Nikita sighed. She could not believe she was lying in Michael’s arms at last. It had been so long...too long, if she had anything to say about it. She snuggled under his chin, and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Nikita sighed again.

He drew back to look at her. "Such heavy sighs, Kita. Are you all right?"

She smiled. "Better than in a long time, Michael." She reached up and kissed his chin. "It was a little rugged...just now..." she intimated, meaning that their lovemaking had been quick and to the point, instead of languid and sensual, the way she might have wished their first time together outside Section to be. But she was willing to settle for whatever Michael could give her right now, and she had no intention of getting into their emotional issues at this point.

"Sorry. Can I have a second chance?" Michael did not look the least bit contrite for having taken her quickly and intensely the first time. If anything, a small half smile played around his lips, as if he had quite planned things this way. "I thought we needed to cut to the chase right away, for both our sakes...but now things should be more under control..."

Nikita hid a laugh against his chest. Was that his subtle way of telling her he had lost control when he saw her? That was sweet. Knowing she had that kind of effect of him, knowing he valued control above all else.

"You’re not sorry at all, you just want an excuse to make love to me again," she said, a giggle creeping into her voice.

"I need an excuse?" he said, the half-smile broadening. "You underestimate both of us, Kita." He pulled her on top of him. He stared at her for a long moment, playing with her hair and pushing it back from her face. He kissed her slowly, his tongue licking the corners of her mouth, before finally settling on the fullness of her lower lip. He nibbled on her lower lip until she protested with a low moan, then plunged his tongue inside her mouth. He broke off the kiss and licked her mouth. "You taste good."

She giggled. "You’re teasing me....I want more..."

He shook his head. His eyes turned smoky grey-green. "I should get up."

Nikita blinked. "Whatever for?"

"I need to shave..." He stared at her meaningfully, and she nuzzled his neck. "Mmm...I don’t know if I can let you go, I’m not done with you yet..."

She flicked a finger along his unshaven cheek. "It’s not so bad...just a little scratchy..."

"I don’t want to leave my mark all over your body, Nikita."

She sighed, pressing her breasts against his chest. "I kinda like the sound of that, Michael..."

He twisted sharply, trading places with her as they rolled over. Now she was beneath him, and he ground his lower body against hers. "Michael...now you’re going too...slow..." He lowered his mouth to hers and held it there. When he finally moved from her mouth, he licked the side of her face, a move that never failed to arouse her. "Come with me," he invited, crooking a finger. He got out of bed carefully, letting her slide down along his lower body with a groan.

He pulled the bedcovers over their bodies and walked her into the small bathroom. "I’m impressed, Michael. You wouldn’t shave for Walter, but you want to shave for me..." she said with an impish grin. He kissed the back of her neck. "I didn’t want to make love to Walter," he growled.

She laughed at the thought of that. "I don’t think he’d have you on a bet, Michael." He buried his face against her neck. "You’re not his type."

"I noticed," he said shortly. "I think he hates me."

"Walter doesn’t hate you, Michael." She stared at him. "You’re serious. You think he doesn’t like you." She frowned.

"Well, he doesn’t care very much for what I did to you, Kita." She winced. "Let’s not talk about that right now."

"Why? Because we’re going to fight about it?" Michael’s eyes changed to a cooler grey color. "I suppose it’s inevitable."

"Let’s not talk serious talk today, please, Michael."

"Why? You’re angry with me, we both know you are."

Nikita felt the gap between them widen suddenly. Michael was distancing himself, and she could feel it. Well, he couldn’t keep doing that. Not if they were going to have a real relationship.

She smiled up at Michael and said, "Do you know how much I love you, Michael?" She spread her arms as wide as they would go. "More than this much," she said lovingly. He sighed. "I love you, too, Kita. More than you know."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. He reached out for the shaving cream and lathered his face. Just when he would apply the razor, Nikita threw her arms around his neck with a whoop, nearly causing blood to be drawn. He smiled patiently at her, "Are you trying to kill me?" "Oh, no," she replied, punctuating each word with a kiss, "I need you...alive...and...healthy..."

