French Resistence
by Marie



        It is believed by some that Karma is the sum total of causes and effects we have made in all our lifetimes.  If you seek to understand the present, look to the past causes made.  If you wish to know thefuture, look to the causes being made now.  Karma is not necessarily a punishment for past misdeeds.  It is believed by some that we choose the situations in which to learn the lessons that we as individuals most
need to learn.  Certainly if these lessons are interrupted before the lesson is completed, we will have to complete that exercise again.  Life is about living and learning those lessons.


        At her apartment Nikita was going through her nightly workout routine  to her favorite  Depeche Mode CD.  After an intense hour, her body was glistening with perspiration, and her black Spandex  sports bra and shorts were soaked.  As she entered the cool down phase of her workout, she pondered the intel they had received earlier in the day.  Tomorrow's mission was going to be complicated--she and Michael would be alone, but together,  in the Balkans.  The mission itself seemed fairly uncomplicated, but Nikita never knew  what to expect from Michael.

        Oh, she knew she could trust him with her life, and he knew that about her too, but the recent strains to their  bewildering relationship had left her more confused  than ever.

        Nikita had trouble separating Michael the man  from the Michael the machine who's only goal was "do the job"  and stay alive.  She knew that Michael felt she was his weakness, and he wanted to avoid being  what he considered "weak."  Nikita simply knew that she loved Michael.  No man before had ever touched her deepest being the way he had.  No man had ever frustrated her the way he had.

        Nikita had not been a virgin when she come into Section--one of her mother's many boyfriends had taken care of that detail.  When she told her mother what had happened, Nikita was devastated because her mother had not believed her.  A short time later her mother had kicked her out.   Nikita remained very distrustful and wary  around the men and other young males on the streets.  Ginger, an older runaway who befriended her, had shown her a few ways to get out of "situations" and how to defend herself, but most of all to keep herself out of those situations in the first place.  Nikita's years on the street consisted of  keeping warm, keeping fed, and keeping a step ahead of the males who were always trying to enlist her in a life of prostitution and drugs.  Even so, those days had been almost care-free compared to the life she lived now.

        These thoughts took Nikita to the shower, where she used the steam to purge the memories of another time and of another Nikita.  The parody of a trial and the sentencing  to life in prison without parole for murder of the policeman had been a nightmare, until she awoke in the white room and found out  what a nightmare really was--life in Section 1.

        The hot water sluiced down her body as she remembered her time of freedom after escaping from Section.  That wasn't freedom either.  Nikita knew she would never be free of Section now, or of Michael.  She came back because of him, and she would never leave--not without him.   Unfortunately, their one passionate night together had not been enough to cement their relationship.  There had been too many complications -- cameras, Operations and Madeline's suspicions, and Jurgen.  She knew she had been too impatient with Michael, but she had been unable to help herself.  It had all seemed out  of her control at the time,  but she accepted now that it hadn't been.

        Nikita was in the process of toweling  her body when there was a knocking at the door.  She dropped the towel, grabbed a short blue robe and raced for the door.  Damn! she thought as she peeked through the peephole.   "Nikita."  It was Michael.


        "Yes, Michael, what is it?  What are you doing heah tonight?"  Nikita was puzzled.  The briefing had ended only three hours before and had been very complete.  There were no questions in her mind about what they were to do.   What could be on his mind now?

        "I just wanted to talk to you about tomorrow," he began softly.  "Can I come in?"

        "It's late, and we have an early day tomorrow. Why couldn't you have just called?"  Nikita was petulant, and really quite uncomfortable standing there in the short robe.  Her hair was still wet, and it was pretty damn obvious that she had nothing else beneath the robe-- and he was just standing there looking at her with his green eyes that said more that his mouth would ever say.  Turning her off and on again!  Her face flushed as she stood aside and motioned for him to make himself at home.

        "It's not about the mission per se," he began slowly his eyes watching her face and mouth.

        "Then what is it about, Michael?  Why are you are at my door again, uninvited again?  Michael, I know it's ovah.  I understand that you feel that I'm your weakness.  Okay!  I accept that. "  Nikita was livid that he felt he could just show up anytime and waltz into her apartment and life.  All her frustrations of  the past several months took that quantum leap, and she picked up a vase to hurl at  him.

        He ducked.

