They were finally flying back to real life with a vengeance. It felt all wrong to Nikita, though she would never say so out loud to Michael. She wanted to stay with him in their little island home, and pretend they lived like any other normal married couple expecting a baby in six months. But it was not to be. Their lives were back at Section. She sighed. Michael glanced at her, then held her hand. "It'll be okay."

She wished she shared his confidence. She was convinced that Madeline and Operations were going to take one look at her, pronounce her completely unfit, and yell, "Cancel her!" She shivered. Michael put his arm around her and nudged her into laying her head on his shoulder. "Come here," he said softly. "It's not good for you to worry like this, Kita."

"I know." She struggled to calm her jitters, and she deliberately slowed her breathing, feeling a little better now that she realized she could control it.

They rode silently back to Section One, each of them thinking much the same thing. How was it going to feel back there? Constricted. How were they going to function in the field? Carefully.

When they pulled up to HQ, Michael squeezed Nikita's hand surreptitiously. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I love you. Remember that." She nodded, paler than she had been before they left. "Are you okay?"

She nodded again. "You know how this is going to feel, right? Like I'm ignoring you?" She glanced at him almost anxiously. "But you know how I feel, Kita. Don't be fooled." He kissed her hand, so cold to the touch.

"S-something bad is going to happen," she said suddenly, unable to put her fears into words better than that.

He sighed and pulled her into his arms one last time. "I'd die before I let anything happen to you, Kita." He rested his head on her shoulder. "I can keep you safe."

I hope so, she thought, her anxiety whirling like a mad dervish in her mind.

They walked into Section, and it was like they had never left. A curious feeling of unreality set in. Nikita felt spooked by every tiny glance, no matter how small, and she wished that they could have stayed away forever. It was going to be far more difficult that she had imagined.

Michael led the way to Operations' observation deck, Nikita following close behind. When they got there, he indicated that she should wait. Operations was inside his office. Michael knocked, and Operations gestured to him, allowing him entrance. "I'm back." Operations smiled, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. "I see."

"And how was the vacation? You look…rested." He looked as if he wasn't paying attention, but Michael felt Operations' careful scrutiny over every inch of his body.

"Interesting." He paused and waited for Operations to register what he'd said.

"Then the two of you got along…well?" Operations seemed to be smirking at Michael, and he felt like punching the older man, just once, to see how it felt.

"Yes."

"Are you going to make me pull it out of you, Michael? That's not how I like my reports given."

"Since when do I report to you about my free time?" He said without a trace of sarcasm.

Operations nodded. "Please…tell me what happened. Oh, and is Nikita around? I'd like to see her as well." Michael nodded. He went to the door and called Nikita in.

Nikita didn't even glance at Michael. She was too afraid of what her eyes might reveal. She was letting Michael guide her on this, they would reveal their marriage to Operations, but nothing more. But it had to look like they were reluctant to share something so personal with him, with Section.

Michael's resolve abruptly left him, and he grasped Nikita's hand, feeling unconsciously for her rings. The touch of the metal steadied him in a way that mere words could not have. "We went to Bermuda, but I'm sure that you know that." He spoke coolly, as if he had never had a qualm in his life.

Operations nodded. "Yes, Madeline and I discussed that. Interesting choice. Was that your choice or Nikita's?" He smiled frigidly at Nikita. "Mine."

"And?" Operations waited.

Nikita rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We swam, we sat in the sun, we went for long walks…you know, the usual."

Operations almost laughed at Nikita's matter-of-fact recital. "And then you came back here."

"No," Michael interjected. "Then we got married."

Operations' mouth dropped open for a second, then he recovered himself. "Excuse me?"

Michael held up his hand and Nikita's, brandishing their shiny new rings for him to see. "We…got…married." he said slowly, as if he knew that Operations was having terrific difficulty processing this information right now.

"You got married." Operations repeated almost parrot-like, looking somewhat dazed.

"Yes."

Operations looked from one to the other, and he knew it was true. They had finally done it. They had run off and gotten married. "Was there a reason I wasn't informed of this before it happened?"

"You make it sound like a mission profile, Paul." Madeline's voice came from the doorway of the office. She sounded bemused. "I'm sure they got married for all…the usual reasons." She almost smiled.

Michael smiled at Madeline, grateful for her seeming understanding. He had sensed, somehow, that she would not be unhappy with this turn of events. If nothing else, she knew that they would be more effective in the field if they had each other to come home to, and since Section counted for more than personal feelings, she had empirically decided that this union was acceptable.

"You understand this?" Operations turned to Madeline, a query in his eyes, a frown on his face. She nodded briefly. "I do."

