Part 1

The wind whipped viciously around the two figures huddled in the snow. Michael raised his head, trying vainly to see through the wet snow and ice that blew into his face. Crystals clung to his hair and face, making him look like he had been frozen where he stood. He thumped Nikita hard on the back. “Nikita!” he shouted above the sound of the wind. “I think I see a house! We have to make a run for it! We can’t last out here much longer!”

He gave her a push, and Nikita fell forward into the snow. He all but dragged her behind him, when she did not get up immediately. She looked half-dead already. He let go of her when they approached the door of a small cabin. It was barely shelter, but it was all they had against the winter storm. Michael tried the door, but it was either locked or frozen shut. He didn’t want to risk kicking it in, for that would only make it harder to close it against the elements once they made it inside. He searched for the lockpick in his coat, but his hands wouldn’t respond. He dropped the lockpick in the snow, and it disappeared below the surface. Gone.

Nikita swayed against him, and he realized they were out of time. He pushed the door open with a shove from his shoulder, and they fell onto the floor inside. He nudged Nikita away from the door, and kicked the door shut with one booted foot. He held it there against the wind with his foot while he tried to find something else to brace it with. He finally braced his entire body against the door, feeling the wind push back. Nikita roused herself from the stupor caused by the cold, and managed to get to her feet. She found a board on the floor and braced the door, allowing Michael to move away from it at last.

He took off his gloves and put them in his coat pocket. Soaked. They were saturated with wet snow. They would both undoubtedly freeze to death without some form of heat. What supplies did they have to work with? A log in the fireplace, three matches, a sleeping bag, a pillow, and a blanket. Not much for two people. Two freezing people.

“First thing, we need to get warm. But before we take off these wet clothes, we need to get that fire started.” Michael walked over to the fireplace, and Nikita glared at him as best she could with frozen eyes and lips.

“Well, if we have to be stranded in the middle of a blizzard, it’s great to know you’re Mr. Wizard.” Michael turned around and stared impassively at Nikita. “Are you angry about something in particular?”

“Well, not for nothing, Michael, but who gave us the intel for the mission profile? They couldn’t see that the mission would go south, I suppose, but you would think that Section must have a damned meteorologist on the payroll somewhere.”

He shrugged. “The storm won’t last more than a few hours. Our com links are useless in this weather. They won’t be able to get a fix on our beacons either. Till this is over.”

“So now you’re the weatherman?”

“Is this your idea of how to keep warm? It would be more productive if you helped me start the fire.” Michael stomped his feet, which were already growing colder by the moment.

“There’s only three matches, Michael. What do we do if we can’t start it with three matches?”

Michael looked thoroughly exasperated with Nikita. “Feel free to freeze to death, Nikita. I’m going to try to start this fire.” He turned his back on her, then abruptly realized that his hands were too cold and wet to hold the matches. He took off his coat, dropped it on the floor in front of the fireplace. He continued to undress as Nikita watched silently.

“Are you trying to speed up the process?”

“What?” Michael frowned.

“Of freezing to death.” She indicated his lack of clothing, which was now piled up on the floor in a sodden heap.

“No,” he said grimly. He picked up a match and realized that they had no tinder to catch fire. Without it, one or two matches were not going to be able to get the log started. His clothes were useless, they were wet throughout and would only raise smoke. Clad only in a white t-shirt and white briefs, Michael went to each corner of the room and scooped up any flammable debris he could find. When Nikita saw what he was doing, she gave up her sullen mood. She clambered to her feet, pulled off her boots, and threw them next to Michael’s clothes. She unzipped her leather pants, and soon they too went into the pile. Eventually she too was wearing a white t-shirt, but instead of briefs, she wore scarlet boxer shorts.

When Michael had a small amount of tinder, he carefully lit the first of the three matches, blowing on the tinder to keep its tiny fire going. Eventually the fire caught, but he didn’t know how long it would last, or if it would last till the bigger log took fire. He continued to lean over it, drawing what warmth he could from it. He picked up the blanket and threw it to Nikita.

“You’re giving me the blanket? Oh, be still my heart. Chivalry is not dead.”

