Author:
Marie aka mnreign
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Date Posted: 07:16:13 02/10/02 Sun
Written before TPTB messed with Nikita's mind. It's probably my favorite fan fic--of the one's I've written.
It was inspired by Michael's asking Nikita to join him for some downtime. She, however, was too busy trying to find her mother. This story shows what happened when they finally got around to sharing some downtime. It hasn't been re-edited. I apologize for any head-hopping. It's a shameless HR story. It starts immediately after "Walk on By." Nikita has just kissed spyboy and said 'thank you, that was the nicest thing you've ever done for me.'
One
Michael was still reeling from Nikita’s kiss... her shy, hurried kiss. He’d wanted it to last longer, needed it to last longer. It was not to be. Quicksilver, she had retreated, leaving him with a taste of her lips, a tiny hint of what could be his, if he dared to take the risk. The risk to them both was great, greater than it had ever been.
It had become nearly impossible to hide his feelings for Nikita. Everyone seemed to take their relationship for granted. It took all his control to keep it from escalating. Operations and Madeline knew there was a bond between them, and never failed to use it to control and manipulate him. 'Section’s errand boy' Nikita had once called him... right before she administered a tremendous and deserved slap.
Their relationship, though currently in stasis, had the potential to be volatile. It seemed that at any moment emotions between them could erupt in one hellacious fireball... from repression to combustion in one quantum leap.
Michael watched Nikita through the mini-blinds. He saw her face soften, her lids dropped shyly, then a small near-smile touched her lips. What had she seen in his face? Had his blank stare failed? Had she read his thoughts again with her eerie feminine intuition? Probably.
He was glad he had been able to give Nikita the moment with her mother. It freed the two women to love and understand each other. That Nikita had been able to forgive her mother for a lifetime of neglect and near abuse only emphasized Nikita’s compassion. Would that she could forgive him the same way. Maybe. He could never forgive himself. His compassion was only for her. His light. His Nikita. While he knew he could never truly possess her, to the very depth of his being, she dwelt in his heart. Tragically, he could see hope in her face as she stood there watching him. Heaven help them both, for love was a terrible burden to bear in Section One.
********
The Krakow Mission had been a success. Granted it had been grueling and costly in abeyance operatives, but a success still. Nikita had finished her debrief and was looking forward to a shower and her bed. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and trudged to the elevator. She had a couple days of downtime coming, and she was going to use it to recover from the physical stress of the mission and the emotional stress of seeing her mother.
Steps, quiet and measured, stopped behind her. Nikita turned. “Michael,” she said acknowledging his presence. They’d had their usual method of intuitive communication during the mission. They’d been there to support one another, to watch the each other's back.
“Nikita. Are you leaving now?’ he asked softly, in the way he had of turning every syllable into a caress.
“Yeah,” Nikita nodded. She’d been crazy to kiss him in his office, but it had been calculated to unsettle him, as well as show her appreciation. She hadn't mistaken the intense look of longing on his face. He’d wanted more. That was good.
“You’re down for the next two days,” he offered.
“Yeah.” She wondered, would he ask to spend the day with her again, after her rejection before. Was he a glutton for punishment? At least he wouldn’t take her by surprise this time. Nikita looked into his crystal green eyes. The question was there. Would he ask her? Oh, hell. She guessed she’d have to help him.
“What about you? Are you down, too?” Hey fella, I’m trying to help you here. Don’t drop the ball.
“Yes.” Michael hit the button that would take them to the surface, to the real world, where real people lived and loved, and ghosts like the two of them attempted a pale imitation of it. Together they stepped into the elevator, and it began its long journey upward.
Nikita paused before blurting, “Want to spend some time together, Michael? Either you do or you don’t. Spit it out!”
“Yes.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she knew he’d manipulated her into asking him, but that was okay. By nature, she knew she was impulsive and impatient. He knew it, too, and counted on it.
