He continued to play with her hair, his lips nuzzling her cheek, as they danced together on the roof. The sun beat down on them as it began to fade into sunset, but Nikita barely noticed the splendid colors that blended across the skyline. She was back in Michael’s arms, and he seemed more like himself than he had in a long time. Life was good. In fact, life was better than good.

A light breeze came up and blew Nikita’s hair, making it stream behind her like a bright yellow banner. Michael smiled at the picture she made. She was beautiful, his Nikita. She made him feel possessive. He could not deny that any longer. She was undeniably his. She had given herself to him two years ago, and she belonged to him now. He brushed her eyebrow with his finger, remembering all the times he had stroked her just so. She turned her face into his hand, evidently enjoying his touch.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Kita..."

"Yes, Michael?" she said in a languid tone.

"We need a bigger place to live."

"We do?" She blinked, momentarily forgetting about Walter and Birkoff.

He smiled against her cheek. He loved disconcerting her sometimes. He knew what she was thinking. "No, Kita," he drawled, "that wasn’t what I had in mind."

She shrugged. "Oh."

Then he found her mouth again and kissed her fervently. "Well, for now, anyway," he said with a chuckle he could not quite disguise. She brightened, tickling him around the middle until he doubled over, laughing openly. "Two can play that game."

"I know other games..." He stared at her significantly. "But seriously, Kita, we need a house."

Michael was back. And in planning mode, yet. Nikita laughed. "Yes, Michael."

"For Birkoff and Walter and us."

She nodded. "I assumed as much. Unless you have someone else you were planning on introducing me to..."

He smiled, meeting her eyes directly. "There is no one else for me, Nikita. If you left me today, I would be alone forever."

There it was again, Nikita heard it in his voice. That underlying fear that she would leave him. He would test her soon, he would be unable to help himself, because he needed validation that his feelings were not misplaced. It was an insecurity that one might not suspect in a man of Michael’s apparent confidence and stature, but then again, he had been subjected to the vagaries of Section again and again, until normal rules of behavior no longer applied.

She knew she could precipitate things by pushing him to tell her about why he abandoned her. But the feelings they were sharing now were so overwhelmingly positive, she could not bear to do it. Not now. It would come soon enough. And no matter how much she expected it, she would never be prepared.

She felt a chill in the air, but she wasn’t sure if it was the weather or her overreactive emotions. Michael looked at her quizzically. She had not answered him. What was she thinking?

He frowned. Nikita immediately realized she had been lost in thought a very long time. "Sorry, woolgathering. As usual."

She laughed. "You know me, I already have the house picked out in my head." Her redirection was successful, and Michael’s face cleared.

"So?" He twirled her around in a circle and dipped her, bending her back low to the ground, exposing her neck. She looked up at him and grinned. "I could almost think you were a vampire, Michael. You seem to have a fancy for my neck."

He smiled slowly, then kissed her neck, from just under her chin to the pulse point that throbbed at the base. "I do."

"It’s getting dark, though..." He sighed. "We should go inside."

"Well," Nikita drawled. "I haven’t seen a soul come up here since we’ve been here..." She kissed his ear, nibbling the lobe with her teeth. He almost dropped her. "No, Kita...you’re being a very...bad...girl..." He shook his head ‘no’, but Nikita ran her hand inside his shirt, pulling it free from his pants.

"No one...will...ever...know...," she breathed into his mouth, kissing him finally.

"We will..." Still, he hesitated.

"Our children will..." That pushed him over the edge. He pulled off his shirt and lay it on the ground, gently lowering Nikita onto it. He kissed her, open-mouthed, his tongue penetrating her mouth easily, and she shuddered at the intensity of feeling that ran through her body. She pulled at his pants, locking her fingers in his belt loops. He pushed his hands down over hers, and felt the night air on his bare back. "Kita..." A moment later, he had pushed her skirt up just enough to join their bodies. Nikita groaned in reaction. It had the desired effect upon Michael, who began to kiss her feverishly. He rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, feeling Nikita begin to tremble in his arms. She gasped against his mouth, and he continued to kiss her until the last shudder wracked them. She leaned her forehead against his and smiled beatifically. She kissed him one last time, sighing, "our children, Michael..." He nodded silently, unable to trust himself to speak after she said that. Again.

"I love you, Michael."

"I love you, too, Kita."

