Michael's silence grew almost unbearably long. Nikita had finished her coffee a while ago and was now stirring the foam at the bottom of the cup trying to swallow a thousand of questions bubbling in her throat. Michael had only told her the most basic details: that he had screwed up during his first time out and they were sent on a longer mission with Simone, posing as lovers. It was only natural that both of them found solace in each other, the line between the pretense and the reality blurring thin. Nikita was beginning to understand that herself, thinking back on their time at the Bauer mansion, however perverted the experience had been. She could still feel the intensity of his grip on her back as he pulled her for a dance, his breathing labored and his gaze searching… No, she should not be thinking about it now.

'So how come Section allowed you to get married?' she asked instead.

Michael raised his eyes to meet hers.

'None of us cared if Section allowed it or not,' he said. 'We were reckless enough to believe that the only thing that mattered were our feelings towards each other. We were wrong.'

His voice dropped at the last sentence and his mouth set into a thin line. Nikita gulped at the double meaning and averted her gaze.

7 years ago

Michael parked his grey Renault and took out small Section-issue binoculars. Across the street was a large paved lot leading to battered metal doors with simple lettering above them: College Stephanie Mallarme. It had been almost a month since they had approved him for field ops and provided a city apartment. He didn't dare come here sooner afraid that it might draw unnecessary attention. The school schedule was still etched in his mind as clear as if it had been yesterday that he came for Marion after classes. She never resented him doing so unlike other kids who thought of themselves as already 'too old' to be picked up by their parents. She liked to pretend he was her boyfriend instead of brother and laughed at the other girls drooling over him. It was their little game and his heart ached at the memory of her small fingers clutching his bicep, of her lips giving him a peck on the stubble, of her swaying gait as she pretended to be womanly and experienced.

Michael sighed and adjusted the binoculars. He didn't know if she still went here but it was a place to start. He was determined to sit here in the car until the last bell rang and the janitor locked the doors for the night.

A thin buzz flowed from the open windows on the second floor and a couple of minutes later children started to pool on the front stairs, talking loudly, smiling wide and furtively exchanging cigarettes. Michael zoomed in on every dark-haired head, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He didn't think he could miss the unruly chestnut curls of his sister but he still checked and double-checked every one who came out the doors. Was she hiding behind the baseball cap and the oversized man-shirt? Had she straightened her locks and become the femme fatale in a short skirt and high heels smoking a thin cigarette there with the boys? Was she the mousy little girl standing a little apart from the rest, hugging her textbooks to her chest?

The doors swung open once more and a sharp pang went through Michael's body. This year had seemed too long for him but he only realized how much time had actually passed when he saw its work on Marion. She was no longer a careless girl with a smile from ear to ear and a childish spring to her gait. Her face was sombre, almost apprehensive as she looked around the lot. Her big dark eyes glided over the parked cars and the few people down the street. She was alone even though a flock of girls had always surrounded her before, like a cloud of moths. Her hair was combed and tucked neatly behind the ears. A thin shirt hugged small round swells on her previously flat chest. Marion had turned into a young woman and Michael had missed that.

His hand curled into a fist as he noticed the looks some of the boys were giving his little sister. His leg twitched nervously as one of the teenagers waved to her and pointed at the half-smoked butt in his fingers, inviting her to join him. Marion shook her head politely and then trotted down the stairs towards someone she had noticed in the crowd. In the short blond crop and the thin build Michael recognized his old mentor and guru, Rene Dian, and his heart gave another jolt of pain. Was he still doing what they had been doing before? Even after what happened?.. Yes, Michael was sure that nothing had really changed for Rene. He must have known what it entailed all along and it didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered was the goal, the revolution itself.