Nikita watched, mesmerized, as Michael shaved, feeling totally domestic and quite unlike herself. Oh, Michael, she thought, I never thought you would really belong to me this way, but you do...and I will never let you forget that we need to be together...

She turned on the shower and climbed into the stall. There was just enough room for two. Tightly pressed against each other. She pulled Michael into the shower and backed him under the spray. Taking the soap into her hands, she carefully lathered his entire body, her hands slipping and sliding as the lather made it hard to get a grip on anything. "I’m going to teach you how to play, Michael."

"You think I don’t know how?" he said with a grin.

"Well," she said, licking her lips seductively, "if you ever knew how, you’ve forgotten."

She ran her hands all over his lower body and heard him gasp. "Kita!"

"Michael!" she echoed his tone and winked. "You sound so delightfully outraged, Michael, but you love it!"

"I love you, Kita." He grabbed for her, but his arms were full of lather, and they slipped over her body without purchase. He groaned. "I thought you wanted to...play...Kita." He looked at her intently, a warning in his eyes.

"Michael," she said, putting a finger in her mouth. "I’m still your material. I always was, and I always will be."

His eyes darkened dramatically. He connected with her body this time, though the slickness of their wet and soap-laden skin made contact tantalizingly brief. He ran his hands over her shoulders and arms, kneading them, then swooped down and took her mouth. He backed her up against the wall of the shower stall. When they could move no farther, he lifted her up and joined their bodies. Nikita’s mouth fell open in a shudder of pure pleasure, and Michael swallowed the sound with his own mouth. Stretching his arms out behind Nikita, he pushed their bodies together again, provoking a sensation so exquisite, Nikita moaned low in her throat. His hands moved over her face, holding her still for the continued assault of his mouth, and Nikita held on to Michael for dear life. He rocked against her, murmuring something in French that Nikita could not interpret, but the meaning was clear. She was his. He was claiming right of possession.

She closed her eyes as she shivered intensely, and Michael shuddered against her body one last time. He leaned his forehead against hers, continuing to pant for several moments. His eyes were a brilliant clear green. "Kita...tu es la seule amour de ma vie. La seule. Toujours." She opened her eyes and smiled, exhausted at last. "Je t’aime, Michael."

He looked enigmatic for a moment, finally responding. "Je t’aime, Kita. Tu es mon coeur, mon ame. Tu es la meilleure partie de moi." He stroked her face with his fingers, and he felt her body relax against his. He kissed her gently. "Ma belle lionne..." It was an image Michael held of Nikita in his mind that he had difficulty expressing. That Nikita was not unlike a lioness, fierce but protective of those she claimed as hers.

He stepped back, taking her weight, and she smiled sleepily. "Sleep, Kita. I will take care of you." First, he washed the soap from their bodies and their hair. Then he grabbed fresh white towels, wrapping one around her body and one around her long, blonde hair. She couldn’t stop smiling. No one had ever cared for her like this. It made her feel...loved.

After he dried himself, he led Nikita back to bed, pulling the bedcovers over her. "Sleep..." She blinked. "But what about you?"

He smiled, and for once, the smile reached his eyes, turning them a shade somewhere between grey and green. "I just want to watch you sleep, Kita." He pushed her hair back from her forehead in a gesture more loving than a kiss. It was the last image that she had before sleep claimed her.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and watched Nikita sleep. He stroked her face lightly with his fingers, feeling more at peace than he had in days. She was the best part of him, she completed him in ways he didn’t even fully understand yet. But he knew that he needed her to survive. She would laugh if he told her she was right all along, but it was true. She was his weakness, and even if he remained in denial for the rest of his life, she would still be his weakness. But as much as he disliked feeling vulnerable, he realized that he had no desire to change a thing about the way he felt about her. He wasn’t sure if she knew that.

She stirred as if disquieted by something, and Michael watched her more carefully. "I’m here, Kita," he whispered softly, not trying to wake her, but soothe her back to sleep. He wondered if he would manage to sleep at all this night, or if tonight would be like every other night during the few weeks they had been apart. He had been plagued by nightmares ever since he forced their separation, and he supposed on some level, he deserved that. In the past, he had punished himself severely for caring about Nikita. He had withdrawn into himself and pushed her away until she had gradually grown more and more aloof. That had made it easier to convince himself that she did not care, and it had set up a vicious circle he had been unable to break until recently.

