Michael froze. Nikita held her breath.

"Really?" he got out.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't reject the idea outright. She wanted him to be as happy as she was, but that was probably asking too much.

She nodded imperceptibly.

He crushed her against his chest, his lips finding her ear. "Ma belle lionne," he whispered against her cheek, his voice almost breaking. He hung there for long moments, as if unable to move. He finally drew back and met her eyes. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead, gently as always. She smiled hesitantly.

There was pain in his eyes. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me this?"

Nikita reached out and touched his face. "I wanted to, Michael, but I was afraid." She didn't want to mention Adam's name, but the thought was ever-present in her mind these days. "I didn't know how you would feel—"

The pain cleared, and with it, the shadows vanished from his eyes, leaving them a translucent grey. He smiled. "I can't tell you, but I can show you." He pushed her gently back onto the bed, his body following hers. He lay on top of her, carefully, and Nikita relaxed, feeling his love surround her once more. He reached beneath her T-shirt and his hands traveled lower and lower till they stopped on her lower abdomen. He bent and kissed her flat stomach, which did not yet show any outward signs of the new life within. He lay his head carefully against her stomach, looking quite content for the moment to stay there. She played with Michael's hair, combing it back with her fingers.

Suddenly he looked up at her, a half smile on his lips. "Kita…"

"What, Michael?" she said softly, continuing to play with an errant strand of his hair.

"Just Kita…" he smiled enigmatically.

He pressed a final kiss to her stomach, then moved over her, joining their bodies with a suddenness that Nikita found both tender and erotic. He leaned over her, his eyes lit from inside now, and let his tongue touch her lips, tantalizing her with what was to come. His mouth claimed hers repeatedly, and Nikita clung to him, gasping for breath. His hands ran up and down her back, lifting her closer, and they rolled over as one. His hands each covered one of her breasts, and she felt a physical pang at his touch. His hands lifted and intertwined with hers, and they rocked back and forth, gently at first, then more urgently.

Michael reversed their positions and ground his body against Nikita in a sensual way that took her breath away. He buried his face against her neck and she felt his heat surge into her. She followed him closely, and they lay exhausted in each other's arms. "That was quick," she said, still breathless. He looked at her in alarm. "I couldn't help that, the idea of you being pregnant—" She smiled peacefully. "I'm not complaining. Michael, you couldn't have said it louder if you had shouted. I'm glad you don't mind about the baby…"

"Mind?" he laughed, his expression incredulous. He nuzzled her neck again, whispering, "It made me lose control." She giggled. "I noticed." He searched her face for a second. "I liked it," she whispered back. His entire face changed, and he looked unguarded again. He smiled, then laughed quietly. "So did I."

The next morning, Michael woke Nikita with a kiss, happiness clearly visible in his eyes, which were now a translucent grey. He ruffled her hair playfully, as if he could not wait for her to gently rouse herself. She opened one eye sleepily. "Michael, what time is it?"

"Time to get up, ma belle souris sommeil."

That woke her up. "Huh?" She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes with both hands. He smiled, "You'll have to learn French to keep up with me, Kita." She giggled, then smacked him softly with her pillow. He grabbed her arms and pinned her down for a second, kissing her till she couldn't breathe, then releasing her. "Mon chevalier sombre…" she said huskily in response, noting how quickly Michael's pupils dilated upon hearing her speak French.

"You do know what you're saying?" he asked, half-expecting her to say no. She nodded silently. "I looked it up." This time, he smacked her with the pillow, gently hitting her shoulder. "You ever want to get out of this bed, you'd better stop."

She tried to kiss him, but he kept moving back, apparently in an effort to get her out of bed. She stood on unsteady feet for a moment, but Michael was right beside her in seconds. "On the other hand…maybe you need to rest some more." She smiled up at him, seeing his worry reflected in his face. She caressed his jaw with her fingertips. "No, I'll be fine." His gaze lowered to her mouth. He kissed her softly, lingering for long seconds before pulling away. "I love you, Kita."

"I love you, too." He saw tears well up in her eyes and wondered what was wrong, but before he could ask, she replied, "Hormones. I'm completely at their mercy."

He smiled at that. "I like the sound of that." He framed her face with one hand, fondling her hair for a second before releasing her. "You can have your way with me anytime, if that helps." She resisted the urge to laugh out loud, knowing that on some level, Michael was as serious as he was kidding.

She gently kissed him. "I don't need any encouragement."

"I noticed." He grinned.