Michael held Nikita on his lap and wrapped his arms around her. For Michael to show such affection openly was unusual. She liked to think it was because he just couldn’t keep his hands off her, but she had a sneaking suspicion he was marking his territory. No trespassing allowed.

Walter sipped his cup of tea politely and tried not to notice the happy couple across the table from him. "Ain’t nothing more sickening than a couple in love, Birkoff. I got some good advice for you. Don’t get involved with women."

Birkoff blinked. "You’re suggesting something else?"

Walter raised an eyebrow. "Don’t try to be funny, boy, you got brains, but you ain’t got the experience in the romance department..."

"And you do?" Birkoff smirked.

Michael resisted the urge to throttle Walter for starting this at the breakfast table. He and Nikita had been up late the night before, planning, amongst other things. He had a slight headache, but Nikita kept promising him that she knew how to relieve the pressure. That was what had given him the headache in the first place.

"Walter...we called a group meeting to discuss where we might want to live."

"Michael, this ain’t Section. You don’t have to make a mission briefing out of this."

Nikita stifled a chuckle. Michael glared at her. "I’m sorry, Michael." She giggled despite her apology, and suddenly Birkoff joined her.

Walter leaned back in his chair and relaxed, very much the man to be reckoned with. Michael observed him coolly, the blank stare intact.

"Perhaps you prefer the hovel, as you referred to it yesterday," Michael said with a grin that put Walter in the mind of Operations.

"Is that a threat? You ungrateful sonuva--" Walter stood up suddenly, scraping his chair back.

Michael said calmly, "Sit down."

"I feel like standing," Walter said with more than a little irritation.

Nikita rolled her eyes. "I don’t believe you two! If you could hold a--a spitting contest, you would!"

Michael started to laugh, and when he met Walter’s eyes, the older man immediately sputtered shamelessly. "Oh, Sugar, you mean something else entirely!"

"Well, you know..." She rolled her eyes again as Birkoff giggled. "Sheesh, guys, you’re so juvenile sometimes."

Walter regarded Birkoff with total disdain. "We’re juvenile? Birkoff, you ain’t as old as my great toe!"

Michael leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You see what I had to put up with for three weeks?" Nikita smiled, but she noted that it was the first time Michael had referred to their separation without looking grim or becoming emotionally overwrought. Perhaps once they had a place to live, they could discuss some of the emotional issues they still faced.

She came back to earth with a start just as Michael was slapping the table with the flat of his hand. "Walter! You take that back!"

"I will not! I ain’t gonna live in a condo!"

"Oh, me neither," Nikita agreed. Michael turned and stared at her. "We have to live somewhere, Kita."

"True. But not in a condo. I want a house."

"A house." Michael was looking at her strangely, his body suddenly tense against hers.

Walter raised his hand, saying, "If this is gonna be a Section-style meeting, then I vote for the house."

Birkoff said, "I second that." Then when Michael glared in his direction, he winced. "Or not, I really don’t care--"

"Fine." Michael sat back, feeling as if he had lost control of the discussion. "I don’t care. Kita, you decide."

Nikita felt as though she had spoken too soon. There was something underlying Michael’s tone she didn’t like. He seemed overly tense about something, and she didn’t know what or why.

"I saw a house I liked yesterday when we were out shopping, Michael." She produced a picture and showed it to Birkoff and Walter, who pretended to study the picture while waiting and watching for Michael’s reaction.

Michael looked like he had been carved out of ice. His features were positively glacial, yet there was an undercurrent of a much more heated emotion. "You discussed it with Walter first, right?"

"No, Michael, I didn’t." She looked puzzled at his reaction.

"You’re lying to me!" Michael, who rarely raised his voice above a whisper, was shouting. Nikita stared at him, her own features set in a mutinous look. "No, Michael, I’m not," she said quite evenly.

He stared at her for long moments, as if he were trying to decide something. Suddenly he pushed away from the table and slammed the door to the apartment on his way out. Nikita felt her heart freeze in her chest. "I don’t believe that just happened."

Birkoff sat in awe. "Boy, neither do I, Nikita. What was that about?"

Nikita shrugged. "I dunno, but I’d guess that was most definitely not about the house."

She turned to Walter and smiled. "Look, I’m going to go ahead and get the house for us, Walter. We need a bigger place to live, and I’m not going to wait on Michael’s permission to get one."