Nikita suddenly struck out in her sleep, connecting with Michael’s arm. The movement jarred Michael out of his thoughts, and he abruptly noticed that Nikita was no longer sleeping, but regarding him from under her lashes. "Are you okay?" She nodded without a word, but her eyes filled with tears.

"Kita!" He leaned over and gathered her into his arms, holding her as gently as he could. He kissed her cheek, and he felt her tears against his skin. "Oh, doucette..." he murmured against her cheek, knowing it would not take much to bring his own tears to the surface just now.

"Bad dream?" he asked, dreading her response. He didn’t know how comforting he could be in his present state.

She said, "Yes," in a voice hoarse with unspoken pain. "I dreamed you were dead."

He winced. "Kita..."

"And then...it turned out to be a lie...and you weren’t dead at all..."

She pushed out of his embrace suddenly, and he let her go. "You just didn’t...want me...," she finished brokenly. Her eyes flashed with anger for a moment, then faded to a dull, dark blue, quite unlike their normal color.

***

"Michael, you’re really becoming so predictable....you lie, then you say you’re sorry...you lie...then you say you’re sorry..."

"Can’t you come up with something more interesting?"

"Nikita, I do what I have to do. It’s not what I would choose for myself...or for us..."

"Us?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

She picked up her gun and aimed it carefully at Michael. At point-blank range, she could hardly miss. "Why shouldn’t I just kill you? Why shouldn’t I just pull the trigger?"

Her arms wavered for a second, but otherwise held firm in their direct bead on Michael. Instead of moving away from her, he astonished her by approaching her, coming closer and closer until he was almost pressing his neck against the barrel of the gun. He seemed almost bemused by the question she posed. A half-smile traced his lips.

"I can’t think of a single reason."

He leaned over and kissed her hand, then trailed his fingers over the gun, as if caressing it. He turned, as if inviting her to shoot him where he stood, and never looked back. She finally dropped the gun when he went through the door. She pressed her hand to her lips, as if she could feel his touch there still...

***

She wanted to rail at him, strike out with her fists, even punch him, but she couldn’t. She loved him. She wanted to give them a fighting chance to make their relationship work. She knew, deep in her heart, that Michael loved her. He had proved that to her tonight. But she had to deal with the very real anger she felt at his abandonment of her. Just when she needed most to be with him. If he had died, instead of recovering, she would never have been able to go on. It didn’t surprise her that she had dreamed of Michael being dead. What did surprise her was Michael’s reaction to her pain. He clearly blamed himself for that.

"Michael..."

He couldn’t bring himself to say he was sorry one more time. It was as if the word had been struck from his vocabulary, and he was powerless to utter it. It could have been a magic charm for all he knew, but he could not speak that word. His breath choked in his throat, clogged with unshed tears and unexpressed emotion.

His hands tightened unconsciously, clutching the sheets. Nikita stared at him. "Michael, I understand why you told me to go. You were sick, you could have died. You thought you were a liability to the rest of us escaping." He regarded her with real anguish in his eyes, but still, he did not speak.

"But why, Michael?" She started to cry, heartbreaking sobs that hurt his ears. "Why didn’t you come to me when you were well? Why did you let me think you were dead?"

She dropped her head to her chest, unable to look at him. Her fingers crept towards his, unconsciously, and when she touched him, he flinched. She felt his reaction and cried harder. He closed his eyes, unable to feel her pain one more moment. He stood up mechanically and walked into the bathroom, running water to splash on his face. But what he saw in the mirror made him afraid. He was pale, his eyes were dark with pain, and the hands that threw water on his face trembled. He was losing the fight for control. And he didn’t know what would happen when he did.

Michael slumped to the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. He buried his head against his arms. He was losing the struggle for control, and he didn’t know how much longer he could sustain the facade. Everything was not okay. He was not okay. Nikita was not okay. Hell, for all he knew, none of them were okay right now. And he felt the weight of that sitting squarely on his own shoulders.

