Nikita lay on the Medlab bed for what seemed like hours. Her position never changed. She was on her side, with both arms crossed tightly against her lower body. To Madeline, it was obvious that she had been abused, and badly. But she had other concerns more pressing. "Nikita," she said softly.

Nikita refused to open her eyes. She kept seeing Michael fall in front of her. She kept seeing herself reaching out and missing him by inches. Then that slow-motion scream which kept reverberating in her head. Oh, yeah, that was her, she remembered. She drew in a shaky breath. "Madeline, I can´t talk to you now, please…" A tear slid down her cheek.

Madeline touched Nikita´s side, and watched as the younger woman flinched openly. "Nikita, are you in pain?" she asked, not unkindly.

"What do you think?" she said bitterly, her eyes springing open in a blaze of blue fire. "I can give you something for the pain," Madeline said.

"No, you can't," Nikita replied in that broken voice that almost brought tears to Madeline's eyes. Madeline had always felt strangely conflicted in dealing with Nikita and Michael. With Michael gone, she felt as if she owed him the favor of treating Nikita more fairly than she had.

"Nikita…I want you to take this." She indicated a small white pill in her hand. Nikita paled. "What-What is it?"

"It's a morning-after pill. I've already had you checked for STD's, as well as Hepatitis, but we don't want any…unpleasant aftereffects…do we?"

Nikita stared at Madeline in utter horror. "You mean I might be pregnant? Oh, God, no…" She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears just continued to leak out and trickle down her ashen face.

Madeline left the pill in a tiny cup at the bedside. She glanced at the nurse as she exited, and told her to make sure that Nikita took the pill as soon as possible.

Nikita withdrew inside herself, pulling her knees up to her chest, then wincing at the pain that produced in her injured ribs. Walter came into Medlab right on Madeline's heels, and he stopped at her bedside. "Sugar, you okay?"

Nikita heard Walter's voice and something broke free, unleashing a torrent of sobbing. She threw herself against Walter's chest and clung to him like a small child. He held her silently, thinking it was ironic that in this most desperate of times, they had never been closer to one another. "Ssh, ssh, you'll be okay…" He continued to whisper words of comfort to her, knowing all the while that he scarcely believed them himself. He would miss Michael, but he was more worried about Nikita and what would happen to her now.

She tried to tell him what happened, but the words came out in fits and starts. "I don't even make sense to myself, Walter…" She looked at him tearfully. "What am I going to do?" Before he could even answer, Nikita continued. "I told him…the last thing I told him…was that he couldn't even protect me." She hiccuped, then began sobbing again. "He died trying to protect me, Walter…he's dead cause of me…"

Walter was touched by Nikita's outpouring, but he knew she would never heal unless she stopped blaming herself for Michael's death. "You can't blame yourself for that, Sugar."

"But I do."

"Sugar, it's how Michael would have wanted it, you know that," he said in a husky voice tinged with sadness. "He wouldn't have wanted to be the one…left behind. I don't think he would have made it."

"Walter! Get me a gun, any kind, please." She grabbed Walter by the lapels of his jacket. "Please!" She looked wild-eyed and out of control.

‘Now, Sugar, that ain't the answer. ‘Sides, Madeline will take care of Predaker for you." He nodded emphatically, quite sure that it would happen soon, if it was not already done.

"Not to kill Predaker! For me, Walter!" Walter stepped back and stared at Nikita. "No! No, absolutely not, Sugar! I'm not gonna help you kill yourself!" He felt way out of his league with this. He couldn't let Nikita hurt herself, but he didn't know who to go to with this. Normally, he would have told Michael, but with Michael dead…

He managed to calm her down and summoned the nurse, telling her only that Nikita seemed in need of some sedation. He hoped she would sleep, and that would buy him time to find out what to do.

Operations watched the proceedings with uncharacteristic glee. Things were going as planned. Nikita would break soon. Now on to Michael…

Michael woke in a part of Section even he was not familiar with. He tried to sit up, but movement brought intense pain in his chest. He had been shot. In the chest. By Predaker. He knew that much. He felt for the bandage, encountering a thick bulky dressing around his middle. He didn't dare probe too deeply, for the pain was throbbing already from his misguided attempt to sit up.

He looked around and saw no one else. Then, abruptly, Operations entered the room. "Hello, Michael."

Michael stared blankly at him, deliberately willing himself not to react to anything Operations might say. "Hello."