"Is that a good idea, Sugar? He seemed to think we were going behind his back or something. Maybe you should wait."

" We’re all equal partners here. There are no ranks outside Section. And Michael is not in command here." She suddenly realized that Walter and Birkoff were staring at her. "What?"

Birkoff looked away. "N-nothing, Nikita, you just sounded different, that’s all."

"Different, how?" Nikita’s eyes narrowed sharply, her mouth tightening.

Walter said, by way of explanation, "Maybe she’s a little tense, too, Birkoff, ever think of that?"

Nikita jumped up suddenly. "Hey, guys, I dunno if it’s actually sunk in yet, but we’re free! We’re outside Section! If that isn’t worth celebrating, I dunno what is!"

"Yeah, celebrating, one of my favorite things." Walter grinned at Nikita. "Sugar, when you get the house, you can throw a housewarming party. For us. Since we don’t know anyone."

Walter still felt somewhat disquieted by what had happened. He had been with Michael when he separated from Nikita. He knew what it had done to the younger man to send her away. He still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gone to her as soon as he could, but he was struggling to understand Michael on his own terms.

Walter walked over to Nikita and whispered, "Are you sure Michael is okay on his own? I mean, he looked awful upset there."

"I refuse to chase after him every time he has a fit, Walter. He’s going to have to learn to deal with life outside Section. In the immortal words of Operations, he’s going to have to get over it."

"Ooh, that’s cold, Sugar, especially for someone like you. Are you feeling okay?"

"I just wish everyone would stop asking me if I feel okay! Okay?" Nikita then proceeded to storm into the bedroom and slam the door almost off the hinges.

Walter whistled through his teeth. "God, you better fasten your seatbelt, Birkoff, gonna be a bumpy night."

Nikita paced back and forth. How dare he just slam out of here without another word and make her worry like this? How could things be so wonderful one moment, and go to hell the next? How could she have misjudged him so badly?

The truth was, she understood why he had run. He was hurt and confused, and he didn’t know how to deal with his anger without hurting her. Hurting her was not an option for Michael. So he left. It was simple, really, thought Nikita, but it still hurt. Until he trusted her completely with his feelings, it was like living on an emotional roller coaster.

When Michael finally came back, Nikita was lying on the floor of the living room, half-asleep, her face pressed against the carpet. She saw the toe of Michael’s booted foot and opened her eyes completely. "Well, isn’t it nice of you to finally show up?!" she said sarcastically.

"You were worried." It was a statement, not a question.

"In a word, yes." She was, in truth, so furious, she could barely speak coherently.

"Why?" He looked at her impassively, his affect totally flat.

"What do you mean, why, Michael?"

"Look, don’t raise your voice, I’m sure everyone needs to hear this as much I do, but just don’t, okay?"

She glared at Michael, gritting her teeth. "I’ll do whatever I damn please! You don’t own me! Hell, a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know if you were still alive!"

He nodded his head, as if he had been expecting this. "I see, this is where we finally have an emotional catharsis, and then we both feel better, and we can go on with our lives, is that it?"

"Michael, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nikita, you’ve been working me like a mission since we got back together! I want to know how much of what you said and did was real!"

Nikita winced as she contemplated the anger that Michael had finally gotten in touch with. "That’s the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me, Michael!"

***

In another room, Birkoff pulled the covers over his head and tried to block out Michael and Nikita’s voices. He glanced over at Walter, who was clearly awake. "Walter," Birkoff hissed, "aren’t you going to do something? They sound ready to self-destruct in there!"

"There ain’t nothing I can do, lil buddy. Nikita told me things were gonna get rough, but I don’t think even she knew just how rough." He shook his head.

***

Michael’s face was now flushed from shouting. His eyes were wild, but didn’t match his affect, which remained cold and flat. He grabbed Nikita by the shoulders, and she screamed. He released her immediately. "Kita, I’m sorry."

"No, you’re not, Michael! You’re not bloody sorry! I’m sick of you saying that! Cause it just plain isn’t true!"

She drew out her gun. "Here! You want to finish me off? Go ahead, Michael! Cancel me! Operations tried, and he couldn’t do it, cause of Birkoff showing up with your copy of the Directory! But you can do things no one else can! So go ahead and do it!!!" Nikita’s eyes blazed blue fire, and she knew she was utterly out of control, but she couldn’t help it. She had unleashed her own anger, and it was driving her.