        Her anger suddenly spent, Nikita did not know whether to laugh or cry.  The look of shock on Michael's face had been worth it she decided.  She laughed till she cried.  She fell on the sofa and laughed some more.

        Michael walked over to the sofa.  He looked down at her puzzled.  He would never understand this side of Nikita. She was angry one minute, laughing, crying all at the same time.   "Nikita, I just wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings about tomorrow, about us," he said hoarsely.  Michael's emotions were trying to emerge as well, but his master control was holding for the time being.

        "I think I've already made that quite clear, Michael.  I've gotten over it!"

        Michael looked at Nikita,. His green eyes gazed into her blue ones, and they both acknowledged the lie and the truth between them.  "We can't afford any distractions on this mission.  It may seem straightforward.  It may not be."  His softly accent voice irritated Nikita beyond belief.

        "Michael, I can do the job.  You can do the job.  We can do the job together. We're Section one trained operatives, and that's all we are anymore.  Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."  She motioned her head to the door.

        Ever observant, Michael recognized this as a sign of dismissal right away.  "All right, Nikita.  See you in the morning."  Michael walked toward the door, a troubled  look in his eyes.   He turned, opened his mouth to say...

        "What, Michael?" Nikita challenged.

        "Nothing."  He turned and walked out the door, which slammed behind him.   "Bon nuit and sweet dreams, Nikita." he said softly as he walked down the hall.

        I will never understand him, Nikita thought as she locked the door.  Never if I live to be a hundred years old--not bloody likely considering where we work.  Nikita threw the blue robe on the floor by her bed.  She curled up with one pillow beneath her head and one wrapped in her arms.  She always went to sleep like this, always wishing Michael were that pillow and that her arms were around him instead.  The intense  physical workout and the emotional upheaval of a few minutes before suddenly hit her, and she was asleep within seconds of hugging the pillow.   If only......


        The landscape was familiar somehow.  Tall rows of poplars lined the lane on both sides.  The thundering sound of  cannon fire was in the distance, but the vibrations were felt by all who were in a mad rush to flee Paris.   The Nazi's  had taken Paris, the City of Light.  The unthinkable had happened--brazen Nazi's strolled down the boulevards of Paris.  Michel  could not comprehend how the French people had allowed this to happen.  He and his fiancee Nicolette  were fleeing to Dijon at the base of the Seine.  They had family already there who would provide for her, so that he could join the Maquis French Resistance Movement.

        He had too complacent and convinced that Paris could never be taken.  Now he had lost everything except his beloved Nicolette.

        "Michel, are the guns closer?  How long will it take us to reach Dijon? Do you think we will be safe there?" Her questions took him aback.  He still hadn't told her he would not be staying with her.   He supposed that now was as good time as any.

        "Ma petite Nikki, you will be safe, but I am going to join the Maquis.  I must fight to free my country from these Nazi pigs."  He told her this gently and with no little trepidation.  His green eyes looked at her with a hunger, but this was not the time, he knew.

        "Michel,  non!  You must not do this.  I don't want to be without you.  I can't live without your love, mon amour.  I will go with you!"  Her blue eyes filled with tears as she gazed into his green ones.  "I will fight too!  This is my country too!" She declared this as she tossed her long blonde hair.

        "You will not do any such thing," he said softly.  "You can be of great use to the Maquis by being our eyes and ears in Dijon.  I plan on connecting with some ami of mine there.  I will be nearby, but I will not be able to see you because it would be dangerous for both of us."

        "Oh Michel, I will miss you sooo much.  I will miss your lovemaking," she said impishly.  "We must make the most of every moment until we are separated."  Her blue eyes were twinkling.

        "You are insane my little one.  We are fleeing along a narrow road with probably several thousand other people, and you talk about making love every moment.  I am not made of steel.  You must hush this silly talk until there is the time for lovemaking."

        "Michel, you are tres obstinate.  I don't mean right here and right now," she whispered into his ear and swirled her pink tongue in it as well.  "Cher, I mean later tonight, whenever we stop to rest....."  She gave him a sideways glance and winked.

