At first glance, the crowd seemed to throb in unison in a dance that was sensually hypnotic. Blue and yellow beams of light flashed and swung pendulum fashion across the crowded room in perfect sync with the music. The rhythm had a subtle twist on the downbeat that enticed dancers to move their bodies suggestively. Mini fog machines hidden atop mirror-plated poles emitted a cloud of smoke that descended and wafted through the mass of gyrating bodies.

Nikita stood just inside of the club entrance and scanned the scene for her mark. Unable to spot him she prepared to enter the scene before her. She took a deep breath and allowed her body to flow with the music as she made her way leisurely across the room. The click of her red spiked heels against the floor was absorbed in the din but the visual boost it gave to her already long silky legs wasn't lost on any of the males she passed in front of.

She detested playing the sex kitten roles that these recon missions often required of her. Thankfully Madeline and Operations favored her skills as a cold op rather than her skills as a valentine. This didn't bother Nikita any. She much rather preferred being shot at to being hit upon, or, God help her, having to bed a target. So far she'd been able to avoid that aspect of a valentine mission but she knew that the day would come when they would order her to do even that. It was just a matter of time.

Camilla, the valentine op whose place she was taking tonight, had been injured on another unrelated job. Nikita had met her a few times. She was a strikingly beautiful girl but Nikita hadn't cared much for her attitude. Camilla's last target hadn't liked her attitude either, which was why she was laid up in med-lab right now. It could have been worse Nikita thought. She could have ended up on a cold metal slab awaiting the fiery flames of Section's incinerator.

Nikita forced her mind away from the morbid path it had taken. If Michael were here and privy to her thoughts he'd be ordering her in that damn breathy voice of his to stay focus.

But he wasn't here - and she had no idea where he was.

Nikita suppressed the sigh that surged up from within, swallowing it down along with the twinge of pain that accompanied it. Scanning the area once more she sashayed up to the bar ordered herself a drink and concentrated on the mission at hand. It was a simple assignment actually. Locate the target, tag him, and get out. The back-up team would take over from there.

"Hi."

Nikita turned to find a tanned young man with electric blue eyes smiling at her.

"Hi yourself." She smiled and angled her body toward him as her eyes took in his modest attire approvingly. Clean- cut, all-American collegiate looks, and a dazzling smile. Now why couldn't any of the targets ever look like him, she mused.

He stuck his hand out to her and introduced himself, "I'm Steve."

He was new at this game, she could tell. Her expression softened as she placed her hand in his. "Nikita."

"Nikita?" He repeated it and flashed her another bright smile. "Pretty name."

Her smile deepened even as she reminded herself that she was on duty. "Thank you."

Over his shoulder she spotted her target dancing with a tall, buxom blond. Nikita grimaced inwardly. What was it with these terrorists and blonds? Well there was no use in getting philosophical now. She had a job to do.

"Would you like to dance, Steve?"

She could see by his expression that she had stolen his line. Mark one up for feminism and Section training. Hooking her arm through her young Adonis' she led him out to the dance floor and enjoyed the next few minutes of flirtatious dancing as she expertly maneuvered him closer to her target.

Once her mark was tagged she conveniently, if not a little reluctantly, developed a headache and excused herself from her handsome dancing partner.

Worry crossed his baby blue eyes. "Do you have a ride? I can give you a lift, if you like."

Sweet child, she thought. You have no idea of the type of woman you're with. No idea of the sins I've committed, the people I've killed, the dismal life I lead.

Nikita smiled and touched his arm. "Thank you, Steve, but I have a car." She paused, touched by the regret in his eyes "Maybe we'll meet again," she lied, and then disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later she was driving away into the night and wondering what her life would have been like had it been normal.

Would she be married by now? Maybe to someone like Steve? Would she have had children?

An image of Adam appeared, Michael's child. A sense of longing filled her which quickly turned to pain.

Michael and Elena's child.

Nikita rolled down the window and opened up the engine's throttles, allowing her black Porsche to fly through the open road and reveling in the feel of the wind as it swept through her hair and eased the pain of regret from her mind.