He suddenly threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, okay, I yield. Now I've got married operatives to deal with."

Madeline almost laughed. Operations was so predictable, really, and Michael had played the scene just right.

Madeline smiled almost demurely at Michael, placing a hand on his arm. "Do you need any help in finding a place to live?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Madeline, that presents a bit of a problem." She nodded to Michael. "I thought as much. You're Level 5, Nikita is only Level 2. She is still under surveillance."

"As newlyweds, you can imagine how difficult that might be for us, Madeline." Michael sounded almost embarrassed. Though he had thought about this for a long time, before broaching the subject to Madeline, he still found the invasion of his and Nikita's privacy such an issue, it was hard for him to find words.

"Well, the way I see it, there are two possibilities. We could turn off surveillance on Nikita's apartment, which would make her an exception to policy, and sets a precedent we would have no intention of honoring with anyone else. Or we could find a way to promote her, making the surveillance unnecessary."

Again, Michael was struck by the clarity with which Madeline saw Section and its operatives. She was never a sympathetic woman, but she had her moments. He nodded, saying, "I was thinking along those lines myself, if it were possible."

"You might have to cash in a few favors, Michael. Are you sure you want to do that? Suppose you need them somewhere down the road?"

Madeline was nothing if not practical. But Michael knew that there was nothing more important right now than Nikita's safety and happiness, in that order. If they lived under constant surveillance, it would make life difficult for both of them. "Nikita is worth it," he said without elaborating further. He stared impassively at Madeline, and she eventually began to nod her head in agreement.

"So tell me, Nikita," she said not unkindly. "Do you feel up to becoming a Level 3 operative? It means a great deal more autonomy, of course, as Michael has indicated, but it would also be more work and more responsibility."

"I'm not afraid of hard work, Madeline. As for more responsibility," she shrugged, "I don't have a problem with that. Unless you do."

Madeline half-smiled. Nikita often surprised her with her directness. But she actually admired the younger woman's tenacity and determination. It had certainly paid off in huge dividends this time. She would always have a special fondness for Michael, thought Madeline, they had once been so close. But there was no longer any romantic feeling between them. Oddly enough, she thought it had been Michael's inability to care more than superficially for her that had ended their brief affair.

"Well, then, you can consider yourself promoted to Level 3 field operative, Nikita." She smiled more warmly this time and held out her hand to be shaken. Nikita glanced at Madeline suspiciously, but shook her hand. Madeline held onto her hand for a second, taking a moment to examine the rings she wore. "How truly lovely, Nikita. You are very lucky, I hope you realize that."

As usual, Nikita wasn't quite sure what Madeline was referring to. She often spoke in riddles or cryptic sentences with double meanings. This time, she thought that Madeline really meant that Nikita was lucky to have won Michael's heart, not that her taste in jewelry had suddenly undergone a transformation.

She nodded blandly at Madeline, substituting a neutral smile for words. Madeline accepted this without further comment. "Now, so that things go smoothly for you," she said, "here is a photo of a house in the western sector that looks nice."

Nikita gritted her teeth in frustration. She was sitting in Michael's office, playing with his laptop, when he finally came in. He closed the door behind him. She smiled. "You look tired," she told him, resisting the urge to touch him. He motioned for her to move over, and when she did, he surprised her by pulling her down and onto his lap. "I'm exhausted," he said, kissing her on the mouth. She drew back a bit and studied his face. "From?"

"From Madeline insisting on showing me a photo of every house that seemed even remotely right."

He kissed her again. "Promise me, Kita, we will just pick a house, any house, before I go through that again." Michael looked so worried, it was comical. Nikita giggled. "Sure."

"How are you?" he said, leaning over to whisper into her ear, "feeling okay?" She nodded without speaking.

"I had to trade a few favors to make your promotion official, Kita, but it's set. I wasn't about to leave here until it was."

"I think if it was up to Operations, he would just as soon see us living apart until I got promoted."

"I wasn't going home without you." He touched her face affectionately. "You ready to leave?"

"I've been ready since I got here," she said wryly. He laughed softly. "Back into work mode then." He shifted her off his lap, and they stood up. Nikita leaned over and kissed him swiftly before he could object.

He turned at the door, switched off the lights, and looked around the room. He still felt there was something or someone watching, and he wasn't altogether sure it was Section. He didn't normally register Section's surveillance, he was so accustomed to it. This had a different quality to it, almost anticipatory. He didn't say anything to Nikita, concerned it would worry her more.