        Any other time, and Michel would be stopping to rest right now. He and Nicolette would have been married by now had the invasion and capture of Paris not taken place.  Her family was already in Dijon as well.  He looked at her and saw the veritable goddess he thought her to be.  Tall, blonde, blue eyed, intelligent (although not acting it particularly at the moment), stubborn, willful, passionate Nicolette Angel Trudeau  was his soul mate for life.  They had been friends as children, emerged through an indifferent  adolescence to fall in love. Their wedding had merely been delayed by war, but not their loving.  He had been twenty-two and she had been twenty when she had finally said, "Enough of this virginity crap!  Make love to me Michel, before I die from the longing."
        Michel had not needed a lot of encouragement or reassurance that she would still respect him in the morning.

        Nikita awakened and looked at the clock.  1:00 the red digital numbers stared back at her.  Her dream had been arousing.  It was easy enough to figure who was who.   Michel looked just like Michael,  and she looked just like Nicolette.  No great  mysteries there.  Nikita pounded her pillow in frustration.  At least her dream counterpart was much more likely to have Michel make love to her than Nikita  was. Here was a man who wasn't afraid of his emotions and expressing them.  Well, it  was only a dream.  No wonder she could only dream of Michel/Michael making love to her.
        She wasn't over it, and she doubted she ever would be with the Section sending them out on missions together.  She had to see him face to face nearly every day, and she tried so hard not to let his seeming indifference hurt her.  Yet there were moments that Nikita knew, absolutely knew, that Michael loved her.  Brief, flashing moments that were over too quickly.  Once they were over, she was never really sure they existed at all.  Sometimes it was just a look in his eye or a slight softening of his face when he looked at her.  "OOOH!"  she moaned aloud and pounded the pillow some more.  Sleep came and with it....

        Nicolette had not seen Michel for over a month.  He had left her in Dijon with her family and his, and he had disappeared into the forest to join his friends in the Maquis underground.  She had worried and worried to no avail.  Occasionally, a message would come from him.  He was safe as far as she knew.   Only last night rumors of a Nazi train being derailed had reached the town.  Nicolette was proud of Michel and the mission of the resistance, but she feared that she would never see him again.  Their families seemed to go about their daily routines as usual.  They kept to themselves, and tried to stay out of notice of the Nazi soldiers in town.  Nicolette felt she was being watched.  These Nazi pigs seemed to be everywhere, and one even followed her home from the street market one day. She had resolved never to go there again alone.  Her striking appearance made her stand out in the crowd, and she had no desire to "stand out."  She attired herself as plainly as possible, and wore her hair pulled back in a bun, but  it did no good.  The soldiers still stared at her as if she had "take me, I'm yours" emblazoned on her backside.

        Daryl was the Section operative on duty that night in personnel monitoring.  He glanced casually at Nikita's bedroom monitor, and saw that she was restless and seemed to bedreaming something uncomfortable as she pounded at her pillow in her sleep.
        Nicolette woke up startled to find a hand over her mouth.   "Shh, c'est moi, Michel."  He kissed her hungrily, and his hands began to roam over her body.  "I have missed you so much, cherie."  His voice grew hoarse as he was overcome with the emotion of just seeing her in the pale moonlight that filtered into the room.  She was more beautiful than ever.

        "Michel,"  she whispered softly, and succumbed to his kisses and the pure emotion of the moment.  His tongue was making a trail of fire as he kissed her breasts.  He nibbled.  He teased.  He licked her belly.  When and how he had divested her of her gown she didn't know or care.  He was here with her now, and that was all that mattered. She was pulling and tugging at his clothes, with a desperate longing to feel his entire body next to hers.  Ahh, he had marvelous skin, so soft and smooth, underneath his clothes.  Well, it wasn't all so soft.  She touched his hardness, and he moaned, "Not yet, cherie, let me see you, touch you, love you."  Michel could say no more.  His tongue had found its goal, and Nicolette was crying out in ecstasy before she knew what was happening.

        "Michel," she gasped.  "Oh, Michel.  Please."  Michel then entered her quickly and smoothly.  Their rhythm was so intense that the head of the bed was pounding the wall, but they never knew.  Their passion soared, expanded and exploded out of sheer need.  They came crashing down in exhaustion, laughing and kissing--celebrating their joy in each other.


        Daryl glanced back at Nikita's monitor to see if her nightmare was over. Umm.  Looks like a different kind of dream now he thought to himself as he saw Nikita rocking rhythmically against the bed.  Daryl hated this part of the job.  Being a part-time voyeur had never been his career goal in life.  He quickly turned his head and watched someone else who was sleeping quietly.


        Nicolette and Michel made love again, and this time more slowly.

