Nikita came out of her trance, suddenly galvanized by the thought of saving Michael. She didn’t know how, but she would find him. Somehow. Birkoff grabbed her by the arm, twisting her around to face him. "Nikita, stop, you can’t go out there. You’ll risk everything."

"What’s everything? This isn’t living! This isn’t freedom! We can’t move! We don’t know where Walter or Michael is! How is this worth protecting, Birkoff? Please, tell me!"

Nikita’s outburst proved one thing. That she was never down for the count for long. She had a plan, and she was determined. Birkoff could come with her. Or not. But she was going. That was it. End of discussion.

Nikita drove the car to Michael’s loft. She saw no obvious surveillance. But that meant nothing. She had to take the chance. She needed to retrieve the Directory hidden in the loft. If Michael was alive, and she prayed that he was, he must need her help. Otherwise, she was certain that he would have come to her.

Birkoff had tried to argue against coming here, but she had swayed him finally. She kept reminding him of how Michael was counting on Birkoff to protect her. "Nikita," Birkoff called in a harsh whisper. "What?" she answered.

"We were safe enough without the Directory. We don’t need it. Why are we risking our lives again? Remind me."

"Because maybe I can use it to bargain for help for Michael. If he’s alive, he would have come for me. I know it. If he can’t, he needs our help."

When she hit the door to Michael’s loft, she saw the door was open. She knew immediately that something was wrong, but it was too late to turn back. She stepped over the threshold, and suddenly two operatives jumped out at her, grabbing her by the arms, and disarming her weapon. She kicked one in the groin, but her hands were not free, so she was defenseless against the other, burlier operative. He wrenched her hands in front of her and bound her with cuffs.

Birkoff watched from the shadows. He saw them leading Nikita away, and he cringed in the corner, blending with the darkness. He had to do something. But not now. He had something to find first.

When they brought Nikita into Section, she saw the place with fresh eyes. It was like returning home, but different. Madeline saw her and a warning glance flew across her face. She motioned to the operatives to uncuff Nikita, but they refused. "We have orders from Operations to bring her to him."

Madeline nodded, as if this were an everyday occurrence. That worried her. Operations could order Nikita’s cancellation, and it could be carried out before she could get word to the outside. To Walter. And Michael.

Operations paced in the observation deck. "Nikita...it’s been a long time," he greeted her, sardonic grin carefully fixed in place. "I’ve waited a long, long time for this moment. You might say, I want to savor it."

Nikita spat at Operations’ feet. "Spare me the psychotic litany of complaints. If you’re going to cancel me, get it over with."

"Ah, but that would be no fun at all, Nikita. We’ve been through so much through the years, we have a great deal to talk about before your imminent demise."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." She rolled her eyes, curious to discover just how little she really cared about Operations’ motives. He had always desired her cancellation. She was a loose cannon. She didn’t fit into the Section mold, no matter how well she performed. She was different. She was still human.

"Like, for example, where is Michael?"

"I don’t know."

"You don’t? Now, why don’t I believe that?" he said with another smirk.

"Believe what you like. I dunno where he is."

Operations studied her face and voice. There was a chance she was telling the truth, but it was doubtful. He had just assumed, like everyone else, that the two were together.

Operations turned to Madeline. "Perhaps she needs a little time in the White Room, Madeline..."

Madeline nodded. "As you wish."

She motioned to the two operatives holding Nikita, and they began to move away from Operations. But suddenly, the door to the Observation Deck burst open.

It was Birkoff. He was holding a copy of the Directory in his hand. He knew it was instantly recognizable to Operations and Madeline. He saw their faces. He saw that they knew what it was. "Let her go," Birkoff commanded.

Nikita flushed with admiration for her newfound protector. Well done, Birkoff, she thought, how very like Michael.