After they left the house, Nikita kept looking over her shoulder, having the oddest sensation that they were being watched. By whom? she wondered. Section? That was a given. But who else? That was the question that bothered her.

They walked down the hill to the cove, where the water looked much fiercer than the previous day. A storm was approaching. The clouds moved ominously towards the little beach, and the water churned anxiously in response. "I hate this kind of weather. It's like an omen."

Michael glanced at Nikita in surprise. "You feel superstitious? That doesn't sound like you."

She looked at him, pondering whether to tell him about her funny feeling of being watched. "Well, I'm not. Usually. But—"

He put his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head. "Neither am I." The moment had come and gone. She couldn't bring up her feeling without making too much out of it, and it was probably nothing.

He sighed. "Kita…"

"What is it, Michael?"

"We need to talk about what's going to happen when we go back." There, it was out. He didn't want to spoil their idyllic retreat with a sharp dose of reality any more than she did, but they had to start making plans for their return to Section.

"I know." She smiled wryly. "Just didn't want to think about it, I guess."

"We've been so happy here," he began, his eyes lighting on her face with tenderness. He stroked her hair back, and Nikita closed her eyes, almost purring with feline grace. "You think we should get married before we go back? It's up to you."

He pretended an aloofness he really didn't feel, his heart thumping in his chest, making him feel curiously unsettled. He watched her expression change as she wound her arms around his neck. "You and I belong together…no matter what we do. I don't want to press you for something you're not ready for, Michael. I can wait."

He looked down at her flat abdomen. "But maybe he or she can't." There was a question in his voice, as if he himself was not sure how Nikita felt. He looked back at her, frowning, "I don't want our child born without a name, Kita."

"I know." She laid her head on his shoulder, her hand clutching at his back convulsively. "You've given me so much already."

"Not nearly enough, Kita." He kissed her hair. "You're wearing my rings, we need to get married." She shook her head gently. Unsure what this meant, he continued. "Okay…," he breathed huskily, "I need for us to get married."

She hid her face against his chest and smiled without thinking. Yes, yes, yes, Michael. She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "Then we will."

He picked her up in his arms and swung her around, finally placing her on her feet again. "Yes, we will, Kita. Finally. It will be right between us." She leaned against him shakily, feeling quite undone by all the emotion in the air. "It was always right between us, Michael. This just makes it better." He kissed her, his lips barely touching hers, as if she were the most fragile piece of china he had ever handled. She pulled him into her, her mouth unconsciously softening against his.

He sighed. "We can't live at my place, Kita. I'm Level 5, you're Level 2. I can live at yours, but it's under Section's surveillance." He looked at her carefully, "You knew that, right?" She blinked. "Of course." Then she laughed. "But your loft isn't? I didn't know that, Michael."

"I don't know if I like the idea of Section spying on us, but there may be a way around this." He laughed darkly. "We just have to get you promoted." She giggled. "Oh, yeah, that sounds easy enough."

"Well," he said, matter-of-factly, "I do have a card or two left to play at Section, Kita…we're not done with Operations or Madeline." He looked away, then back at her, his confidence contagious. Nikita smiled happily. "I see."

Michael and Nikita walked back up to their vacation retreat, Michael carefully walking behind Nikita in case she stumbled. She turned and looked over her shoulder, the wind blowing almost viciously through her hair. She laughed at Michael's serious demeanor. "You're being over-protective again!"

He placed his hand in the small of her back, preventing her from backsliding down the hill, and smiled. "And you love it!"

She giggled. "You're right! I don't mind being taken care of. Once in a while," she added with a warning glint.

"Point taken."

When they reached the top, she almost knocked Michael off his feet by throwing herself into his arms. "Hey! Careful!" He frowned. "Just testing your reflexes," she giggled. He grinned. "Did I pass?"

"Hmm…" she pondered. "I might need more testing." She reached up and kissed him. "Mmm…do we have to leave here?" She looked pensive for a moment.

Michael sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. We're on vacation, Kita, not mandatory refusal."

"I'd like to be in mandatory refusal with you, Michael," she said huskily, with invitation in her eyes. "You would, huh?" He kissed her teasingly, then licked her mouth. He laughed. "You're making it hard to go back, Kita."

"I'm making it hard…period." She ran her hand between their bodies, and he placed his hand on top of hers, closing his eyes as she tantalized both of them with her touch. "Um…that's probably not a good idea."

