"T-two heartbeats?" Nikita stuttered. Michael’s hands paused in their restless stroking of her hair. "Two?" he echoed.

Neil frowned at Birkoff. "I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, or used to do, Mr. Birkoff--"

Birkoff shook his head. "Just Birkoff, please. And hey, you’re the doc."

Walter glanced at Birkoff. It wasn’t like Birkoff to make a mistake like that, though. If he said he heard two heartbeats, he heard two heartbeats, even if they were close together.

"You’re probably hearing Nikita’s heartbeat together with that of the baby, that’s all. It’s a very simple explanation." Neil crossed his arms and stood firm.

Nikita made a small moue with her mouth and shrugged. "If you say so, Dr. Hunter." Michael sighed and wrapped his arms around Nikita, feeling her uncertainty. "We’re just overjoyed to hear what we did, Neil."

Neil smiled at the little group, gathered so impromptu in his examination room. "Well, I’m glad you were able to share this wonderful moment with the entire family, Michael. But Nikita, you’re probably looking forward to changing back into regular clothing right about now. Those johnny-coats can get a mite drafty, even in a nice warm room like this one."

Nikita thanked Neil for his concern and his obvious compassion for her feelings. She did feel conspicuous, standing next to the examination table, in a backless, thigh-length hospital gown, while everyone else was fully clothed. She peeked behind the privacy screen and slipped away, unnoticed by anyone but Michael, who seemed to have his eyes glued to her every move.

A moment later, she felt a hand on her shoulder and was on the verge of screaming when she realized it was Michael. "Michael!" she whispered. "What are you doing?" She felt a strong desire to giggle, as the incongruity of their situation suddenly struck her. Here she was, clad only in a hospital gown, and here was Michael, laughing like a young boy let out of school early on Friday.

He stole a glance outside the screen and put a finger to his lips. "They seem to be pleasantly preoccupied at the moment, Kita," he whispered.

"Oh?" she said with a hint of a smile in her voice. "And what are you up to, my darling husband?"

He looked startled for a second, as if he didn’t realize that she was referring to him, then he laughed again, softly. He kissed the side of her face, his nose almost completely buried in her hair, as his hand crept underneath the short gown. Nikita stopped him, her hand covering his on her thigh. "Um...Michael, our entire family is out there."

He chuckled in her ear, and the vibration tickled. He moved her hand higher, touching her abdomen gently. "No, my dearest wife, our family is in here." She couldn’t help herself, she felt the laughter bubble up into her throat, and before she knew it, she was laughing with him. She could only wonder what the others would think if they knew.

Michael pulled Nikita close, and she lay her head on his shoulder, as if they were dancing. Suddenly they heard a familiar booming voice: "Hey, Michael, tell her you love her, and get the heck back out here!" Walter. Inimitable Walter.

Michael slumped against Nikita and sighed. Pressing his mouth against her ear, he whispered, "I love you, Kita." She threw her arms around him, trapping his head against hers, whispering, "Let them wait."

Madeline appeared in the doorway, hesitating before crossing the threshold. "Neil?"

"Yes, Madeline?"

"Declan is making brunch for all of us. Where’s the happy couple?"

Neil laughed, indicating the privacy screen. Madeline cleared her throat conspicuously, and Birkoff glanced at Walter with considerable amusement. Walter whispered, "I don’t think they’re all that interested in food right now, Madeline."

"Nonsense." She strode over to the privacy screen without going behind it. "There’s plenty of time for that later, Michael. Let Nikita get dressed."

Nikita poked her head out briefly. "Madeline, are you sure you’re human?"

Madeline smiled warmly. "You’d be surprised, Nikita. You’d be surprised."

***

Declan was putting the finishing touches on the dining room table when Nikita came into the room, followed closely by Michael, who seemed loath to leave her side, even for a moment. "Nikita! Everything went well, I hear?"

She clasped his hands in hers. "Yes, Declan. Everything is positively wonderful right now." She looked at Michael and his answering glance agreed.

She looked thoughtful. "Y’know, I had the strangest dream the other night, actually, more like a nightmare."

"I know."

"You know?" She frowned.

"Well, I came running when you screamed." Declan shrugged as if this kind of thing happened everyday. Perhaps in the world he had come from, it had.