Michael stood and crossed his arms, looking curiously formidable even partially unclothed. “Nikita, sarcasm won’t keep you warm.”

He grabbed the sleeping bag and moved it closer to the fire. “And I won’t either.” He shrugged his way into the sleeping bag, clearly indicating that Nikita could have the blanket and pillow. She pulled the blanket around herself, drawing her knees up and leaning her arms on her knees, to make her body smaller and easier to keep warm. “Fine,” she said shortly. She put the pillow on her knees and laid her head on it, wrapping her arms around her knees to hold it in place.

He lay on his side, facing the fire, away from Nikita. He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine that she was now staring a hole right through him. God, she could be difficult sometimes. Like now. Brat. He smiled, wondering what she would say if she knew what he was thinking.

Nikita continued to huddle uncomfortably behind Michael, actually too far from the fire to be really warm. “Michael...” she whined softly.

He ignored her.

“Michael...” she whined, this time a bit louder.

“What, Nikita?”

“Can I share the sleeping bag?”

He sighed as if he were mildly annoyed. “I don’t know. Can you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just thought it might be against your principles or something.”

“It’s not an invitation, Michael! God, we need to keep warm.”

“I’m warm.” He noted that Nikita was now crawling across the floor on her hands and knees, pulling the blanket with her. “Oh, and bring the pillow,” he said, almost laughing now.

“I am.” She slid her lower body into the sleeping bag, her legs touching the back of Michael’s body. He remained on his side, carefully turned away from her.

She wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing herself against his back. He groaned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m just keeping warm, Michael.”

He had a number of things to say about that, but none of them came out of his mouth. His mouth tightened slightly. “You’re testing me.”

“No, it’s not a test, Michael.” She almost smiled.

“You’re trying my patience, then.”

In answer, she resumed pressing her body against Michael’s, laying her head down on the pillow. She inched closer until she could touch his neck with her lips, and he actually flinched in response.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Now I’m testing.” She laughed.

Cabin Fever Part 2

Nikita trailed her fingers down Michael’s back and felt him shiver. She grinned to herself. He was so in control, even in an emergency, but he wasn’t immune to her most casual touch. She pushed her hands under his t-shirt and massaged his shoulders. “You’re so tense right here, Michael.” He sighed. “Nikita...”

“You need to relax...” she said wickedly, forcing him to remember the last time he had said those words to her. That made him turn around to face her. Michael pushed her hands down in an effort to stop her exploration. But Nikita had enough of a grip that her hands caught on the top of his briefs, pulling them halfway down. “Nikita, stop.”

“Why? You going somewhere, Michael? No place to run...no place to hide...pretty scary, huh, Michael?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Nikita.”

“You’re afraid of something. What is it?” He stared at her for a full minute, then turned his back on her again without speaking.

“Michael--” she pouted. “Can I help you relax?”

His voice, when it came, sounded muffled, as if he were trying to swallow the blanket. “I don’t want to relax. I like being tense.”

“Oh.” Nikita smiled. “Sure you do.”

The fire began to sputter, and Michael turned his attentions to the waning fire. He was forced to use the second match and the rest of the tinder he had collected. He hoped the fire would get stronger, it was not giving off enough heat to keep them warm until morning light came.

“I hope the fire lasts the night,” he said, trying not to worry Nikita.

“Afraid of the dark?”

“No, afraid of freezing to death. It wouldn’t be my favorite way to go.” He shrugged his way back beneath the blanket they shared, trying not to touch Nikita’s body, but he knew it was futile. Once she got an idea into her head, she could be incredibly stubborn. He supposed that determination was a great asset in an operative, but they were no longer working the mission. And Nikita had nothing but time to occupy her mind and body right now. Just the thought of what could happen made him sigh. He was used to feeling frustrated, but Nikita was not accepting that as an option.

Nikita ran her hand lightly along Michael’s arm. He closed his eyes and prayed. When he didn’t react to her touch, she was puzzled. “I just assumed...you..wanted to...”

“You assumed wrong.”

Nikita pouted, smacking Michael’s back with the flat of her hand. “I never have any fun.”

“You want fun? There’s a deck of cards over there.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to play cards. I want to play with you.” She kissed the back of his neck.