“Tomorrow? Say ten at the coffee shop?” she asked.
“That will be fine.”
“Yes, it will be.” Nikita gave him her wide smile and brazenly invaded his personal space. She reached and tucked a waving strand of hair behind his ear and felt him shudder in response. He blinked, then gave a tiny shake of his head.
“You don’t play fair,” he said, seemingly powerless to take his eyes from hers.
“I had a good teacher,” Nikita replied archly, as the elevator door opened. They were at the surface. “See you tomorrow,” she said glancing at him over her shoulder.
“Tomorrow,” Michael agreed with a half smile.
********
2.
Michael’s smile broadened as he watched Nikita stride to her little black Porsche. Her loose, loping, sometimes graceful, walk always brought a flicker of warmth to his being. He’d seen the exhaustion written in her face. The Krakow mission had been grueling, and he was exhausted as well. But he was better at hiding it than the blonde who took a piece of his heart with her, wherever she went.
Michael sat in his car, reliving the bloodier aspects of the mission, something he never used to do. He found it difficult to banish the scenes that rampaged through his head. Four abeyance operatives had been lost, as coldly planned in the mission profile. The use of human beings as cannon fodder was nothing new. Armies had sent enlisted men to battle for thousands of years. Section’s perverse twist on that ancient scenario was to plan beforehand to eliminate those who were not measuring up to Section standards. It was necessary, but cold-blooded.
It was better to think about abeyance operatives lost, than to think about ... Adam or Elena. He thought less about Elena, although her suffering was probably greater than Adam’s, and would last longer. Children healed and... forgot. Didn’t they?
His son would be better off when he forgot his father. There was an unwavering pain that made his heart clench in his chest. But Michael knew he could never forget Adam. Spending downtime with Nikita was not an attempt to forget Adam. It was... hell, he didn’t know. It was something he had to do. Without Nikita and without Adam, Section One would have no hold on him, but Nikita had her own hold.
He’d tried to eradicate Nikita from his psyche and soul, but never, never had he been able to accomplish it. She remained a flicker, sometimes a flame of desire that burned within him always. It was possible he was obsessed with her, had been, since the first moment he’d seen her. Protecting her, covering her ass with Operations had been nearly a full time occupation in the Section half of his life. Now, the Section was all he had... and Nikita. Again, he was prepared to split his life into halves in order to have a life at all. He feared the cost to them both, but Nikita’s brief kiss had put the wheels into motion, and life at any cost could not be denied.
**********
Tomorrow would be a first, Nikita thought. Spending the day with Michael would be a milestone--if the cell phone didn’t ring. she smiled ruefully as she drove swiftly toward her apartment. Section One did have a way of interrupting her life.
What would they talk about? Was Michael capable of having an conversation or even small talk? Small talk.... that’s what he practiced every minute of his life. Michael was a master at monosyllabic communication. Nikita smiled as she thought of the scene in the elevator. He had been in rare form. His beautiful eyes asking and wanting to say so much. The stern mouth, parted, wanting to be kissed. The rigid stance that only proved how exhausted he was to her practiced eye.
What would he have done if she had jumped him in the elevator?
She chuckled at the idea. Really she'd have to watch impulses like that. Tomorrow, she wouldn't push him... well, not very much, anyway. He needed tiny nudges to do what he really wanted to do, and if she were careful, that’s all he'd need. In truth, she didn’t want to overwhelm him and be rejected outright. Michael was still fragile over losing Adam. Since then, the relationship between the two of them had been in a dynamic state of flux. Sometimes closer, on the verge of understanding, sometimes farther apart. Their closeness had been exploited more than once since the deep cover Vacek mission had ended. Sometimes, Nikita felt as if she were one of Pavlov’s dogs, trained to respond at the sound of a bell.
Enough of this shit, she thought. Shower, bed, and tomorrow... a day with Michael.
3.
