Rating – PG
        Disclaimer – They aren’t mine. Don’t sue.
        Author’s Notes – Set somewhere in season two or three.

    A sliver of light sliced through the clouds that hung low in the twilight sky. It had rained almost all day long, driving most people indoors. As it turned out, the weather had been an incredibly good stroke of luck for the mission that afternoon. Had it been a nicer day out, there certainly would have been civilian casualties. Operations probably wouldn’t have cared, but Nikita was grateful.
    The mission had gone relatively well. They’d captured Javier Lorcano, an arms dealer who had recently acquired chemical warfare in addition to his usual shipments of automatic and semi-automatic weapons. The only casualty had been a broken ankle that Gomez had suffered when Lorcano attempted an escape. Nikita was feeling pretty good as she strode toward the plane waiting to take them all back to Section.
    “It really is nice out, isn’t it, Michael?” She asked her oft-silent companion, quickening her pace some to keep up with him.
    At the sound of her voice, his stride faltered slightly. Most people wouldn’t have noticed a move so small. Most people wouldn’t have had to, but over the years Nikita had learned that if she wanted to understand Michael, she’d have to pay very close attention to the little things.
    “It’s cold and wet out, Nikita,” he answered.
    Coming from anyone else, the statement would have sounded like a complaint. But Michael would never complain. He was just stating the facts.
    “Maybe,” Nikita replied, “but the sunset is beautiful.”
    Michael glanced at they colorless gray horizon before turning, slightly confused, toward Nikita. She grinned back at him through multi-colored sunglasses that cast an array of colors across her eyes. He stared at her for a moment and blinked twice in rapid succession, a sure sign that she’d utterly exasperated him.
    “The sky is dismal, Nikita,” he said quietly, glancing around them as he spoke. “The only beauty is the color you give it.”
    A full smile grew across her face as she read between the lines of what he was saying.
    “But even that,” he continued, “isn’t real. And you know it.”
    The smile faded from her face as she thought about what it was that he was actually saying.
    “It’s as real as I want it to be,” she insisted, averting her eyes from his gaze.
    “No,” he replied. “It’s not. You see in brilliant hues of blue and pink, but they aren’t really there.”
    “You could see the colors, too, you know,” she whispered, “if you just tried.”
    “You still don’t understand, Nikita,” he said softly. “There is no color, only variations of gray. Our world is dark. There is no sunset.”
    “That’s so sad, Michael,” she pouted.
    It continued to astound him that someone who had seen and done so much could still be so innocent and optimistic.
    “It’s the truth, Kita,” he replied, his eyes caressing her face.
    They turned back and continued walking toward the plane. Nikita kicked a stone in her path into a nearby puddle and watched as ripples of water surged outward.
    “Michael?” she questioned softly
    He looked at her expectantly and barely caught a profoundly sad look cross her face before she covered it up with a brilliant smile. She adjusted her sunglasses as she stared past him to the bit of sun that still clung to the horizon.
    “I know that all we really have is gray and that there isn’t actually a sunset,” she said her eyes trained on the last rays of light. “That’s why I make my own.”