"Michael?" Nikita’s voice came from the other room.

"Go back to sleep, Nikita," he said without moving from the floor.

"Come back...to bed...Michael...we need to talk about this..."

He wrenched his hands through his hair. "Not now, Nikita."

"Yes, now. We need to..." Nikita was sorry that her nightmare had precipitated this. She had wanted to postpone talking about their obvious problems until they had a chance to be together and cement the bond between them. Their relationship was still too fragile to withstand great stress. But she refused to let herself think negatively. They would work this out. They had to.

She climbed out of bed and found a T-shirt on the chair. Pulling the T-shirt over her head, it barely covered her. But right now, seduction was the last thing on her mind. Michael needed her.

She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, disturbed to find Michael sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. "Michael..." she said softly.

He looked up at her then, and she saw the tears in his eyes. Tears he refused to let fall. As if he had any control over them. She crouched down to his level, and he pulled away from her hand. "Please don’t..."

She touched him anyway, needing to reassure herself that he was all right. She felt him shudder and saw him close his eyes. "Nikita...why do you never do what I ask?"

She frowned. "I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t realize it would hurt more if I was here. I guess I should go--" She looked hurt now, and she knew she would start to cry again, any moment.

He grabbed her wrist and prevented her from leaving him. "No! I don’t want you to go, Kita. Don’t...go..."

"You’re right about one thing. We need to talk."

She nodded. "I know."

"If we’re going to work this out, we need to stay together, Kita. Neither one of us can do it alone, and we can’t do it if we’re apart. So whatever happens..."

"I’ll stay, Michael. I won’t leave you. I thought you knew that--"

He stared at her in disbelief. "I don’t know anything right now. Not for certain. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

She smiled not unkindly, placing her hand on his arm, willing him not to flinch away. "I imagine it makes you just as human as the rest of us."

He exhaled. "Is that what this is? You’re giving me back my humanity?" He touched her hand carefully, almost experimentally. "God, what a mess."

"Michael, you didn’t get here all by yourself. I helped. So we’re all responsible in some way for what happened to us. That’s what we need to talk about."

"I’m not good at this, Nikita. I don’t know if I can," he admitted. Confronting his own feelings had never been his strong suit, and if he could possibly avoid it, he did. It was not that he had no feelings, but he needed to keep them separate from his work. Or he would have gone mad long ago. But now, everything was blurring together. And it was painful. Like coming back to life after a long sleep.

"I’ll help you, Michael. I won’t let you fall. Trust me that much. You have to trust someone sometime. It might as well be me."

***

Michael called to Nikita softly. She turned and smiled.

"I wanted to thank you." She nodded briefly, painfully.

"Michael, I’m so sorry," she added, referring to Simone’s unexpected resurrection and subsequent death.

His eyes looked tired, blurred by emotion. "If it weren’t for Section," he said in a low voice, "none of us would have a life. What right do I have to feel cheated?"

"You have a right to feel any way you want." Nikita believed that, and that belief came shining through, a tiny beacon of hope for Michael.

***

Nikita wiped her own eyes and swallowed her own hurt. She would deal with her own pain eventually, but first, she needed to help Michael. He couldn’t be there for her until she helped him face his own demons, and she was the only one he would accept help from, and even then, grudgingly.

He reached out to Nikita then, and she slid the rest of the way to the floor, enfolding him in an embrace far stronger than the one he had given her. Unlike him, she knew he wouldn’t break, and she knew he needed strength more than anything else right now. He wouldn’t thank her if he broke down all the way.

He clung to Nikita for a long minute. Just having her in his arms made him feel stronger. "I could spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and it wouldn’t be enough to make up for what I’ve done to you." Nikita sighed. He touched her face tentatively, searching with pain-stricken eyes for something. "I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Kita. I couldn’t stand it."

She wrapped her arms around him. "Michael, I love you, and nothing you say or do is going to change that."

He glanced at her guiltily, his face unexpectedly coloring. "You say that now. You don’t know...everything."