“I have a headache.”

She drew back and looked angrily at Michael’s back. “Now you’re just being mean!”

Michael turned around and glared at her. “I’m being practical.”

Nikita lay on her back in the sleeping bag, groaning with frustration. “I thought it might be easier to be honest in the dark.” Michael couldn’t quite see her eyes in the dim firelight, but he tried to read her expression. “You don’t really want honesty, Nikita. You want to hear something specific--”

Nikita almost screamed, punching the pillow beneath her head, making a thump that jolted Michael. “Y’know, I think you like arguing.”

Michael shifted inside the sleeping bag. “Maybe you’re right.”

Nikita turned so that she was face to face with Michael. “I think I am. You’re so used to pushing me away, you hate when I get close--”

“I don’t hate you getting close--”

“Yes, you do. It makes you tense. It gives you a headache,” she said sarcastically, repeating what he had said minutes before. “And it’s a good substitute for sex.”

That got Michael’s full attention. “What?!”

Nikita glared fiercely, her face made exotic by the distortion of the flickering firelight. “You heard me.” Michael snorted, “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard you say.”

Nikita moved in closer to Michael, and their angry eyes met in a flurry of sparks. “No, the dumbest thing you ever heard me say was I love you.”

He blinked. “I’ve never heard you say that.”

Nikita shrugged. “Well, I think it a lot...I must have said it.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, his nose touching Nikita’s as he moved even closer to her. “No...I’d remember if you did.”

Nikita looked startled for a second. “Y-you would?” He nodded sharply, then lay back again, staring into the dark. “And arguing is hardly as satisfying as sex.”

She muttered under her breath, “It is, if you never have any.” He looked at Nikita, surprised. “Any what? Arguments?”

She smacked his arm again. “No! Sex.”

“You never have sex?” Michael swallowed an hysterical urge to laugh.

Nikita looked positively forlorn. “What do you think?” She refused to meet his eyes.

“I think I feel sorry for you.” Michael would have managed to sound contrite if he hadn’t been so totally amused, not to mention delighted, at the thought that Nikita never had sex. She looked up then, reading the amusement in the half-smile he couldn’t quite control. “Oh, and you have sex all the time, I suppose,” she said bitterly.

That punctured Michael’s burst of enthusiasm, returning him to the real world with a resounding crash. “No,” he admitted finally, “I haven’t had sex in about a year.” He raked his hands through his hair, wondering what it was about talking in the dark that made people confess things they would never dream of saying in broad daylight.

“You’re kidding!” she gasped. “And that, was at your request to relax,” Michael finished. “During the Armel mission?” He nodded, but looked away from her, staring into the fire as if he wished it would consume him.

Nikita leaned over Michael and he could feel her breath on his face. “I’m the last person you had sex with?” He exhaled finally, not really realizing he had been holding his breath till that moment. “You’re the only person I have had sex with for years.”

She sat up, unbelieving, the blanket falling away. Michael grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Nikita’s shoulders. “No,” she whispered, “you were married, to Elena, all that time. You had a son with her.”

“Elena and I never made love after Adam was born,” he said in such a low tone, Nikita could barely hear him. “You never knew about Elena...but she knew about you.” Nikita looked at Michael, horrified, as she thought of being in Elena and Michael’s house, all the while not knowing how it must really have been. “No, she never knew who you were, but she knew about you. That there was someone outside--”

“Someone you preferred to have sex with?” Nikita looked anguished, her heart torn between empathy for Elena and what this might mean for her and Michael. “Someone I made love with,” Michael corrected gently. She glanced at him, seeing the softening in his face. “Then it wasn’t just sex?”

He sighed. “It was never just sex with us, Kita.” He touched her face, running his fingers along her hairline as he liked to do. “Sex was just the only way I could express how I felt.”

He kissed her mouth. Nikita felt breathless. “And how did you feel?” She stared into Michael’s eyes, willing him to say the words she could almost feel.

The fire crackled loudly, and the sound shattered the moment. “Like it’s getting cold in here, and we only have one match left.”

