Nikita stood off to the side of Walter's area, not doing anything extactly defined but to stand there. She was staring off to space, and barely even noticed the emerald green eyes staring at her as they come closer and closer.

"We have some time for a few days. Can I come over tonight?" Michael's voice rang out like a perfect pitch that snapped Nikita out of her lost thoughts and jumbled memories.

"Ah.. no.. ah.. no.. I mean yes... No.. I mean... ah.." Nikita stumbles around her words as she feels like she is falling. She looks at Michael and he gently places his hand onto her hand. He is shocked by the sudden coldness on her hand and looks up into her eyes.

"Are you ok?" Michael asks softly and Nikita looks away.

"I'm f.. fine.." Nikita says forcing out a wrangley smile and turns her head around, trying not to draw attention to herself. Michael steps back and drops his hand from hers.

"You lie more effectively to the point that I don't know. You aren't convincing me, Nikita." Michael says and Nikita slowly steps to ther ight, so that Michael's body is not directly next to hers.

"Can I come over tonight?" Michael asks again, and Nikita turns to find the emerald green eyes scanning her face. Each second that she does not respond, the more Michael does not believe that she is fine. Each second that her eyes ache to move away from his intense stare, just screams to her mind, body, and soul that there is something wrong. Each second is magnified and studied and waited upon.

"If you want too." Nikita responds and with amazing personal will, she frees herself from Michael's emerald eyes and walks slowly away.

Michael watches every move of Nikita's leg. How the foot gently rolls off of the ground before the calf bends and moves the leg slowly forward. He watches the grace of the move, and realizes the tension in the legs and the back. He notices the solid shoulders, that are usually loosely hung down and soft.

Moving away, Nikita knows not of what Michael is thinking, as her mind is filled with other thoughts. Forgotten immediately is the suggestion that Michael may stop over that night. He never does such things willingly anymore.

Nikita walks over to her cubboards and pulls out a wide wine glass. She opens the refrigerator and allows the cool chilly air to hit her face and her arms as she pulls out a fine Merlot. She swirls the bottle lightly as she is caught up in thoughts.~Maybe tonight it won't happen~ Nikita thought as she opened the bottle and lazily poured the deep Merlot into the glass. She replaces the cap and moves the bottle to the countertop near the sink. She takes the wine in one hand and moves to her living room area.

~Let me be alone tonight~ Nikita silently begs as she settles down inthe huge floor pillows that she had arranged around her couch. She looks at the wine in the soft light of a few candles and allows her head to roll lightly back before even taking one sip.

"Nikita..." is heard by herself and her head rolls around. The presence is felt and her heart immediately begins to race. Her hand starts to tremble with fear and a few drops of the merlot slide over the edge of the glass and drip down to her hand.

"Please... not tonight.." Nikita begs out as she looks around the room.

"My Nikita...." is heard again and Nikita's shoulders instinctively roll toward her ears. She didn't want to hear it, she didn't want to see it, she didn't want it.

"NO! PLEASE! NOT TONIGHT!" Nikita cries out loudly as she sets the glass down and stands up. The French doors to her balcony slam open and the white curtains begin to sway in the air. Nikita shakes her head as the vision starts to emerge from the white curtains.

"Please... NO!" Nikita says as tears run down her face. The face moves closer to Nikita, a face she ached never to see again in her life.

"You are a bad girl.. my Nikita..." the face says and Nikita falls to the ground onto her knees.

"PLEASE MOM! NOT TONIGHT! CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR ONE NIGHT!" Nikita cries out. She feels a cold icy hand touch her shoulder and she recoils from the touch.

"You've said that before... remember... you get punished..." the ghostly vision of her mother says as the room goes black.

"NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!" Nikita screams out in horror and in pain.

Michael holds in his hand the tissue paper wrapped bouquet of flowers as he walks up the stairs silently. As he enters the hallway, the screams of Nikita are heard and he dashes to the door.

"Nikita..." Michael calls out as he knocks at the door rapidly. His hand holds the flower even tighter as he heard now not a sound. Time ticks away loudly, and each second is punctuated by the ticking of his watch.

