Kiss My Fears Away
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Angst
Format: One-shot
Status: Completed
Pairing: Michael/Nikita
Timeline: Division days. A year before Nikita went rogue.
Disclaimer: I do not own Nikita or the characters. No profit is made with this.
Beta Reader: mikitafan2011 and teachergrl on lj
Summary: It was enough. It was more than enough. It was here she knew he had stolen her heart and she was his forever. "I was wrong. When I said I believed I had nothing left to live for, I was wrong. I do have something to live for. I have you."
A/N: This is not relatively new and is posted on my lj account (Go to my profile to check out the account if you want to). I've finally given in to posting this here. Also, I recommend listening to Bloodstream by Stateless while reading this. Enjoy! Leave a review.
When Nikita woke that fateful day, the sun blazed directly in her eyes as she rolled over to the side of the bed. The covers were warm, much warmer than usual - something she was not used to, not for quite some time. She had adapted to sleeping alone. She languidly stretched luxuriously underneath them. Something about the way it moved over her legs made her eyes open and sit up. She was swathed in thick duvet covers of primrose yellow and gold lining on a king-sized bed. She didn't remember falling asleep in a bed. Diagonal from her, leaning against the wall obliquely was a rich, maroon colored wooden desk covered with writing materials, stacks of papers, photos and a neglected glass of water half empty. On the right side of the room at quite a distance was a bar with several miscellaneous items, scattered across the high-top table with noticeable evidence that one had spent a significant amount of time researching quite a bit in the night, along with the conspicuous photos pinned against the lush walls that supported such thinking. On the adjacent wall there were two cream-colored doors, the floor was carpeted with several clothing garnments having been thrown around carelessly, and the large windows that doubled as glass doors to a terrace were open, the diaphanous curtains attached floating with the currents of the early morning breeze. Nikita got up warily, her toes wiggling and squishing against the plush carpet. She didn't remember any of this. Well, she didn't remember falling asleep.
A soft snore resonated from across the room and Nikita jumped slightly. Upon closer inspection, she discovered the frame of a man huddled under the covers. It was Michael. He was lying prone, one arm slung over the slight dip in the mattress that acknowledged her sleeping presence in the night and his other arm comfortably tucked under his head. Peaceful, that was the first thought that came to Nikita when she looked at him. The lines and wrinkles etched across his face that were accompanied by the small gash on his cheek from the previous night's rough brawl with Russian terrorists, caused by the constant signature look of Michael's broody expression and furrowed eyebrows were undetectable. He looked younger, peaceful, at ease.
Nikita hissed a startled sharp intake of breath as she was yanked forward with a surprising brutal force, her nose colliding against the flesh of Michael's chest. "Sleep."
"Michael—"
"Stop thinking," he murmured against her hair.
"Michael, I—" She protested a second time, knowing it would fall on deaf ears when it came to Michael.
"Tomorrow is another day, Nikita. Stop thinking and sleep."
Sighing in resignation, she buried herself closer into his enveloping arms and embraced the warmth openly as his arms tightened around her waist, molding her body to his. The steady melody of Michael's heartbeat lulled her into deep slumber, coaxing her mind with pleasant dreams.
It was then she knew she was irrevocably in love with him. Maybe she had loved him long before then. Maybe she had loved him when he had defied Percy's orders when a simple escort mission had taken the wrong turn, but instead he dove in after her, pulling her up to safety as he begged, pleaded for her to stay with him as he cradled her limp body. Maybe she had loved him when he held her in the night, silently listening to her grieve the loss of the only close friend she had within the walls of Division. Maybe she had loved him when he specifically and callously told Birkoff to 'fuck off' when he had caught him wrapped around her body trying to show her how to aim a gun properly. Nikita didn't know exactly when she began to stumble into the pitfalls of love, but it was then, at that moment she knew she was his.
Michael had been standing there, hair disheveled from the wind, eyes distant and far away, staring engrossingly into the stretch of the ocean's horizon. She knew what he was thinking about. It was at times like these she had left him alone to muse and ponder his way through life, but this time something pulled at her. The scuffle of her feet did not startle him, nor did it encourage him to turn around.
"Do you miss her?"
"Every day."
A comfortable silence lapsed over them. Nikita watched the clouds roll over the azure horizon, frolicking with the sun at the game of hide and seek. It was not until he spoke up that she noticed the slight tremble in his fingers.
