After being sedated for nearly two days, Michael was weary of lying in bed. He wanted to see Nikita. Walter tried to argue against it, but Michael insisted.

Nikita walked into the bedroom, after not sleeping for nearly two days, and she thought she might just understand how Michael’s judgment could be significantly impaired by disturbed sleep. She was a walking testament to that.

She slid to her knees and leaned on Michael’s bed. Before he could say a word, she brushed her lips against his cheek, hungering for the slightest contact with him. He felt it, too, for he automatically turned his head, so that she met his lips. She gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage to move more aggressively against her lips. When she suddenly broke off the kiss by moving away, he searched her face, green eyes flickering.

"Kita..." he said in a warning tone. "Don’t push me away now."

"I’m not," she said too quickly for the truth.

He sighed. "You look tired."

"I am."

"Have you been able to sleep at all?"

"Not much, the odd moment here and there."

He reached out and touched her hair, then her face. "Come to bed, Kita."

She looked more than surprised. She was dumbfounded. "I don’t think Walter would approve, Michael. I’m sure it violates one of Madeline’s rules."

He smiled, and for the first time in days, she felt hopeful that he would not only recover, but come back to her. "I’m sure it does, Kita. All the more reason to do it."

Her eyes grew wide. Michael pulled on her arms until she couldn’t resist any longer. When she was sitting on the bed, he pulled her into his embrace. "Lie down, Kita. You can’t sleep sitting up."

She slid under the covers and felt Michael’s body touch hers. "Michael...you should be resting."

"I am. But I want to kiss you, and you’re too far away."

She smiled in anticipation of Michael’s kiss. He snuggled closer to her and touched his lips to hers very briefly. He slid onto his side and wrapped his arm around her body, pulling her tightly against him. "Now you can sleep."

"I-I can?" she said in disbelief. Michael smiled enigmatically as his eyes darkened to charcoal grey. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Payback can be such a bitch." Then he bit the lobe of her ear.

"Michael!" Birkoff’s voice sounded like it was coming from a foreign country. He bumped his knee into the bed and almost fell on top of their nearly joined bodies. "Um...you prolly shouldn’t be doing that."

Michael smiled lazily, like a panther circling its prey, and slowly drawled, "Doing...what?"

"Well, you know, um, exerting yourself."

He grinned. "I’ve been asleep for nearly two days, Birkoff. If I get any more rested, I would be dead."

Birkoff frowned. "I’m sure Madeline didn’t want you and Nikita, um...you know what I mean!"

The boy that was Birkoff was flustered. Michael lay back with his arm around Nikita. "Birkoff, if you don’t get out of here in the next thirty seconds, you’re going to get the shock of your young life!"

Nikita hid her face against Michael’s chest. She couldn’t bear to look at Birkoff’s face right now. She knew it would be bright red. Probably just like hers.

Michael placed his hand on her breast and watched Birkoff scoot out of the room as quickly as he could. "I thought he’d never leave."

"Michael, what are you doing?"

He touched her face with one hand and searched her face. "Do you still love me, Kita?"

She colored intensely, unable to meet his eyes. "You know I do."

"Good," he said. "Cause I still love you, too."

She resisted the urge to cry, or question, or in any way, change what was happening. He stroked her cheek repetitively, and the movement of his hand felt so welcome against her skin. She pressed her mouth to his hand, and he stopped for a moment, as if allowing himself to feel her lips.

He let his eyes drift over her face as he held her. "Kita?"

"Yes?"

"I think..." He pressed a finger to her mouth and slowly dragged it back and forth until she felt she would sigh with frustration. "I want to make love to you."

"Should we be doing that?"

He smiled enigmatically again. "I think...you should consider giving me anything I want...to make it up to me."

She nodded quickly. "Am I under orders to please you?"

He smiled against her mouth before taking it. "Absolutely." He kissed her deeply, and her mouth felt warm and soft against his. He nuzzled her neck, then gradually moved down her body, kissing her breasts next. He looked up at her then, seeing her smile, and he knew they would be okay.

