A/N: Kind of getting the hang of the present tense... (Posted Thursday 1/20 on DW)
Title: We Are Only Flesh
Author: jyorraku
Rating: R
Fandom: Nikita
Category: Angst
Characters: Michael/Nikita, Alex
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: The world will move on.
The next time Michael sees Nikita, she throws up all over his shoes. The surprise in her own eyes is almost funny, but he just stands there, staring, finally seeing the cracks in the shell that held her. She's always been thin, but the gauntness in her face is sharpened up close and he's suddenly aware of not just her, not just Nikita, but skin she's in.
"Didn't mean to do that," she mutters, trying to lighten the mood.
His face contorts as a burgeoning omen permanently seats itself in his mind. He takes in her wan, apologetic smile and he abruptly wants to go back to yesterday when he first read her text and delete the message like he should have. For a split second he thinks about just leaving and pretending they're not going to have this conversation, but the moment he walked into the room, Nikita made sure she covered the only exit; he didn't expect anything less and doesn't think she's going to let him just go. There's so much pretending between them that every time the masks slip it only makes them want to look away. Only this time she's not looking away and she's forcing him to see.
Nikita tilts her head at him. "You don't look so good."
"Me?" Michael nearly guffaws, incredulous. The horror of the situation grows insidiously inside him.
"She's capable of a lot." She knows he knows. It has always been just a matter of time. Alex is good, her training helped, but Michael's not a fool.
She opens with Alex so it hits him like a kick to his teeth, a knife to his gut. His suspicion becomes reality. He doesn't want to talk about Alex, but she does—of course she does, she all but wants butterflies and rainbows for her protégé—and he can't bring it to himself to deny her.
"Not alone, she's not," he says stiffly, his voice hoarse, his throat tight.
Nikita frets and worries because what he says is true. Time is growing short and she's scared for Alex. She ignores that Michael is Division and regresses to the partnership that has always existed between them.
"Division took too much from her."
Michael suspected as much. No one signs up for this kind of life without something riding on the line. Revenge, what a clichéd web they weaved.
"I won't be able to stop her," Nikita laments, gazing up at him.
He narrows his eyes. "And you think I will?"
"No." She licks her cracked lips, hesitant. But she doesn't need to say anything else.
Rage bubbles up inside him, like a floodgate overflowing. He stops short of shaking her. "I didn't help you take down Division. You, Nikita. What makes you think I'll help her?"
"Because you would have helped me, eventually!" she yells, tears glistening.
His jaw clenches down so tight his chest throbs in protest. He feels raw with disgust and self-loathing.
She takes several wispy breaths. "It's too late for me. It's not too late for Alex."
He closes his eyes and wonders why he keeps ending up here. Watching and knowing but helpless. What has he done to deserve this? His heart is beating but he's dead inside.
"Michael."
She says his name like she breathes air.
He opens his eyes and focuses. Suddenly everything is clear and for the first time in a long time, he doesn't waver. He extends his open hand to her. She takes it, giving him the most beautiful smile he will ever see.