Pressing his hand briefly, Nikita continued. "Well, you’ll laugh, I mean, this is so silly, but...I actually dreamed that you were an operative in deep cover, guarding me. You even had a gun." Her mouth curved gently in a smile of remembrance.

Declan pulled his hands out of hers abruptly and looked down at the table settings. He moved away suddenly, as if searching for another piece of silverware. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to lie to Michael and Nikita. They were all from Section. They all shared the same nightmarish world at one time. You don’t lie to your comrades, he thought. His promise to Madeline kept him silent, but he refused to lie to them.

Michael understood what was happening immediately. God, he recognized the gesture, the shifting of eye contact. It was like looking into a mirror. He had done it himself so many times. So Declan was more like them than Madeline had let on. That didn’t surprise him somehow.

Nikita swung around and stared at Michael. "You knew?!"

Michael shook his head. "No, Kita. I just figured it out now, like you did."

Declan continued to work on the table, as if by ignoring the couple, they would disappear. Still, he didn’t comment. But he was relieved that Michael had guessed. Michael would understand. Michael of all people would understand.

Michael moved behind Nikita and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his body. She felt tense in his embrace. "What’s wrong, doucette?"

Nikita suddenly turned in Michael’s arms, with real anxiety etched into her lovely face. "Michael, if I was right about Declan, what if some other part of my nightmare is going to come true?"

Reacting more instinctively than he had in a long time, Michael held her tightly. "No, no, that can’t happen, Kita. It was a dream, it’s going to stay a dream."

"But what about Declan? That turned out to be true!"

Michael stroked her face with his thumb, studying her so long, she felt as though she were falling under his hypnotic spell again. Well, maybe she was. There were worse things than being so deeply in love with your husband, you trusted his judgment implicitly. Startled, she realized it was true. When had she taken the next step and begun to trust Michael completely? She rubbed her face against his hand, closing her eyes. "Michael..."

He kissed her softly. "Yes, Kita?"

"I trust you." She opened her eyes, and the blazing sapphire light struck him in the face like a beacon in the night. "Completely."

He could have wept with relief. Only she would understand how much that meant to him. It was almost better than hearing that she loved him. In fact, in many ways, it was better than a declaration of love. It meant so much.

Declan forgotten for the moment, Michael kissed Nikita fervently, feeling more connected to her than he ever had before. "My Kita."

Declan smiled to himself and moved into the kitchen, leaving the couple alone.

Walter gravitated automatically to Nikita’s side. "Sugar, you don’t know how happy I am about the baby. Sheesh! A granddad! Who’d have thought it?"

Michael held onto Nikita proprietarily, his arms encircling her waist, his lips pressed to her cheek. His eyes glowed warmly, the green vivid against the dark lashes framing them. "I’d let her hug you, Walter, but then, I’d have to let her go."

Walter laughed. "Could you maybe loan her to me for a sec, just for a quick hug?"

"Well," Michael drawled. "Okay." He released Nikita from his arms, and she gratefully hugged Walter.

Walter gave her a quick hug in return. "Sugar, I never dreamed that things could be this good for any of us. I’m so glad we ended up here with you two."

"Me, too, Walter." She bit her lip. "Or should I start calling you Dad?"

Michael protested weakly. "Hey, I think that one’s mine."

Nikita chuckled. "Your turn’s coming, Michael."

Walter smiled at her with tears in his eyes. "Sugar, you can call me anything you’d like, and that’s a fact. I’m just honored to be here at all."

Nikita leaned over and kissed Walter’s cheek. "Well, I guess I could bring myself to call you Dad, but I think Michael might have a hard time with that."

Michael pouted. "Moi? Not so, Kita." She kissed him quickly, pulling away when he would have lingered. "She can be very persuasive."

Birkoff snorted. "I noticed."

"Dad it is, then." Nikita sealed the promise with another kiss on Walter’s cheek, and the older man nearly wept. "Sugar, you’re too much."

Birkoff cleared his throat meaningfully. "Uh, not for nothing, but could we actually get to the food? Declan went to a lot of trouble to make a special brunch to celebrate and--"

Nikita leaned back into Michael’s arms, covering his hands with hers, as he clasped her around the waist again. "We don’t want to offend Declan."

Birkoff smiled. "Well, no, Nikita, we don’t. For the first time in months, there is something to look forward to eating."

Declan entered the room, holding a huge cake, alit with at least thirty candles. "I know, I know, it’s not your birthday, but it’s even better. I heard you two never made it to the wedding reception. Seems you missed the food and the dessert. But that’s just as well. You haven’t lived till you’ve tasted *my* cake."