"Kita, we belong together. You know that?"

"I always thought so. Didn’t you?"

He kissed her navel. "Did you know that Walter is out buying your house?"

She shivered intensely at the feel of his tongue against her skin. "No, it’s supposed to be our house."

He pressed a kiss a little lower on her abdomen. "Our house," he repeated consideringly. He lay his head on her abdomen. "So when were you going to tell me about the baby?"

She nearly jumped. She looked down at where his head lay and raked his hair with her hands. "What makes you think there is one?"

"Your reaction about the house, for one...and the fact that Madeline never gave you any medication, even though you were extremely distraught."

He rubbed his cheek against her abdomen. "So? Is it true?"

"That depends."

"On what?" He raised his head and looked up at her.

"On you."

"I don’t want to say anything that would upset you, Michael."

"Then say yes."

"To what?"

Michael pulled himself up the length of her body and raised himself up on one elbow, staring into her eyes intently. "I want to get married."

Nikita blinked hard. "To who?"

He held her as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him. "Tu es la chose plus precieuse de tout le monde."

"Michael, whenever you lapse into French, I know I’m in deep trouble." She rolled her eyes. "You know, Madeline is going to be very upset, you’re supposed to be resting, and here we are, almost, you know, and then you go mentioning marriage and houses and babies, and--"

"Nikita...shut up." Michael’s eyes fairly sparkled, they were such a clear, light green.

He held a hand over her mouth for a second. "Madeline also thought it would take major therapy for me to recover enough to speak. But she didn’t figure on your mysterious ability to heal me."

He reached out for her hand. "I love you, Kita. Let’s buy the damn house, get married and have a baby."

She looked both delighted as well as uncertain. "Is that a good idea?"

"Let’s find out the way everyone else does. Let’s just do it."

He was busy kissing her neck when she said, "But what if Madeline objects?"

"Then she can’t come to the wedding." Michael kissed her slowly, his body covering Nikita’s instinctively. She went willingly into his arms, and her heart beat against his, the rhythms curiously similar and in synch.

"I love you, Michael."

"I love you, too, Kita."

Nikita traced random patterns on Michael’s chest, her fingers seemingly drawn there. She lay across him, her breasts pressing against his taut abdomen, while he rubbed her shoulders and back. He felt her motions cease, and he looked down at her, trying to push back her hair so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, but he couldn’t tell if she were already asleep.

He kissed her hair and continued to stroke her upper back. They had made love after Birkoff left, and now, he thought that Nikita’s own sleep deficit had finally caught up with her. He was just on the verge of falling back to sleep himself when there was a knock at the bedroom door. "Come in."

Walter walked in, saw Nikita sleeping in Michael’s arms, and smiled. "I take it you two have worked things out?"

Michael never paused as he stroked Nikita’s shoulders. "Yes."

Walter laughed softly. "You wanna hear about the house? Or you want me to take a hike?"

Michael looked bemused. "Whatever."

Walter muttered to himself, I have never seen Michael mellow, ever, Madeline should get a medal. "Well, it’s in a very nice neighborhood, lots of trees and all. I know Nikita likes that kind of thing." He saw something flash in Michael’s eyes for a second, and he wondered if Michael was thinking about another house and a tree he had planted for a little boy there.

"Go on." Michael looked down at Nikita, who slept peacefully for the first time in days, and pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

Walter wasn’t sure how to take this public display of affection. Michael was normally very private, especially regarding his time with Nikita. But then again, the medication he had been given was known to relax inhibitions. Michael saw where Walter’s eyes went to and said, "It’s not the medication, Walter."

"How’d you know what I was thinking?"

"You’re very easy to read, Walter," Michael said, smiling equably. "It’s her," he said, indicating Nikita. He rearranged his arms around her, and she shifted in her sleep, sighing contentedly.

Walter raised an eyebrow and continued. "Well, anyways, as I was saying, there’s more than enough room for all of us, and a backyard, too." He winced, thinking, now why did I mention that?