He followed the two diminishing figures through his binoculars until they turned a corner and disappeared from view. Under the circumstances it was the best case scenario that Marion was now under Rene's care. Who else could it be? Foster parents or orphanages? No, Rene would do good here. Still, Michael couldn't help but feel bitterness in his mouth. He had promised himself that if he found her here and she was all right, it would be the last time he attempted to see her. If Section had followed him today, they could have matched some of the old Marion's photographs to the lovely Eloise, the name she had assumed after their parents' death. If they had found out…

Michael breathed out and rubbed his chin. As his leg found the gas pedal and his hand turned the key in the ignition, he kept throwing glances at the rear-view mirror and kept seeing the diminishing silhouette of a dark-haired girl there, thin as a ghost.

They circled around each other on the damp mats, their arms raised protectively just below the faces, their eyes locked in a silent dialog. Simone's movements were now deft and confident. She ducked as Michael's fist hit the air above her head and then gave him a kick in the stomach. He doubled up and coughed, sweat rolling off his temples.

'Sorry,' Simone mumbled watching him carefully.

Michael raised his eyes to meet hers.

'Don't be,' he whispered, his voice coarse from coughing. 'You're making progress.'

Simone's face flushed as she tried to bite down her smile.

'Do you remember what we practiced last time?' Michael asked straightening up and assuming the fighting stance again.

She nodded and in the next moment lost her footing as Michael performed a precise kick to her shins and then straddled her. His hands grabbed her throat and pushed. He could feel her pulse beating madly under his fingers, panic spreading like fog in her dark eyes. He almost stopped then hating to hurt her more than necessary but Simone gripped his extended arm in two places, just as he had shown her before, and pushed him up with the strength of her legs and hips. Michael rolled on the floor breathing hard.

'Good,' he said. 'Now I'll show you another way.'

Simone lay down on the mats and Michael positioned himself between her hips, his hand holding her throat, but only slightly this time.

'This is common if somebody's trying to rape you,' his voice quivered a little. 'You do the same thing: hook my forearm with your right hand and blade the left arm across my neck.'

She followed the instructions to the letter. Their arms were now tangled closely, their faces just a few inches apart.

'Now the legs,' Michael whispered. 'First, put your left foot on my pelvis and pivot your body to the right. Then put your right foot as high as you can, aim for my armpit.'

They were now so compromisingly close that Michael knew he had to end it soon or risk being too obvious.

'Now bring your other leg up and around my face,' he instructed.

She did just that and his head was lodged along her inner thigh now. His breath snagged as he let her roll himself to the side.

They lay like that for a few moments, limbs still entangled, skin slick with sweat. He knew it was the best part of his day, any of his days in Section and he only wished he could tell her.

When they finally picked themselves off the floor and sat to cool down, with their backs to the wall, Simone surprised him with a question.

'They tell me you're training other recruits now… Girls, mostly.'

Michael looked at her out the corner of his eye and his heart gave a jolt. Was that jealousy straining her face? Anger?

'That's right,' he gave the simplest answer hoping she'd reveal more.

'Does Section think that imprinting on a handsome mentor would help with the adjustment?'

Simone's lips were pursed tight and thin.

'They do,' Michael looked straight at her.

He thought his feelings were written all over his face now but Simone either did not notice or did not care. She shot to her feet and gave him a disgusted look.

'You can tell them I don't need it.'

Her words pierced him like a dagger and for a couple of moments he just sat there, completely motionless. Then he caught up with her, already leaving the training zone, and grabbed her forearm. His tongue lay heavy and awkward in his mouth, his heart thumped in his chest.

'I only agreed to train others so that I could keep training you,' he whispered.

Simone's eyes grew wide, her breath was hot and ragged against the skin of his neck.

'As I said,' she finally spoke. 'I don't need it.'

Michael watched her go away, the knees buckling under him.

A team of five operatives gathered around the briefing table waiting for Operations. Wallace, a burly African-American, was giving Michael a disgruntled challenging stare. As a team-leader, he wasn't too happy about the new operative under his command who always had his own opinion about everything and seemed to be right, most of the time. Michael's leg was shaking visibly under the table but his thoughts were as far from Wallace as possible. Simone's jab at his confession had lodged deep between his ribs, like a blade that he couldn't take out for fear of bleeding to death. His mind kept returning to all of the moments they had shared dismantling them second by second, analyzing every word, breath and movement. It's true she had never shown any signs of physical attraction for him. Not once had he caught her staring at his sculpted torso, biting her lip or standing too close. It's as if she was completely oblivious of his male form… But what about that night when he woke up screaming from his nightmares and she made him tea? Maybe, she was just being friendly. But she did call him handsome yesterday, didn't she?