"But I want to...and you will tell me...someday, Michael."

"Someday..." he agreed. "Maybe not today..."

She nodded, allowing him to continue his illusion of control a bit longer. He didn’t even realize when he had relinquished it.

She yawned. It had been a long night, fraught with emotional highs and lows. It was time for them both to sleep. She pulled Michael to his feet, and he let her lead him back to the bedroom. She lay back on the bed and pulled him into her arms. He settled against her body, more from habit than desire at that moment, and he idly traced his fingers along her collarbone. "I don’t know if I can sleep, Kita. I...haven’t been able to...since I...sent you away."

She kissed him on the mouth. "You need to sleep, Michael." She pushed his hair back from his face. "And you will. I’ll be right here. Where you need me."

That was Nikita. Always putting everyone else’s needs before her own. He felt like crying, but he could not, not in front of her. He couldn’t stand the thought of appearing weak in her eyes. But then, she made him feel as though she accepted every part of him, even the weaknesses. Maybe she did. Her love certainly felt all-encompassing. And he was definitely drawing much-needed strength from her.

He placed his hand over hers as it stroked his face. "I love you, Kita. More than anything. More than my life." His words were soft but powerful, and it was something Nikita needed to hear as well. She smiled sleepily. "Thank you."

He blinked in surprise. "You’re thanking me for loving you?"

She nodded. He kissed her gently. "You don’t know your own value, even yet, Kita. But I will show you. I promise."

He buried his face against her neck, and she felt them then, the tears he had been holding back. They spilled from his eyes and onto her neck, and when he made to move away, she held him there. "No, Michael...I want all of you. Not just the parts you want me to see."

She held him tight, and a moment later, he was asleep in her arms. Not struggling, not restless, just sleeping. Finally. She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. Now she could sleep.

Nikita met Walter at the door of the apartment he shared with Michael. Walter glanced at her with real concern. "Is everything okay, Sugar?" She sighed and looked over her shoulder. She stepped outside the door and drew Walter with her.

"The next few days are going to be a bit rough on all of us, Walter. Michael and I have a few things we need to work out."

"A few? I’ll say, Sugar! Why, I oughta--" Walter glowered, and Nikita grabbed his arm, stopping him from confronting Michael.

"Walter, no. You can’t do that now. You’ll have your turn." She smiled patiently at the man she plainly considered to be the father she never had. "But he needs time right now..and so do I."

She looked embarrassed for a moment. "I-I wanted to thank you for what you did, Walter. You and Birkoff. I know it wasn’t easy, giving up your bed last night, but Michael and I needed the space..."

He grinned. "And the bed, Sugar."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Stop that, you tease."

"Many a thing gets resolved that way, Sugar, don’t knock it. My first three wives didn’t." She burst out laughing.

"And just how many wives have you had, Walter?"

"Um...lessee, lost count around number 6, but damn, she was fine."

He sobered for a moment. "Seriously, Sugar, you know I’m here for you. I don’t imagine Mr. Personality is much good at listening right now, so call me if you need me. I’m staying with Birkoff in that hovel you were living in."

Nikita started to say something, then thought better of it. "Now, Walter, that’s something else I wanted to discuss with you. We haven’t even had a chance to figure out where we’re going to live or what we’re going to do. I know, we never gave you a choice in leaving Section, I’m sorry for that."

"Hey, don’t be. It was a nice freebie. I just thought I’d get whacked one day and never see it coming."

"Still, Birkoff never expected to leave Section this early."

"If you ask me, I don’t think Birkoff realizes he left Section. As long as he’s got a laptop, he’s a happy camper." Walter snorted. "Techno-geek."

"Anyway, what I was thinking was, maybe we should get a house, it would give us more room, and we could stay together, at least, for a while."

Walter nodded. "Sounds good to me, Sugar. If you’re sure you wouldn’t rather be alone with Mr. Cool there."

Nikita blinked. "I don’t think we should be alone just yet. We have too much to work out, and we need your support. It’s not going to be easy, Walter. Michael’s going to fight coming back to life, he’s going to test me..."