"That sounds wonderful. Really. I can’t wait to see it."

"You’re sure about that, huh? I mean, what’s not to love? It’s a great old house, wood floors--"

"Walter, it’s okay. You don’t have to sell it to me. If Kita likes it, that’s what counts."

"Oh, yeah, Sugar loved it the moment she saw it. Said it would be a great place to raise a fami--" Walter shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’m sorry, Michael. I seem to be stepping all over my tongue here."

Michael regarded Walter with something akin to amusement. "So it seems. Did you bring me the contract?"

He nodded. He pulled a huge sheaf of papers from his back pocket and handed them to Michael. "The asking price isn’t that bad considering the area."

"Price isn’t a problem," Michael said without ever looking up. He signed his name several times in a row, and handed the papers back to Walter. Walter stared. "Aren’t you even going to read them?"

"No, I trust you, Walter. You’re one of the few people I do trust."

Walter studied the scene before him, secretly rejoicing that his Sugar had finally found the happiness she deserved with the man she loved. Michael observed Walter for a moment, then said, "That was a thoughtful look, Walter," implying he should elaborate.

He cleared his throat. "You’re feeling better?"

Michael’s expression never changed. "I think so." Then a smile broke through, lighting up his eyes so they shone a brilliant green. "Nikita and I are getting married."

Walter cheered so loudly, he nearly woke Nikita, who moved restlessly in her sleep. He clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he whispered, an impish grin on his face. His eyes twinkled as he contemplated the announcement Michael had just made.

Michael grinned at Walter. "I guess you’re entitled."

"Well, it’s just the way things were going, I didn’t know if--"

"If we were ever going to get there?" Michael nodded. "How soon can we move into the house?"

Walter laughed. "Well," he drawled," I pulled a few strings, in your name, of course, and you can move in anytime you want." He looked suspiciously proud of himself, and Michael congratulated him on a job well done.

"Good," Michael said softly. He yawned. "We’re going to sleep for a while yet, Walter," he said, looking meaningfully at Walter. "How are you at planning weddings?"

Walter grinned. "Not a problem. Trust me."

Walter was still chortling to himself when Birkoff walked into the kitchen, all rumpled, hair askew. "I can’t get used to you with hair, Seymour."

Birkoff glared at Walter. "Gee, thanks, Walter. Maybe I could donate some to you. You seem to be getting a bit thin on top."

Walter giggled like a kid with a secret he just couldn’t wait to tell. Birkoff glanced at him as he pulled out a box of cereal. "Okay, Walter, you know something. Tell, tell."

"We’re moving into the house today."

"We are?" Birkoff looked ecstatic. "No more sleeping on that futon in the other room?"

Walter fairly glowed in response. "You can have your own room, Birkoff."

"Wow," said Birkoff, seemingly awe-struck. "So Nikita bought the house?"

Walter’s eyes twinkled. "Not exactly. Michael did."

Birkoff almost stumbled into the chair in front of him. "Without getting out of bed? That’s amazing!" Walter shrugged. "Well, nothing is amazing if you leave it to the old Silver Fox here." Walter looked so smug, Birkoff just had to tease him.

"Oh, right, is that your nom du jour now?"

Walter smirked, showing Birkoff almost all his teeth. "It’s a heck of a lot better than Seymour."

"Hey! No fair! I can’t help being named Seymour." Birkoff went into the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk, which he then proceeded to slosh across the floor. Walter grimaced. "Birkoff, you’re such a neatnik around your computers, but in here, you’re a positive menace."

He handed the boy a paper towel and commanded him to clean the floor. "God, you’re tougher than Operations. You’re a real slavedriver, Walter, you know that?"

"Never separate a boy and his laptop, that’s what I always say. Now get to it, Sey...mour..." Walter chuckled as he turned back to cooking breakfast.

Walter heard laughter behind him, and he knew that Nikita was nearby. He would know that distinctive laugh anywhere. "Sugar!"