"Why?" Nikita looked innocent and untouched, as if the shadows and the darkness that followed them everywhere had somehow ceased to exist. "I won't be able to walk," he whispered into her ear. She laughed heartily, especially when she saw Michael's face color.

"You're not going to tease me like this back at Section, Kita, are you?"

"I dunno. Might be fun," she said flippantly. Michael stared at her for a second and cleared his throat. "Oh, okay, spoilsport, I won't blow our cover. Well, at least, not deliberately."

"Kita, they know we went on vacation together. They'll be expecting something happened between us. But in order to function at work, I think we need to be discreet."

"What about us getting married? You want to postpone that?" She wasn't worried about Michael's loyalty anymore, she knew they were bonded for life now, no matter what happened. But she understood what he was saying. Flaunting their relationship in the faces of The Powers That Be was never a good idea. Even though she secretly thought that Madeline would be pleased. She had already demonstrated where her bias lay, and she was on their side.

"No, Kita, you aren't going to get away from me again," he said throatily. "If I have to handcuff you to my side, we are going to get married before we leave here."

"Ooh, I like it when you're in command." Nikita's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"You'd better remember that, too." He kissed her slowly, his mouth massaging her lower lip.

"So do we tell Section that we're married?"

"Yes, Kita." He nodded seriously. "For several reasons. One, they will expect us to lie about it, so we won't."

She giggled. "That should keep them off balance." He nodded, "In a manner of speaking, it will."

"Two, if we're open about it, they can't use it against us. I want them to know that if they come after you, for any reason, Kita, they're going to have to go through me."

He played with her hair. "I don't want you in any more danger than necessary at this point."

"Michael, I'm healthy and fit, I can stay on active status for a long while yet."

"Probably." Michael's tone was non-committal, but Nikita wasn't sure he was as cool as he sounded.

"You don't want them to know about the pregnancy then?"

"Not right now. It's not because I don't want anyone to know, Kita." She nodded quickly. "Michael, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I know my being pregnant puts us at risk. How do you think they'll take the idea of us being married?"

He sighed. "Madeline won't mind. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say she would even be happy." Nikita smiled in agreement. "I think you're right."

"Operations will be less pleased. He already thinks he has trouble controlling us, he will be looking for any leverage he can get."

"All the more reason not to let him know I'm pregnant till it's too late for him to do anything about it." Michael looked at her in surprise. "Even he wouldn't dare."

"You don't think so?" Nikita shook her head. "I'm not so sure. I think Operations is too used to playing God to stop now. If he knew I was pregnant, he would definitely use it to control us. Both of us. But especially you." She glanced significantly at Michael. "He would think it was an opportunity too good to pass up. You know he would."

Michael's mouth tightened. "Yes, you're right."

Nikita dreamed that night. She was running and running, trying to get away from someone, someone faceless, yet she knew him. She woke with a start, her body lightly coated with sweat. Michael stirred next to her. "What's wrong?" he said sleepily. "Bad dream."

He rubbed her shoulders, feeling the knot of tension there. "Real bad dream?" She nodded. "You want to talk about it?"

"No, it's okay, go back to sleep." She snuggled under Michael's arm, and he held her. Nikita soon drifted off, but Michael lay awake, wondering what she had dreamed. He trusted his instincts, and he wanted to know why they were both having certain disquieting feelings, even in the midst of this idyllic retreat. Those feelings had nothing to do with their love or even their impending marriage, Michael was sure of that much. And given the fact that neither of them was normally superstitious, something really was in the air. He would be on his guard. He had to be. There was more at stake here than was easily apparent.

The day of their wedding, the weather shifted. Instead of clouds and wind, there were sun and blue skies. If Michael had believed in omens, he would have thought that things could not possibly get any better. Nikita wore a long, off-white dress that clung to her like a second skin. She had her hair upswept, and in deference to the occasion, she had picked wild flowers and used them to decorate her hair. She had no veil. She didn't want anything to stand between her and Michael's eyes. She wanted to be able to see every expression in his eyes and face, as they changed and registered each new feeling.

Michael wore white as well. He thought that somehow mission black would have sent the wrong message, and without even asking Nikita for her opinion, he had bought a white suit, cut sharply to set off his dark good looks. He did have one further surprise for Nikita, but he wanted to see her face when he showed it to her. He couldn't believe this was really happening, he had never felt as excited or as terrified as he did right now. In a way, it was akin to jumping off an emotional cliff. But he knew he would do it. He wanted it more than he feared it.

