Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in this story are not real. The characters and the setting of the show "La Femme Nikita" used within do not belong to me, but to the USA Network and TPTB. The story line is my own demented invention, inspired by song and the wish that Nikita would be the one to leave Michael for once, leaving him to wonder and mull over what it all means. It takes place after "Psychic Pilgrim" but before "Adrian's Garden" and "EndGame." This is my first ever fan fic for La Femme Nikita, so any comments would be appreciated. The song "Nuits de Rêve" is by the incredible Canadian group Moxy Früvous (and off the "Wood" album). There are no copyright infringements intended by me. An side by side English translation tothe French is located at the very end of the story. A last warning: this story is rated NC17. If you are under the age of 18, or easily offended by sexually explicit writing, then this is your last chance to stop reading. Now.

On with the story........

*******

The Intricate Trap

"Oh Michael, it's perfect!" Nikita rolled her eyes as she gushed over the dinner that Michael had set on the table.

Michael stepped in closer to Nikita and said, "I told you it would be special. Now go change out of that uniform and into something that is a splendid as you are for our elegant dinner in."

The wry smile on Nikita's face betrayed the amusement she felt over the whole situation. Michael had to work hard not to smirk as well, but he was able to keep his face and body in the usual state- cold calm operative mode.

The radio performance was all for the benefit of their target. The bugs their target had set up were of good quality, but without video cameras a simple script sufficed to convince the would-be assassin of their sincerity. Nikita again had been put in the position as potential victim to catch someone. This time, it was a serial-killer who went by the name "Sammael" that had a passion for female law enforcement officers. Normally, it would have been just a simple matter for the local police, until he had been contacted by Red Cell and offered the chance of a lifetime for him - training, equipment, and a list of names and addresses of police officers and government agents. The latest trend was for Red Cell to send him a target who had just been recruited for some agency, where the killer would remove them just after their training started - forcing agencies spend more time and money to recruit even more"victims".

They had been working for this night for a couple of days. Nikita had a couple of "days off" and Michael, her ever supportive husband, had set up the idea that a "surprise" was in store for her. It was all a cover to get out of the apartment and go back into Section to get supplies and finalize the trap they were setting. Sammael never killed his victims when they were with someone, and the impression that was being set up was that Nikita and Michael would be in bed for most of the weekend. However, at 1:15 the next afternoon, Michael would be called away, leaving Nikita "alone and drowsy"- the perfect time for Sammael to strike.

Nikita padded her way into the bedroom and changed into a plain black cotton pants and a black long sleeve T-shirt. She also went into the bathroom and messed around a little. The impression she needed to give was that she was making herself sleek and elegant for the miniature gourmet dinner Michael had prepared to seduce his "wife" over.

She looked at herself in the mirror and grinned sarcastically. I should put on a dress, just to surprise him, she thought. Then again, that won't crack the iceberg in the dining room.

During dinner, Michael and Nikita verbally batted back and forth charm and sexual innuendo. If it wasn't for Michael's blank face and the growing wary look in Nikita's eyes and the tension in both of their spines, it could of ranked among the best seductions either of them had to do. After dinner, they both rose from their seats and padded over in bare feet to the living room, where Michael turned on a CD and they talked of dancing. Then, almost without warning, Michael placed a hand around Nikita's waist and they were dancing.

Both of them were still guarded, but Nikita's back relaxed from the stiffened position it had been for the last hour. Her eyes still reflected back nervous caution, while Michael kept himself calm.

It wasn't easy for either of them.

Michael had been having trouble, standing so close to Nikita for their voices to be the right distance from each other, and not touching her. Especially when giving suggestions of their "weekend to come." Tension started humming through him, and he had to check the impulse to do something stupid. Then thinking off all the times they had danced on missions and nothing had actually happened between them, he had reached out his hand so that they would be doing something besides just standing there. Internally, he was relieved when Nikita primly placed her hands on his shoulders, keeping a little distance between them. However, the action served to frustrate him all the more by placing her warm flesh into his hands and there was nothing else he could do than just dance.

Mon dieu, he thought, you're driving me insane already Nikita, and you haven't done anything.

Nikita didn't know what to do. She tried to be distant, and barely suffer Michael's gesture. However, her body relaxed of it's own accord, and fell into sync with him and the music naturally. Her mind and emotions however, were reeling. It was all she could do to keep herself from moving in closer and press her body against Michael's. Hard keeping her heart from racing at the touch of Michael's hands on her waist. Hard to suppress the heat that pooled and spread from where his hands touched her throughout her body. Nikita's heart was aching from the paradox of being so close to him, speaking of intimate doings, yet both of them being so distanced from each other. Yet, she wasn't going to lose control. If Michael could keep himself as distant as stone, so could she. In her thoughts she dared herself to be stronger than Michael over her passions.

Ironically, what helped her to keep her distance was Michael. The blank stare from him reinforced the mantra her conscious mind was chanting to try and keep her sane, this is only a mission, this is only a mission.