"Walter!" she said, stretching out her arms for a hug. She was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, and with her hair down, she looked unbelievably young and innocent. Strangely enough, the man at her side looked similar, though he was easily ten years older than she was. But even in a T-shirt and jeans, Michael had a powerful grace and elegance that he carried off well.

Walter hugged Nikita carefully, as if she were fragile, and she snorted. "That’s not a proper hug, Walter! Come on, I won’t break!" They embraced again, this time more strenuously.

Michael leaned heavily on Nikita, wrapping an arm around her. She glanced at him anxiously. "Are you still that unsteady?"

"No," he said, as he kissed her. "I just like leaning on you."

Nikita turned to Walter with a grin. "Keep giving him that medication, Walter, it makes him very affectionate." Michael laughed.

Walter stared at her. "You sure it’s the medication?"

Nikita laughed. "What else could it be?"

"Oh, I dunno, Sugar. You tell me." Walter stuck his tongue in his cheek and turned back to burning breakfast. Nikita wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Eww, that doesn’t smell very good. You don’t expect us to eat that, do you?"

Birkoff looked up from the floor, where he was cleaning. "Why do you think I’ve been eating cereal for days? If you people actually noticed things like food, you would have been aware of his problem."

Michael smiled at Birkoff, and Birkoff blinked. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal with Michael yet. Michael always seemed to intimidate him. What happened the other night didn’t help. It had brought back a lot of unpleasant memories for him, stuff he thought he had buried years ago. Not that any of that was Michael’s or Nikita’s fault.

As if reading Birkoff’s mind, Michael said, "I wanted to apologize for the other night, Birkoff."

He stared at Michael. Whatever he expected, this wasn’t it. "You-you do?"

"Yes. I wasn’t myself."

Birkoff rolled his eyes. "I’ll say."

Michael gave the younger man a hug, and Birkoff almost choked. He never would have believed it. A hug from Michael, of all people? Sheesh, something was going on, and he would bet cash money that Walter knew what it was.

"Um, this is nice, but it’s not just about moving into the house, is it?" Birkoff asked tentatively.

"What makes you say that?" Michael asked. Nikita poked him in the ribs. "Michael, stop that. You’re teasing Birkoff. You know how he hates it when you answer a question with a question."

He smiled patiently at her. "Well, okay, so do I. But that’s beside the point," she grumbled.

"Birkoff, just so the significance of today is not lost on any of us..." Walter interjected.

"Oh, for Pete’s sake, Walter! Michael and I are getting married!"

There was total silence for at least one full minute. Then the cheering started. Birkoff looked surprised, then grabbed Nikita and kissed her cheek. "Um, uh, sorry, Michael."

Michael smiled. "A brother is allowed to kiss his sister when he hears she’s getting married."

"Are you promoting me, then? Am I officially a part of the family now?"

"You always were, Birkoff. I would adopt you, but I don’t want to go through all the paperwork."

Birkoff almost fell off his feet. Michael had a sense of humor? Who knew?

He whispered to Walter, "Are you sure it’s really Michael? Maybe it’s a clone." Walter rubbed the boy’s head. "You got oatmeal for brains up there, Birkoff? I heard you did."

"Listen, Michael, as long as you’re promoting Birkoff, not that he deserves it, I might add...." Walter grinned at Birkoff. "What does that make me?"

Michael frowned. "I don’t know. Do I have to adopt you, too?" Nikita poked him again. Now Michael turned around and took Nikita in his arms, kissing her in front of both Walter and Birkoff. "Sorry, it’s the easiest way to shut her up."

Nikita giggled, obviously happy with this softer, gentler Michael. "You’re losing your edginess, Michael. Section would never recognize you."

"I was edgy?"

Walter and Birkoff both chorused, "Yes!"

He looked serious, and they all held their breath, waiting for further reaction. A small half-smile crept across Michael’s face. "Birkoff?"

"Yeah, Michael?" He glanced anxiously, expecting to be chastised in some way.

"I’d like you to be my best man at the wedding."