She threw Michael her gun, and he caught it automatically without thinking. He had no intention of shooting Nikita, though he was thoroughly frustrated with the way things were going. "I wish I could! It would satisfy both of us! I wanted you to think I was dead! Isn’t that what you said? I left you! I abandoned you! Poor Nikita, whose life has been so wretched!"

"You weren’t there to protect me, Michael! I could have died, no thanks to you! And still, knowing that, you never came for me! You let me grieve for you as if you were dead!"

She advanced towards him, pushing him back against the wall. "Why? I want to know why!"

"Because I loved you so much, I couldn’t handle it! Isn’t that what you want to hear? Because I honestly thought I could only stop hurting you if I wasn’t there! I thought you’d be better off without me! I knew I couldn’t survive without you, Nikita! But I pushed you away so you could have the life you deserved! I’m the one who brought you back to Section! I was the only one who could undo what I’d done!"

Nikita stared at Michael in abject horror at what she had released. Michael was shouting so loudly now, his voice was hoarse. But more than that, he was crying, and he didn’t even realize it. "Is this what I needed to get in touch with, Nikita? My God, I’d be better off dead! When you pushed, I let you! When you hurt me, I let you! I just have to take it and take it..." He dragged a breath in, almost incoherent now. "You want a reaction? This is my reaction!" He pointed the gun, but not at Nikita.

Walter burst through the door, Birkoff not far behind him. "You’re totally out of control, Michael! Give me the gun!" Walter demanded.

"She wants a house, Walter!" His face was white with pain. "A house! I had a house! And a wife! And a son! Do you think I can go through that again?" He drew in a shuddering breath. "Just let me finish this, Walter! And it’ll finally be over!"

Walter’s eyes filled with tears at Michael’s pain. He knew the grief and the darkness driving him. He knew it well. He had been there when Simone died. He had been there when Michael lost Elena and Adam. He remembered how he had felt when Belinda died. Oh, yes, he knew Michael’s pain well.

"Michael, I understand how you feel."

"Do you? Do any of you?" Michael sagged to his knees finally, and Walter wrestled the gun away from him. It wasn’t much of a struggle at that point. Michael no longer had the energy to sustain the confrontation between him and Nikita.

Nikita just stood there, crying silently, unable to process what had just happened. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, the tears pouring down her cheeks. Silent tracings of painful feelings and words that could never be taken back. She thought of the love she still felt in her heart for Michael, and she tried to maintain her resolve. No matter what you say or do, Michael, I won’t go. Even if you hate me for it, I won’t leave you. You can kill me, if you need to, but you can never kill my love for you.

It was the thought of the children she might never have with him that broke her heart, though. When they made love, she had seen how he lost control whenever she mentioned having his children. It was so clearly an emotional issue he refused to face. It was painfully obvious that it was something he desired so strongly, he couldn’t even give voice to it.

Walter emptied the clip from the gun and pocketed both. He glanced at Birkoff, who looked frightened to death. He had always suspected that Birkoff might have come from an abusive home life. Now he knew. He could tell by the look on his face. His protective posture towards Nikita. His ambivalence towards Michael, who frequently intimidated him by authoritative tone alone.

He led Birkoff away from the ugly scene. Nikita’s entire world had just been destroyed. Michael’s, too. He didn’t know how to deal with the aftermath. None of them did.

How long Michael knelt on the floor at Nikita’s feet Walter didn’t know. But he was sure that Michael was virtually in shock from what occurred between him and Nikita. He didn’t want them to be alone together, not after what happened, but he didn’t want to intrude on them, if there was any way to avoid it.

Walter felt strangely conflicted now. Up until this time, he had been convinced that Nikita was the primary victim and Michael’s pain merely the by-product of his own misjudgments and machinations. Now he blamed Nikita for literally pushing Michael into freefall without a parachute. She knew Michael’s weaknesses, and she played him like a trained operative. Whether that was deliberate or unconscious was immaterial.

Some of Nikita’s tears came from guilt, but she had the emotional resilience to come back from Hell. Michael had been through too much to come back without help. He might never trust Nikita again. But Walter believed what Michael had said. Without her, he knew he could not survive. They were part of each other, so inextricably intertwined now that one could not be separated completely from the other without pain, or even death.