Michael approached the door to his loft with slight trepidation. He wasn't afraid, merely cautious, but he was concerned about exposing Nikita to any danger. When he unlocked the door, he felt relief that no one was immediately visible inside. He motioned to Nikita to stay back, and he searched the loft thoroughly before he allowed her to go inside. Nikita locked the door behind them and surveyed the space before her. "At least you have a bed now," she said with a chuckle.

"Thanks to you." He smiled. "Well, lying on the floor might be good for a bad back, but it's hell trying to make love on a hardwood floor," Nikita added.

"Hey…" Michael said softly, catching her attention. She sobered at once. She took one look at him and went into his arms. "Did you miss me? All the time you were with Madeline and Operations?"

"Like crazy," he said. He hugged her close, his arms automatically wrapping around her of their own volition.

"I noticed," she whispered against his neck. "I thought we were going to be discreet in the office. But you made me sit on your lap."

He looked mildly flustered. "I just had to touch you."

"You were bad, Michael…" she kidded him. "Yes, well…you must be corrupting me." He smiled down at Nikita, and she burst out laughing.

"Was that a joke? An actual joke, Michael? My God, I had no idea I had such influence."

He grinned against her shoulder. "You'd be surprised, Kita. There are times when I feel distinctly human these days."

Nikita kissed him gently. "Oh, I'll vouch for that, Michael. I'll vouch for that."

Long after they had made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms, Michael awoke, unsure just what had awakened him. He got up and cautiously approached the window from the side, peering outside into the street. Suddenly he felt a hand on his back. He whirled around, ready to assault, then exhaled sharply when he saw it was Nikita. "I didn't feel you next to me, so I woke up," she said sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. I feel like someone is watching us."

She came more awake. "Section?"

"I don't think so." He sighed. "I'm sorry I woke you, though." He kissed her. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

"And leave you exposing yourself to whoever might be out there? I don't think so." Nikita frowned. "You didn't want to tell me about this."

He ran his hands through his hair. "It's just a feeling I keep getting."

"Michael…" She looked anxious for a moment, then admitted, "I've been having the same feeling."

"Then it's not my imagination." He looked vaguely worried.

"No, I thought maybe I was just being, you know, but if we're both feeling it…"

"It's out there, Kita. But I don't know who or what it is." He bit his lip, in a gesture more characteristic of Nikita than himself.

She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Whatever it is, we can deal with it, Michael, as long as we stay together."

He kissed her. "I know."

"Remember, I'm not just your wife, I'm an operative."

"In my head, you're my wife first," he said huskily. "I didn't forget you're trained and fully capable of watching my back, Kita. I just don't want anyone else watching yours."

"You don't trust anyone else?"

He shook his head. "I trust you. I trust Walter and Birkoff. In that order. You because you love me." He smiled at that, and Nikita kissed him. "Walter because he's a free-thinker, even after all these years. And Birkoff because he's afraid of me." He laughed at the last. "I think I intimidate him."

"He admires you."

"He's scared of me."

"Well, that, too." Nikita said with a tiny unladylike snort.

The following morning, Michael and Nikita left for work, like any normal couple. But normal couples don't carry sophisticated weapons and listening devices in their seemingly normal briefcases. It should have been a routine mission. There was positively nothing out of the ordinary in the profile. They had run missions like this time and time again. The entire team was made up of regulars, like Michael and Nikita, and Birkoff was handling tactical from HQ, as always. What happened should never have happened. But it did.

Michael was sitting in the park in broad daylight, dark glasses on, eyes carefully surveying the surrounding area. Nikita was on the periphery of the park, watching the entrance. Several other team members were scattered throughout the park, and every possible exit had been covered. "Nikita, anything?" Michael asked, seemingly speaking to no one. She glanced across the park, but of course, he was too far for her to see clearly. "Nothing here."

Suddenly Nikita saw a flash of something she couldn't distinguish, and then everything went black. She was hit from behind and went down without a sound. The figure that struck her looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one was looking in their direction. The figure bent over Nikita's limp form and hefted her into its arms, finally throwing her over its shoulder. The figure carried her away quietly, amid the normal everyday traffic in the park, and no one on the team was aware that anything was wrong until it was too late.

Michael called Nikita over his com link, but got no answer. The first frisson of cold shivered its way up his spine. It doesn't mean a thing, he told himself. He called her again. Still no answer. He stood up and checked her position visually. She was not in position any longer. Where was she? He checked with the others on the team. No one had seen anything unusual. Everyone was accounted for. Michael surmised that meant no one on the team had anything to do with Nikita's disappearance. But appearances could be deceiving as he well knew.

He prevented himself from losing control by concentrating on what they had yet to do. He couldn't abort the mission simply because one of his operatives had gone missing. He winced. Of course, he could. He was team leader, and the operative was his wife.