Operations glanced at the heavy dressing. "Painful?"

"Some." Michael underestimated the pain, intentionally slowing his breathing to make it more shallow.

Operations put his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Michael, I don't know how to tell you this, but…Nikita was killed in the ensuing gun battle between Section and Predaker." He watched Michael carefully, while appearing seemingly uninterested in his response.

Michael flinched as if he had been shot again. "I'm sorry, Paul, what did you say?"

Operations drew so close, Michael could feel his breath. Their eyes met, and neither seemed willing to look away first. "Nikita is dead."

The words just hung in the air for a second, then seemed to fall to earth, not unlike Michael's body when he had been shot. He nodded without speaking, then averted his face. "Oh," he said finally, his voice a mere thread of sound.

Operations smiled as he left the room.

Michael was left alone with his thoughts and his gun. Operations had not taken away his weapon, like he had done with Nikita. Michael wondered why Operations would leave a potential suicide alone with a gun, but then, he thought, perhaps he expects me to use it and save him the trouble. Michael had his own suspicions about what was going on here, but he would give Operations a run for his money before he took his own life.

He took out his gun, slapped the clip into it, and held it against his head, aiming it away from himself. He would get a nasty recoil, maybe a powder burn, but he would survive. To see what Operations was up to. He had known Operations too long to take anything he said at face value. Nikita wasn't dead. She couldn't be. She had been conscious when he arrived at Predaker's room. She had been alive when he was shot. There was no reason for her to have died in that room. If she was dead, which he doubted, it was at Operations' hands.

Michael fired the gun, and the blast echoed throughout the chamber. Operations could not have been very far away, for he was back inside the room within several seconds. Michael's last thought, before concussion took him, was, Nikita had better not be dead, you bastard, or I will pick up where Nikita left off and destroy Section.

Operations saw that Michael's attempt had missed his head, and he chalked it up to a distraught man mis-aiming his gun. He had his answer. Michael was no good without Nikita. Nikita was no good without Michael. Like those two good dogs he had as a boy, their fondness for each other kept them efficient and productive. But now that Michael's deep cover mission was over, there was nothing keeping Michael and Nikita apart. Operations didn't like that. He wanted them conflicted and ambivalent, never really sure of each other. It gave him the necessary leverage to control them both.

He had used this mission to conduct an experiment. He wanted to see if either of them was able to survive without the other and still function as an operative. He didn't think so. Madeline hated his methods, but had agreed to participate minimally once threatened with certain revelations. He wasn't sure he could trust her judgment when it came to Nikita, and he knew that she was overly fond of Michael. So he resorted to subterfuge, and he had empirical evidence that he was right.

While Operations was congratulating himself, Michael had come back to his senses. A bit groggy, ears ringing, but basically intact. He blinked to clear his vision and drew his gun on Operations. "Don't be ridiculous, Michael, you won't shoot me."

"Don't be so sure." Michael's voice was gritty with grim determination.

"Oh, I know you won't. You see, I'm the only one that knows where you're being held. Without me, you'll rot here for years, without being discovered. And just where would that leave you?"

Michael pretended to consider this as a serious possibility. "Hmm…and I thought you were going to tell me where you had Nikita."

"You don't believe she's dead?"

"I know you too well, Paul."

"Ahh, I see…" Operations nodded. "I should have had someone else tell you the news, but I was just so damned glad to say it."

"You bastard!" Michael said coldly, clicking back the safety.

Operations began to walk away, nearing the door before Michael's shot rang out, almost clipping his ear. "Michael, you missed."

He pointed the gun at Operations' head. "So I did. I'll do better next time." It was a threat, and not an implied one. If Nikita was dead, Operations would go down. Not tomorrow, not next week, but right now. Michael clearly didn't care about himself, and that made him far more dangerous than Operations had suspected.

Nikita eventually took the morning-after pill. The irony of possibly bearing the child of a terrorist who routinely destroyed the innocent lives of children was not lost on her. She lay in Medlab, hanging between sleep and wakefulness for hours, contemplating her new life in Section without Michael. Even thinking about it brought new tears to her already swollen eyes. She was exhausted beyond belief. She had no one left to lean on, except for Walter, and it was evident, even to Nikita's pain-filled gaze, that Walter had all he could do to deal with his own grief.

