As the van traversed the dusty road that led to Keshat, Michael outlined the mission. A political sanction in Morocco had hired an assassin to take a government official. It was Section's job to stop the hit, pick up the official and return to base. The six operatives would make up three teams. Nikita and Michael were on first team. They would stop the assassin. Madeline had requested that he be brought back alive, if possible. Team two would rescue the official. Team three was back up. Once teams one and two were dispatched, team three would stay in the van and continue on to the private airstrip where a plane would be waiting to return the operatives to Section.

The van stopped on the outskirts of an area that was like a poor man's metropolis. Team two exited here. This is where the official was. Next stop was Michael and Nikita's drop point. An area that was jungle-like, yet had the appearance of a wasteland. At least that's what Nikita thought, as she followed after Michael. He, of course, knew exactly where he was going. Intel told them that the assassin had a shack, that served as his safe house.

They reached it with relative ease. Michael signalled for Nikita to remain at the front, he would sneak around to the back. That was fine with Nikita, for Michael moved with fluid grace and stealth of a shadow. Traits she admired greatly, since she had difficulty emmulating them. Nikita knew she was a good operative, but she lacked Michael's natural, athletic grace. Hers was of a more gawky nature. She smiled to herself as she remembered their mission two weeks ago. Five operatives, plus herself and Michael, had been at the perimeter of a compound. Nikita had tripped, fallen into Michael and he had fallen into another operative, causing a domino effect. Luckily they had been kneedeep in snow, so their presence had gone undetected as they had scrambled to their feet. Nikita had shook with laughter. Michael had not been amused.

Via the transmittors that they wore, Nikita heard Michael inform her that he was nearing the back of the shack and to watch for the assasin to make a break for the front. "Got it," Nikita responded, her eyes locked on the door. Nothing happened. A moment later she knew why. She heard Michael shout:

"Stand fast!" and knew that he must be confronting the assassin. Nikita left her position and headed towards the back of the shack. Before she had reached the corner she heard a gunshot. Nikita's heart leapt into her throat until she heard a softly muttered curse.

"Damn."

Nikita grinned. Michael must have killed the assassin. Just as well, to her way of thinking. Now they would have to tow the excess baggage with them. But a moment later her smile faded as the ground beneath her feet shook. She came around the corner just in time to see the an explosion coming from the back of the shack. An explosion that sent Michael flying off his feet to slam into a tree then fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

"MICHAEL!" Nikita screamed his name as she ran to him. She dropped her rifle and fell to her knees beside him. He was lying half on his side and Nikita ran her hands lightly over him, checking for breaks and blood, before rolling him gently onto his back. His beautiful face was deathly pale, and she could hear his shallow breathing. There was blood on his temple and on his neck. Nikita felt around the base of Michael's skull and discovered a bump that was soft to her touch. When she probed it, Michael groaned.

The sound gave Nikita hope. "Michael? Can you hear me?" she questioned, as she patted his face with her fingertips. He didn't respond and Nikita felt panic flutter in her stomach. But she quelled it, forcing her training to take control. "You're going to be all right, Michael," she whispered. And Nikita made herself believe it, because she couldn't imagine her life, or life at Section one, without him.

*********

Nearly an hour passed with Michael slipping in and out of consciousness. When his eyes finally fluttered open, and seemed to focus, Nikita found herself blinking back tears. She smoothed back his hair and smiled. "Welcome back, Michael," she whispered.

Without moving, Michael was aware that his head was lying in Nikita's lap. Her fingertips gently brushed his temples, the caress somewhat easing the pain that stabbed at him like a hot knife. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"There was an explosion after you killed the assassin," Nikita explained. "The blast slammed you into a tree. You've been in and out for nearly an hour."

"Grenade," MIchael said.

Nikita frowned. "Grenade?" she repeated.

Michael nodded and instantly regretted it. The movement sent pain lancing through his head, followed by a wave of dizziness. But he worked through it to answer Nikita's question. "He had a grenade in his hand. I knew he was holding something...I didn't know what."