        "The night is too short, ma cherie.  I must go before daylight comes," he told her gently as he held her in his arms.  He could never get enough of her.  He wanted to stay here forever.

         "I know, Michel.  Please go before I claim you again, my darling." She looked at him, drinking in the sight of his perfect body, his green  eyes, his new beard, his curling hair.  He had the body  and the face of an angel.  She loved him so much, it was difficult to breath, much less let him go into the night without her.  "Can I go with you, please? Michel, I know there are women in the resistance.  Please,"  she begged, tears collecting in her eyes.

        "Non, it is too dangerous.  I should not have come here tonight, but I could not stand to go another minute without seeing you.  Now let me go.  Know that I love you more than life itself, ma Nikki."  He kissed her lips as her tears wet his face, and his wet hers.
        "J'taime, Michel.  J'taime," she cried as he left her bedroom quickly.

        "Bon nuit and sweet dreams, angel,"  he said to her as he closed her door.

        Nicolette lay back and dried her tears.  She hugged her pillow, and she could still smell his scent as if he were still there. Suddenly, she heard shouts and scuffling out side her window.  Two shots rang out.  A muffled cry.  Nicolette jumped from the bed, and looked out the window.  A figure lay on the ground, blood streaming black in the moonlight from his head.



        "MICHAEL!"  Nikita was sobbing as she awoke from her dream.  It took a  couple of seconds for her to realize that she was awake, and that Michael was not lying dead outside her window.  Nikita had never had so real a dream before, especially not one that took up where it left off, after she had awakened at 1AM. Every cell in her body had been tingling when she awakened.  It was a most curious experience and dream.

        The puzzlement lasted while she dressed for the mission, and even through her drive to Section One.  She could not get the dream out of her mind.   She immediately sought Walter.  She found him in his work area, and leaned over his shoulder.

        "Walter,"  she said softly as she always did when talking to the older man who loved to flirt with her.

        "Hey, sugar, what's shakin'? " he asked without looking up from his task.

        "Uh- have you ever thought about reincarnation, and that people have been together before in uh- other lives? Her question was asked with hesitation, but she could ask Walter anything, as a rule.

        "Well, that's an awfully deep question for this time of the morning.  What's up?"  Walter looked at Nikita for the first time and saw the dark circles beneath her eyes.  Her eyes were still a little swollen, and she looked like she had been crying.

        "Hey, sugar, what's the matter.  You look like you had a rough night."  Walter unconsciously glanced over at Michael, who was just now sitting down for the final mission briefing.

        "It was just a bad dream, Walter.  That's all.  I dreamt that Michael and I were in WWII, and he died.  That's all.  I uh- guess the mission today is weighing more heavily on my mind that I thought, so I had a bad dream.  No big deal really."  Nikita
shrugged her shoulders.

        "Well, sugar, to answer your question.  Reincarnation--who knows?  It seems to answer some questions for me, but then I'm just an old hippie, so what do I know." He grinned, and Nikita tried to smile back, but the shadow was still in her eyes as she walked over to the briefing area.

        "Glad you could join us, Nikita,"  Operations said briskly.   "Now pay close attention to this new intel Birkhoff received late last night......"   Operations voice droned on and the holographic screen flickered and blazed with new faces.   Nikita  found herself staring off into space.

        Michael was having trouble concentrating as well.  Nikita's display of emotions from the night before weighed heavily on his mind, and he had not slept well.   There were no sweet dreams for him ever, but last night's had been worse than usual.  There had been visions of the French Revolution and the loss Nikita to the guillotine before he could tell her he loved her.  He had been powerless to save her.  He had awakened sobbing and calling her name with tears streaming down his face.

        "Michael!  Would you rejoin us please."  Operations was becoming rapidly concerned about his two main operatives.  He was willing to bet money that neither of them had heard anything he had  said in the last five minutes.  Nikita looked like hell.  Michael looked like hell.  What the hell was going on with them?  Not more relationship woes, he hoped.  This mission was too important for his two best operatives to be focused anywhere but on the job at hand.  "I think I need your full and undivided attention, if you do not mind,"  Operations said sarcastically.

        "You have my attention," Michael said quietly.  Nikita's eyes snapped toward Michael and then toward Operations.  Madeline was giving her a questioning look as well.   Nikita looked down at her hands and played with her PDA as she attempted to  appear nonchalant and failed.

