written by Anya
Author's note: Okay, I admit borrowed the sonnet story' format from LaremyB, but it is a beautiful way to examine a character's emotions. This sonnet story' takes place during the opening segment for Hard Landing and describes what I imagine must have been going through Michael's mind during the six months of Nikita's absence. There are slight spoilers for Simone and Mercy but really not much else is compromised.
Disclaimer: Nikita, Michael and the rest of the LFN regulars are products and properties of Warner Brothers, LFN Productions and Fireworks. No copyright infringement is intended in any way. I want to thank the writers and creators for allowing me to play with Nikita and Michael and the rest. I promise I won't hurt them, and that I'll put them back where I found them when I'm through.
GRIEF
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death: -
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it: the marble eyelids are not wet;
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Nikita,
Are you there?
How many times had he sent that message? How much longer could he pretend to himself that she was alive? That she wasn't buried under the rubble of the building he'd ordered destroyed? How much longer before his heart truly turned to stone?
As he stood waiting for the Master to indicate the recruit was ready for the exercise, Michael's outward demeanor was, as usual, calm and confident. However Michael knew he was in trouble. Not only with Section, but emotionally as well.
With each passing day each passing month with each unanswered message Michael's grief grew. And each day he knew he was bleeding to death. The hole in his soul created by Nikita's absence was ever expanding, and through this hole, all life was slowly being leeched from his heart and replaced by stone. It wouldn't be much longer before his grief consumed him. And no one with the possible exception of Madeline would know what had happened much less even realize that anything had happened to him.
Although speculation had been rampant in Section about Michael and Nikita's relationship, no one had known his true feelings for Nikita. He hadn't even realized what they were until she'd been gone for over a month and he still hadn't heard from her. That was when the dreams he'd been having turned into nightmares nightmares filled with Nikita's bloodied and broken body standing before him, her tear-filled eyes pleading with him. Why? Why didn't you warn me sooner? In the dreams, he discovered he'd turned to stone and couldn't answer her.
Six months had passed since Nikita's suicide mission and he had almost reached the point where he didn't care if he made it back from his missions or not. Operations had raked him over the coals about Liberia. For that matter, so had Madeline and her dressing down had almost paralyzed him. Where Operations' tongue-lashing washed over him without really touching him, Madeline's softly spoken reprimand left him replaying her words over and over in his mind... She's dead, Michael get over it
She's dead...
She's dead...
She's dead...
DEAD...
But in his heart he hoped almost against hope that somehow he would know if she were alive or dead. That no matter where she was no matter where he was their bond still connected them. Still, he was unable to stop the images chasing round in his mind... his last glimpse of her running across the roof of the warehouse images of Nikita wandering the streets again or wounded images of Nikita dead.
And it wasn't just the loss of Nikita. He couldn't turn to her friends for comfort either. Walter was openly hostile to him and Birkoff used every trick in the catalog to avoid him. As much as he wanted to explain to them what he had done to safeguard Nikita, Michael knew that he didn't dare let anyone know that he had arranged Nikita's escape.' If there were even the slightest hint that she hadn't died in the blast, Section would move heaven and earth to find her. And if -- no, when -- they found her, it wouldn't be a joyful reunion. Not to mention what they'd do to him and anyone else who knew
The Master recalled Michael's attention; the recruit was ready. Michael moved into position and the exercise started. After sparring for a few minutes, Michael scored a hit, which caused the Master to intervene. As the Master instructed the recruit in the proper response to Michael's counter-attack, Michael's mind again strayed from the exercise.
How many times had he replayed the scene in his mind holding a furious Walter at gunpoint staring into Birkoff's stunned eyes hearing himself say, "That's not the mission profile" watching in his mind's eye as the building exploded in a massive fireball. If he were honest with himself, though, he knew that there was really no way Nikita could have escaped. She'd reached her assigned position she would have been too far inside the building with too little time left to get out.
God, he needed her And not a day not an hour passed that he didn't think of her.
How had she been able to get to him so completely? Not since Simone had died' had he been so incapable of ignoring the pain of separation. He'd felt, then as now, that a major part of his heart had been amputated. But though the pain of losing Simone had remained a dull ache for a long time, after a couple of months he wasn't constantly seeing her face and hearing her voice everywhere. Now, even after more than six months, something every day every mission something reminded him of Nikita.
Something about her had challenged everything with which he was familiar. Before Nikita, he'd had no problem with Section's policy concerning acceptable collateral.' But she had exposed that policy to the bright light of her belief that life is sacred particularly the lives of innocents. And she'd taught him that sometimes a soft touch, combined with a little ingenuity and imagination, could be even more effective than brute strength.
He realized that he would have never known the truth about Simone if Nikita hadn't virtually forced him to ignore Operations and listen to her. Nikita had given Michael the chance, despite what it might mean to their relationship, to bring Simone out of captivity and back into Section. That Simone had chosen not to go back, but had chosen to die with Sparks, was not Nikita's fault or even his, he'd finally realized. At least he'd been able to hold Simone one last time.
If only he could tell Nikita how much he had learned from her. That he finally appreciated her viewpoint now when apparently it was too late for her for him for them. Why had he never let her know how much he cared how much he needed her? Had he really believed that by keeping her at arm's length he could prevent either of their hearts from becoming involved? The knowledge that it was his choice to deny the reality -- and validity -- of his feelings did nothing but increase the cold weight of grief gripping his heart.
But he allowed no one to comfort him. He grieved alone and in silence like death.
The Master signaled and again Michael assumed the counter-attack position. This time the attack was more furious, more violent. When the end came, the recruit was writhing on the ground, his leg broken. Michael breathed a short, but sincere, "I'm sorry," before returning to his office.
Once there, he immediately moved to secure the room and his transmission
Nikita,
Are you there?
The End