Nikita clapped her hands in delight. Michael gave her a gentle squeeze. Declan was full of surprises. Maybe not all surprises were bad ones.

Declan gave Nikita a shy grin. "Blow ‘em all out, Nikita, and be careful what you wish for now. You just might get it."

By now, Neil and Madeline had joined the happy group, and they laughed with the others. Declan had the charm to coax the birds out of the trees, and he was using it now to make the occasion even more memorable than it already was.

Nikita glanced at Michael before she took a deep breath and blew out all the candles on the cake. Michael whispered to her, "What did you wish for, doucette?" She smiled beatifically. "I can’t tell you that, Michael, or it won’t come true."

He kissed the side of her neck, his breath stirring the hair on the back of her neck. "Does it involve me?" he said in a low conspiratorial tone.

She smiled even more widely, her teeth gleaming brightly. "Doesn’t everything?"

He chuckled, feeling more relaxed than he had ever thought possible. This was the way it should be. They were able to enjoy each other as well as the company of their friends. How had he gotten so lucky? He could not help but feel that someone, probably God, was on their side. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Madeline and Declan were on their side either.

Declan cut the cake, and contrary to tradition, they ate dessert before tackling the rest of the food. "Goodness, rules were made to be broken, that’s why they’re there."

Birkoff rolled his eyes. "I’m not sure everyone would agree with you on that, Declan."

"Yeah, well, there is that. Could be why me and certain people didn’t always see eye to eye."

Nikita cast a fond glance in Declan’s direction. "Somehow, I don’t have any trouble seeing you as a rebel. But that must have been dangerous."

"That’s a subject for another day," Declan said, glancing at Neil, as if reminding the others that they could not speak freely in front of Neil.

Michael picked up Declan’s cue and grabbed his glass of water, thrusting it into the air. "I propose a toast."

"With water?" Declan chortled.

"Madeline won’t serve me wine." Declan gave Michael a curious look, but Michael waved a hand, dismissing it. "It’s a long story."

Nikita broke in, merriment making her blue eyes sparkle mischievously. "Don’t worry, Declan, I’ll give you all the dirt later."

He raised an eyebrow carefully. "Do tell."

Michael coughed politely. "The toast?" He poked Nikita gently in the ribs.

He raised his glass again. "To the future." Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses in response before drinking.

Nikita stared at her glass, realizing that she also had water, for obvious reasons. "No more looking back."

Declan seconded that notion with a vigorous shake of his head, causing his ponytail to waver back and forth. "I’ll drink to that."

***

After everyone left, Madeline found herself alone with Neil. She smiled. "You did well with Nikita." Neil flushed warmly at her praise. "Thanks, Madeline...Madeline?" He crooked his head at Madeline inquiringly.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?" If Madeline didn’t know better, she would have thought that Neil was unsure of himself. Surely he knew how she felt about him. Didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t.

She searched his face carefully. "Neil, do you find me intimidating?"

It was a legacy left over from her days in Section. The habits of years were indeed difficult to break. She unconsciously relied on her bag of psychological magic tricks, and she regretted flexing her muscles around Neil. She actually thought she might love him. He was kind, but not obsequious. He was sweet, but not overly sentimental. He didn’t look twice at Nikita when Madeline was present. Where was she likely to find another man who could claim that last?

"No," he drawled slowly. He drew closer to her, running a hand gently over her long, dark brown hair. "Should I?"

"Many people do."

Neil traced the outline of her mouth with his finger. "You have the most beautiful mouth I have ever seen on a woman."

She laughed merrily. "I guess that answers my question."

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" Neil slid a hand under her chin, tipping her face towards him.

"I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

He leaned forward, his lips gently touching hers. She held onto him, just for a second, and he took that as encouragement to proceed, his mouth deepening the kiss. In that moment, their relationship underwent a subtle change.

"Neil?" Almost embarrassed to ask, Madeline started to turn away, but Neil caught her motion and gently redirected her.

"Go ahead, Maddy, ask me."

"I can’t," she said, blushing furiously. "I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. You must think I haven’t been out with a man in years."

"Maybe you haven’t." He said it quite seriously, but not as an affront. He found her entire manner somehow curiously charming, as if she were untouched by the vagaries of life in the modern world.