He raised Birkoff and told him to go to a separate channel. He needed to talk to him privately, without letting Madeline or Operations know just yet. He didn't trust them right now. He didn't think they had done this, but it was just a feeling, and feelings could be wrong. "Birkoff, can you get a fix on Nikita?"

Birkoff blinked hard, but otherwise showed no reaction. "I'll try."

Sheesh, Birkoff was thinking, we didn't even get a chance to throw them a "Welcome Home" party, much less congratulate them on finally getting married, and now this? He was glad he wasn't anywhere near Michael right now. Until they got to the bottom of this, he was steering clear of him. He knew what Michael could do when he was upset.

The mission fell apart soon afterwards. The intel proved to be false, and it was ultimately decided that it was a set-up from the start. A set-up to get Nikita away from Michael and the rest of the team and kidnap her. But why?

Michael strode into Section like a bat out of hell. He didn't even notice the anxious glances cast in his direction as he moved through the hallways and on up to where Operations stood. He brushed past an apologetic Birkoff, who had been unable to locate Nikita so far, and he didn't even slow down to spare Walter a glance when the older man looked sympathetically at him.

Operations saw that Michael was barely in control, despite the implacable mask he wore. He could feel the tension emanating from him, and he knew he had to tread carefully, or he could very well lose Michael. "Michael, we didn't know the intel was false, or that the mission itself was a set-up."

"Obviously," Michael clipped out.

"You agree?" Operations was surprised. Michael wrenched his hands through his hair. "Yes. You have nothing to gain by taking Nikita. She was your leverage to keep me in line. You wouldn't risk losing control of someone like me."

"Well put, Michael. But someone has done just that. We need to find out who and why and where they've taken her."

"Not that you care, but I hope you're planning to extract her alive." Michael looked grim. Operations again showed surprise. "Of course. As you say, she is more useful to us alive."

"If you hear anything, anything at all, I want to be informed."

Operations ignored the arrogance in Michael's tone, realizing that he was deeply disturbed by Nikita's disappearance. "Certainly," he agreed.

When Nikita came to, she was in an abandoned warehouse. Her weapon was gone, of course, as was her com link. But she still had her purse, which she was carrying as cover. Her hands were tightly tied behind her back, but she ignored the pain in her wrists, struggling to reach her purse, which was on the ground nearby. Walking herself backwards, she managed to get the purse open. She grunted as she tried to reach the inside. That was going to be hard. She suddenly lay down flat on the floor, as best she could, and she grabbed the antenna of her cell phone with her teeth, pulling on the antenna to extend it. She pulled the phone the rest of the way out, and she pressed an automatic dial number, hoping the signal would reach Section.

Michael's cell phone rang and he leaped for it, almost knocking over his laptop in his desperation to grab it. He extended the antenna. "Hello?" he said in a low voice. Nikita answered, faint but audible. "I'm being held in—" The signal started to break up, and Michael cursed. Birkoff, who had been standing nearby, cringed and sat back down at his computer station. But he kept his eyes trained on Michael. "It's Nikita! She's alive!" Michael shouted to Birkoff, a fierce gleam in his eyes. "Birkoff, can you trace this to its source?"

Birkoff shook his head. "It's a cell phone, I don't know, Michael…" Michael glared at him in utter frustration. "Well, can you at least try?!"

Birkoff nodded. He hooked the phone into his computer and enhanced the signal several times. "She's downtown, by the harbourside. Could be any one of a dozen warehouses, though." When he looked up, Michael had gone. Well, thank you, too, Birkoff said to himself.

Nikita had no idea whether or not Michael had heard her. She heard footsteps and dropped the phone from between her teeth, trying to hide it under her purse, where it might not be noticed. When the figure came closer, she could barely believe her eyes. Talk about someone coming back from the dead, she thought, no wonder I felt shivers every time I felt him watching me.

Jurgen lit a cigarette and the glow briefly illuminated his now-ruined face. "I see you're awake, Nikita." His voice, which had been raspy at best once, was now a ruined, broken thing that spoke of the death he had cheated. "Yes," she said, looking away from him.

That she had once had any kind of feelings for this man frightened her. He was more than a ghost, he was a spectre, a shade from beyond the grave. Quite literally. She had watched him shoot Michael in the leg, then run into the building to set off the charges manually, presumably blowing himself up in the process. All of them had been certain that he was dead. She wished he was. Just the thought of him having touched her while she was unconscious made her skin crawl.

Jurgen blew smoke in Nikita's direction, and given her present situation, there was little she could do to avoid it. He paced slowly in front of her, stopping now and again to stare at her as if he weren't quite sure she were there. She didn't speak. She didn't know yet what might set him off.