Cabin Fever Part 3

“How could you do that to her?” Nikita looked perfectly wretched. Michael glanced at her before continuing. “You automatically blame me, don’t you?”

“Well...”

“I know what you’re thinking. You think I stopped making love to my wife because of you.” She dropped her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

Michael laughed softly and shook his head. “You’re wrong, Kita. Elena stopped me, not the other way around.”

She blinked hard. “But--” Michael sighed. “She sensed that something was...different...between us. She figured out that you existed...she never let me near her after that...”

She was both mesmerized and appalled. It was like being at the scene of a tragic car accident. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Michael touched her arm, gently pulling her back under the covers. “Please, it’s not that I want to touch you, it’s just that you’re letting all the cold air in.”

Nikita touched Michael’s cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch. Talking about all this somehow made him feel guilty all over again. He knew he hadn’t cheated on his wife. Yet to Elena, it must have felt that way. For her, the marriage was a real one, with real problems and real responsibilities. For him, the marriage had been a mission, with real problems and real dangers. “I never meant to hurt her, Kita. To me, the marriage was never real. I did what I had to do.” He looked into Nikita’s eyes, wet with tears she shed out of compassion for a woman she owed nothing. “That doesn’t excuse what I did. But I did try to stay away from you, Kita. You know how hard I tried.”

She rubbed her face against his. “I know.”

He pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. “You have no idea how strange it felt, to know that life inside Section felt real, and life outside it felt fake.”

“I think I’ve been there, too,” she said, finally understanding things that had eluded her for months. Michael played with her fingers, not wanting to break the fragile contact between them yet. “This will sound cruel, but I have to say this once and for all...I was fond of Elena, but I was never in love with her.”

She nodded silently, unwilling to break the spell that held her in thrall to Michael. He looked sad for a moment, and she wanted to comfort him, she knew he was punishing himself for still another tragedy beyond his control. “The irony of God taking Adam away from me is not lost on me, Kita. I think about it every day of my life.” His voice broke.

He suddenly buried his face against her neck, and she held him there. “Ssh, I know, I know.” Her tears fell into his hair, and she pressed him close, knowing there were no words for what she wanted to say.

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

Suddenly there was nothing but darkness and chilling cold air. “Michael! I think the fire’s gone out!” Michael produced the last match and touched it to the log, producing a weak flame at best. “This is it, Kita, we live or die on this.”

“Then we have to make sure we keep warm.” Michael nodded. He stripped off his t-shirt, which had dried finally on his body, and threw it onto the fire. The flame flared high for a moment, then began to burn more brightly. “That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Nikita said wryly.

“I know.” Michael leaned over and kissed her. “I wish things could have been different, Kita.” He searched her face as if he were never going to see her again. That frightened Nikita. “Michael...” she began, looking perplexed.

He looked at her, smiled, then looked down again, his smile suddenly disappearing. He was in deep pain, and she couldn’t help him. “I had this fantasy...” When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with unshed tears. “That you and I...were married...and that Adam was our son.” He winced. “I’ve never told anyone about that, Kita, I don’t know why I’m telling you now. It makes no possible difference anymore.”

“We’re not going to get out of here, Kita. We’re going to die here.” He shook his head, and a tear fell down his cheek, though he didn’t seem to notice. He shivered as he watched the fire dwindle, knowing that their fate rested in the hands of a solitary log reluctant to catch fire.

He wrapped his arms around Nikita and held her. She kissed his neck, his ear, and his cheek, before moving back to his mouth. “No, we’re not, Michael. I love you, and I’m not ready to let go of you.”

She heard his intake of breath when he heard her say the words. “I love you, too, Kita. You told me to find some reason to live. You are the reason.” They clung to each other, unable to accept what fate had apparently in store for them. He pressed Nikita back against the sleeping bag and covered her with his body. “I will keep you warm as long as I breathe, Kita.” He pulled the blanket over them both and tried to insulate them from the increasingly cold air that was invading the cabin.

“We’re going to go to sleep now, Kita...but there won’t be any pain, I promise. I won’t let you be hurt again.” He stroked her face again and again, kissing her mouth slowly, drugging her, hypnotizing her, willing her to accept his loving warmth. She whimpered in his arms. “Michael, I’m so scared.”