"Nikita... " Michael calls out again as he loosens his grasp on the flowers, knowing that soon he would have to enter with his gun in his hands. He leans against the door, hoping to hear a sound.

The sound he did hear was one that he did not want to hear. She was crying and very heavily crying. Michael never remembered hearing sobs quite like these ones. Nikita's very soul was exposed to its inner depth and pain with each cry, and with each cry, Michael's heart was being turned in painful circles.

Michael nudges the door and is surprised to find that it was open. The apartment was black and the cries echoed in the room and in his ears. He flicks the light on to find Nikita in the living room.

He looks to her and then to the opened French doors. The light flurries drifted into her apartment, and Michael smoothly walked over and shut the doors.

"Nikita.. it is freezing outside." Michael says, hoping to reach to her. Nikita lifts her head and looks at Michael.

"Please... let me be." Nikita says with her puffy red face rolling back down to her chest. Michael looks to her as she cradles her own body and starts to sooth herself by rocking back and forth.

Michael walks over to the couch and sees the glass of wine. "Have you been drinking?" Michael asks and Nikita shakes her head no. Michael takes the glass to were Nikita is and nudges her with his foot.

"Nikita..." Michael says as he holds the glass down. Nikita stares at him and pulls herself off of the ground.

"I haven't even had a sip yet." Nikita says as she pulls her hair away from her face, but still a few wet strains stay connected to her cheeks.

"Nikita... I see the bottle on your countertop." Michael says as he tries to explain her behavior. Nikita knocks the glass from Michael's hand and pulls his mouth to hers.

Their mouths meet in a rushed and forced kiss from Nikita, but quickly it transforms as Michael's hands run down Nikita's shoulders and to connect behind her back. Michael pulls Nikita closer to his body as his tongue probes her mouth, seeking the warmth of her soul and in amazement of how perfectly she matches his body.

Slowly Nikita pulls her head back, and with a soft and gently movement, their lips part and Nikita looks up to Michael's eyes that never closed. She steps away from his grasp and looks to him.

"Did you taste it, Michael?" Nikita questions as she goes to gather a rag.

Michael looks at her and looks down to his feet. He had accused her viciously, and he was wrong. Michael wasn't one to do such things.

"Please, leave." Nikita says and Michael nods his head. He could not ask her anything more about what was going on. She would not answer him now.

....the water was hot as it hit the flesh of the body in the shower. Traces of blood washed away in the drain, and supposedly never thought of again. Tears were washed away, only to be cried again.

"Nikita... get out of there. YOU ARE USING ALL THE HOT WATER!" Her mother screams and a young Nikita scrubs at her stomach, using her nails, trying to get rid of the sediments the man tonight left.

Nikita's mother pulls the shower curtain away and pulls Nikita out by the hair. Nikita's screams go unnoticed and unheard. She tries to fight her mother, but every bone and muscle hurt in the young girl's body. She could have only been ten, maybe eleven.

"Already wet..." Garod says as Nikita's mom throws her down on the bed. Nikita rolls to the headboard.

"NO!" Nikita screams as she watches the money pass hands. Her own mother, selling her body out for rent. Nikita knew that if she fought, it would hurt more, but there was no other way. She would never become her mother. To give, to submit, to allow, would be saying that her mother was right. Her mother was never going to be right.

Garod runs over and pulls Nikita up by the hair and slaps her face. "I think you need to cool off.." Garod says as he drags her back to the shower that she was just pulled from. Nikita screams and kicks, but nothing has power behind them, as she is moved around like a rag doll.

But the rag doll hurt when she was slammed against the ceramic tiles.It hurt when Garod pulled her young arms up over her head. There was no relief from pain that night. Even when Garod thought that he was being nice and gave her a chair to set her feet down on, so she didn't hang just by her feet, there was no relief. And hours later, when she sat on the floor of the shower, allowing another layer of blood and sediments wash down the drain, there was no relief from the pain that was Nikita's entire life.

Nikita sits at a computer desk the next morning. She notices Michael walking in and defensively turns her head from him. She had no passion to talk to him about last night, and she did not have the emotional energy either.

