This story is mostly in Michael's POV. Takes place several weeks after Nikita's first mission.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I wish I did! :)

1. Nikita

He watched her throw her fists at the punching bag. Left, right, left, right. Her whole body was into it, her waist and her hips twisted with the movement, her silky black hair flew out behind her head.

"Nikita!" he said and then he smiled. Her name was like a song on his lips.

She stopped moving and looked up at him as he descended the stairs to the training mats. Her face was blank as she looked up at him. She didn't say anything, just stared at him with those big, dark eyes. Not for the first time, he wished he knew what she was thinking. He walked over to her.

"Amanda wants to see you."

"What is it?" she said.

"Your second mission. I'll debrief you in my office in 30 minutes."

Her eyes got that sparkle. "What is it this time, Michael? A secret service agent?"

Michael tried his best not to smile. "This time you won't ask so many questions."

"We'll see about that."

He watched her walk away from him. He could see the sweat through the back of her gray tank top. Her hair was pulled back, but there were strands around her face that stuck to the sweat on her forehead. She was beautiful, he thought, and she didn't even have to try. Beautiful and dangerous.

She walked into Michael's office wearing black heels and a vivid green strapless, cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh. Her hair was pulled up off the back of her neck and twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her ears sparkled with large silver earrings that teased the tanned skin of her neck.

Birkhoff paused in his typing at Michael's keyboard as he noticed her entrance.

"I look like a whore," she said as pulled at the bottom of the dress that was creeping up her thigh.

Birkhoff cleared his throat and nearly knocked his red bull all over the computer keyboard with his elbow. He righted it, cautiously.

"An expensive whore," he grumbled under his breath. Michael gave him a look and then walked over to Nikita and pulled her into his office.

"You clean up well," he said, trying his best not to smile. "Birkhoff, this is Nikita, one of our newest. Nikita, Birkhoff."

She walked around the desk to where Birkhoff remained seated and shook his hand, firmly. Birkhoff winced. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Nikita," He said and then smiled and snorted. He shook his head as he turned back to his keyboard. "Figures. I wondered why Michael praised you so highly." He ignored Michael's glare.

Nikita peered over his shoulder. She couldn't really make out what he was doing. The screen was black, except for the green letters and symbols that crawled across the screen. Some kind of code. "Why are you in Michael's office? Looking up porn?"

Michael's laugh turned into a cough. "He's here because he's hiding from Percy."

"Are you in trouble?" asked Nikita.

Birkhoff looked uncomfortable.

"Nothing like that," Michael said for him. "His sister's in town. And he's too afraid to admit that he wasn't here earlier to help out."

"I worked it all out. He won't notice. Why is she here? You didn't debrief her with Amanda?"

"Amanda already debriefed her earlier."

Nikita looked up at Michael. Her eyebrows rose. "What's the mission this time? I'm some kind of hooker?"

Birkhoff laughed.

"You'll be my escort for tonight and added security," said Michael. "There is a gala tonight at the Whitehouse. Percy and I have been invited."

"There's no target?"

"Not at the moment."

"Why me?"

"Percy was pleased with how you completed your first assignment."

Michael thought she might have looked a little sick.

"When do you want to leave?"

"In a few minutes." He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the desk, which was opposite of Birkhoff.

"Sit. I'll go and get my jacket." He walked out of the office and down the hall.

Birkhoff's eyes followed Michael as he left the room. "He likes you," he said. His eyes drifted back to the computer screen. "I think I'm jealous."

At the gala, Percy spent most of his time in the corner of the room arguing with the senator of New York.

Nikita felt like a magnet being pulled around the room against her will, glued to Michael's arm, when everything in her really wanted to shoot the opposite way. Away from the stuffiness, away from the people that crowded around her at every turn, because she was beautiful. Because she was charismatic, because with each other, Michael was somehow able to throw off some of the tension that had somehow become a part of who he was. He was almost enjoyable. Well, almost.

"You served in the Gulf?" said a stuffy, old man who was sweating at the neck and who appeared to have spilled cocktail sauce on his gray tie.

"Briefly," said Michael. He pulled Nikita by the elbow and away from the man, towards the large dance floor at the front of the room.

"We should talk sometime," grunted the man.

"Or course," said Michael as be brushed by him.

"Michael-don't be rude-"

"Let's dance," he said in Nikita's ear. Talking about his past always made him uncomfortable.

She smiled because she knew he didn't normally like to show his emotions. It seemed to make him more anxious than the reason behind them. "What? You don't want to trade war stories?"

"Nikita, just be quiet. No more questions."

"Who wants a quiet date? Quiet dates are boring dates."

He sighed. He placed his hand at her waist and pulled her hand into his own and led her around the dance floor. She was tall, he thought and he liked that he didn't have to look down at her to speak. But her waist was so slender, so slim and straight that he could only imagine how soft her skin was there. He swallowed. Could she hear his heart pound?

The music swelled around them as they waltzed around the room. In the corner, across the room, Percy faulted in his speech to the Senator and his eyes narrowed as he took in Michael and Nikita drawn together in their close embrace.

"I always did like a jolly waltz," said the tall, gray haired man in front of him. His eye's followed Percy's. His blue eyes sparkled as he drained the drink in his hand. He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter. "More sherry, please. Who is she Percy? His girlfriend?"