        Michael and Nikita both summoned their strong wills and made it through the rest of the briefing without losing track.  "That's all.  Mission leaves in 15 minutes. Be ready."  Operations glanced at Madeline, then walked out of the briefing area.

        "Michael.  Nikita, I would like for see you for about five minutes," she said softly, and her look let them know she was not asking.   Michael and Nikita looked at each other, then back at Madeline.   Madeline led the way to her new office.  Nikita shrugged and said, "Sure, nothing else to do in the next fifteen minutes."

        "Ni-ki-ta." Michael warned softly.  Nikita could see that his face had the "blank stare" in place, but he also looked like he had not slept the entire night.  The  whites of his eyes were red, and the dark shadows  beneath his eyes were very noticeable.  His long hair was still damp at the ends from his morning's shower.  Ohhh, girl, don't go there, she thought to herself, and that thought brought a slight smile to her face. Michael caught the smile, and returned a puzzled look.

        Nikita's face flushed as she realized he was staring at her.  He can read my mind.  I get so sick of it.  Before further mind games could commence, the trio had reached Madeline's door.

        As soon as the door closed, Madeline whirled around.  "Normally, I would talk to each of you separately, but there isn't time today.  I do not ever want to see what I saw out there this morning.  Both of you, minds who knows where, unable to focus  on the mission's new intel.  I  know you have a relationship, and if you keep this up, everyone will know.

        "But--" Nikita started.

        "But nothing, Nikita!  We don't have time for a discussion.  You both just have time to listen."   Nikita had only seen Madeline this "upset" a couple of times.  She was awesome.  Controlled anger--so controlled, she was almost vibrating.  Whatever is going on with you two, or not going on with you two, is immaterial.   Work it out on your own time, not Section's."

        "Didn't know we---"  Nikita started again.

        "Ni-ki-ta," Michael warned again before Madeline could go  totally ballistic. Nikita finally took the hint and simply shut her mouth in mid-sentence.

        "That's all."  Madeline watched them leave.  Nikita's eyes were wide, and Michael's eyes were cast down.   Good.  Madeline thought to herself.  Good.  I think they are motivated enough for now.  She smiled as she picked up her bonsai trimmers and quietly attacked her favorite  tree which was due for a good pruning. She would just have to spend some time  looking over their surveillance tapes. Michael was always interfering with his, but Nikita apparently wasn't aware that the cameras had been replaced in her apartment.   Perhaps, they would shed some light on this latest tempest.

        Later, after viewing the tapes, she called personnel monitoring,  "Cancel monitoring on Nikita for now," she said.  It was cancelled.  No one ever questioned Madeline.


        "Damn, Michael.  Where's your tail?  Oh, there it is between your legs!" Nikita sneered as they hurried down the hall to van access.

        "Nikita, will you ever learn not to say everything you think.  It does no good to argue with Madeline when she's in a mood like that."

        "Oh, Michael, I do love it when you put two sentences together.  It's so unusual.  Yes, that's the word I'm looking for.  Unusual."

        Nikita's flippant mood was wearing on his nerves.  He looked up and down the hall.  They were alone, except for any cameras, and who the hell knew where they all were.

        "Shut up, Nikita--" he said softly as he swung her quickly around and gently against the wall.  His lips were on hers, hungrily tasting her.

        "Mmp."  That was all Nikita could get out, because when Michael decided to kiss, he was thorough, very thorough.

        "Air, Michael, my god."  Nikita's heart was pounding, and Michael was close enough for her to feel his heart's staccato beat as well.  Footsteps rang from around the corner.  They jumped apart, and Michael as cool as ever, brushed back a lock of hair with his right hand, and walked down the hall.

        Nikita walked past him at the access door.  Her blue eyes still wide with shock.  For once she was speechless.   She had said it before.  She would never be able to figure him out.


        As luck would have it, the mission was accomplished quickly and successfully.  There were no casualties, and that was always a bonus in Operation's mind.  Nikita was focused and encountered no difficulties.   The debriefing went well, and Operations was pleased with the results.  Whatever Madeline had said to them had made a difference.   He still marveled at her skill in reaching and finding the best in the Section operatives.   After all these years,  he still didn't know how she did it or what she said half the time, but the results were what mattered.