Tomorrow became today, and it dawned clear and crisp. A rime of frost covered the window panes and the balcony beyond. Nikita exhaled on the window and watched as the warmth of her breath revealed the bright sun and azure sky. Omens, good ones, for the day ahead. She smiled. It was time.
She’d slept soundly without dreaming, for exhaustion was a wonderful sedative. This momentous morning, she felt refreshed and hopeful. She tried not to feel that way. Heaven knew the two of them had maintained a torturous relationship, never being quite able to reveal their deepest feelings. Well, one night they had... Their one night away from Section One’s intrusive presence, and Michael had lost control. She had been the recipient of his need and desire and passion. He had taken her anger and fear upon himself and left her with an incomparable longing to never join with anyone but him. He’d awakened desires she’d never known before.
That one night, she had been his, and he had been hers to command.
It seemed so long ago. In truth, it had been over a year, but she could still elicit the rough-textured feel of his hands as they performed their magic on her body and summoned the wildness from within that she’d never experienced. The honeyed taste of his lips, lips she’d nibbled and bit, she could taste them still. His body, muscular and demanding, claimed hers for all time.
“Damn! If I keep this train of thought going, I’ll attack him the minute I see him.” Nikita tossed back her head and laughed. She could envision the faces of the coffee shop devotees as she cleared a table and had her way with Michael. Geez, she could see Michael’s face too. Oh, well, it’s only a thought.
Forty-five minutes later, Nikita stood in front of the coffee shop. It was five minutes after ten. She was late. She looked through the window but Michael was not there. She began to feel uneasy. Was he going to stand her up? She looked up and down the street and saw only a man in a tan leather jacket and jeans. Oh my god, it is Michael. He isn’t wearing black. She wasn’t sure why the idea of Michael in something besides black delighted her so. She’d seen him in civvies before, but he’d never worn them for her. His manipulation of her to stay in Section didn’t count either, and his stylish black suits were as much a uniform to her eye as mission wear.
Nikita began to walk toward him, mesmerized by his unexpected appearance. A gust of wind lifted a short lock of his chestnut hair, thus adding to his look of studied casual elegance. No matter what he wore, Michael was elegant. No movement was wasted. Yet for all his grace, Michael was not effeminate. Male was written all over him, that and power and maybe danger.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. She was surprised she could speak at all.
“Good morning,” he replied, his emerald eyes never leaving her aquamarine ones. He placed a possessive arm around her waist, as she looked at him, first in surprise, then with a mystifying feminine wisdom, as she lowered her gaze assured in her knowledge. The man wanted her. Her breath caught in her throat. It was becoming difficult to breathe under his intense scrutiny.
Michael smiled. “It’s cold. Don’t you want to go inside and get warm?”
Nikita managed to nod in the affirmative. Inside... warm... Yes! Nikita allowed Michael to lead her inside the coffee shop. It was late morning, and there were only a few customers, who barely acknowledged their entrance. Nikita was trying to regain control of her breathing. The hell with her heartbeat. It had escalated to an anaerobic range at the first sight of Michael. If she could only manage not to fall on her face in front of the stranger by her side, she would have accomplished something. Some mysterious genie had turned her knees into twin bowls of jello, not exactly what she had planned. Nikita sat gratefully in the rear booth where Michael had guided her. He slid into the booth beside her. He covered her right hand with his left and stroked the top of it with his thumb.
Shoulder to shoulder, they sat looking for all the world like a young couple in love.
4.
“Y’all want some coffee, or are y’all gonna sit there all day makin’ goo-goo eyes at each other?” The soft foreign accent shocked them from their reverie. It was English, but an often unheard southern dialect. Its owner was short, plump and wore an already tired pink uniform, in addition to the teasing smile on her face.
Michael, no surprise, reacted first. “Yes, two coffees please, croissant?” he asked with perfect pronunciation, looking at Nikita. She nodded. Her faculty of speech had yet to resurface.
