PARADISE LOST
Set after 2x03. Please read and review if you want more chapters!
Nikita awoke in Michael's arms, the golden light streaming into the cozy bedroom. She turned her head, and outside of the floor to ceiling glass doors, she could see the white sandy beach. Paradise.
She sleepily traced circles with her fingertips on his muscled chest, enjoying the warmth his body provided. Birkhoff had demanded that they go on a vacation under the insistence that he was tired of being around them all the time. But Nikita knew that the nerd secretly liked having them around, and his way of showing his appreciation was kicking them out so that they could get some well deserved R&R after their last brush with disaster.
Michael reached over and gently brushed the hair out of her eyes, a sleepy smile dawning on his face as her lips found his and she gave him chaste kiss.
"You know, I never get tired of this view," he said, gazing into her eyes.
"I know what you mean. The ocean is awesome," she said, grinning. He laughed and kissed her forehead before drawing her to his chest.
"So, what shall we do today?" he asked. "Surfing? Snorkeling? Skinny dipping?"
"Or we could just stay in bed all day," she said, closing her eyes momentarily to bask in the warm rays of sunlight dripping into their room like honey.
"It's not like we haven't done that all week or anything," he teased.
"Well, if you're objecting-" she made a move to get up, but he just laughed, grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him with a passionate kiss.
"Definitely not objecting," he stated, running his hand down the side of her body, sending off jolts of electricity down her spine. She shivered, and not because she was cold.
Suddenly, the high pitched ringing of Nikita's cell phone pierced the comfortable morning air, making the two assassins instinctively jump, and effectively ruining the mood.
Michael groaned as Nikita pulled away from him and gathered the bedsheets around her. She walked over to the windowsill, looking at the caller ID. She turned back to Michael, who was watching her from the bed, drinking in her lithe frame outlined by the golden sun.
"It's Birkhoff," she said, smiling inwardly at the look of awe and love on his face as his blue eyes followed her every move.
"You don't have to answer it," he replies with a mischievous smile, but she does anyways, her gaze never leaving his.
"Hello?"
Michael watches her listen to what the person on the other end of the line is saying. Suddenly, her face grows pale, and her eyes widen in shock. Her knuckles turn white as she clenches the phone.
"Nikita?" Michael asks, concerned, jumping out of bed and hurrying over to her.
She's shaking as she hands the phone to him.
"It's for you," she whispers.
Michael puts the phone to his ear, and a cold, lethal voice that he knows all to well is the first thing he hears.
"Michael. Nice to talk to you again so long after our little argument."
Calculated. Feigning civility. It was Percy.
"What do you want?" Michael demands roughly. Nikita's face is ashen now, and there is fear in her eyes. Michael is in danger of snapping the flimsy phone in half.
"Now, Michael, that's no way to talk to somebody who is holding all of the cards."
"You're not in charge of Division anymore, Amanda is. And we have your Black Box. What cards could you possibly have?"
"The most valuable one. If you don't do what I say, Nikita will drop dead instantly. Are you listening now?"