Birkoff’s mouth dropped open. Walter whooped for joy, eyes twinkling madly. "You’re kidding."

"You sure you don’t mean Walter?" Birkoff was still stupefied by Michael’s announcement.

"No, I thought...I haven’t even mentioned this to Kita...Walter could give you away, Kita, what do you think? He could play father of the bride?"

Nikita threw her arms around Michael’s neck and tears blurred her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh, Michael!"

Walter’s own eyes misted over. "You would let me do that for Sugar?"

"I would expect nothing less from someone I respect as much as you, Walter." Michael held out his hand, and Walter grabbed it, pumping it wildly as he tried to pull Michael into a hug. Michael suddenly found himself in the midst of a group hug, and he didn’t know what to do.

Walter jumped up and down, taking most of the group with him. "We’re getting married!!!" Michael looked at Nikita, and she burst out laughing. "We are, Michael. We all are." She kissed him, and he lay his head on her shoulder, arms crossed at the wrist behind her.

It didn’t take them long to pack what meager belongings they had accumulated in the month they had been outside Section. The biggest job had been to gather all the weaponry and Section equipment they could not leave behind. It would be a valuable clue to anyone tracking them, and they could not afford to take that chance. Actually, for the first time in a long time, Michael felt truly relaxed. Not even Madeline would know where they had gone. It gave her total deniability, which protected her as well as them.

When they pulled up in front of the house Nikita had chosen, Michael was first out of the car. He stood in front of the car, stretching, and to anyone who didn’t know him, his surveillance of the scene before him would have seemed completely casual. But Nikita came up softly behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Do you like it?" She tried not to show how much it mattered what he thought, but he knew. He always knew.

He nodded. "It’s beautiful, Kita." And it was. It was a very old house, restored carefully to pristine condition. The house was made of stone and everywhere he looked he saw the Norman influence. Norman. French. How like Kita to see something like that might matter to him.

She pulled on his arm and tried to lead him to the front door, which was set quite a ways back from the road. Good, he liked the way it was set back. For security reasons. He saw Walter appraising it much the same way, and he nodded to him. Now he understood why Walter had approved of the house. It was not just about aesthetic reasons.

Walter saw Birkoff staring at the house, and he guessed that Birkoff had never lived in a house before. "Were you raised in an apartment, Birkoff?" Birkoff started nervously, as if remembering something unpleasant. "Yeah...we never had a house." Walter wisely dropped the subject, deciding that sooner or later, Birkoff would tell him what he wanted him to know. All of them had secrets, some of which were better left unspoken.

Meanwhile, Nikita had reached the front porch, and Michael dutifully followed her, holding her hands. He looked at the door, then at Nikita. "Come here, so I can carry you over the threshold."

Nikita shook her head. "But we’re not married yet."

He reached out for her, taking her into his arms. "In my heart, we are," he whispered. He bent his head and kissed her softly.

Walter turned back to Birkoff and said, "Go get the rest of the stuff out of the trunk of the car, Birkoff." He wanted to give the couple on the porch a much-needed moment alone.

When Walter turned around again, Michael had lifted Nikita into his arms and was carrying her over the threshold of their new home. Michael put Nikita down on the other side of the door and looked around the immediate area. "Oak walls and floors. This was an expensive house to build in its day." She nodded, still overcome by Michael’s romantic gesture. She slid her hand into his and felt him respond. He stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb, seemingly unaware of what it was doing to her. But he knew. He looked directly at her and pushed her hair back from her face. "This is a very special house, Kita."

She nodded, unable to speak. He pressed his knuckles against her cheek, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss she needed. He did not disappoint her. He slanted his mouth over hers, all the while continuing to stroke her cheek with his hand. She made a tiny noise in her throat, and Michael caught it. He stopped kissing her, leaning his forehead against hers. "Our house, Kita."

He felt Walter approaching, and he stepped back from Nikita one step, not wanting to be any further away than that right now. He put his arm around her, and pulled her against him. Walter whistled, as if giving warning that he was coming to the door, and Michael smiled. "Walter, please come on in."