"You and Michael must have gotten together after I was gone. Yeah, and had a big laugh." He was almost talking to himself and not Nikita. She sensed that he was used to holding conversations with himself. It didn't look like he had been able to go out much. His skin, where it was not burned, was pale and scarred. His hair was cut short and stood up in dark blond tufts on top of his head. His face was clean-shaven, but it really did nothing to improve his appearance.

"No, actually, we never discussed you." She tried to keep her voice even and neutral. But inside, she was afraid. Afraid that Michael might not be coming for her, afraid that Michael would arrive too late, find her dead, and go mad. Afraid that she would not live to see her baby grow up. Suddenly she knew exactly how Michael must have felt, torn away from Adam. She felt a wave of grief so strong, it nearly doubled her over.

Jurgen noticed her condition immediately. "What are you, sick or something?"

"Something like that." She could not tell Jurgen she was carrying Michael's baby. She didn't know what drove Jurgen to this point, but she was certain that this was knowledge he should not have.

He kicked her in the leg experimentally. "So get up off the floor, I want to move soon."

Nikita flinched involuntarily. Her only chance of staying alive was to stay here, where someone might be able to locate her. Maybe. If they moved to a new location, she might never get another chance to get a message out or escape.

She heard footsteps coming, and she could see that Jurgen heard them, too. They both turned their heads at the same time and faced the entrance to the room. It was Michael. She didn't know how he had tracked her down, but he had. She almost wept. "Kita! Are you all right?"

Jurgen swung in Michael's direction, and now Nikita saw the gun barrel glint in the light that streamed through the dirty windowpane. "Michael! Gun!" she screamed hoarsely, hoping she was in time.

Jurgen shot twice, and Michael went down. Nikita screamed again, unable to move towards Michael's crumpled body with her hands tied so tightly behind her. Tears ran down her face as she sobbed. Jurgen turned back to Nikita and saw her face. He looked totally confused for a moment, then his face cleared. "You still love him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes!!!" she yelled. She didn't care now. Jurgen could go ahead and shoot her, if he wanted. If Michael was dead, she didn't want to live.

"I came back for you." Jurgen pointed at where Michael lay. "He doesn't deserve you, Nikita. I do."

"You arrogant piece of—" Nikita cursed loudly and fluently. "I don't care anything about you!"

"You don't mean that! You almost made love to me—"

"I was hurt…Jurgen. I wanted to be with Michael, but he didn't want to be with me…" She glared at Jurgen for making her relive the pain of that time so long ago.

"He loved you, Nikita." Jurgen's voice was deceptively soft.

"Maybe," she echoed. "But not enough to be with me. I needed someone…"

"And that was me? You would have made love to me for all the wrong reasons, Nikita?"

"I was punishing myself…" she sobbed. She bowed forward as if a great weight were crushing her. "I loved him, not you…and I couldn't have him."

"Please, this is obviously upsetting you." Jurgen said sarcastically. "And here is the man in question, lying in a heap on the floor. Not much good dead." He shook his head sadly.

Nikita felt light-headed. She still couldn't believe that Michael was dead. She closed her eyes in an effort to steady herself, but she continued to tremble inside. Michael opened his eyes a crack and peered through them at Jurgen. He thought he was dead. That might be useful. If he could get through to Nikita.

God, but he couldn't believe how much Nikita was hurting. When he first went down, he realized that the second shot had only grazed him, but he figured, and rightly so, that Jurgen was too wrapped up in whatever scenario he was playing out in his head to notice. Jurgen hadn't even checked to see if he were merely unconscious. In fact, Michael had been awake the entire time, listening to their exchange. He had known he had inflicted a great deal of pain on Nikita, but it was true, they had never spoken about Jurgen, or what Jurgen might have meant to either of them. Michael cursed himself for not having the courage to reveal his feelings to Nikita back then, despite the deep cover mission. At least, it would have reassured her that she was loved, that she had not done anything wrong, that she did not need Jurgen's supposed affection, and Michael admitted, that he was jealous of Jurgen, simply because he was free to say and do things to Nikita that he could only dream of then.

He reached out a hand, extremely slowly, sliding it along the floor by Nikita's hand, hoping she wouldn't react overtly. His fingers touched hers, and then he was able to grasp her wrist. He gently massaged her wrist with his thumb, trying to loosen the bond that tied her hands together. Nikita felt something touch her, and she looked down, willing herself not to move. She continued to cry silently, but she watched Jurgen carefully, keeping his focus on her, as she suddenly realized that Michael was not dead.