Madeline looked at Operations, and Operations glared. He didn’t like backing down, especially from something this important to him. But he had no choice. It was a copy of the Directory, and he had no doubt that Birkoff knew what to do with it. Or that Birkoff was capable of using it and distributing it to anyone he saw fit to give it to. He had underestimated Birkoff. He thought that Greg Hillinger was a fine com op, but Birkoff had surpassed him on this. Despite himself, he felt a grudging respect for Birkoff, something Birkoff would have been amazed to know if he could.

"Very well, turn her loose." The operatives unlocked Nikita’s cuffs. But just when she might have stepped away, she did not. Birkoff glanced at Nikita anxiously. "Nikita," he muttered under his breath to her, "What are you doing?"

"I don’t care what happens to me, Operations. But I do care what happens to Michael. If you have him somewhere, please set him free," she said.

Operations looked puzzled. "Now I am confused, Nikita. You truly don’t know where Michael is?"

She shook her head. Madeline glanced at her and saw in a moment that it was true. Wherever Michael was, he was not with Nikita, and he had not told Nikita where he was. Damn. She would have to find him for Nikita. Damn Michael. He was being altruistic when she least expected it. She needed to give him another push in Nikita’s direction.

Nikita faltered, and Operations almost took advantage of her discomfiture. But Birkoff recovered first, and he physically dragged Nikita out of the room. "Nikita, we have to get out of here, before Operations changes his mind and reconsiders canceling you."

"But you have the Directory."

"Yes, and how long do you think I would last against Brawny and Burly over there?"

"Ohhh....okay, let’s go."

Nikita held out her arms to Birkoff, inviting him into a big hug. "What’s that for?"

"My hero." She smiled happily at Birkoff, who grinned back, much more relaxed now that they were back on safe turf. "Michael would have been proud of you, Birkoff."

He sobered at once, noting how Nikita’s own face had suddenly changed. "Yeah, well..." She patted him on the shoulder, and Birkoff busied himself with making them something to eat.

***

Michael and Nikita lay together in bed. Michael playfully reached around her waist, and she grabbed his hand and kissed it. "Ah, ah, ah, that’s how you hurt your back in the first place."

"I should report you for that kind of cruelty."

"I know."

Pause. Michael lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Nikita lay on her side, facing away from Michael, hugging her pillow close to her face and smiled almost secretively.

"Michael? I love you."

"I love you, too."

***

Nikita lay in her bed and wept silently. She hid her tears carefully from Birkoff, who was like a knight in shining armor to her. He had been nothing if not chivalrous since they came to live here, and she would do nothing to dissuade him from his image of her as the damsel in distress. He was obviously doing a great job of trying to bolster her spirits. Unfortunately, she was unable to appreciate his efforts, no matter how well-directed. She could not stop thinking about Michael and what might have been.

Birkoff pulled the covers over his face in an effort not to acknowledge Nikita’s crying. She thought that he didn’t realize that she cried herself to sleep each night, but he did. He just pretended not to know. But it was starting to get to him. He knew that he could never measure up to Michael’s standard, as a love interest, but he had to wonder whether or not Michael was alive. No one would willingly inflict this kind of pain on someone he loved. Would he?

Michael was in bed when the call came in. His cell phone, which had not rung once since he had left Section, suddenly clamored for his attention. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to ignore it. But the ringing went on and on. Walter stalked over to Michael’s bed and dropped the noisy thing on Michael’s chest. "Answer it, fool."

He glared at Walter. "It has to be Section. You know that."

The ringing continued. Frantic. Walter crossed his arms and stood there at the foot of Michael’s bed, regarding him with one raised eyebrow. "Now you have telepathy? I didn’t know that."

Michael stared at the phone as if it were alive. Ring..... The noise droned through his head. "God, I didn’t even realize I brought the damned thing! Section could trace us through it!"

"Then drop it in the toilet, Michael. But make it stop ringing. I need my sleep. I ain’t getting any younger, you know."

