moved above him, and when her movements slowed, he let his own release take him over the edge. He rolled over, until she was beneath him again, and he buried himself deeply inside her, reluctant to leave her body.

She stretched, and he lay his head against one of her breasts, his mouth almost touching her bare skin. Despite her climax of moments ago, the touch of him against her, no matter how fragile the contact, aroused her. They lay together for several minutes, and Michael thought that Nikita was drifting off to sleep.

But suddenly, Nikita's voice, almost agitated, grabbed his full attention.

Michael's bright green eyes flew open, galvanized by what she had said. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I remember, Michael! I remember it all! Every wonderfully disgusting dirty trick Section ever pulled on me! On us!" She continued, her voice suddenly much gentler. "On us, my love."

"You remember us, Kita?" Michael blinked away the tears that immediately sprang to life in his beautiful green eyes.

"Yes," she said, her voice a sibilant whisper.

He raised himself up on his elbows and studied her beloved face. He had no words for this. Except the ones that mattered most. "I love you, Kita."

"I love you, Michael."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He had a better idea. "Kita!"

"What?"

"Let's get married." He looked years younger, now that Nikita belonged to him again. All was right in his world. And his world was Nikita.

She frowned. "I thought you said Operations refused to give us permission."

"He doesn't have to know, Kita. No one has to know. He said we could be together."

She broke into a wide smile. "Oh, Michael. You want me to be your wife?"

"Almost as much as I want to be your husband, Kita."

She giggled. "I love you."

Michael kissed his would-be wife. "I love you."

It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. Oh, wait, that was Dickens. Never mind…

"Oh, Madeline…" Operations called out as he entered Madeline's strictly confined area. She was due to be canceled finally, and he could hardly wait to share one last bit of news with her.

"I just heard the funniest rumor. Stop me if you've heard this one before." Operations snickered.

Madeline glared at him, her once-bright eyes now dark with pain, but not remorse. She refused to repent.

"No, no, it's not a joke. Nikita regained her memory! Michael and Nikita are so close, you'd swear they were married. And if they don't produce a baby by next Spring, I'll be damned surprised."

Madeline screamed. Operations waited until her mouth was as wide open as it could go, then he stuffed a gag in it. "Oh, Madeline?"

"Get over it!"

End