Birkoff, dear sweet Birkoff, who was like her little brother, tried to comfort Nikita, but she thought he knew that she was quite beyond normal comfort measures. She finally sat up, struggling not to breathe deeply, and stared into the darkness that was Medlab at night. She heard a sound. A step. "Michael?" she called out hoarsely, even as she knew it could not be him.

A shadow stepped away from the wall and suddenly she knew. "Nikita!" It was Michael. He was alive! Or she was hallucinating. She didn't care. If she were going crazy, she would gladly embrace this particular hallucination. She dangled her feet off the bed, grimacing at the new pain this produced. Michael held her gingerly, apparently aware that she was injured. "Are you okay?" he whispered against her ear. "Yes," she answered happily. "Are you okay?" she asked him, pressing her mouth against his ear as he had done to her. He nodded.

"They told me you were dead." She tried to control the pain in her voice, but she could not. The grief was too fresh in her mind. "I know," he said. He brushed her hair back, touching her face the way she liked, and she cocked her head, pressing her cheek into his palm.

"Operations was just conducting…an experiment," Michael spat out. "For years, he used Elena and Adam to keep us apart. He concocted this whole horrible mission, just to humiliate you, and degrade you, and break you, and Kita…I don't think he much cares what happens to me once you're gone."

"He thought that you wouldn't be able to go through with the mission, because he thinks you're in love with me, and he thought I would help you, because he thinks I'm in love with you. He's playing games with us, Kita, and he might win this time, cause he's right about one thing…" Michael sounded out of breath. "I am in love with you."

Nikita pressed her face against Michael's, swallowing the urge to cry yet again. She didn't want to waste a moment more on tears. Not when she had every reason to be happy at last. "I always have been." Michael sighed heavily, and kissed Nikita's cheek.

Michael tenderly traced the tears with his fingertips, and then kissed the tracks they had made on her face. "Kita…" Michael breathed her name. "Nothing Operations says or does matters now. He can't make me love you any less. And believe me, he has tried." He kissed her mouth, lingering for a second to lick the tear that had trickled onto her bottom lip.

He looked at her, his own eyes suspiciously wet. "But we're not safe here, Kita. We have to go now."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Everyone thinks I'm dead. That should help."

"Maybe not, Michael." Operations' voice rang out clearly in the darkness. "Your first mistake was in not killing me when you had the chance. Your second was in coming here. So predictable, Michael. I really thought better of you."

"I would offer congratulations, if I thought they were appropriate, but I think you know, Michael, that I expected…more."

He glanced significantly at Madeline. "I think you achieved exactly what you wanted, Paul," said Madeline quietly, a bit of a gleam in her pained eyes.

Operations nodded briefly at Madeline. He glared at Michael again, then derisively snorted at Nikita. "Look at her, how can you say this was a successful Valentine Op, when she looks like she needs a shot of Thorazine?"

Madeline selected her next words carefully. "Perhaps she does need therapy of sorts…Paul, you've more than succeeded in driving the two of them apart again. That was your doing, was it not?" Madeline paused for effect, and her eyes glinted warmly, at odds with her downturned mouth.

"You know it was," he admitted. "I merely conducted an…experiment, Madeline. To see if either of them could function without the other. They both failed," he stated flatly.

"Well, I don't think it was really a fair test, do you?" Madeline said slyly, as if inviting Operations to compete with her on her playing field, the psychological playing field. "You thought this would help you determine what?" She waited patiently for his answer.

Operations merely looked annoyed. "Which one should be canceled, of course." Michael glanced anxiously at Nikita. She surreptitiously nodded.

"And if they both failed, then what did you accomplish?"

"We cut our losses and cancel both of them." Operations looked at Madeline as if she were stupid.

"What losses? You said that when they're together, they're both cost-efficient and productive operatives. How does cancellation fit into that scenario? Please explain."

Nikita hid a smile behind her hand. If Madeline was on their side, they had a chance, a slim one, but still a chance.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Madeline," he said shortly.

"Oh, I think you do." Madeline smiled innocently. "It's good practice for when Oversight asks for a full investigation of why two perfectly good operatives, one of whom is Level 5, no less, were canceled."

"Madeline…" Operations began threateningly.

Michael grew tired of waiting patiently. "Listen, I hate to interrupt, but I still have my gun." He drew it, pointed it at Operations and clicked off the safety. "Where are we going with this?"

Nikita suddenly straightened and looked directly at Operations. "You people make me sick. You talk about us as if we aren't even here, as if we aren't real. And you know what? Maybe we're not! I know I sure as hell don't feel real right now!"