“Okey, dokey. That’s two coffees and two crawsants. Be rite back, now.” Edie walked away from the two lovers, but not before favoring them with one of her genuine smiles.
Nikita began to giggle.
“Why are you laughing?” Michael asked, knowing he could never quite understand Nikita’s gift for appreciating the ridiculous.
“Her southern accent is thicker than my down under one. She was so cute. I loved the way she mangled croissant.” Nikita shook her head. She was glad she could speak again, but if the owner of those emerald eyes didn’t stop looking like he was having her for breakfast, she might lose it again.
“What accent, Nikita. You don’t have an accent,” Michael said with a tiny frown.
“Like you don’t have one either?” It was then that Nikita noticed that the emerald eyes were twinkling, and the corner of his luscious mouth was twitching. “No, of course, you don’t, Michael. After all, they do speak your language here, not mine. I wonder how she knew,” Nikita mused.
“You don’t look French, Nikita.”
“I don’t? How do I look, Michael?
Apparently, this question gave Michael pause. He’d never been one to hand out facile compliments, not in real life, and certainly not to her.
“Heaven,” Michael said hoarsely and so softly that Nikita could barely hear him.
“Wh-what?”
Michael smiled again, his hand continuing to stroke the back of hers. “Heaven. When I was a child, I used to dream about angels. You look exactly the way I imagined an angel would look.” Michael broke his intense gaze, looked at the cup of coffee that had appeared from somewhere and took a sip of its steaming dark contents.
Nikita couldn't stop the tears that formed and threatened to spill down her cheeks. Her eyes blurred as she sputtered, “An angel? I still look like an angel to you, after all the people I’ve killed.” She shook her head, unwilling to believe he thought of her in that way.
Michael turned and looked at her with eyes that flashed. His voice came soft, but intense. “You are my angel.”
********
5.
You are ‘my’ angel. Nikita gulped, unable to believe her ears. Four precious words. Music to her ears. How could four words mean so much? To one who had hungered for love all her short life. The simple heartfelt statement fed her hunger. It was only lately that she had learned that her mother had loved her, and now, Michael thought of her as his angel. The tears that had threatened to spill down her face only minutes before, now trickled down her cheeks unabashed.
Michael's eyes grew shiny as he reached to wipe hers away. "Don't cry," he said softly, as all the old guilt began to consume him. The beauty before him did not deserve the pain he'd caused her in the last four years. He did not deserve her love, much less her compassion. Yet here she sat with him, ready to risk more.
Nikita sensed the change in him. A minuscule drooping of his broad shoulders, the blank look trying to reassert itself.... something told her that he was again assuming all the blame for the life she’d had to lead in Section One. "Then you'd better stop being so damn wonderful," she added with a smile that took all her courage to give.
"Drink your coffee," he said gruffly, taking another sip of his.
"Yes, sir," she managed as a small degree of her naturally saucy manner returned. She reached for a croissant, tore off a piece of the flaky pastry, dipped it in jam and popped it into her mouth before taking a sip of coffee. Strawberry jam started to drip from the corner of her mouth. Nikita flicked her tongue to catch to the errant red ooze. She was rewarded by a sigh from Michael, who could not seem to take his eyes from her. Nikita cast her eyes down shyly and suggested, "You should try some."
"I plan to," he said playfully, his mouth quirking on one side, always the left. He took another sip of coffee, but his eyes never left her face.
Nikita felt her heart begin another marathoner's raging rhythm, and the tell-tale flush spread from her neck to her face. She had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't referring to the croissant with jam.
"Y'all need more coffee or just a room?" Edie stood, smiling at them, her head tilted to the side, one hand on her hip and a coffee pot in the other.
"Coffee will be fine," Nikita had the presence of mind to say. Michael was clearly unable to respond in a manner he thought appropriate. His handsome face had flushed at the waitress's brazen remark.