"You think he would hurt you?" Walter looked outraged and moved to push past Nikita.

Nikita sighed again. "Not intentionally, Walter. He’s very angry."

Walter snorted. "And so are you. With good reason, if you ask me."

Nikita flushed. "That’s really beside the point. He needs to heal first, before he can help me heal, Walter, if that makes any kind of sense to you."

Walter threw his hands up in the air. "I don’t believe it! You’re just saying that cause you’re so damn used to letting everyone else come first! When is it your turn, Nikita? Huh? Answer me that!"

She put her arms around Walter and hugged him. "Thank you for being so concerned, Walter, really. But we’ll be fine. I just wanted you to know that Michael is undoubtedly going to push me a bit before things get any better."

"He needs to know that no matter what, I won’t leave him. No matter how he feels, or what he says, I won’t go."

"But you’ve told him that, I’ve heard you say it!"

"I know...but he won’t really believe it until he tries to push me away again, and I won’t go. He needs to see it with his own eyes, Walter. He does. I know it."

The subject of their discussion suddenly appeared in the doorway of the apartment. Michael glared at Walter. "So what are you two whispering about out here?"

"Nothing you don’t already know, Michael." Nikita felt Walter’s indignation rising off him like an impending firestorm.

"Actually, Michael, I was just wondering if you might give me some money, to lend Sugar. Seems she left home without any clothes." Walter smiled sweetly at Michael, and the younger man’s eyes flashed with warning briefly. The blank stare returned to Michael’s face, and he glanced impassively at Walter as he dug in his pockets for cash.

He gave Nikita several bills without saying another word. "Thanks, Michael," she said quietly. She knew what he was thinking. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t realized that she had no clothing with her. He felt guilty because he hadn’t thought to give her money himself. It didn’t make it any better that Walter was the one doing the reminding. She saw all this and more though Michael’s facial expression never flickered.

She ignored Walter’s restraining arm and leaned over to kiss Michael. "I won’t be long." He nodded, stepping back into the apartment without speaking.

"Want me to drive you, Sugar?"

"Sure, Walter." Lost in thought, she let Walter take her arm and lead her to the car parked at the curb.

When they were inside the car, Nikita said, "He’s a good man, Walter. You know that."

"I do know that, Sugar. If I thought for one second he wasn’t, I wouldn’t let you go back in that apartment with him. But don’t tell him I said so. He doesn’t respect me anymore."

"That’s not true, Walter. He thinks he let you down. You’ve seen him as mysterious or even heroic, but never just plain human. He’s new at this."

He rubbed her arm and started the car. "I hope you’re right, Sugar. I hope you’re right."

Nikita was chattering to Walter when they returned to the apartment. Her arms filled with packages, she stopped at the door and waited for Walter to use his key to let them inside. Walter opened the door and allowed Nikita to precede him. Michael was nowhere in sight.

"Michael?" She was not going to panic simply because he didn’t answer. There could be a simple explanation. Still, her pulse rate accelerated wildly.

Walter saw the fear in her eyes and made her sit down at the kitchen table. He took her packages and strode into the living room, dropping them onto the couch there. "Michael!"

No answer. Walter looked in the bathroom, the bedroom, and even checked the closets. No one else was in the small apartment.

He was about to give up when he heard a noise outside. He looked out the window and upwards. There was a pair of booted feet directly above his head. "Michael?"

The swinging feet stopped suddenly. "Walter? You and Kita are back?"

"Yeah, um...where the heck are you anyway?" he asked with a frown.

"Up on the roof."

Walter drew his head back inside and muttered to himself, Of course, up on the roof, doesn’t everybody go up there?

He found Nikita and dragged her out of the apartment. "Go, up there, on the roof. He’s on the damn roof, believe it or not. You talk him down, I can’t do heights."

Nikita braked to a stop. "Walter...I hate to tell you this, but I’m afraid of heights myself."

"Nah, no way, a cold field op with a fear of heights? Never happen. You’d have been canceled long...um...never mind." He shut his mouth and grinned weakly.

"It’s okay, Walter, you can mention the ‘c’ word around me. I’m learning to deal with it. God knows, I heard it often enough."

