Hi, lovelies. Thank you for you lovely reviews.

FYI, in case you haven't figured it out, this is set in season one.

I own no right to Nikita. Credit to actors, writers, and all others involved.

Alex strolled through the corridors of Division, her deep-brown ponytail bobbing against her back. After her confrontation with Nikita, she had become much more aware of the presence of Birkhoff. She walked past the recruit training area and knew Birkhoff was just behind the glass wall behind it. He could very well be staring at her right now.

In fact, he was. Birkhoff, as if beckoned by an unseen force, swiveled to view the window the second Alex had come by. She was staring at him too, but from her distance, the glass was pretty much opaque. He wondered, still, if she could in fact, see him, if she was acutely aware of his presence behind the screen as he was of hers.

Even though one of them couldn't see the other, they held the gaze until Alex had passed by the recruit training area altogether. Birkhoff let out a heavy sigh, and he wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath.

Alex hadn't. She had breathed perhaps a smidge too heavily. Even when passed the window, her eyes held the spot she'd been in the last time she'd seen it. But maybe it would've been smart to look ahead of her, because she ended up slamming straight into. . .

"Sorry, Michael," Alex apologized after her head bounced off of his chest.

"Just who I wanted to see," Michael smirked.

"Why's that?" she asked, suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge to kick his throat or perform some other action that would render him mute.

"I just had a talk with Birkhoff," he began.

Michael was about to reveal his insinuations, but first, he studied Alex's body language to see how Birkhoff's name affected her. Her eyes were fixed on the same spot they were before the name came out. Her body had not stiffened. Her jaw seemed to have tightened, but she had a strong jaw line anyway. That could be nothing. Overall, she seemed neutral to the name, but he knew from experience that Alex was quite a good actress.

"And?" Alex pressed when Michael didn't continue.

He studied her tone, too, and her body for a little while longer. He decided he didn't have enough evidence to press her or Birkhoff further, but enough to go talk to . . .

"Nikita's expecting me," he said. "We can finish this later."

Michael brushed past her and made his way down the corridor which she just came. When his footsteps were out of earshot, he burst through the door of the glass room, the computer room. There were plenty of other computer geeks in there, but, naturally, Birkhoff was the first one she saw.

He saw her, too. He looked up at her grimly, not through fault of her own. Mainly Michael's for bringing her up.

Alex didn't know what she planned to say to him. They barely spoke to one another, but she treasured the times in which they did. There was no reason to believe he felt the same way.

But what Michael said...

Michael had said he'd just spoken to Birkhoff. And that he'd wanted to confront her about the issue. There could've been a number of things they spoke of, but the positive, hopeful, lovely ones flooded her mind first. When the negative ones, like cancellation or probably-fatal mission starting rearing up, she shoved them aside and strutted over to him.

"We should talk," she said gruffly when she reached him.

Birkhoff looked up at her, expression unreadable. "And why is that?"

"Because . . . because . . ." Alex clung desperately to any reason she could think of, "because I think Michael . . . he just spoke to me. And you came up."

"Is that so terribly unlikely?" Birkhoff frowned. "I am a legend, after all."

"Can we just talk?" Alex pleaded. "Privately?"

Birkhoff was legitimately surprised by that last sentence. "Why privately?"

"So people don't hear," she frowned, annoyed by his stalling. "Just go out in the corridor with me for a few minutes, please?"

"I don't know," Birkhoff shrugged, dragging out her frustration. "I'm just so busy here. Government duty and whatnot."

Alex, feeling forward and fed up with his adorable version of irritability, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up from his seat.

"Hey, now!" he exclaimed, nearly slamming into her face.

"Come on," she growled, not releasing his arm.

"Sir, yes, sir," he gasped in surprise.

Alex pulled Birkhoff back into the corridor, looking so serious and severe, she could be Michael.

"What's the big deal?" Birkhoff asked, yanking his arm away.

"Michael. He's . . . he's . . ." On to us? We weren't doing anything wrong. Suspicious? We hadn't done anything.

"Insane? Humorless? Ruggedly handsome?"

"No," she rolled her eyes, "he's . . .distrustful of us."

"I hardly see that as a problem," Birkhoff shrugged. "Doesn't Michael have deep-set trust issues anyway?"

"Why would he?"

"It may be something along the lines of his family being blown up by a secret terrorist he'd just befriended," he suggested. "I hear it's a side effect."

"He told you that?" Alex asked in surprise.

"Shocking as it may seem since I'm obviously so far above him, we're actually friends," he replied. "He told you that?"

"No," she shook her head.

"So you just heard it through the grapevine?"

"Someone told me," she answered. Nikita had, in one of her Michael speeches. She could probably recite Michael's entire life story right now if she wanted, too.

"Who?" Birkhoff pressed. "Not many people have that information."

"Why so nosy, Birkhoff?" Alex sneered.

"Why so defensive, Alex?" he shot back

"Why so annoying, Birkhoff?"

"Who so out-of-witty-comebacks, Alex?"

Alex scowled at him. Geez, what was she so worried about? It'd be quite easy to stay away from Birkhoff with his stupid little attitude.

"Never mind," she huffed, turning to leave. "I guess I'll see you around."

Birkhoff watched her leave analytically. Sure, she was hot, but she was a confusing little thing.