Michael glanced at Nikita. "Nikita!"

Nikita's biting stare more than silenced Michael, it unnerved him. Even Operations looked at Madeline as if he were concerned. "You shouldn't worry, I've always been the loose cannon here. You can't blame Michael, really, for being unable to manage me. I'm just not prime material. That must be it!"

Michael looked at Madeline, as if willing her to say something. But Madeline didn't know what to say. She could see that Nikita was hurting, and she was striking out, randomly, at whatever target she could find.

"Nikita," she began, "you're obviously tired and emotional, why don't you—?"

"Why don't you shove it up your ass, Maddy?!" Nikita all but snarled.

Operations held up a hand, as if to forestall any further argument. "Nikita, that's enough! You know we will not tolerate this level of disrespect!"

Nikita laughed harshly. "Yeah, well, who cares? I don't find anyone here worthy of my respect!" Nikita's telling glance so obviously included Michael, it made them all uncomfortable.

Operations' voice rang out clearly. "Cancel her. And Michael, I want you to do it."

Michael's head shot up. "No." He spoke without shouting but his emphasis was evident.

"Michael, don't tell me no."

Michael stared back at Operations blankly. "I just did."

Nikita's initial anger had cooled and she took in Michael's ashen face, contrasting it with Operations' flushed face. "Michael, this isn't your fight."

Michael shifted uneasily beneath Operations' scrutiny. "The hell it isn't."

Operations met Michael's eyes evenly. "You want me to cancel you, too?"

Michael all but shouted. "Why not? If you take Nikita, you might as well kill me, too!"

Operations continued to study Michael's reaction. "I find you both rather touching, in an archaic kind of way, that kind of loyalty is remarkable, even amongst humans."

Nikita paled as she realized that Michael's life was in jeopardy as well now. "Michael, I never meant—"

Michael snapped, "Shut up, Nikita!" and continued to glare at Operations. He began to advance on the older man, causing Operations to back up, almost instinctively. "You took Simone away from me, you took Elena away from me and then you took my son! And yet, still, you expected me to function! I am not a machine! I have hated what you have done to me for as long as I can remember…but what you've made me do to Nikita, not once, but over and over again, is the worst. You only know how to destroy, you don't know how to love or create something from that love!" Michael's voice was choked with unspent emotion.

"I used to be human, I used to know what love was, but you've driven everything safe and humane out of me!" Michael's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "You've made me violate Nikita in so many ways, I can't even keep track anymore! And the painful truth is, I never fought you openly, because some part of me still wants to live! I don't even know why, cause I know I don't deserve to!" Michael almost laughed hysterically. "I figure, God must want me to kill you, Paul, what do you think about that?"

Operations looked afraid for the first time in years. Madeline saw the change come over him, imperceptibly at first, then less subtly. "I think you're a dead man, Michael." His voice didn't quiver, but Madeline could hear the fear.

Michael's eyes shone with strange light. He smiled inappropriately and continued to point the gun at Operations, quite openly. "Not if I get you first, Paul."

Madeline reached out for the gun. "Michael, I'm on your side. You don't want to do this. You'll lose everything."

Michael shrieked at her, "I've already lost everything that matters, Madeline! You of all people should understand!"

Madeline looked Michael in the eye. "You'll lose Nikita."

Michael waved the gun unintentionally as he flailed his arms. "I've already lost Nikita! Don't you understand anything I've been saying?"

Madeline looked at Nikita, willing her to intervene. "Nikita hasn't said anything yet, Michael, maybe you should ask her what she thinks."

Michael slumped, his gun hand falling to his side limply. "I don't care what she thinks, she doesn't love me, what else matters?" He fell forward a step and braced himself on the chair. He slowly began to raise the gun to his head, and Madeline screamed. Nikita flew to Michael's side, and grabbed the gun, but Michael continued to struggle with her for control of it. "No, Kita, please!"

Nikita fought hard for the gun and finally wrestled it away from Michael. "Is that what you think I want, Michael? You think I hate you that much, that I would want to see you dead?"

Michael stared at her without speaking. He shook his head. "No, Kita…I hate me that much. For what I've become. For blaming Section when I could have taken a stand. I'd be dead, but I would still have honor."

Nikita placed the gun in the waistband of her leather pants. She stroked the side of Michael's face, the way he so often touched her, and tried to ignore Operations and Madeline's presence, which she found terribly distracting.