Birkoff followed behind Walter, and together, he and Walter began putting the gear into the first room they came to. "We can always decide where we’re going to put this stuff later," Walter said.

Michael moved towards the kitchen, which was surprisingly ample for an older house. "Is anyone else hungry?"

Walter grinned. "Don’t tell me you’re gonna cook, too, Michael." He was constantly amazed by what he didn’t know about the people closest to him. Michael shrugged. "I can do scrambled eggs, that’s about it."

"A cholesterol nightmare, ah, a man after my own heart," crowed Walter triumphantly.

"Well," said Nikita, with a sheepish look on her face, "at the risk of sounding, um, sexually preoccupied..."

"Oh, do go on, Sugar," Walter exhorted. Michael poked Walter in the ribs. "You’re supposed to be more fatherly now. Don’t make me hurt you."

Walter chortled merrily. "As if..." Then he saw the warning glint in Michael’s eyes, which had turned a disturbingly dark shade of grey. "R-right, Michael, just call me Uncle Walter from now on."

Birkoff laughed. "That’ll teach you." Walter sneered at Birkoff. "Yeah, well, I’m still bigger than you are, and I can hurt you, Sey-mour..." Birkoff immediately sobered, apparently taking the implied warning to heart.

Nikita laughed, then said, "Enough, no one is going to hurt anyone." She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted..." She stared pointedly at Walter, who grumbled under his breath. "Our first order of business is to get some mattresses in here. Otherwise, there isn’t going to be anyplace to sleep."

"And I wonder why the bride-to-be is the one that thought of the bed situation..." Walter said, tongue in cheek, bracing for Michael’s reaction.

Michael ignored Walter, looking at Nikita. "Kita, I’ll go. Maybe I can expedite delivery."

"Well, if you don’t, we’ll be sleeping on the floor," she said, with a grimace.

"No, that’s no good for you."

Walter overheard the last part of their exchange and hummed to himself. "Was there something else you wanted to tell me, Sugar? I don’t want to neglect my fatherly duties."

She glanced significantly at Michael, who flashed some kind of warning back to her. That was very interesting. There was something else going on. Walter was getting excited. He was good at guessing secrets, and he had a feeling he knew what this one was about.

Michael glared at Walter, then leaned over to Nikita, whispering something very private in her ear. She nodded solemnly, and he kissed her. "I’m going out to see about the beds. Take good care of Kita, Walter."

Then, as he passed Walter on his way out, he whispered, "If anything happens to her, I wouldn’t want to be you, Walter." He walked out the door, his booted feet making almost no noise as he trod down the steps.

Walter sidled up to Nikita the moment Michael left. He turned on his sweetest grin. "Come on, Sugar, you can tell me. What’s the big secret?"

Nikita stared blankly at Walter. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Walter."

Walter chuckled. "Oh, that’s good, Sugar. You did that almost as well as Spyboy there. Is he teaching you the Blank Stare or what?"

"Walter, you’re incorrigible." She turned away and bent over the boxes that Birkoff had left in the area just outside the kitchen.

Nikita picked out the second-floor room with the best view overlooking the backyard for her and Michael’s bedroom. She told Birkoff to choose any room he liked for himself, but she intimated that she would not be happy if he chose a room too close to the master bedroom. Birkoff blushed and almost ran the other direction. Nikita knew that Birkoff had an adolescent-type crush on her, but she could not allow anyone to get too close to her and Michael. She would guard their privacy fiercely, even when it came to her "family". As for Walter, there was simply no need to tell him anything. He had already chosen a first-floor room in the back of the house, close to where he could set up his workshop.

Furnishing the house would be a challenge, but it was something that Nikita actually looked forward to. It was new to her, having such wonderful material trappings, and it brought with it a whole new set of sensations. But she was not about to get carried away, she had her priorities straight. She had the man she loved more than life itself, and that would have been more than enough. But now, at last, she had a family of sorts.