"She made the worst coffee in the world: bland, disgusting, tasteless. Ironically enough, she used to work in a coffee shop. That was how we met. She had spilled coffee all over me and it was just her first day of work." Michael's eyes were closed, a pained smile painted on his lips. "When the car blew up, I-I thought, I believed I had nothing to live for. Elizabeth was gone . . . and Haley. Oh god, Haley. She was everything. She was my baby girl. My baby girl."
She couldn't recognize it first. It was familiar but foreign, but when the pieces fell together, it consternated her bones and shook her to the hollow core. The sharp acute sound had sliced through her, a pain sharper than any bullet wound. "Michael . . . "
"I miss them so fucking much. God, I miss them so much. I can't . . . I can't . . ."
Her own innocence was long murdered, the day she crossed the barrier between principle and immorality. She had been taught to guard her emotions and feelings through Division. And here, she watched the man who had been the very one to teach her the possession of poise and self-control struggle to gain composure and mask the indifference towards life. The man who taught her the skill set of a master trained to withdraw from displaying the tumultuous emotions that could easily conflict and compromise situations. The man who helped shape her into the perfect weapon.
Nikita's heart clenched painfully and she ached to seduce him with her kisses to banish the heavy anguish pent up deep within the hollow crevice of his heart. Then he was there, gripping onto her tightly, tears seeping through the cotton of her shirt. She doesn't remember how long they had been standing there, clutching each other, him murmuring apologies and her whispering softly, but she knows he needed her and she was there for him.
Moments later, his emerald eyes were piercing into hers so intensely she had struggled to ignore and contain the constant tugging and somersaults swirling deep in the pit of her stomach as he spoke huskily, "I was wrong. When I said that I believed I had nothing left to live for, I was wrong. I do have something to live for. I have you."
Her lungs constricted agonizingly. Nikita found the logical side of her battled against her emotional side. She had spent many enjoyable days in his company. It had rekindled feelings she had kept locked away as she distanced herself. She took in his mussed hazelnut hair, the stubble freckled along his jaw-line, the smell of his clean aftershave skin, the way his fingers were tenderly caressing the rapid heartbeat of her pulse point on her neck. Nikita didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. Instead, she leant forward and pressed her lips against his, tasting the sun and tears. It was enough. It was more than enough.
It was here she knew he had stolen her heart and she was his forever.
Daniel. He was everything and more. He was perfect. It was after an infuriating and futile dispute with Michael that she had met him. She was upset, frustrated, tired and ready to rip off the head of whoever proceeded to jam her in the ribs, but when she looked up all she could see was a sheepish smile and adorable dimples. He had stubbornly insisted on treating her to dinner to compensate for his clumsiness. Then somehow, one dinner turned into several and Nikita found herself enjoying his company immensely. It seemed so long ago when Michael and her were wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies providing a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Daniel made her laugh and it had been so long since she felt genuinely happy.
Nikita became aware of the numbing of her senses. She felt drowsy and drained. It took a lot of concentration and energy to gather her composure and pacify her nerves. It was like this for the past month and every day the condition grew worse. It hurt to think about him. Some nights, she would shut her eyes and bury her face in the damp pillow, willing not to wake Daniel and tonight was no different. He didn't need to see her like this, so vulnerable. But, that was exactly what Michael did to her. He was her undoing. Daniel was perfect, but he wasn't him. She missed him so much more than she thought humanly possible. He had barely breathed a word to her the past couple of months and if he did, it usually regarded her needed assistance on a mission ordered by Percy. He was so cold and distant. She felt like he was slipping through her fingers faster and faster.
Nikita was disgusted with herself. How could she even be thinking about another man when in the arms of another, one who loved her unconditionally and whose smile warmed the hearts of those around him? But, she already knew the answer. She knew it long ago. She had given her heart away a long time ago and never gotten it back.
In the diffused light of the halogen lamps, a black sedan car lay parked alongside the road. The figure in the car sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. He would watch and wait till the only source of luminescence emitted from the bedroom. She was afraid of the dark she had told him. He remembered when he had bought her the very same lava lamp that comforted her through the night. Hours later, fatigue pulled the man's nerves taut and so he drove off, prepared for the restless night of dreaming his heart's desires.
Tomorrow, in the diffused light of the halogen lamps, a black sedan car will lay parked alongside the road just as it did tonight and every night for the past year.