Birkoff's voice shook as he renewed the comm link with Section One. "Yes, sir," he said to Operations, verifying that the entire team was dead.

Operations snapped his finger off the button sharply. "Well, Madeline, I hope to God you're satisfied. Now I've lost an entire team! And my two best field operatives with them!"

Madeline looked extremely uncomfortable. "Will you be asking for my cancellation then, Paul?"

"Asking? Hell, no! I'm demanding it!"

He leaned into Madeline's face, a vein throbbing at his temple. "And you know what? I think George is going to give me your head on a platter!"

Walter spoke quietly into the earpiece for several moments, then signed off. For good. This channel was about to be retired. He periodically retired channels that no longer functioned optimally. This one was a case in point.

His eyes flickered mysteriously over Birkoff's face. He could not find a single flaw in his story, even with invasive testing. He would be fine.

Walter took the rest of the inventory from Birkoff, noting that there were two guns and ammo clips missing. He adjusted the total on his panel. There. Now it read the correct figure.

Michael lay on his side, watching Nikita breathe. She was asleep. Her arms flung out way overhead, she lay on her back, moving restlessly from time to time. Perhaps she was having a nightmare.

Or perhaps she was waking up from one.

"M-Michael?"

"I'm here, Kita." He snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around her. "You're safe now."

Luckily for him, Michael had remembered where the boat was in Lyons. Their boat. Abandoned by God only knows who. He'd brought Nikita there last night. Unconscious. When they arrived at the boat, she regained consciousness for a brief period, then fell into a natural sleep which lasted several hours.

Now she was awake.

She touched her leg. "There was a wound last night. I was shot."

He nodded. "Yes."

"But I was bleeding to death." She looked genuinely puzzled.

Michael hastened to enlighten her. "You were just grazed, Kita."

"All that blood?"

He sighed, regretting the loss of his team. "The blood wasn't yours."

"Then how—? What did—?" She was lost for words.

He showed her where she was, and she was overcome. "But where does Section think we are, Michael?"

He traced light patterns on her arm, loving the feel of her skin. Loving the knowledge that she belonged to him again.

"They think we're both dead, Kita."

"But Michael, how will we live? On the run? Looking over our shoulders? Forever?"

"A half million in gold buys an awful lot these days, Kita. Operations always had a weakness for what money could buy. I don't think he'll look too hard for us. After all, we are dead."

"Michael…" She framed his face with both hands and kissed him. His mouth opened under hers, and he sought her sweetness with an energy that belied his apparent fatigue.

"I kept my promise, Kita."

"We are together, Michael." He pushed the hair back from her forehead and kissed her there.

"We will always be together, Kita. From now on."

"Always?"

"And forever." It was a prayer as much as a promise.

END