"Now we know," Nikita teased, needing to lighten up the moment. Michael stirred, trying to sit up. Nikita wanted him to rest, but she knew better than to argue with Michael, so she let him up.

"How much time is left?" Michael asked, as he slowly made it to his feet. He had to swallow down nausea, but knew it would pass. To ease it he took slow, measured breaths.

Nikita glanced at her watch. "The plane leaves in fourteen hours. We should be able to make it to the airstrip in seven."

Michael nodded, carefully. "We're gonna be slowed down," he said softly.

"Why?" Nikita asked, watching him turn away from her. She sensed that something wasn't quite...right. "Michael?" Nikita put a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

"I can't see," he whispered, turning towards the sound of her voice. A smile curved his lips. He knew she would be stunned by his announcement. He was a bit stunned at having to make it. But they didn't have time for hysterics. They had to reach the airstrip.

Nikita simply stared at Michael, her jaw working, lips forming words...but they didn't come out. She stared into his silver-green eyes and realized that they were focused beyond her. "My..god.." she breathed. "Michael..."

He found her hand. "We have to go, Nikita," he said firmly.

"How?" She curled her fingers around Michael's finding it odd that he was the one giving her support. "We'll have to call for team three to pick us up."

"We can't do that," Michael countered, sharply. "You know the way, Nikita. You can be my eyes." He stated what he believed to be a simple fact. Plain and simple. There was no other option.

Nikita found his courage amazing, but then she realized that it was simply Michael...being Michael. *Can't* was not in his vocabulary. Whatever the task before him, he found a way to do it. "All right," she said, freeing her hand long enough to retrieve his rifle. She returned to Michael and slung it over his shoulder, then checked to see that his handgun was still in his holster. "Shall we go?" she asked, weaving her fingers through his once more.

Michael nodded. "Let's go." Without hesitation, he followed Nikita as she led him off.

********

They traveled slowly. The terrain was rough and Nikita found herself searching for the easiest pathway. There was no getting around the climbing they had to do. Over things, up a path, down a hill....But Michael never once complained, and seldom even stumbled. Nikita realized that he had complete faith in her ability to lead him, and his *blind* trust in her touched her soul. When they paused to rest and swallow some water from their canteens, Nikita commented on their current situation. "Why can't it always be like this?" she questioned.

"Like what?" Michael countered, as he gently probed the tender flesh at the base of his skull. The pain of his injury was a persistant throbbing that seemed to beat in time with his heart. But he could deal with the physical pain. That was easy to do. He had learned to distance himself from it, long ago.

"You and me against the world," Nikita replied, heaving a sigh of frustration, and regret. "Trusting each other...in each other."

Michael was silent for a moment. He wanted to choose his words carefully. "The world is easy to conquer, Nikita," he whispered. "It's Section that we can't fight." It pained him to say that, but Michael wanted the truth between them. There had been so many lies.

Nikita nodded, then remembered that he couldn't see it. "I know," she acknowledged. "But Section is only a part of the world."

"It's the only thing that exists for us, Nikita. The only thing that's real," Michael insisted. He didn't want her drifting into a fanstasy that would only cause her more pain.

"We should go," Nikita said, abruptly. She didn't want to continue this line of reasoning. So she would borrow a trick from Michael....she would walk away. Of course, it wasn't as effective, since she had to take him with her. But he was willing to let it go and Nikita was grateful. She took his hand and they continued on their way. They had eleven more miles to go and only nine hours to get there.

************

Four hours later they were forced to rest again. The sun was strong, and it beat down upon them mercilessly. Nikita found a scrap of shade and led Michael over to it. She slumped down beside him, resenting the fact that the heat and the exertion seemed to have no effect on him. While Nikita felt tired, dirty and irritable...and she could only imagine how she looked with grime all over her and her hair hanging in greasy strands about her face. Michael, on the other hand, looked good sweaty, and Nikita loved the way his hair curled about his gorgeous face. He was pale, and she could see pain shimmering in his eyes, but he didn't seem tired. Of course not. Michael was superman in disguise.