"Madeline?"

Madeline said simply, "Yes, Nikita?"

Nikita looked at her, her heart in her eyes. "Could you please leave us alone, just for a few minutes?"

"Of course."

She pulled on Operations' arm and managed to get him out of the room before he could summon his Palace Guard. Funny, but lately, she had been having nightmares, where he turned into the Red Queen, yelling, "Off with their heads!"

Nikita breathed a sigh of relief at their departure. "Michael, if anyone is going to die here, it's going to be me. I've been your cross to bear for too long. So you can just cancel me and be done with it. Go ahead." Nikita pulled the gun from her waistband and offered it to Michael, who looked appalled.

"I can't cancel you, Kita." Michael's voice dropped to a rasp.

"Then I'll do it," she said, placing the gun to her own temple.

"Kita, no!" Michael closed his eyes as he grabbed the gun away from her. He flinched as he heard the gun go off. His eyes opened wide, and he saw Nikita fall. "Noooo!" he screamed.

Michael bent over Nikita's limp form and searched for the wound, but found none. "What? I heard the gun go off!"

Nikita opened her eyes tentatively. "You scared the hell out of me, Michael! Some dark knight you are, trying to blow my head off!"

"Me? You scared me, Kita. Christ, I don't know when I've been so scared." He raked his hands through his hair, turning it into an unruly tangle.

"Are we done with the gun then? Can we please put it away?"

Suddenly Michael burst out laughing. Nikita couldn't help herself. It was honestly too funny for words. They fell into each other's arms, laughing like children. "I'm glad you saw my signal. But I had no idea what you were going to do."

"Did you see Operations' face when I threatened him?"

"Well, Michael, I personally thought Madeline was going to blow the whole thing when she started practicing psychotherapy here in the Medlab. Interesting premise, therapy at gunpoint."

Michael sobered for a second. "Operations will get even. He doesn't like being thwarted."

"Are you worried about cancellation?"

"You saw Madeline's face. She's got more power than Ops right now, and she plans to use it."

"But Kita, I really hate him!" Michael whispered with an uncharacteristic half-smile.

Nikita pressed her fingers to Michael's mouth. "And so you should. He's a cruel, unreasoning man. He doesn't want to let us go, but he doesn't want us to be together."

Nikita suddenly peered closer at Michael's face. "It is him that's keeping us apart, isn't it?"

Michael flushed. "Kita, if he let you go, I would be happy for you, honestly."

"Liar. You're a surprisingly bad liar sometimes, Michael."

Nikita kissed Michael fervently. "I'm sorry, Michael, you can't get rid of me that easily. I love you." Michael hadn't realized that he was holding his breath until she said that last. He kissed her back. "How, Kita? After everything?"

"You're a challenge, Michael, truly. A total mystery sometimes, I admit, but I love you." She kissed him again. "But the question is, do you love me?"

Michael tried to smile, weakly, but his eyes felt wet. He wiped them surreptitiously. He looked down at their arms, intertwined around each other. "I know I've made it hard for you to trust me, and there's no way for you to know if I'm lying, really…but God help me, I do love you, Kita, I really do."

He kissed her hands that were wrapped so gently around his face. "I love the way you hold me, Kita, you make me feel so warm inside, like you've brought your light into my darkness."

"And you've had so much darkness, Michael…I'm sorry for that." Nikita continued to stroke his hair back from his face until he closed his eyes. He grabbed her hair and pulled her closer, his hand massaging the back of her neck, and when his eyes suddenly opened, they were uncharacteristically bright.

"Whatever happens now, Kita…"

Nikita blinked for a moment. "No," she said firmly. "They're not going to cancel us, Michael. I don't believe it. If they were going to do it, they would have done it already."

Michael sighed. "Unless they're not done with us yet."

He clung to her, pulling her towards him until she rested her head on his shoulder. He began to sway gently, and she smiled in memory. "Kita, do you remember?" They danced slowly back and forth. "Yes, Michael."

He kissed her ear. "And you wouldn't let me kiss you." Nikita raised her head sharply and stared at Michael. "You remember that?"

He bent low and kissed her mouth, clinging to her lips for a second before releasing her. "I remember it all."

"You said it wasn't who I was. When I remember it, I get a sharp pang in my heart. I didn't know who I was, but I knew what I felt. And it felt right having you in my arms, Kita, and kissing you…" He nuzzled her cheek softly. Nikita put her head back on Michael's shoulder and looked away. "And the rest?"