"Ah, don't mind me. Ah'm a nosy old broad from Tennessee, but Ah know what Ah see." She poured their refills and shuffled away, leaving them alone.
Nikita started to giggle. She saw Michael's mouth twitch. "I think she's one of those hopeless romantics, Michael. She sees lovers wherever she goes."
Michael reached for her hand again. "She might have a point. Let's go." He rose from the booth, pulling her along with him.
"Now?"
"Now."
***********
"Where? What do you mean 'now'?" Surely, he wasn't going to look for a room, not really, not like that. Michael was never that impulsive.
"You'll see. Be patient," he teased, escorting her from the coffee shop with a firm arm around her waist.
"I think I've heard that line before, and I think I've been more than patient." Her smile challenged him.
"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Really, Michael." Nikita inhaled the still crisp morning air. The ambient temperature was in the low twenties, and as she exhaled, the vapor from her warm breath floated in the air.
"Definitions differ," Michael said, returning her challenge, but caressing her arm with his hand as he did.
"Yeah." She and Michael had never been together like this. They might have imitated it on missions, but this feeling of closeness was vastly different. There were no targets to identify, no bullets to dodge, and no one to listen from comm. She accepted his proprietary arm about her waist, his caress on her arm. She luxuriated in the way his touch made her feel... precious... protected... warm. It seemed trite to even think it, but it was a dream come true. Their day together really was off to a good start, so far.
Nikita had no difficulty matching Michael's increased pace and long strides. For the moment, she was willing to allow him the lead. Michael's playful air intrigued her. It was a side to him that she'd not seen before, at least not with her. She'd seen him play and tease with Adam, of course. Nikita decided she liked it. Aquamarine eyes locked with emerald ones as they walked briskly down the street.
*********
6.
Michael felt complete with Nikita sheltered at his side, as if she were a vital part of him. He was unsure if he could have lasted in Section One as long as he had, if Nikita hadn’t been recruited. The emptiness he had felt after Simone’s death had gradually been filled with the warmth of the woman at his side. She was his opposite in everything, open where he was closed, warm where he was cold, and compassionate where he was inured to the constant requirements that he kill to survive. He was in reality an animal, but Nikita had somehow with the magic of her smile and the goodness of her heart made him human again, if only for brief moments. She was strong where he was weak. It was no wonder he needed her beyond reason and loved her belief.
“Where Michael?” came Nikita’s plaintive question. “Where are we going?”
Michael stopped. They stood in front of Michael’s nondescript blue Mercedes. He smiled at her, unable to keep from teasing her a bit more. “You’ll see. Get in.” He gallantly opened the door for her, but refused to say more.
Nikita rolled her eyes in mock pique. “All right. All right. I suppose I should let you have your fun.”
Michael smiled again... fun. What a novel concept. He hadn’t had much ... fun lately. He walked around the car and entered the driver’s side. “Want a clue?” he asked, trying not to touch her, but failing. His right hand was already cupped around the back of her neck, and the urge to kiss her was overwhelming. He resisted.
“Yeah, I want a clue,” she said. Her husky voice dropping an octave as she turned to him.
Her azure eyes locked with his. Her breath was warm as she reached to kiss him. He didn’t resist. In fact, he deepened the kiss, his tongue battling with hers. Then he broke the kiss. “It will be warm, and we’re late,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.
Nikita’s eyes opened wider. “Warm? Late? Come on, Michael. Tell me.”
“You’ll see.” Reluctantly he turned from her, turned the key in the ignition and revved the car’s powerful engine. Expertly, he maneuvered the car into the late morning traffic, and they were moving.
Michael could tell the Nikita’s curiosity was about to get the better of her. He started to smile as her hand began stroking his thigh.
“Tell me, Michael,” Nikita cajoled in her most seductive tone, as her hand continued stroking him higher along his thigh.
Michael smiled and shook his head. “No. You’ll see soon enough.”
********
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