Nikita’s tears had slowed to an occasional trickle. The pain was still intense, but she had regained control of her overreactive emotions. There was so much she needed to tell Michael, but the most important thing she blurted out, her voice sounding too loud for the eerily quiet room. "Michael...I won’t leave you. No matter what."

He barely registered her voice, he was so lost in his own pain. Still his head came up, seemingly of its own volition. Nikita flinched. His eyes were reddened, his face ravaged. He looked a hundred years old. His breathing was the only sound she heard coming from him. His lips were cracked and swollen, and when he finally looked at her, she wanted to beg his forgiveness for putting him through this Hell.

His voice was husky, as if it hurt to speak. "Kita...I cherished you..." She felt her eyes fill up again when he tried to talk. "Is this...payback...for all my sins against you?"

She closed her eyes and the tears ran freely down her face. "No," she breathed hoarsely. "I wanted to heal you, not destroy you."

"But you have...destroyed me...Kita." His voice caught and he looked totally bewildered. "And I don’t know why..."

Very cautiously, she reached out with one hand and touched the top of his head. He closed his eyes, and one fat tear rolled down his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her legs and leaned his head against her knees, clinging to her for dear life. She continued to stroke his hair softly, gently. And they stayed, frozen in tableaux like that, for more minutes than Walter cared to count.

Walter knew he needed help. He had already removed all the weapons from the apartment. He wasn’t taking any chances. He picked up Michael’s cell phone and dialed Madeline’s private number.

***

Madeline knew she was taking a huge risk in coming to see Michael. She risked revealing she had helped Michael and Nikita escape Section, and she risked their new lives outside Section. But from the sound of Walter’s agitated voice, Walter was in way over his head.

The moment she arrived, she began issuing orders. "Birkoff, you stay with Nikita in the living room. You have a rapport with her and she’s responding to you. Walter, come with me and I will show you what to do for Michael."

When she first saw Michael, Madeline almost gasped out loud. It was devastating what the two of them had done to each other. She had seen Michael look this way before, right after Simone died. But Nikita was not dead. She frowned. In his mind, he might feel she was dead to him. She decided that the safest course of action was to sedate him heavily until he could deal with the pain that was inevitable. However, Nikita refused to leave his side, and strangely, Michael didn’t seem to want her to go. Perhaps that was a good sign. Their bond was stronger than she thought.

When she told Birkoff to separate Michael and Nikita, Michael finally reacted. "No." That was all he said. But his entire body trembled. Then he eventually managed to say, "Please." Madeline bent over Michael and told him that he had to be medicated, and Michael relinquished his hold on Nikita, looking more bereft than ever.

Nikita watched with agonized eyes as Madeline expertly drew up 2 mg of Ativan IM. "Watch, Walter, this is a short-acting drug. It will sedate him, but not snow him thoroughly. I need to be able to talk with him, but right now, he’s too damaged to speak."

Michael heard their voices over his head and he knew they were talking about him, but he felt lethargic, as if he were moving in slow-motion. He just needed to sleep. He looked at Madeline and said, "Sleep?" She smiled patiently. "Yes, Michael."

***

Michael slept for several hours. When he woke up, Nikita was still by his side. She refused to move, despite Madeline’s repeated direction, and she refused to rest herself. Guilt was clearly tearing her apart now, and she didn’t care who knew it.

Walter approached Nikita carefully, cognizant of her emotional lability. "Listen, Sugar, he wouldn’t expect you to go without sleep for hours. You won’t be in any shape to help him if you can’t function yourself."

"I’m not leaving him. I promised."

Walter saw something curiously child-like in Nikita’s continued resistiveness to leave Michael. It was as if she were slightly regressed, perhaps to a time when she had been abused and then abandoned by her own mother. No one knew the exact details of what happened during Nikita’s tortured childhood, but it was locked away in Nikita’s mind forever.

"Look, Sugar, I understand you two needed to talk out your problems. But talking is not the same as blindsiding someone. Sugar, you didn’t just use dynamite to open him up, you nuked him. And I’m sorry, but I feel for him, Sugar, I really do."

Nikita looked blankly at Walter, then resumed her hypervigilance at Michael’s side. "He hurt me, too, Walter. Real bad."