He padded off to his bed, leaving Michael staring at the phone in total consternation. Michael reached out and touched the phone. It stopped ringing in his hand. Then, just as he started to breathe a sigh of relief, it started again. He put the phone to his ear with considerable trepidation. "Hello?"

Madeline nearly wept with relief. "Michael! You’re alive!"

"Madeline? You were only supposed to contact me if there was an emergency!" he said in a harsh whisper.

"I think you’ll agree that this qualifies, Michael."

Madeline proceeded to tell Michael about Nikita’s surprise visit to Section, courtesy of Operations, as well as her subsequent release, courtesy of Birkoff. "He had your copy of the Directory, Michael. Really, you should have seen him command Operations to let Nikita go."

Michael listened, at first horrified, then mollified, when he heard the outcome. "I suppose I should thank Birkoff for saving Nikita’s life. Is that why you called?"

Madeline snorted in exasperation. "No, Michael, that is not why I called. I called to find out why you and Nikita are not together. When you first concocted this plan to leave Section, I thought you and Nikita were going to share your lives, not be miserable separately. You could have stayed here and done that."

"Oh...so you called to tell me how disappointed you are in me. Right?" Michael sounded depressed to Madeline’s well- trained ear.

"Michael...tell me why you and Nikita are not together."

He sighed, raking his hands through his hair. "Madeline...please...."

"Michael..." Madeline said warningly.

"Look, I have to go..." He closed the cell phone and stared at it in disbelief.

Walter’s voice wafted across the room to Michael. "No fool like a young fool."

"Walter, Operations caught Nikita."

Walter gasped. "Whattt?" He sat bolt upright in bed and looked positively furious with Michael.

"She went after the Directory. She thought she could negotiate with Operations for my release. But Birkoff had the Directory and saved her from being canceled."

"Tell me this isn’t happening. Michael, what release? What does she think happened to you?"

"How do I know? I haven’t spoken to her since we split up, Walter. You know that."

"Yeah, I do know that. And that’s what’s wrong with this picture. You’ve been holding out on me, boy. You knew you had the cell phone with you. You knew you had a way to contact Madeline if you had to. Dammit! That’s as good as lying to me!"

Michael sighed in response.

"So what did Madeline want?"

"To know why Kita and I aren’t together."

"Hell, I’d like to know the answer to that one myself. You got a phone, boy, you better start dialing information till you find her." Walter leaned over Michael with a darkly sardonic grin on his face. "Or I promise you this. I will end your misery and kill you myself."

Michael threw the phone across the room, where it hit the wall with a thud.

Walter stared at Michael. "I got a way to raise Madeline myself." He pointed his finger in Michael’s face warningly. "And if you want to go down, then go the hell down, but keep your sorry ass away from Sugar!"

Michael didn’t know which of them was more surprised. Him or Walter. Walter was so blunt, and Michael so indirect. They couldn’t possibly be more different from one another. But Walter was right. He needed to contact Birkoff and let him know that he was alive. But that was all. He wasn’t ready to face Nikita yet.

When Birkoff’s cell phone rang, he didn’t know who was more surprised. Him or Nikita. He smiled weakly at Nikita.

"Michael gave it to you, didn’t he?" Nikita stared Birkoff down until he gave in.

"Well..."

Birkoff looked so damned uncomfortable, Nikita really wanted to let him off the hook. But she could not let this go by without a word. "All this time you had a way to contact Walter and Michael?"

"Nikita, I swear!" His eyes nearly bulged as he pleaded with her to believe him. "Michael gave me the phone for emergencies! But he never gave me a number to call. Just the phone."

"You mean, he could call you, but you couldn’t call him?" She frowned.

"Exactly! I had no idea how to reach Walter. And believe me, I wanted to."

"Then Michael is alive, Birkoff?" She said half-hopefully, half-exasperated.

"Um, I don’t know." He pointed to the still-ringing phone.

He opened the phone. "Hello?"

Walter’s booming voice came through loud and clear. "It’s Walter, Nikita!"

Nikita smiled patiently, waiting for further information. "And?"