She walked carefully up the fire escape and found where Michael was sitting, hanging his feet over the edge of the roof. Directly above the apartment window. "Michael, what are you doing?"

"Just sitting. Looking at the sky."

"Discover anything interesting?" She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but just seeing Michael sitting so close to the edge of the roof made her cringe.

He smiled suddenly, and his entire face relaxed. "The sky isn’t as blue as your eyes, Kita."

She smiled back at him, feeling her entire body relax. "So the sky can’t compete with me?"

"Nope," he said happily.

***

"The two of you look so beautiful together."

"Sage is beautiful..." Michael gazed intently into Nikita’s eyes, as if transfixed. It was supposed to be an act, to convince Perry Bauer that he and Nikita were a couple in love. But Michael could no more look away from Nikita than fly.

"You two look so in love."

"We are..." Michael said the words and they struck a note in his heart. He didn’t have time to wonder if they were true. They felt right together. His hands spanned Nikita’s waist as they danced, but their eyes never left each other.

***

Michael suddenly jumped up, provoking an unwary Nikita into stepping back from the edge of the roof. "You won’t fall. I won’t let you, Kita."

Nikita had a feeling Michael was echoing her words of last night. Trust me. He reached out a hand to her, and when she took it, he swept her into an embrace. He hugged her close, leaning his head on her shoulder. "I missed you," he whispered.

He sighed. "Dance with me, Kita."

She looked startled for a second, then her body relaxed again, feeling his familiar contours against hers. She leaned on him, feeling him sway slightly in response. They barely moved, and she wasn’t even sure if what they were doing could be considered dancing...but Michael was definitely seducing her again.

He ran his hands under her long hair, lifting it off her neck, then letting it spill down slowly as they moved back and forth. "Tu es si belle, Kita."

"I’m not beautiful, Michael," and she resisted the urge to snort in a most unladylike fashion.

"To me, you are." He kissed her, his lips warm and soft, undoubtedly from sitting outside in the sun. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek. "So soft. So misleading."

"How so?" she asked, unsure what he meant.

"You’re so soft to the touch, but so strong inside. Si forte."

A shadow crossed his face for a moment, but Nikita let it go. She lay her head on his shoulder and they continued to rock back and forth.

She kissed his shoulder and she felt him react almost electrically to the touch of her lips on his skin. "You are the same to me," she whispered. "So beautiful, Michael."

He would have been embarrassed, but the sincerity in Nikita’s voice made embarrassment unnecessary. "But your strength is on the outside, and your softness carefully hidden inside. Where no one can see it."

He pulled her head away from his shoulder, his eyes dark green and smouldering with an inexplicable fire. "No one but you, Kita." He nudged her lips apart with his tongue and kissed her deeply. He kissed her repeatedly, twining his arms behind her head to press her still closer.

Suddenly Walter climbed up the fire escape, chugging like an old locomotive. When he saw the couple embracing, he went, "Oops, my mistake!" and turned around. But Michael stopped him with a shout. "Walter!"

Walter braced himself for impact, but none came. Michael was apologetic. "I meant to thank you for thinking of Kita and the clothing. That was very thoughtful."

Despite himself, Walter warmed to the younger man’s obvious gratitude and affection for his Sugar. "No problem, Michael. Uh, Birkoff is waiting for me. Gotta go."

Nikita smiled against Michael’s mouth. He looked down at her, softness now evident in his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. You just surprise me sometimes."

"I hope so, Kita." He kissed her forehead. "But this should come as no surprise anymore." He kissed her nose, enjoying the way she crinkled it up at his touch. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She stared at his mouth, anticipating his kiss, and when it finally came, she was not disappointed. His mouth was warm and soft, his movements slow and sure. As she closed her eyes, he pressed a tiny kiss to each eyelid. A small sob escaped her, and Michael’s eyes opened, startled. "Kita?"

"Oh, Michael, just when I least expect it, you make me feel so...cherished," she whispered.

He smiled. "You are, doucette." He brushed her hair back, lovingly strumming his fingers through her hair. "You are."