"Or maybe you’ve been with the wrong men."

She nodded, as if acknowledging that possibility. "I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time, Neil. I’m a little afraid."

"Don’t be," he said, sweeping her into his arms to bestow another kiss upon her lips. "I won’t let you go alone, Maddy."

She ducked her head, like a young girl with her first boyfriend. "You’re the only one who calls me that. Except for Declan." She looked almost shy.

"Maddy, Maddy, would I scare you even more if I said, I want to have more than dinner with you?" Neil pressed his mouth to her temple.

"Going to bed with you isn’t the problem, Neil."

"What is?"

He looked at her anxiously, suddenly realizing just how much hung on her answer. He genuinely cared for Madeline, and if he forced things, she might walk out of his life.

"Falling in love with you," Madeline said softly.

"Why is that a problem?" He knew he was taking a chance, but he couldn’t hold back the words.

She began to turn her face away, retreating from the undercurrents between them. But he refused to let her go. "Maddy, I’m in love with you."

She looked at him, almost blankly, then a surge of feeling hit her, transforming her face and eyes. "Oh, Neil...I didn’t expect that at all."

He ran a hand through his cropped fair hair, his lightness setting off her darkness. "Now I’ve said too much, haven’t I? I just couldn’t help it, Maddy. I love you. I wanted you to know. I--" He looked so anxious, so dear to her, she reached up and abruptly pressed a slender finger to his lips.

"Neil." Her voice was soft but insistent, cutting through the anxiety that claimed him.

He looked so vulnerable, his light eyes so revealing. She watched him carefully, waiting for the change that would inevitably come. "Neil, I love you, too." She saw it. His pupils dilated, his face relaxed, and his mouth softened.

"Maddy..."

"Just kiss me."

And he did.

Michael sought out Declan upon their return home. He found him standing on the front porch, seemingly staring at the sunset, but it was clear that his eyes were turned inward. "Declan," Michael spoke the younger man’s name with affection, before touching his shoulder lightly.

Declan turned, his eyes storm grey even in the waning light of day, and Michael sensed an inner turbulence there. He was once again struck by his recognition of it, as it was something he saw in himself from time to time. Declan had his own demons. But he hid them well. He’d had help. Undoubtedly Madeline again.

"You want to know why I didn’t tell you the real reason I was here?" Declan offered.

Michael nodded. "But you can’t tell me."

"Sorry, I honor my promises, if nothing else. God knows, I never thought of myself as a particularly honorable man, but somewhere along the line, I became one. It would be dangerous to change now." Declan’s self-deprecation rang true. It also reverberated throughout Michael’s mind. There were too many similarities between them for coincidence. Madeline again? Was he here for Nikita’s protection or Michael’s peace of mind?

"Will you answer a question for me?"

"If I can," replied Declan, an enigmatic smile crossing his lips.

Michael half-smiled. Now where have I heard that before? "Did Madeline put you here because she thought I couldn’t protect Nikita myself?"

Declan’s eyes widened. Michael expressing insecurity? He blinked. "No, Michael. That never occurred to her. Truly."

Michael sighed in relief. His whole body relaxed again. "Thank you." Michael looked thoughtful. "We are glad to have you here, Declan. I mean that."

"It would be nice to fit in somewhere finally," Declan whispered. He looked away from Michael, and he went back to studying the sun’s fading colors along the horizon.

***

"Nikita!" Michael took the stairs two and three at a time, standing on the landing for a moment before proceeding to their bedroom. "Nikita!"

Nikita finally peeped out of the bedroom door, a towel wrapped around her head. "I was washing my hair, Michael. What is it?"

He handed her the cell phone. "Phone. For you."

"For me?" Nikita looked askance. "Who would be calling me?"

"It’s me, Madeline," said the voice on the other end of the phone. Nikita shifted the towel on her head so she could hear better. "Madeline? Is something wrong?"

"No, Nikita, something is very right." Madeline could hardly contain herself. She actually giggled before continuing. "Nikita..." she paused importantly.

Suddenly Nikita was jumping up and down, and the towel flew off her head, allowing her wet hair to fly in every possible direction. Michael watched bemusedly. It must be good news.

Nikita grinned from ear to ear, handing the cell phone back to Michael. She leaned over and retrieved her wet towel, but she didn’t replace it on her head. "Michael! Madeline’s getting married!"