The church was small, but beautifully decorated. There were flowers of every color and description everywhere. When Michael and Nikita came to the altar, their eyes met and held for a long moment. Michael smiled, and Nikita knew that it would be all right. She hadn't even realized that she was holding her breath until she suddenly exhaled. He chuckled at her nervousness. "Ready, love?" he whispered to her, as if they were conspirators. She nodded.

When the pastor reached the end of the marriage service, he asked them to join hands. Michael grasped Nikita's hand and started at how cold she felt. "Are you okay?" She smiled weakly. "Yes."

The pastor asked for the rings, and Michael kissed Nikita's hand before replacing the rings that had been there for almost a week. He then handed her another ring, just like the wedding band she now wore, and whispered to her, "Put this on for me, Kita." Her eyes widened in near-shock. "You would wear a ring?" her voice cracked even as she tried to whisper carefully. He nodded solemnly, and Nikita's eyes filled up. She clasped Michael's hand in hers, feeling herself shake, willing herself not to drop the ring. A tear dropped onto Michael's hand, and he looked up at her, wiping her eyes with his thumb. "Don't cry," he whispered. "I love you."

She slid the ring onto his finger, and she had trouble letting go of his hand. She wanted to say so many things, and yet, she could not speak except to say, "I love you, too."

The pastor pronounced them man and wife, and Michael kissed Nikita almost chastely. They exited the church, and people from the surrounding area threw rice at them. Ducking their heads, they ran like thieves away from the church, finding the car waiting for them. Once they were safely inside, Nikita finally spared a glance at her hands. It was real. She and Michael were really married. They were going to have a child together. She felt blessed, and looking over at Michael, his face relaxed and open, she knew he felt the same. He met her eyes, and he laughed, kissing her as if he could not bear to let her go.

"It's like a dream!" he exclaimed, obviously pleased with the outcome of all his hard work and planning for this day.

"It's better than a dream," she said with a catch in her voice, "it's real." He leaned his forehead against hers, allowing his mouth to touch hers so lightly, she thought she imagined the feel of him.

Michael reached over and kissed Nikita tenderly. "Oh, and the other reason I want to tell Section about our marriage?" She looked questioningly at him. He kissed her fingers, one by one, until he came to her ring finger on her left hand. "I don't ever want you to have to remove these, Kita. Now that I've put them there, they stay. Until you're dead, or I'm dead, or both." Michael's voice broke, and he looked down at their hands, intertwined. He played with her fingers, constantly touching her rings, as if they fascinated him.

She felt her heart swell to overflowing. He was as moved as she by their commitment, she could feel it like a physical presence beside her. She cupped his chin in her hands and forced his head up. His eyes glittered, and she knew he was near tears. So was she. "I swear."

His breath caught suddenly, and he pulled her close, burying his face against her neck. He pressed his mouth to the pulse at her throat. She flung her head back, giving him greater access to her neck, and he took full advantage. This was their honeymoon night, no matter what had gone before, it was all practice for the real event. They were alone, together, in the little house that had become home for a week, and they were going to make love until they had to return to Section.

Michael pulled back, suddenly afraid of hurting Nikita, but she protested. "You're not hurting me, Michael. Nothing you can do to me will ever hurt me. Unless you stopped loving me." He looked stricken. "That will never happen, Kita. Never." He stroked her face, as if reassuring himself that she was all right, then he started to make love to her in earnest.

When he joined their bodies, it felt as if they had become white-hot with intensity. Nikita held Michael to her breast, and he kissed her there. She flung her hands through his hair, and he struggled to stay with her, feeling her passion flare. He thrust against her, his hardness against her softness, and she met him, thrust for thrust, as if she could not bear him leaving her body even for a moment. They rode each other furiously until they collapsed, spent, beside each other on the bed. Out of breath, Michael glanced at Nikita. Her skin glowed healthily, flushed with the love he had given her. Her chest heaved slightly, as she caught her breath. She saw him looking at her and smiled. Running her hand over his chest, she sighed. She picked up his left hand and kissed his ring finger. "I can't believe that you're wearing this."

He frowned. "Does it bother you?"

She laughed. "God, no! I love it!" She paused. "I love you…" she said in a softer voice.

He pulled the covers over Nikita. "Are you trying to cover me up?"

"Nope, just keeping you warm." His eyes glowed with affection.

"Then come back here." She pulled him back to her, wrapping the covers around both of them. He settled his head on her chest, and she touched her lips to his hair. They fell asleep in that position, and when morning came, it seemed as though they had not moved.