"Nikita..." MIchael whispered her name, even as he turned to face her. He felt for her hand and let his fingertips glide up her arm. He could feel the sweat on her skin, and felt her tremble beneath his touch. He was trembling inside as his hands cupped her face. Michael then closed his eyes as he allowed his fingertips to trace her features. Once he had then memorized, Michael let his thumb brush the curve of her sensual lips, then he leaned forward and gently kissed her. "You're beautiful," he breathed against her sweet mouth.

Nikita laughed. "Yep...you're blind," she shot back, but she didn't pull away from him "I'm a mess."

Michael shook his head. "I see you with my heart, Nikita, not with my eyes," he told her. Why he felt the need to tell her this, Michael couldn't compehend. Maybe it's because he couldn't see his reflection in her crystal-blue gaze. Wouldn't know if his words...his admission...repulsed, or disgusted her. So he continued. "You will always be beautiful."

"Michael..." Nikita blinked back tears as she leaned forward to kiss him. The heat of the kiss seeped deep into Nikita's soul and she found herself trembling with desire. Not surprising, for she had always found Michael...physically....desirable. Nikita couldn't imagine very many women who wouldn't. But it was different this time. Michael was letting her touch his soul. If only for a moment. The depth of her emotions frightened Nikita, so she found herself searching for a distraction. "Michael...if you see me with your heart...then why are you always looking at me with your eyes?" Nikita teased. "Beautiful eyes," she ammended. Eyes that followed her every move at Section.

"You remind me of a candle," Michael replied, still determined to give Nikita the truth.

She frowned at his words. "A candle?" Nikita repeated, letting him hear her uncertainty as to whether or not she should feel complimented, or offended.

Michael laughed, a soft, husky, sound. "Of the flame," he said, his fingers once again tracing her face. She was so beautiful that it made his heart ache. "You're like the flame of a candle, Nikita," he explained. "Always burning bright...and brandishing the darkness around you."

"But....the darkness is surrounding you now, MIchael," Nikita pointed out. "Yet, you don't seem afraid." Even as she admired his courage in the face of his blindness, Nikita found it difficult to understand. She was terrified for him.

"The flame inside of me burned out a long time ago, Nikita," Michael whispered, and he couldn't keep the regret from coloring his tone. "The embers of light have turned to ashes...cold and dead. So I've been in the dark ever since."

Nikita felt tears again, and this time she let them fall as her hands lifted to cup Michael's face. The pain of his words rippled through her, and she realized that he was letting her feel just a touch of the pain that was a part of his soul. "You're wrong, Michael," she told him. Nikita kissed him, with all the passion and tenderness that was within her. Then she pulled back and her eyes lingered over every feature of his angel's face,stopping at his silver-green gaze. "When I look into your eyes," she whispered, "I see a spark. And it's that glimmer that draws me to you....that illuminates your soul."

Michael found himself blinking back tears. He sensed that Nikita's eyes were upon him, so he pulled away. Michael knew that he wasn't ready for this, and he doubted that she was either. "We have to go," he whispered, harshly.

"Of course," Nikita replied. The moment between them was shattered, but she had no regrets. Michael had been the one to initiate it, and Nikita sensed that he would open up to her again. Sometime. If she were patient. And that was a trait she was learning. So she stood up and took Michael's hand, and they continued onward.

************

They reached the airstrip with just under two hours to spare. Nikita had never felt so weary, but another part of her felt uplifted by the knowledge of what they had accomplished. She and Michael had made it through because of teamwork. More than the simple trust that they were there to back each other up. Although that, in itself, was a miracle. Often times, Nikita felt that Michael would walk away from her on a mission. Not because he wanted too, but because Operations would order him too. The day had not yet come, but Nikita sensed that it would. But not today. Today Michael had put his faith in her and she had done the same. And, for once, Michael hadn't betrayed her. Or lied and manipulated her. Nikita was close to feeling actual happiness. But her lighthearted thougths soon vanished as she realized that something wasn't right.