Finally the CD ran out, and when the conversation drew them into the bedroom they followed. Just as they noisily fell onto the bed, Michael took a small CD player with speakers and set it on the pillow in between them. Looking right into her eyes, he pushed the play button. Immediately, a small moan came over the system. It was distinctly Nikita's. A recording from the night of the Armel mission was playing through the speakers. Nikita's eyes locked onto Michael's, and he could notice that she drew her breath in a little too slowly. He slid off the bed, eyes still locked, and slid his shoes off.

Nikita did the same, and forced her eyes off him. She quietly walked out of the bedroom with Michael following her. It was an old building that had several "undocumented" passages that Sammael wouldn't know about. Section had, under the guise of painters a week before, modified the entrance from their room into the secret passageway to open and close silently. Putting their shoes on they left the building and returned to Section to get their weapons and equipment for tomorrow.

They finished early in the Section, and Nikita spent what time she could drawing out to the last minute before departure. However, Operations wouldn't have any of it, and by the time Nikita and Michael re-entered the bedroom there was still a half hour to the recording. Nikita sat on the floor next to the bed, while Michael sat on the other end of the bed facing away from her, checking something on his PDA. Nikita looked up then closed her eyes at the first loud moan she heard, which was Michael's. Michael's voice, hoarse then whispered over the speakers, "Oui, mon cheri, don't stop."

"Oh, don't think I'm letting you ride this one alone love..." responded Nikita's voice. Then a low feminine moan came over the speaker. Michael was glad Nikita couldn't see him. He knew instantly what had been happening on the recording, and his body responded painfully. It was at this point of their night together where Nikita, after feasting on all parts of his body, had withdrawn her mouth from his sex and straddled him.

"I'll make you fly first mon coeur." Michael at that point had taken control and flipped Nikita onto her back, then proceeded to drive her insane from his thrusts, mouth, and hands. The recording reflected the change in tempo when Nikita's moans had turned to harsh cries.

It had been their last frenzy, the last abandonment to emotion and lust they indulged in that night. Even with the cameras, their feelings had crept in, and made the illusion reality. They somehow had known that this was it, the would not know when they could touch like this again, and responded accordingly with hunger, passion, and unmitigated lust. Michael's strokes had bordered on brutal, but Nikita had met each one and demanded more with her body and voice. It had been a cycle of explosions, one burst feeding off the other. When it all came crashing down on them, both had screamed without sound and passed out.

Several minutes after the recording ended, Nikita got up and padded into the bathroom, taking a long night-shirt from the bed. Michael turned off the bedside light and hit the button on a radio next to the bed to cover up the sounds of his own undressing. When Michael was down to bicycle shorts and a T-shirt, he slid quietly into the bed just in time to see Nikita framed in the doorway by the light of the bathroom. Unfortunately, the light did more to show off her body through the night-shirt than the shirt did to hid it. Michael quickly turned to his side and Nikita slid in beside him, both of them making the "I love you, goodnight" murmurs that usually end passionate love-making sessions.

However, it took both of them a while to actually go to sleep.

*******

.....De-Brief

The rest of the mission went to profile, almost down to every letter on Madeline's computer screen. Sammael, the self-styled "Poison of God", walked into the waiting tranquilizer needle of Nikita at 1:45pm. At 4:30 everyone was back at Section and the initial debrief was over at 6:00. All there was left to do was for Madeline to attend to Sammael in the White Room, and she predicted that it would take some time to get the desired information from the insane man. Since nothing more could be done until she was able to extract the intel from him, so she decided that the team could have a little treat.

At 6:00, just as everyone was about to get up and go to their next duties, Madeline made an announcement. "One last thing. It has been decided that, since it will be a couple of days before we can go to the next phase of this mission, all of you will be given that time off. Unless an emergency occurs, no one on this team will be called in until oh-nine-hundred Monday morning. That will be all."

Of the operatives, Michael was the only one not to breath an audible sigh of relief. With Madeline's dismissal, everyone got up and started heading towards the exit to Section. Michael however turned to go to his office.

"Michael."

He turned around. "Yes?"

Madeline was standing at the entrance to the briefing room. She had known that Michael would try and go back to work. "You are included in this 'vacation' Michael. If you don't take this as an opportunity, I will turn it into an order. It's your choice."

She turned to leave, the paused and said over her shoulder, "And don't bring the office home with you Michael."

*******

...Temporary Escape

She figured she had at least the night. She knew Section well enough that a free weekend was impossible, that some mission that had to be accomplished *now* to save the world would intervene and they would be called in.

In the meantime, she was going to enjoy herself. Simple pleasures had turned into the most important ones, because of their infrequency. If you can't enjoy *any* pleasures, then you're already dead, she thought.

Nikita kicked her shoes mostly off while waiting for her hot chocolate and scones. The café was a true treasure trove that featured treats from all over Europe. The scones in particular were incredible and always served with fresh cream and jam. She stopped here whenever she could, but lately she never had enough time to truly appreciate the food and atmosphere.