Operations appeared in front of the table and Michael had to divert his attention to the matters at hand. A building scheme turned up on the holographic screen before the team.

'This is an abandoned military base on the outskirts of Dresden, Germany,' Operations began. 'According to our intel, it has been housing one of the Bright Star substations. There is only one way in and it is guarded 24/7. Inside is a computer that contains information about every terrorist act of the group and a very valuable contact list. The five of you will penetrate the building and get that hard-drive. Any amount of losses is acceptable.'

'On their side or ours?' Michael asked.

Operations gave him a cold stare.

'Both,' he said.

He already turned on his heel to leave when Michael spoke again.

'It can be avoided.'

Paul's eyebrows flew up in arrogant amazement.

'Excuse me?' he pierced Michael with his eyes.

Wallace jumped up between the two men.

'Sir, I'll deal with him, sir,' he mumbled and then growled at Michael. 'Keep your mouth shut. It's not your place to criticize the profile.'

Michael kept looking straight at Operations.

'This is a job for one,' he explained. 'One man can easily hide inside the facility. Five will attract unnecessary attention and result in a blood-bath.'

'It's suicide!' Wallace exclaimed. 'Who's gonna do it? You?'

The two young men looked at each other for a long moment. Michael's face was as hard as stone.

'I'll do it,' he said firmly.

Operations laughed and looked Michael up and down.

'All right,' he said finally. 'Prepare a profile within the hour.'

Michael nodded and turned to leave , much to Wallace's aggravation, when Operations gave him another order.

'Madeline wants to see you in her office, shortly.'

He came in and stood by the chief strategist's desk, his hands clasped before him. Between the mission prep and the nagging thoughts about Simone, he didn't have a lot of energy to spare and decided to just let things roll. Whatever game Madeline wanted to play now, he would just have to see. Thankfully, she was not in the mood for long introductions today and cut straight to business.

'There's been a change in personnel,' she said looking up from her computer. 'As of now, you will no longer be assisting miss Wu in her combat training.'

Michael's breath froze in his lungs. He looked at Madeline without bothering to hide his contempt.

'Whose decision was it?' his voice clanged like a piece of rusted metal.

Madeline gave him a condescending smile.

'Despite what you may be thinking,' she said, 'I did not go back on my word. Simone requested it herself.'

Michael wished he was sitting now, his knees were so shaky.

'It can't be' he blurted out before he could think of it twice.

Madeline studied him carefully, her lips pursed.

'Honestly, I quite agree with her,' she added. 'You've helped her get through the wall but that's as far as your relationships should go. It's better this way for both of you.'

The lump in Michael's throat was the size of a rock.

'Is that all?' he croaked.

'Yes, you can go now.'

When the door closed behind him, he leaned against it for a minute and closed his eyes trying to control his breathing. The thought of not seeing Simone for the next nine months, until she's approved for the field, made him want to scream. Why did she request that he be removed from her? Was he so detestable to her? He did help her out, after all. And he would have kept his hands off her, would never even hint at the topic if she didn't want him to… Being around her was enough. Just knowing that she was all right. Catching her careful gaze every once in a while, watching her blush and smile as they grappled on the mats… Please, Simone, why did you do it?!

The nails cut the skin inside his palms as he formed the fists without noticing it. Her words rang in his head: 'As I said, I don't need it.' Would she have requested another mentor because she simply 'did not need him'? No, there was something else, something stronger and deeper than this…

His breath snagged at the next idea which seemed like wishful thinking at first. But what if he was right? Maybe she didn't need him. But did she want him?

Michael licked his lips and straightened up. His mind started to form a plan as he went down the corridor to his temporary desk.