Michael could sense her hesitation. "What is it?"

"Our people..." Nikita eyes swept the area. "They're not in sight."

"It's deserted?" Michael queried.

Nikita shook her head, then huffed at herself for forgetting that Michael couldn't see it. "No. There are people on the tarmac and by the plane. But I don't recognize them."

Michael grimaced. "Hostiles. How much time do we have?"

"Less than two hours," Nikita replied. "What do we do?"

"We take them out," Michael said, even as he reached for his rifle. He chambered a bullet then smiled grimly. "Point me in the right direction and I'll take out whoever's within range."

Nikita couldn't believe what he was saying. "It's not going to work, Michael," she argued. "We're outnumbered and outgunned. You're blind," Nikita reminded him. "This is suicide."

MIchael grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. "Focus, Nikita," he hissed. "We can do this. Teamwork...remember?"

"Do the job," Nikita muttered, knowing that it was Section code. No matter what the circumstances....do the job.

"Yes," Michael conceded. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. Odds were that they would fail. But not without putting up a fight. Too many lives were at stake, innocent lives. Nikita knew that as well as he did.

Nikita took Michael's hand and led him closer. "How do you want to do this?" she asked, shifting herself into operative mode.

MIchael positioned himself and raised the rifle to his shoulder. "I'm at twelve o'clock. Where are my targets?"

"At three, five and ten," Nikita replied, understanding his line of reasoning. He had a silencer on the rifle, so he wouldn't be detected as he fired, but it was a long shot. Still, if anyone could make it work...it was Michael. "Are you set?" Nikita asked, reaching for her own gun.

"Yes," Michael replied. "Go." He knew that Nikita would have to be the one to enter, and secure, the plane. He trusted her abilities as an operative. Michael knew she would be okay.

Nikita didn't hesitate. She moved out and swiftly made her way to the plane. As she ran she watched Michael drop the guards. He hit all three. "Amazing..." Nikita whispered to herself. Then she was at the plane and entering, cautiously. She heard sounds from the cockpit and efficiently disposed of the two men she found there. A quick search of the rest of the plane revealed two Section Operatives, unconscious, the other two were dead. The official they were sworn to protect had been drugged, but he was alive and would recover. Nikita sighed and turned to head back out to retrieve Michael, only she found herself facing down a gun. The man holding it was ugly and smiling. Nikita knew she was going to die. Her own gun was on the floor. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blast, and her body jerked as she heard the shot. But then her eyes flew open.

The gunman was dead at her feet and Michael was standing before her. His own gun raised. Nikita swallowed hard. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I got him?" Michael asked, his expression blank.

"You got him," Nikita confirmed.

Michael allowed a small sigh to escape him. "You okay?" he asked. Nikita was awfully quiet and it frightened him a little.

She nodded, then remembered, again...that he couldn't see it. Or could he? Nikita found it hard to believe that he could have made it to the plane...blind. "How did you get here?" she asked, bluntly.

"I followed the light," Michael replied, facetiously.

"You can see?" Nikita countered, confusion clouding her eyes.

Michael laughed softly and took a step forward. In doing so he tripped over the body of the dead guy. Nikita lunged forward to catch him, but ended up being dragged down to the floor to lie in a tangled heap, half on top of Michael. She shook with laughter. Well, I guess I answered my own question," she acknowledged. Then, since Michael's lips were so close to hers, Nikita bent her head and kissed him. "We make a great team," she whispered, when she found the strength to pull away.

"We can," Michael allowed, then he tangled his fingers in Nikita's hair and kissed her breathless. In less than twenty-four hours they would be back in Section one. So this one, brief, moment in time, Michael was taking for himself.