"I remember…when I came back to my senses, I had such a surge of feeling, it was difficult to control…and you touched my arm, and then left." Nikita sighed. "Kita, I know what you're asking me…yes, I remember telling you that I loved you." He raised her face to his, met her eyes evenly, and repeated what he said. "I told you that I loved you…and now you know, I meant it." Nikita kissed him.

"But you never said anything, Kita…you could have said something." Michael looked momentarily puzzled. Nikita shrugged.

"I didn't know whether to be glad that you had your memory back or not. When you had amnesia, Michael…for three days, you were a different person. You had feelings, but you were unhappy, unhappy enough you would have risked your life to leave Section." Nikita buried her head against Michael's chest. "You wanted to go, you said you had nothing to lose…"

"But you said, you did. I remember, Kita." He smoothed her hair with his hand and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I couldn't do that to you."

"I couldn't tell you how I felt then, Michael…when your memory came back, it was like shutters being closed against the storm. You were back to being—"

"Cold and manipulative?" Michael finished for her.

"Kita, there was nothing I could do. When I remembered everything…I also remembered why I couldn't be with you." Michael looked down.

"Elena…?" Nikita inquired gently.

"And Adam…" Michael's voice broke for a moment. "I had to protect them."

"I know, Michael, I know." Nikita brushed his face with the back of her hand, the way she had so often seen Michael do to her.

"And now?" Michael asked, his voice husky with emotion. "There is no reason we cannot be together…"

Operations strode into the room quietly. "Except one. I don't want the two of you together."

Michael turned and faced his nemesis, eyes blazing. "What is your problem? We're the best field ops you have, and you know it. We work well together. Why do you care what we do when we're not working?"

Madeline was right behind Operations. "Paul, remember what we discussed," she said in a warning tone.

Operations glanced at Madeline. "People like you undermine discipline,you're creative, you see things differently, you think this is a democracy, well, guess what? It's not!"

Michael laughed. "What are you, God?"

Operations did not smile. "As a matter of fact, in here, yes."

Michael nodded. "I see." He looked at Nikita, who was standing impassively next to him. "I want to marry Nikita."

Operations snorted derisively. "Out of the question!"

Madeline put a hand on Operations' arm. "I don't see why that's so, Paul."

Madeline smiled. "I like the idea, Michael. I approve."

Operations sputtered angrily. "Madeline, you're out of line."

Madeline simply looked amused. "Paul, I know many things that you don't wish to be brought to light. Don't pursue this vendetta. It has no point."

Michael reached for Nikita's hand and kissed it. Operations turned away, his face distorted in a sneer. "Out, all of you!" Madeline nodded at Michael and Nikita. "You may go, both of you."

Michael resisted the urge to laugh in Operations' face. His time would come soon enough. He indicated to Nikita that she follow him, and together, they walked down to his office. Once the door was closed and locked, Michael wrapped his arms around Nikita. Nikita smiled up at him. "I told you, no one was getting canceled today."

Michael moved over to the desk and activated the jamming device, securing the room. "Come here, you." He leaned back on the desk, and Nikita poured herself into his arms. He smiled. "You don't object to us getting married, do you? I know I didn't really ask you…"

Nikita laughed. "How could I turn down an opportunity to make Operations apoplectic? He looked like he was going to have a stroke, for sure."

Nikita beamed at Michael. "To tell the truth, I would have settled for a cup of coffee, but since you mentioned it…" Michael laughed in response. "You settle too easy, then…always hold out for more."

"Now we can drive each other crazy all the time." Michael kissed Nikita. "But first, you look like you could use some sleep. And I know we've both been through the wringer today. You want to come home with me?" Michael looked cool, but inside, he was still a bit uncertain.

"I thought you'd never ask." Nikita kissed him hard. "Maybe I'm not that tired."

Michael took her hands off his belt. "Yes, you are."

Nikita traced his mouth with her fingertips. "No, I'm not…"

Michael kissed her fingers. "Yes, we both are…in fact, we're walking wounded. So let's go home." He flipped her bangs back with one hand. "That sounds good, doesn't it? Going home? Together?"

Nikita smiled peacefully. "Oh, yes…but Michael…one thing—"

"Yes, Kita?'

"You have no furniture."

They both burst out laughing.

End