"An escort for the evening. No one of consequence."

The senator smirked. "So it appears."

Percy grimaced.

"I thought Amanda was crazy when she had me dance with Bernardo at one of her sessions last week," said Nikita as they tangoed.

"Bernardo?"

"He's new. Been here less than a week. He said you had a nice smile. I think he likes you."

Michael grunted. "He'll wash out, probably."

"I have faith in him," said Nikita and smiled a dazzling smile. Michael thought it was amazing that he didn't trip over his own feet.

"Nikita," he said, and then paused. He was suddenly conscious of her hand in his. In the warmth of her waist, in her wide dark eyes, that were very close to his own.

"What?"

"Don't get so attached," he said quietly. "It'll be easier that way. It's better to stay distant."

She smiled that warm smile again. He was beginning to think that it was a smile that was just for him, vivacious, yet almost shy. He inhaled as she pressed closer to him. He could feel her chest against his own. "Like you are, with me?" she whispered into his ear.

He did falter in his steps then and he pulled out of her embrace, but kept her hand and pulled her briskly across the room. She didn't see the two men in the suits and dark glasses who were watching them from the edge of the dance floor.

"Michael!"

The large kitchen was empty when he pulled her inside. There were trays of food on the island in the center and dirty pots and pans littered across the two large stoves. He pushed her roughly against a cupboard, its door rattled against her back.

"Michael, what are you-"

He kissed her before she could finish what she was saying. Pushed his body so close to hers that he could feel her heartbeat as he tangled his fingers in her hair. At first she fought him, too surprised at what was happening, but then she grasped him around the neck with both arms and deepened the kiss and held on like her life depended on it as his lips roughly capture hers, again and again.

"Michael," she gasped as he ran his hands down her waist to the curve of her hip. She wanted him. Oh, she wanted him.

He pulled away as two men dressed in identical suits and sunglasses entered the room. The kitchen's white doors swung shut behind them. They had ear buds in their ears. Speaking of secret service agents…

"This room is off limits for quests," said one of the agents. He had blond hair.

The other one with brown hair stepped forward and reached slowly into the jacket of his suit. "We'll escort you out."

Nikita watched as Michael shifted his body so he was in front of her, his back to her. He reached around and pulled her hand so she was close against his body. "My date and I were just havin some funn," he slurred, pretending to be drunk. "No harm done," he said. He shifted his body and put his arm around her waist and while he was pretending to get his balance he was reaching into her green, sequined purse that dangled off her arm.

Catching on, Nikita reached a hand across his chest and pulled him closer as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Isn't my husband soo handsome?" she grinned and then giggled. Her hand was reaching into his jacket for his gun.

They were both armed and shooting when the secret service agents drew out their own weapons.

Nikita dodged behind the island as Michael bashed one of them in the head with an open cupboard door, but before the second one could shoot him, Nikita was up and had shot the second secret service agent in the chest.

She stood horrified at the two bloodied agents sprawled across the floor at their feet, both very dead. "What have you done?"

He grabbed her by the elbow. "We have to get to Percy, now!"

"But the agents…"

"They didn't work for the president."

"What?"

Percy was just outside the door of the kitchen and together they walked quickly out a side door and into the brisk, evening night air of November.

"The assassins?" asked Percy.

"Dead. Nikita shot one of them," said Michael and he shot her an appreciative look.

"Good. Good," said Percy. "Lucky that Michael could have such a charming escort this evening."

Nikita's expression was conveniently blank, but inside she felt sick.

When they were in the limo, she couldn't keep quiet.

"Who were those men? Assassins? They don't work for division?"

Percy sat in the front next to the agent who was driving. He glanced back at Michael with a knowing look, but he didn't say anything.

Michael sighed. He leaned close and said quietly so Percy and the other agent in the front couldn't hear. "Those men were sent to kill me and Percy. They saw me dancing with you. And no, I can't tell you who they work for."

"Why? You knew they'd be here tonight, didn't you? Was I bait? Why do they want to kill you?"

"We kill a lot of people, Nikita. People get angry."

The car was silent as they pulled onto the beltway. Percy glanced back at them but he didn't say anything.

When he was looking out his window, she leaned in close again. Michael could feel her breath on his cheek. "Why did you kiss me? Was that part of the charade too?"

"It was a diversion."

"Oh? It didn't feel just like that."

He breathed deeply as he felt her hand snake across his chest. He grabbed her arm with his hand, but kept it there, close to his heart. "No. Don't."

He felt his heart pounding. Was sure she could feel it too. And for all that he had been through he felt that his life had been waiting for this moment, when someone, a girl, would take all those life or death moments and liquefy that anxiety, his anxiety into pure, raw emotion. And he felt like wrapping his arms around her until he could feel her bones, until he could feel her heart and her breath against his cheek, beating as one, could smell her, could taste her, could bury himself there. He pushed her roughly away from him.

"It's better to not get attached," he repeated. "It's better that way."

"Is it?" she asked him. "Do you feel better, Michael?"

Her dark eyes were wide, so wide, her lips red, that waiting and knowing smile there just for him.

He grunted. "Next time, I'll call a service."