Michael stared at Nikita, then at the phone in his hand. "Really?" he said to Nikita, then turning back to the phone, he said, "Really, Madeline? That’s great!"

He hung up the phone and Nikita continued to dance around, her steps lively and light-hearted. "Oh, Michael! She’s never had a shower before! We have to throw her a shower! And the wedding! Oh, my God! We have another wedding to plan!"

Nikita was so honestly delighted, she never saw the shadow cross Michael’s face so briefly. Even the mention of weddings made him feel this way lately. He felt cheated. Was that wrong? Was he being selfish to have wanted his own wedding, the most special one of all, the one with Nikita, to go as planned? As Declan put it, they never made it to the reception. Or the honeymoon, Michael added.

It hardly seemed fair. What’s worse, sometimes he felt as though Nikita didn’t mind. How could that be? Could it possibly matter more to him than to her? That wasn’t logical. She was the emotional one. He was cool and calm and controlled. On the surface. Sometimes there were nightmares. Sometimes there were waking dreams, times during the day when his mind drifted off and refused to come back at his command. Sometimes he wondered if he should tell Madeline.

"I’ll go tell Walter and Birkoff," he said huskily, hiding his hurt from Nikita.

With her usual intuitiveness, Nikita surveyed Michael. "Are you okay, love?"

He nodded absently. "Of course."

***

Walter smacked the table with the flat of his hand. "Hot damn! No kidding, Michael! Maddy is getting married? Well, I never."

Michael laughed softly at Walter’s reaction. "I’m sure Declan will want to be involved with the reception. But you did such a great job before, Nikita thinks you should plan Madeline’s wedding, too."

Walter shifted nervously in his chair. "I dunno, Michael. I mean, it was different when it was you and Sugar....and then, there was the way everything went to hell....Sorry, Michael." Walter shook his head at him, indicating he was reluctant to revisit that particular territory.

Michael visibly winced when Walter mentioned how everything went on his wedding day, and Walter was nothing if not quick on the uptake. "It still bothers you, doesn’t it? Hell, I know it bothers me, and it wasn’t my wedding."

Michael sighed. "Every time I look out our bedroom window, I see it all over again. I see Kita getting shot, I see her go down in my arms, I see that I couldn’t protect her, Walter."

Walter reached out and hugged Michael. "None of us could protect her, Michael. You can’t blame yourself. If you do, you have to blame all of us, and the fact is, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but Bauer’s." He spat on the floor. "May his soul rot in Hell."

Michael leaned carefully on Walter, drawing some much- needed strength from him. "I don’t mean to sound selfish, Walter, but I wanted our wedding to be special. We have so few truly happy memories, her and me. This should have been the best of them all."

Walter had to agree with that assessment. It was unfortunately true. "So you’re telling me that Maddy’s getting married kinda rubs you the wrong way?"

Michael raked both hands through his hair in exasperation. "Put that way, it sounds incredibly self-pitying. But yes, I’m jealous of Madeline and Neil. Their wedding will probably be wonderful, and I get sick just thinking about it." He paced back and forth, his agitation growing with every click of his boots on the wooden floor.

Walter nodded at Michael. "So what you’re saying is, it isn’t fair?"

"Hell, no, it isn’t fair! Do you think it’s fair?" Michael’s face finally reflected his inner turmoil, but Walter stayed even-tempered.

"Life isn’t fair, Michael. You, of all people, should know that by now. You can rail at injustice all you want, and all you’re gonna do is make yourself and Sugar miserable. It’ll eat you up inside till there ain’t nothing left. Then where will you be? Miserable....and alone. Cause the Sugar I know wouldn’t put up with that crap any more than you would, if it was her."

As usual, Walter’s plain speaking brought Michael right back to earth and to himself. Michael nodded without speaking. He swallowed and looked at the floor, feeling vaguely uncomfortable about telling Walter how he felt, only to have him throw it back at him. Then Walter spoke again.

"Mind you, you’re right. It isn’t fair. And if it was me, or anybody else, we’d prolly feel the same damn way. But we can’t undo the past, Michael. We just go on and hope it gets better." Walter patted Michael’s arm and smiled kindly. "And not for nothing, but Sugar wouldn’t leave you on a bet, no matter how low you got, so I kinda made my point at your expense."

Michael almost smiled, though the smile never reached his eyes. "I wouldn’t leave her either, no matter what she did."