He grimaced. "I know, Sugar." He sighed before continuing. "But he didn’t deserve this, and I think you know it."

***

Madeline left enough medication with Walter to keep Michael under sedation for 48 hours. She wanted him to sleep. Walter had explained to her how Michael had slept only intermittently in the past few weeks, and she felt it was a key part of the problem. "The sleep deficit impaired both his judgment and his thinking. Add to this the very real problems any couple faces in a relationship, plus the fact that they were adjusting to life outside of Section...and you have an unmitigated disaster."

"Nikita, part of this is your fault. You were pushing Michael too hard. It’s always been hard for him to express his emotions, and you know this. He was headed for a blow-up as soon as you started manipulating him. But there is nothing we can do about that now. What you need to remember is to go slowly. If you push Michael again...he might not come back to you."

She paused on her way out to touch Nikita’s shoulder. "And that would be a shame. He loves you, Nikita, and you love him, too. What you have together is very special. Hold onto it as long as you can."

After Madeline left, Nikita resumed her vigil at Michael’s bedside. She finally dozed off, unable to stay awake a moment longer. She dreamed that she was Michael’s wife, but Michael left her, to return to Section. In her dream, Section was more important to Michael. After Michael left her, she discovered she was pregnant. But she could not tell Michael because she had no way to contact him.

She woke up, gasping for breath, a scream choked off in her throat. Michael was awake and regarded her with sleepy eyes. "Kita..." he said in his ruined voice. She clapped a hand over her mouth and started to cry. Just the sound of her name on his lips made her want to cry. "Michael, I’m so sorry."

Michael looked away from her. "Don’t be. I’m getting used to the way things are."

Nikita hunkered down on her haunches, trying to get down to Michael’s level on his side of the bed. She kissed her fingertips and then pressed them to his lips. Tears came to her eyes, she could not help that. "I love you." Michael closed his eyes. "I know."

Nikita fell asleep with her head next to Michael’s. Her hand was stretched across his chest, as if she needed to maintain some sort of contact with him, even in sleep. Her hand moved up and down with the movements of his chest as he breathed. Walter sat on the other side of Michael’s bed and spoke softly, so as not to wake Nikita.

"Michael..." He checked on Michael every hour, without fail, as Madeline had instructed him. He seemed to be sleeping normally, and little by little, the marks of his emotional ordeal were fading. Michael suddenly opened his eyes, and Walter was startled to see they were green, not grey, at the moment. "Walter...water, please."

He handed Michael a cup of water, and watched as Michael drank thirstily. When he finished drinking, he handed the cup back to Walter. "I need to use the bathroom."

Walter nodded. He asked Birkoff to help him lift Michael off the bed, and together, they managed to walk him into the bathroom. He told Michael not to get up without their assistance, and they closed the door. Michael’s gait was noticeably unsteady, and because of his sedation, it took two people to get him back and forth to the bathroom. A few minutes later, they helped Michael back into bed, stirring Nikita, who gently slid off the bed and onto the floor beside the bed. Walter saw no reason to move her, and he nodded at Birkoff, who went back to his own bed. Walter looked at Michael. "She loves you, Michael. If you give her up, there ain’t never gonna be another one like her."

"I know." Michael sounded beaten.

"Can you forgive her?" Walter waited anxiously for Michael’s reaction.

"I don’t know," Michael replied honestly.

"You still love her?"

Michael met Walter’s eyes and the older man saw the conflict that still raged inside him. "Yes."

"Could you give her up then?"

Michael shook his head. "No..." He looked down at Nikita’s sleeping form. "She seems so peaceful now..."

Walter snorted. "Let’s not get carried away, Michael. She’s a brat sometimes."

Michael almost smiled, and Walter noticed. "You feel any better?"

"Like I’ve been run over by a truck. No, make that several trucks."

Walter shifted his weight. "Anything you need?"

"Yes, Walter. If I give you the money, could you please find the house that Kita wants?"

"Michael...I dunno. Now you’re going behind her back, just like she was gonna go behind yours." Walter gasped as if he realized he had said something stupid.

Michael did smile then. "Thanks, Walter, I needed that. I thought I was just being paranoid."

"No, Sugar was up to something. You were right."

"Can you find the house?"

Birkoff joined Walter. "I can. I took the photo and added it to the database in my laptop. I can have a location for you in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Birkoff."