""Walter, is Michael okay?"

"He’s alive, whether or not he’s okay is a matter for debate, if you ask me."

"Hey, Birkoff, I heard about that stunt you pulled at Section. Lucky for you, lil buddy, it worked out. If Sugar got canceled, I would not want to be you. Catch my drift?"

"Loud and clear, Walter. Listen..." he lowered his voice so Nikita could not hear him any longer, "When is Michael coming to get Nikita?"

"He’s not."

"What?" Birkoff almost dropped the phone, and Nikita looked at him suspiciously.

He turned his back on Nikita, trying to cup his hand over the phone, to protect Nikita from hearing the conversation. "What do you mean?"

"I told him to call her, just to tell her he’s alive, and he won’t even do that much right now. He’s got some wild idea about setting her free to be what she might have been without him."

"What she might have been is dead. Several times over. Walter, this is a mess. Help me out here. Nikita’s in a bad way."

"Ditto on this end, lil buddy. So you tell me, how do I convince this stubborn fool to come to his senses?"

"Tell me where you are. I got an idea." Birkoff continued to whisper busily, and Nikita’s eyes narrowed. She knew he was up to something, but what?

Birkoff closed the phone a few minutes later and smiled at Nikita. "Not to worry, Nikita. Michael is alive. And well."

"Then why hasn’t he come for us?"

"Well, that’s a little more complicated. But the important thing is, both of you are alive and well."

"You said that," she said flatly.

"Uh...." Birkoff bolted from the room, and Nikita had no choice but to let him go. But she wondered, what was wrong with Michael that he didn’t come for her?

When Walter warned Michael to stay away from Nikita, Michael’s initial reaction was outrage. What right did Walter have to tell him what to do about Nikita? Michael wanted to call her. But he fought with himself over and over again, wondering what he could possibly say to her. He would dial the number, let it ring twice, then hang up. He was driving himself mad with frustration. He wanted to go to her, more than anything, but he felt as though she would be better off without him. He felt guilty for every single lie and manipulation he had subjected her to. He didn’t see how she could possibly still love him. But then, in his depression, he didn’t see much of a future in anything.

He sat on the end of his bed and cradled the phone. He took a breath and held it. For the first time in all the times he had called, the phone was answered. By Nikita. He closed his eyes when he heard her voice. "Hello? Hello?" she said repeatedly, but no one was there. Still, she thought she heard breathing. "Who is this?" A few moments passed. Suddenly it occurred to Nikita who it might be. "Michael?"

When he heard her speak his name, he couldn’t stand the flood of emotion that surged through his being. It was too much for him. He closed the phone without speaking.

But now that he had heard her voice, his heart was fighting his brain for control. Call her back. Call her back. He groaned. How had things gotten to this state?

The phone rang again. Nikita picked it up. Dead silence on the other end. But...someone was breathing. Again. "Michael?" she said anxiously.

She had no proof, but she was convinced that Michael was on the other end. She didn’t know why he didn’t speak, but she was sure he could hear her. "Michael? Is that you?"

No answer. Just breathing. "Michael...I’m glad you’re still alive..." She thought she heard a whispered intake of breath on the other end. "Michael...I...I love you, Michael..." Now she knew she heard it, she didn’t imagine the sound on the other end of the phone. She felt a sob catch in her throat as she wondered what she had done. "Michael, I’ve missed you so much..." Her voice broke. She started to cry, dropping the phone in the process. She grabbed the pillow off her bed, clutching it around the middle. She buried her face in the pillow, her tears saturating it thoroughly. She had totally forgotten about the phone call.

Michael heard her crying, and his entire being ached to be with her. He closed his eyes and then closed the phone. He had been wrong to contact her. He was making her unhappy again. In his own misguided way, he had gotten things wrong again. He only wanted her to know that he was all right, and that he did love her. Maybe that would make her feel better. But somehow, he didn’t think so. How could he tell her he loved her, but couldn’t be with her? It would break her heart. It had already broken his.