"I know, Michael, that’s what I admire about you. You’re so single-minded, so..."

"Obsessed?" Michael offered.

"I was gonna say, intensely focused. But you can call it what you will. It comes out the same in the end."

Walter pursed his lips, thinking hard. He ran a finger under his bandana, loosening the colorful cloth a little. "You know, if it were me, I would find a way to make some new memories to replace the bad ones. Why don’t you take a honeymoon before Sugar starts to get big? After Sugar delivers, you two will have your hands full, taking care of the baby, and neither one of you is gonna want to leave the house, much less the country, for a honeymoon."

Michael brightened. "That’s actually not a bad idea."

Walter smiled impishly. "Got any ideas for where you might want to go?"

"Not a one."

Michael peeked into the bedroom, expecting to find Nikita sleeping. It had been a long, stressful day for both of them, and he felt like he’d been down more than up for most of it. But Nikita was awake, apparently waiting up for him.

"Hi," she said softly. "I was wondering where you’d gotten to." She patted his side of the bed, where the covers were already drawn back for him. "I couldn’t go to sleep without you."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I didn’t mean to keep you awake, Kita. I know how tired you must be."

She smiled and reached out for him, and Michael allowed her to hug him. She drew back, frowning. "What is it, Michael? Something’s bothering you."

"It’s nothing, Kita." He broke eye contact with her, and Nikita scooted out from under the covers, crawling on her hands and knees to sit next to him. "Okay, Michael, tell me."

"It’s just that when you said Madeline was getting married, I started thinking about our wedding. I wanted it to be special for you, and it was ruined. We never even had a honeymoon."

"Michael, did I ever complain to you about that?"

He shook his head. She nodded. "You know why? Cause in the end, we’re still married, and we’re together, and that’s all that really matters. Isn’t it? So what if we never had a wedding reception? So what if we never had a honeymoon?"

"Walter as much as told me I was being self-indulgent." Michael sighed.

Nikita reached out with her hand, cupping his chin and turning his face towards hers. "No, you were thinking about me, weren’t you? I know you, remember? You think I feel cheated."

Michael’s head came up, his mouth quivering just a little under Nikita’s close scrutiny. "Don’t you? I do."

"I didn’t know you felt like that, Michael. Why didn’t you tell me?" She sat back, her legs drawn up under her.

"It seems like such a petty thing to get upset about, really. I’m sorry I mentioned it." Michael turned his head away, but Nikita gently pulled him back, her hands framing his face.

"Michael, I love you. Nothing that upsets you this much is petty." She kissed him tenderly, her fingers stroking his cheeks even as her lips met his.

"But we should be celebrating, we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, Kita. Instead, I’m down on some ridiculous thing I can’t change. Remember the toast? To the future. No more looking back." He laughed harshly at himself.

"Michael...the past is beyond your control. There is no possible way we can change what happened. But we can do something about the future. Suppose Madeline and Neil get married here? You said yourself, their wedding is probably going to be wonderful, so let’s have it here. Let’s share their good memories, make them part of ours. Wouldn’t that help?"

She searched his face, looking for one little chink in his armor that would tell her she was getting through to him. He nodded at last. A sigh of relief escaped Nikita.

Michael leaned his forehead against hers and kissed her. "I love you, Kita."

She giggled happily under his mouth. "Oh, and Michael, don’t think you’re getting out of giving me a honeymoon. I’ve been thinking about that all day."

"You have?" It shouldn’t have surprised him. They were so often on the same wavelength, it was like telepathy sometimes.

"Yes," she whispered against his mouth, licking him saucily. "I want to go to Paris."

"You do? Why Paris?" He kissed her back, his mouth unconsciously seeking its mate.

"Because it’s romantic...and it’s French...like you," she finished coyly.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard, but his mouth automatically softened when it touched hers. He laughed to himself. "As you wish, doucette."

He lifted her off the bed and into his arms, pressing kisses all over her face and neck. "Veux-tu faire l’amour avec moi?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes big and wide as they met his. He held her hand and carefully led her towards the window, overlooking the back lawn. "Michael--"

Knowing how he still felt about their wedding day, she didn’t understand him wanting to sit so close to what he obviously considered the scene of the crime. But Michael was nothing if not complex. He would let her unravel things all in her own good time, or he would enlighten her. But he was not going to let her wonder long.