And soon, perhaps...something more. Something she had dreamed about for years. She colored, just thinking about it. But ever since she and Michael had met, she had dreamed of him returning her love, and one day, making a child from that love. When Adam had been taken away from Michael, she despaired of making that dream come true. Afraid that Michael’s grief was too overpowering to ever let her close enough to commit to a relationship, afraid that Michael would never allow himself to have another child. Yet when they made love, if she mentioned having his child, he would invariably lose control. She was convinced that this was such a deep-seated desire of Michael’s, he could not even acknowledge it to himself. He never spoke about it to her, it was not something he could even voice to himself. But it was always there between them.

She heard noises outside in the yard and went to the windows overlooking the front of the house. It was Michael. He had returned, as predicted, with deliverymen in tow. She smiled. No one would have to sleep on the floor tonight.

After the beds were set up in the various bedrooms, Nikita went back outside and sat on the front steps. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear Michael come up behind her. He sat next to her, dangling his feet next to hers. "Hey..."

"I ordered Chinese food. Walter and Birkoff are going to pick it up."

She nodded absently. He put his arm around her shoulders. "What’s wrong?" She shook her head. "Nothing, just thinking."

He looked intently into her face. "About?"

She smiled. "Nothing special."

He sighed. "I brought that item you asked for."

Nikita turned to him anxiously. "The pregnancy test kit?" He nodded.

"Michael, I know it’s too soon to know if I’m pregnant. It’s just a feeling I’ve had, since we got back together. Since the night we danced on the roof." She looked sad, perhaps remembering what had followed that magical night.

He kissed her. "Kita, it’s okay. Whatever happens."

He looked down at his hands, and his hair fell into his face. "Would it sound terribly selfish if I said I wished you weren’t pregnant yet?" He suddenly looked up, his face more animated than she had seen in recent days. "It’s not that I don’t want to have a child with you...I do...but I...want to have you all to myself for a while." He looked back down again. "I’m sorry, that did sound selfish."

"I know, but I understand, Michael."

He glanced at her. "You do?"

"I feel the same way sometimes. We’ve had so little time together, I feel like we’re making up for lost time." He nodded. "And I don’t want to share you yet, Kita." He nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "But I will, if it turns out that way."

"Kita?"

She closed her eyes and felt his lips edging closer to hers, eventually taking her mouth in a kiss that took her breath away. She touched the side of his mouth with her finger, and he deepened the kiss. She whimpered, and he ached inside. "Kita, if you’re not pregnant yet, we can work on it...."

She nodded, her eyes unnaturally bright. "Are you sure?" She searched his face carefully, but she found no reason to disbelieve him. He took her hands in his and kissed them. "Kita...I had a house. But it wasn’t our house. It was Section’s house."

He leaned over and kissed the side of her mouth, lingering for long moments before he could break away. "I had a wife. But it wasn’t my choice. It was Section’s choice."

He paused, as if the last were the most difficult to say. And it was. "I had a son. I still have a son. Somewhere. And I wish he was ours. But he’s not. And I just have to learn to live with that."

Nikita leaned her forehead against his, trying in vain to heal Michael’s pain, but knowing that this pain would not, and could not, be healed. Ever. By anyone. Michael looked into her eyes, drawing strength from her love. He slowly caressed the side of her face. "But know this, Kita...any child we make will be ours, and born out of love, not some hidden agenda, or some whim of Section’s."

She smiled tearfully, knowing what he said was not only true, but meant more to her than anything else he could have said. She grasped his hand, which still rested on her face, and kissed it. "I love you so much, Michael."

He kissed her mouth, then her cheek, feeling an irresistible urge to make love to her right there, but knowing he could not. He passed the package to her, just as Walter and Birkoff were getting out of the car with their food. "Do you want me to be with you when you do this later?" he whispered.

"Would you? Oh, Michael, thank you." She threw her arms around him, and the tears that had been unshed till now rolled down her cheeks. He held onto her, trying to shield her from Walter’s and Birkoff’s eyes until she could compose herself.