Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfic, so please let me know if you liked it. Any critiques, suggestions, or comments would be greatly appreciated.
"Michael..."
She called out to him, but before he could reach her, her eyes glazed over, and her body went limp. Her blood was everywhere. He looked down at the gun in his hand, and only then did he realize what he had done.
Michael woke up in a cold sweat. Always the same dream. Nikita haunted him every night. He thought that Nikita escaping Division would mean finally being able to stop thinking about her. Funny how it had just the opposite effect. Michael never allowed himself to consciously think of her, so she wormed her way into his subconscious – teasing him in his dreams. The dreams would always start off differently, but each time would end with him somehow shooting her, covered in her blood. In his dream, he would get angry at her - for teasing him, for leaving him, for distrusting him, and finally provoking him enough to shoot her, just to make her stop.
After shooting her, he always runs over to her, and sobs to her, "Why did you make me do this? Why do we have to fight like this? Why do we have to fight? Damn it, Nikita, I love you, don't die. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He knew what this meant. He didn't trust himself around her; he didn't trust his emotions around her.
Things were going okay for Michael. He may have been an unconsciously-emotional wreck, but at least he could keep it together at work... That is, until the day Percy got a call, and gave Michael his new assignment: "Nikita. She's back on the radar. Sprung one of our mousetraps. I want you to hunt her down, and I want you to confirm the kill. Do you think you can do that this time?" Michael flashed to his recurring dream, then smiled at Percy, "What do you think?"
His heart skipped a beat simply with the mention of her name. Nikita. It was like verbal narcotics for him. Nikita. He wanted to repeat it over and over again. Nikita. He was so swept up with the thought of her, that he didn't even notice her until she was practically in his lap. He choked on his champagne. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, but he knew that Percy was keenly aware of the situation at hand, and so he did his best to keep his feelings in check. As soon as the first shots were fired, Michael felt like he was in his dream. He didn't know if he was horrified, or in heaven, but as he chased after her, he began to realize that he would soon find out which.
"Nikita!" He called out for her to stop. He couldn't catch his breath, and he couldn't tell if it was from running, or simply from the sight of her. He did his best to play cool, but once she teased him, he lost it. He became angry with her, "You were free! What the hell are you doing back here?" He was flooded with déjà vu. He knew it was only a matter of time before she would provoke him enough and he would be forced to shoot her.
"I warned you not to get emotionally attached," he countered to her.
"You mean the way you did, with me?" She didn't even miss a beat.
She was pushing him too far, and he didn't know if he could hold out much longer.
"Let me go, or stop me now." She posed to him this impossible ultimatum.
This was the moment. He was supposed to shoot her now... But he couldn't. He told her to run away. In his mind, he was setting her free, this was it.
She pulled out her gun and shot him. She shot him! Michael was speechless. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She ran over to him, and he imagined this would be when she professed her love...
"I'm just trying to protect you."
With that, she ran off into the night, and Michael clutched his shoulder, and his heart, in pain.
At least he would get a good nights sleep.