This stop at the Café International was just the first step of pampering herself tonight.

Outside the Café International, Michael was just standing for a minute. He hadn't been here in a while, but when he was a younger operative this café was a favorite spot of his. It was conveniently located between Section and his apartment, and the food was excellent. However, it wasn't the remembrances of his younger days that made him stand still. It was the sight of Nikita through the window, biting into a scone with almost indecent relish. He watched her wipe a drop of jam that had leaked out the corner of her mouth with her index finger, then she sucked the sweetness off leaving her finger faintly glistening in the light.

Suddenly, Michael was suppressing several images that came to his mind. Still worked up a little from listening to the recording the previous night, all of the ideas that came to mind involved licking jam off Nikita's body, or her licking jam off him. The cold operative in him thought that these images were intriguing, but inappropriate, thoughts.

He continued just to stand out there, watching Nikita from the shadows. Michael, he thought to himself, get a grip on yourself. He wanted to prove to himself that he was stronger than his passions, especially now when he didn't have a mission to concentrate on.

Blissfully unaware of Michael's presence outside, Nikita switched to desert. She gently attacked the Chambord-Chocolate torte, and paid her bill while the rich confection tried to make it's last stand against her hunger. It lost.

Nikita now felt that she was ready to go out and dance. The sugar was humming through her system, making her almost bouncy on her way to the club. Fortunately, before debrief she had changed into a knee-length flared black skirt and an electric blue silk blouse that would work for just dancing. Tonight I don't have to whore for Section, this is for me, on my own terms. Besides, she thought, I need some release. Tension still hummed in her from last night in the bedroom with Michael.

Just before she stepped out, she thought she hear something, felt something familiar. She caught a brief scent, and she thought Michael was nearby. However, searching around the area with her eyes didn't betray Michael's location. She chuckled and scolded herself, at her body's wish to find Michael in the shadows. Nikita then turned and sauntered down the street.

Michael stepped out from around a corner of the café. Nikita had come close to finding him a couple of times. Just as he was sure that Nikita couldn't see him, he got in his car and started to follow her. Being both her trainer and mission leader, he knew the edge of Nikita's awareness zone was and kept just beyond it. He saw Nikita enter a club, one known for it's clean clientele. A small smirk crept onto his face. This is not the type of place that Section has been sending us to lately - which was precisely why you chose it, Nikita, isn't it?

*******

Dancing Cheek to Cheek

The Spotlight was a club for fun. Pure fun. Here there were no losers dealing drugs and bombs, no slave rings. Just a mix of music, bright lights, and genuinely happy people. Nikita grabbed a Royal Kiss (shot of Chambord and Godiva liquor) and threw herself into a happy and gentle frenzy on the dance floor.

Michael parked and left his jacket in the car. The women and a couple of the men who were grabbing a cigarette outside the club sighed to see him, in black leather shoes, neat cut black slacks, and a well tailored black silk shirt walking up to the door. The sighs turned into small moans and giggles when he took out the rubber tie that held his hair in a ponytail and shook his dark locks into tangled freedom. He made his way into the club and instantly found Nikita, bright and shining on the floor dancing with ahandsome young Hispanic man.

Michael slid through the crown until he was behind Nikita. On a turn she stumbled when she came face to face with him.

They just stood there a moment, and in that short time Nikita's dance partner looked at Michael and knew that he was toast. By the time Nikita even thought of the man she had been dancing quite well with, he was already dancing with a tall red-head.

Michael held out his hand, and they were dancing. On faster songs they were a little flashier, Michael would spin her and she would laugh clearly, no hint of regret or mistrust overshadowing the sound. Michael actually began to smile slightly, and let her see it. On slower songs they withdrew into a world of their own. Except for Nikita's occasional laughter, neither of them uttered a sound.

Everyone in the room though, could see and feel the electricity between them. There wasn't one thing that caught them onto it. It wasn't just the look in their eyes, or the smoothness of their dancing. There was primal hunger in their eyes and sophistication in everything they did. Every move they made showed refinement, but that elegance only made it more erotic for those watching them. And they never completely lost contact- at least one part of their bodies were touching at all times.

They continued like this for a couple of hours. The mood between them never changed. The dancing never degraded into sex on the floor, but they never separated from each other. Then a song ended, and Michael just took Nikita's hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. The look in his eyes, the hungry gaze beyond passion or hunger, made Nikita's breath catch. Just as suddenly as Michael had appeared out of nowhere to her, he tugged on her hand to bring her outside.

*******

The Loft

The reserve that both had shown in the club continued into the drive and walk to Michael's apartment. There wasn't any questions between them, yet the silence was warm. Nikita's hand had rested inMichael's during the drive to his apartment.

Nikita switched on the radio, and a tape that another operative had given Michael a while ago started playing. A song in French came on, and even though Nikita couldn't get all of the words, she understood some of it.... especially parts about silk sheets and disheveled bedrooms. Michael knew what the song meant, but ignored everything except for Nikita's presence and not killing them in an accident.