        When Nikita left Section, she looked around casually for Michael.  He was nowhere to be seen.  She strolled by his office, but it was dark.  Well, so much for him, she thought.  Then she remembered her dream.  Good.  I finally get it. Perhaps, his love for me caused his death in that other life.  Well, I won't let that happen this time.  I do understand that my being his weakness could bring about his death.  If I hadn't seen for myself what a mess Operations was when Madeline was kidnapped, I certainly understand after reliving that dream.  I don't think I could live knowing I had been responsible for his death again.  Nikita's thoughts grew darker and darker as she started the drive home.
        Michael was leaning against her door, when Nikita arrived.  His arms were folded, and he smiled at her as she came up the hallway.  "Michael, what are you doing heah?"  Nikita felt like crying.  How would she ever get him to leave.  She would have to explain about her dream, and how it had made her finally understand what he had been trying to tell her for weeks.

        "Michael," she began in her determined manner as they went into the apartment.  "I had this horrible dream last night--about us."  He shut the door behind them.

        "I had one too," he said softly.  "I don't know yet how we will work this out but, I have to be with you.  I can't keep losing  you again and again."

        "Michael, no!  I can't keep on being your weakness.  I can't bring about your destruction because of your love--."  Nikita broke off, flustered at what she had said.

        "Well, "  she tried to laugh and make light of it. "Anyway, in the dream you loved me, and that love brought about your death."  Oh, god, what have I said.  Michael will sprint for the door now, she thought.

        "Nikita, in my dream you died before I could tell you I loved you, and I was powerless to save you.  I don't ever want to repeat that scenario again."

        "But, Michael,"  He wasn't running for the door.  "Michael, they were only dreams, not real.  Just dreams, horrible ones true, but dreams.  They have nothing to do with reality.  Nothing to do with us."  Nikita was babbling  and trying to find something to do with her hands.

        Michael placed both his hands on her shoulders, and drew her close to his chest.  "They have everything to do with us.  Look at who we are and what we do every day, Nikita.  One unlucky shot, and one of us could be left standing alone, destined to repeat the cycle again until we get it right.  Why would we dream the same type of dream, the same night, Nikita?  There has to be a reason for all this. We have to grab life while we have it."  His voice grew softer as he continued to hold her closely.

        "Michael, what kind of manipulation is this now?  I think I've already heard a similar version of this song.  Is this the second or the third verse ?"  Nikita always joked to hide her feelings, and this conversation with Michael was really getting weird.

         "Nikita, j'taime.  J'taime.  I love you."

        Nikita's jaw dropped, and a dumbfounded look appeared on her face. Michael used the momentary silence to kiss her, and his tongue found a home there in her open mouth.

         "Oh, Michael,"  she said breathlessly as she broke away.  "You have lost your mind."

        "Au contraire, Nikita," he said as he picked her up.  Nikita could do nothing else but wrap her legs around him, as he carried her to her bedroom.

        Nikita moaned, but she protested no further.  She wanted Michael as much as he apparently wanted her.  Dreams be damned!  Maybe Michael was right.  Fate had drawn them inexorably together since their first meeting in the white room.   Why resist?

        "Michael, are you sure?"  He seemed to be sure.  He was certainly removing her clothing a piece at a time, she thought somewhat incoherently as he continued his gentle assault on her body and senses.

        "Very sure," he whispered as he kissed her breasts and the valley between them.

        Her body was a pale temple in the moonlight, and he worshipped there till the darkness was no more.  Nikita reveled in his adoration, and returned the homage that he deserved.

        The pale sunlight began to weave it s rays through the window finding Michael and Nikita still entwined.  Michael was already awake, drinking in Nikita's beauty as she dozed.  Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled a lazy smile as she realized that he had been watching her sleep.

        "Good morning," he said as he planted a kiss on her dimpled chin.

        "Good morning, to you too,"  she said lazily.  "What time is it."

        "Don't know, threw the clock away," Michael replied.  "What's the matter, have something better to do?"  Michael began kissing her neck and her lips and her eyes.

        "Uh, no, can't think of anything, " she murmured in his ear.  "Down time, remember."  Michael was working his way down her body with his tongue.    Ummm, shades of Michel, Nikita thought.  I guess we don't forget everything from our past lives.  Nikita started to giggle, but it turned in to a moan of pleasure.

        Fate?  Karma?  Why  resist?  At the moment, neither of them could think of a single reason that made sense.

Finis et Bon Soir

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