He told her to stay there, while he locked the bedroom door. He then began a tantalizing striptease, which intrigued Nikita, even as it enthralled her. She sat down in the rocking chair and whispered softly, "Perform for me." He took her at her word, removing his T-shirt with excruciating slowness. When he finally pulled the shirt over his head, he stuck his tongue out at her, much as she had done, when she had teased him this way years ago. She giggled, unable to maintain the straight face that Michael had presented to her those same years ago.

He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them, and watched Nikita’s eyes widen even more. He turned his back to her, pushing his pants down, slowly, over his hips, revealing his taut butt, and Nikita gasped. No underwear! Michael looked back at her over his shoulder, his hair falling into his face disarmingly. He mimicked her gasp and put his fingers to his mouth, licking them, one by one. He kicked off his boots, and Nikita heard them thud heavily into a far-flung corner of the room.

He pulled her out of the chair then, letting her slide down the length of his body, groaning as she came in contact with his arousal. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her voraciously, avidly, as if mere contact were not enough. Warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses that drove both of them into a frenzy. He lifted her T-shirt over her head and threw it onto the bed. He ran his hands over both breasts, the roughened tips of his fingers abrading the nipples ever so gently, ever so maddeningly slowly. Sliding one hand over her groin, he felt her grow wet at his touch. He grinned to himself and licked the side of her face with his tongue, eventually working his way to her ear. Arms locked around her, he sat down in the rocking chair, abruptly lowering her onto his arousal.

As soon as the initial surprise subsided, Nikita felt her muscles relax, making Michael’s entry into her body that much deeper. He leaned back in the chair and gently arched his back, at the same time pulling her down to him by clasping her butt. He stretched out his legs, allowing the rocking chair to move slightly with his movements. It was achingly slow going, and it was making Nikita moan. Michael continued to run his hands over her breasts, feeling the taut peaks grow ever sharper as she became more aroused. She leaned over him, her hair falling into his face as she kissed him, her mouth open, her tongue alternately licking and thrusting within his mouth.

Their rhythm grew more erratic, as Nikita approached her climax. When she began to shudder above him, he clamped his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries of passion. As soon as he felt her quiver around him, he surged into her wet heat one last time, groaning into her mouth. When he could speak again, he ran his fingernails up and down her back, feeling her tremble uncontrollably.

"Michael...I’ll never be able to look at this chair the same way again." She laughed against his mouth. He chuckled, his green eyes sparkling like twin emeralds. "That, doucette, was the general idea."

Neil shook his head as he spoke matter-of-factly into the phone. "No," he said, for perhaps the fourth time since the call began. "I said, no," he repeated yet one more time.

He sighed as he put down the phone. Turning to Madeline, he kissed her gently on the mouth. She raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

"Not really," he chuckled. "Michael wants to take Nikita on the honeymoon they never had. I said, great idea. He wants to take her on a plane to Paris. I said, no way."

Madeline cocked her head at Neil thoughtfully. "Any particular reason?"

"Well," he drawled. "As much as I hate to admit it, there is always the possibility that Birkoff is right about there being two heartbeats. If there are, that makes Nikita’s pregnancy a much higher risk. I can’t take that chance."

"But the honeymoon itself would be okay?" She smiled mischievously.

"Think I could stop Michael? Surely you jest." He moved to the window, looking out over the sun-dappled shrubbery at the great expanse of green lawn behind the house. She followed him, pressing her face to his back as she wrapped her arms around him.

Neil pulled her around him then, taking her into his arms for another kiss. "Penny for your thoughts?" she said. Neil gazed at her longingly. "Oh, they’re worth much more than that, my Maddy."

***

Michael closed the suitcase with a thump. "That’s it. That’s all we’re taking, Kita. We’re not leaving home. We’re just going away for a week."

"I know, I know." Nikita paced restlessly back and forth in the bedroom, searching for things she was sure she’d left behind. "Who’s going to take care of Josephine, Michael?"

"Birkoff. He loves the kitty. I already told you that, Kita. What’s the matter?"

She looked lost in thought for a moment. Sliding her wedding band around and around her finger, she seemed almost fragile. Michael slid his hand over hers, effectively stopping her movements. She looked up, startled. "What if something happens?"

"Like what, Kita?" he asked in an exasperated tone.

"Well..."

He sat down on the bed, taking her with him. He pulled her onto his lap and hugged her. "Kita, I thought you wanted to go..."