Nikita pushed her hair back and sighed as the room was extremely hot. She absently rolled up her sleeves of the gray turtleneck and turn back to the computer.

"Where did these come from?" Michael questions as he grabs Nikita's hand and turns her hand over. He sees dark bruises in the arms, but they were fresh. He had not seen them last night.

"Oh... banged into something." Nikita says as she pushes the sleeve back down. Michael stares at her and then touches her back softly.

"Come with me." Michael says and Nikita stands up. She follows Michael as he moves down the hallways quickly and in some round about way, they reach Michael's office. He looks to the blinds and closes them and makes the room safe for Nikita to speak. He walks to her and touches her cheek softly. His green eyes stare into her blue eyes and Nikita pulls away. Michael touches the soft gray material and looks at Nikita.

"Take the shirt off, Nikita." Michael says and Nikita lifts her chin. She knows what is underneath, and she will do whatever it takes to protect herself.

"No." Nikita says and Michael looks at her. He uses his right hand to roll down the turtleneck to see the bruises around her neck. Michael touches one and Nikita pulls away.

"Take the shirt off." Michael says and he watches the tears slowly form in her eyes. Then as the tears slowly fall from the blue eyes, he sees the bottom lip start to tremble. The immediate tone of her cries hauntingly are the cries from the night before. Nikita pulls the gray turtleneck off and turns her head from Michael. He looks at the bruises. Some of fresh, and some are old. He touches Nikita's chin and makes her look at him.

"Who is doing this, Nikita?" Michael asks and Nikita bites her lips and shakes her head no.

"You won't believe me, Michael." Nikita cries out and Michael stares at her.

"Nikita, who did this?" Michael asks again, trying to maintain his anger. In his head he had already formatted the way of torturing the person to slow and painful death. It was formed in his head instantly and was getting more detail as he saw Nikita's pain.

"Ghosts." Nikita cries out and drops her head. Michael looks at her and moves forward. He didn't like the answer, but he was not going to further torture Nikita. His arms wrapped around her body as her head cried on his black jacket. Answers would have to wait.

The grayish silver metal door slid open and Michael in his now dry black jacket walks down the stairs in his normal matter. He had left Nikita in his office, as she took one of his spare black jackets and rolled up into a ball on two of the chairs. He couldn't imagine that she felt comfortable ,but her sleep appeared to be calm as he watched the first two hours.

"Michael. There is no mission being planned." Madeline says as she raises her eyes from the computer. Michael raises his chin and looks directly at Madeline.

"I want to expand my knowledge in some academic fields." Michael says and Madeline raises an eyebrow. It had easily been six years since Michael made a request such as the one he just asked for.

"Do you want to take some classes? I can set that up." Madeline asks as she stands up and Michael looks around her office.

"I am just looking for some reading." Michael says and Madeline moves to the wall and out turns her books.

"On what?" Madeline asks and Michael looks to the books and glances over them. Madeline watches his eyes jump quickly, as he truly wasn't looking at the books.

"Ghosts." Michael replies and Madeline can not hide her surprise.

She looks at Michael and then looks to her hands. "Emotional ghosts? Or the ones that go 'boo'?" Madeline asks with a slight smile. Michael presses his lips together, not finding the comment funny.

"Both." Michael says and Madeline looks at him. Michael stares at her and waits. She lifts her hands and runs her fingertips over the books.

"I don't have a lot of information on the ones that go 'boo' Michael." Madeline says and Michael raises an eyebrow.

"But they exist." MIchael says and Madeline looks at him. She never took him as in believing in ghosts. She will have to modify his file.

"Maybe." Madeline replies as she pulls out two books. She turns an dwalks to her desk slowly. "I have an interesting book that I am finishing about ghosts. It is about a person who had emotional ghosts that came back and started to haunt her real life. Very detailed and very documented." Madeline says and Michael looks at her.

"May I read that?" Michael as and Madeline looks at him.

"I'll finish it up in the next hour. I'll drop it off." Madeline says and Michael exits quickly. Madeline leans back in her chair and pulls out the book she was speaking about. She wondered what was going on....