Birkoff saw Nikita lying on the bed when he came into the room. It was obvious that she had been crying. Normally, he would have let it go. But no more. He had spoken to Walter, and they had come up with a plan. To reunite two lovers who seemed more star-crossed than most.

"Nikita, I thought I heard the phone. Who was it?"

She wiped the tears from her face with one hand and tried to smile. Badly. "Oh, Birkoff...it was nobody."

"Nobody? Only two people know the number, Nikita. Walter. And Michael." He emphasized Michael’s name deliberately.

Nikita’s lower lip trembled. She had never looked more beautiful to him. But she was unreachable for him. Birkoff sighed. "It was Michael, wasn’t it?"

She nodded. "I think so. He wouldn’t say anything. Just kept the line open. And I...I said...I loved him...and I m- missed him so...much..." She tried to speak clearly, but she was so upset, she continued to stammer.

"B-Birkoff, he doesn’t love me anymore."

"Nikita, that’s not true," he said quite firmly.

"Then why won’t he come to me? Or speak to me? What did I do, Birkoff?"

He looked at her kindly, wise beyond his years. "What makes you think you did something, Nikita? Michael has his own issues. I don’t know why he hasn’t come for you, but it’s not your fault."

She sniffled. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Birkoff patted her arm in a brotherly way, though he had a most disturbing urge to kiss her. "Yeah."

Birkoff spoke to Walter once more, then hung up. It was set. Their plan to reunite Michael and Nikita.

Birkoff gave Nikita an address, assuring her that Walter would be there. "You want to see Walter again, don’t you? He misses you, Nikita."

She smiled happily. "Of course, Walter is like a father to me. I’ve missed him, too."

"But..." She looked down at her hands. "I don’t know if I’m ready to run into Michael yet. If he doesn’t want to see me, I mean. I don’t want to force things between us. You understand, Birkoff?"

"Of course, Nikita." He crossed his fingers behind his back, knowing that if they left it up to Michael, they might be well into the next century before he was ready to see Nikita. It was like Madeline had said, Michael needed a push in Nikita’s direction, and his love would do the rest.

She drove to the address and got out of the car. She fluffed her hair around the collar of her mission jacket. She had no other clothes with her. When they had left Section, she had literally been on a mission. And unfortunately, she had nothing else. But Walter wouldn’t mind.

Walter smiled kindly at Michael, who was, as usual, sitting on the bed, pretending that Walter didn’t exist. "No more phone calls, Michael. I heard you been calling Sugar. You said you didn’t want nothing to do with her, so be it."

Michael looked anguished. "I just wanted to hear her voice." Walter almost felt sorry for him then, but no, they had to be strong, him and Birkoff, or Michael and Nikita would never get back together.

"You want to hear her voice, go see her."

"I can’t." Michael sounded like a man at the end of his rope. Walter wondered briefly if he and Birkoff were pushing Michael too hard, but Madeline said no.

Michael thought about Nikita’s love thieves and sighed. This was not the way he had planned to live the rest of his life with Nikita.

Walter walked away from Michael and down the steps to the apartment. Nikita saw him and waved. "Hello, Walter."

Walter hugged Nikita warmly. "Hello, Sugar. What’s shakin’?"

"Nothing much, I’m afraid. How are things with you?"

"Normal. Whatever that is." He laughed. Nikita hugged him again. "I love the way your eyes twinkle, Walter. Whenever you’re up to something."

"Me? Perish the thought, Sugar." He laughed again, liking the way Nikita’s whole face lit up when she smiled.

"You’re sure?" She tickled Walter, and he held his arms across his abdomen. "Now, Sugar, that’s a dangerous thing to start. Considering how I feel about you," he added flirtatiously.

"You flirt."

"Wench."

"Romeo."

"Brat."