“Je sais, cherie.” He lapsed into French, the effort of speaking in English simply too great to continue. They were losing heat at an alarming rate, it would not, it could not be long before they would both succumb.

“Michael?” she said in a quavering tone.

“Oui, Kita?”

“I don’t want it to end like this. Please, make love to me.”

“Kita,” he shivered unconsciously, “we’ll lose too much heat.”

“Please, Michael.”

He closed his eyes and stroked her face. He could not deny her anything, no matter how foolish, and in the end, it would not make a difference. They would be together one last time.

Cabin Fever Part 4--The End

Michael desperately wanted to give Nikita her last wish, but the cold had sapped him of the energy he needed. “Nikita,” he whispered to her, pulling her on top of him. “I can’t, love. I want to, but I can’t.”

She nodded slowly, and it was obvious that the cold was putting her to sleep as well. “I know...then just hold me.”

He glanced at her anxiously. “Kita, I am...” He rubbed her arms as briskly as he could. “You can’t feel it, can you?” She stared at him with tears in her eyes. “No-o...”

He kissed her one last time, his eyes as sad as hers. “Je t’aime, Kita. Tu es mon coeur.” She kissed him back, her lips icy. She mouthed the words he had just spoken to her, as if unsure of the pronounciation, and he nodded. “Je t’aime, Michael.”

**********

There was a huge crash, and both of them jumped, imagining the worst. Perhaps an avalanche had hit the cabin. But no, suddenly a figure in black stood there in the doorway, surveying the scene inside. Michael instinctively blocked Nikita from being seen, though it took all his energy to do so. The figure removed its gloves and slapped them against its leather coat. “Well, I don’t suppose you folks really feel like being rescued right now. You looked like you were practicing one of the scenes from one of those foreign movies I like. Only thing is, you were practicing on my sugar.”

Nikita jumped up as best she could. “Walter!” She pulled the blanket off the sleeping bag and drew it around her, shivering. “I’ve never been so happy to see someone!” Michael looked up at her, a question obviously on his lips. “Well,” she said, looking back at Michael, “present company excepted.” Michael tried to laugh, but his mouth was so cold, it hurt.

Walter stood there smiling for another moment. “Y’know, I could go out and tell the guys with the snowplow to do another lap or so, if you’re, ahem, not ready to leave. But I gotta head off Birkoff, he’s way too young to see this kind of thing.”

Nikita laughed and helped Michael stand up. “Well, I can’t speak for Michael, but I think we’re more than ready to leave this place behind.” He nodded. “Walter, did you bring any dry clothing? We’re pretty cold.”

He threw over a bag filled with clothes. “Want me to turn my back?” He smiled. “Man, those guys out there would love to get this on tape, sell it to a cable tv network, make a million or so, retire...”

“Like you wouldn’t?” Nikita slipped on a clean, dry pair of pants. It felt wonderful. She had to help Michael get dressed, his hands were too numb to do it himself. She was rather enjoying the task, when he winked at her. “What was that? A wink or a tic?” she teased. “I’m not telling.” He managed a tiny smile.

When they were dressed, she directed Walter to turn around again. “Well, I must say, you look none the worse for wear. Must have been quite a nice little adventure.”

Nikita frowned, and Michael coughed. “Not really,” she said. Michael looked at Nikita and put his arm around her. She was surprised at that, it was almost a public display of affection coming from him. “Hey,” she whispered, “you okay now?”

He leaned into her and whispered something that made her laugh out loud. Now he was smiling openly. Walter looked from one to the other and frowned. “Um, is everything okay?” Nikita chuckled and said, “Oh, everything’s working fine now.”

Michael looked vaguely uncomfortable, then burst out laughing.

Walter grinned. “I get it, private joke, right?”

“Right, Walter.” Michael leaned his forehead against Nikita’s and gently kissed her. “Very private joke.”

“In fact, we might have to take a meeting on it later.”

Walter shrugged. “You guys never stop working.”

“We try, Walter.” Michael’s eyes lit on Nikita’s face, and he evidently liked what he saw reflected there. “We honestly try.”

THE END