She nodded quickly. "I do, Michael. But I’m pregnant."

"Neil gave the okay for the train, Kita. And we’re not going as far as Paris. We’re only going to a crumbling little chateau outside a nameless little town." He leaned his forehead on hers, staring directly into her fearful eyes. "It’s not the grand adventure we might have had...just a tiny one," he said, pinching his fingers together closely. "Okay?"

She blinked, her heart in her eyes. "Okay."

***

Michael slammed the suitcase into the overhead luggage rack with a vengeance. Nikita had been tearful ever since they left home. He couldn’t seem to do anything right. Every word that came out of his mouth was wrong, somehow, or she questioned. He didn’t understand. He was trying, struggling actually, but he didn’t understand her trepidation.

Walter had nearly cried when Nikita left. Even Birkoff acted as if Michael was stealing Nikita away for nefarious purposes. Well, he thought, to be fair, this was the first time they had voluntarily left the home they’d made for themselves. Their "family" was reacting accordingly, depending on their very different personalities. Declan refused to comment on whether it was a good idea or not, his Section training clearly taking precedence over voicing his own feelings.

It wasn’t as if he were forcing her to go somewhere and do something she didn’t want to do. She had begged Neil to let Michael take her to Paris, but Neil refused to budge, citing the potential risk to her pregnancy. Ever since he’d mentioned that, Nikita had been on shaky emotional ground. Positively labile. Neil claimed it was probably hormonal, and he advised Michael to go, because if it were hormonal, it would happen wherever they were, even if they stayed at home.

They had a sleeping compartment on the train. Their luggage safely stored away now, Michael pulled out the bed, which looked more like a platform or even a plank of wood than a bed. He balanced himself on the edge of the platform, starting to strip off his clothing. Nikita watched him from under her lashes. It was difficult to read her expression. Her hair was covering part of her face and her eyes nearly shut. She sniffled and her lower lip trembled, her mouth forming a nearly perfect pout.

When he was down to his briefs, Michael jumped up on the platform and lay down. He stared impassively at Nikita, who seemed curiously reluctant to join him. Feeling rebuffed for no apparent reason, Michael turned over, his back to Nikita. Nikita stood up and pulled her clothing off, one item at a time, looking like a young martyr going to her death. She didn’t understand her own feelings right now. She wasn’t angry. It was more like a free-floating anxiety that gripped her. She couldn’t even put words to it, or give it voice, which might have helped Michael to be more supportive.

She pulled a long, oversized T-shirt over her head, mussing her hair slightly in the process. Climbing carefully onto the platform, she lay on her side, as rigid as a board. Not feeling remotely sleepy, she felt tears overtake her once more. She lay there, silently crying, in abject pain, but unable to express any other aspect of what was terrifying her. Michael felt Nikita tremble, and his heart ached. He clenched his jaw so tightly, his teeth grazed his lower lip and drew blood. Finally, unable to take another second of her pain, Michael turned to face her, reaching for her with outstretched arms.

Blinded by tears but reacting on instinct, Nikita poured herself into Michael’s embrace, now visibly shaking. "Kita, Kita, ssh...ssh.." he mouthed repetitively, as if the mere sound was somehow soothing. Maybe it was. For both of them. For when Nikita heard his voice, she stopped shaking. She pressed her lips to the hollow in his neck. "Michael..."

It was part entreaty, part promise. "Make love to me." Michael backed up against the window of the sleeping compartment. The shade was drawn down to the sill, but the moon was full, and light shone through the bottom, illuminating Nikita’s face. Even tearful, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever had the good fortune to hold in his arms.

"No, doucette, just let me hold you," he whispered. His lips grazed hers tenderly. "I will hold you all night, if you want."

"Michael, I don’t understand why I feel like this." She tried to smile, but the effect was tragically inappropriate, given the tears trickling slowly down her face.

He kissed her gently. "You’ve never been pregnant before, doucette. Your body is not just your own anymore. It belongs to our child as well."

She giggled. "Are you trying to tell me our child is having a temper tantrum?"

He smiled against her cheek. "I’m trying to tell you that I love you, and I love our baby, and I want you to feel safe, not scared." His eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as he blinked away his own tears of reaction.

"I do feel safe here with you, Michael." She held his face to hers, and they lay like that until the moonlight faded into dawn’s earliest kiss of sunlight.