They giggled together, and it was almost like old times. In Section. Nikita could not honestly say she missed being in Section, but she did miss certain people. She looked somber for a moment. Certain people. Michael.

"You want to get a cuppa coffee, Walter?"

"I’d love to, Sugar. How’s about I make you some? You go ahead in, I’ll be right behind you." He smiled avuncularly, and Nikita relaxed, realizing just how much she had missed the easy camaraderie between them.

"Okay," she agreed, hooking an errant strand of hair behind one ear.

She stepped up on the porch and walked through the door. And right into Walter and Birkoff’s trap.

The first thing she saw when she entered the apartment was Michael sitting on the bed. Half-dressed. He had no shirt on, his hair had grown long and shaggy, and he hadn’t shaved in days. He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Her lips parted of their own accord. She wanted to run to him and kiss him. But she didn’t know how he would feel.

"Michael?"

His first thought was that he was hallucinating. She couldn’t be here. He was barely dressed, he was an unshaven mess, and he hadn’t had a haircut in weeks. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His mouth opened, as if to speak. But he had no idea what to say. He wanted to run to her and kiss her. But he didn’t know how she would feel.

"Kita?" he said hoarsely.

She moved towards him a step, and he got up off the bed. He couldn’t help himself. He approached her with one hand outstretched. When he connected with her body, his hand instinctively went to her face. "Kita...I’m so sorry. I should have called you."

"It’s okay, Michael. I’m sure you had your reasons." She sounded aloof, even cold. Michael drew back, his fingertips grazing her chin. He looked sad. "You’re angry. I should have realized you would be..."

She stared deeply into his eyes, and the grey darkened to green. He swallowed hard, then said, without any prelude, "I love you, Kita."

"You do?" She tried to maintain her anger, which she felt was well-deserved, but she couldn’t. She wanted too badly to explore what Michael had just said. Finally.

"You love me?"

He nodded. "I love you, Kita."

"Really?"

"Really. I would have told you when we first split up, but...I was afraid that you wouldn’t leave me, when I asked you to go."

"You were right. I would never have left you, if I had known."

He continued to stare into her eyes, feeling the pull of her on his body, his mind, and his soul. He reached out and touched her lips with his fingers, rubbing them sensually until she closed her eyes. He touched her hand and felt the ring. He frowned. "You’re still wearing the ring."

She looked embarrassed. She rubbed the ring with her other hand. "I’m sorry, but you put it on...and I didn’t want to take it off..." He leaned forward and kissed her. "Look..." He held up his left hand, and there was his ring. "I could lie and say I just forgot...but it wouldn’t be true."

She ran her hands through his long hair, which now touched his shoulders. "I like your hair this way." He smiled. She grasped his hand and kissed the palm. He blinked in surprise. "I like everything about you, Kita." He searched her face for several moments, then kissed her mouth, having to drag himself away from her this time. He leaned his forehead against hers, feeling almost breathless. "I want to make love to you, Kita."

"I want that, too."

He closed the gap between their bodies with a rush. His mouth caressed hers gently at first, then with more urgency. He pushed her mouth open with his tongue, and he deepened the kiss. His hands framed her face and made it easier for his mouth to seek hers. Again and again, they kissed, their mouths meeting for long, tender moments before gliding away from each other, only to find each other again. His hands slid down her body. He broke off the kiss, to stare at her for a second, his heart pounding in his ears. He whispered to her, "I never realized I could love anyone this desperately, Kita. But I do."

"I know," she answered, knowing it was true. They had vanquished the love thieves at last. They would finally be together. Forever.

***

"I thought I lost you."

"Thank God, you found me."

He sought her mouth with a violence that shook him to the core. He needed her in a way that he had never needed anyone before. He had thought she was lost. But she was found. He had thought he was dead. But he was alive. Their coming together was intense, brought to fruition quickly by their mutual need and heat. He had never allowed himself to think about taking actual possession of her, till now, and now, he could no longer allow himself to hold back the feelings he had for her. The love so long denied.

***