A Surveillance Van Named Desire
Chapter 1: Slutty Lobster
Summary: Michael and Nikita get locked in the surveillance van on accident. How do they pass the time? (set in pre-season one, Nikita's still in Division)
"Since when did my hemline become a tactical decision?" Nikita asked Michael.
"Since Birkhoff couldn't find another excuse to get Amanda to dress you recruits in scraps of fabric," Michael replied. They were sitting in the surveillance van, and he was trying very hard to keep his eyes away from the hemline in question. Nikita's fire-engine red dress had a slit up the side revealing a gratuitous amount of skin, and was scandalously low cut.
"I look like a slutty lobster."
"You look fine," he replied gruffly, turning back to the monitor that showed various camera angles of a cocktail party.
That wasn't the response she was looking for, he could tell by the way her eyes fell. But it wasn't like he could tell her that the eye-catching dress – rather, skimpy excuse for a dress – was driving him crazy. He couldn't tell her that she was his favorite recruit, that she was one of the few who could retain a sense of humor in this place. She was so unbelievably strong... and beautiful... it took everything he had to not verbalize everything he wanted to say to her?
He felt Nikita's eyes on him, but when he glanced up she simply turned away, focusing on putting in her earpiece and testing the volume.
"I'm going in. Got my back?" she asked, all business, all serious.
He nodded, and she opened the back doors, jumping out of the van and heading toward the party.
"Always."
…
Ten minutes later, she emerged from the party, heels in one hand and a black briefcase in the other.
She slid open the door and chucked her stilettos and the briefcase onto the floor of the van, leaping in and slamming the doors.
"Start the van! There's been a complication," she said, shooting a glance back at the party. She had pulled the fire alarm and people were evacuating in droves.
"What happened?"
"There's a bomb. I didn't have time to disarm it, but everyone should get out in time – "
Michael scrambled around the van.
"What are you looking for?"
"The keys!"
The van was dark, and wires and monitors covered nearly every inch.
"Where were they last?" Nikita asked.
A laptop tumbled onto the floor with a crunch. Birkhoff was going to love them when they got back.
"Found them!" Nikita said.
BANG!
It was too late. A shockwave rattled the van, tossing Michael and Nikita on top of each other.
BAM! Another wave of C4 cracked through the night.
The van tipped over, landing on the pavement with a chilling crunch as the metal bent and contorted.
Michael and Nikita had been thrown against the side of the van. Nikita was holding her head, and in the flickering light of one of the broken computers Michael could see a dark mark where a bruise would certainly appear the next day.
"Nikita, are you ok?"
He instinctively slid an arm around her shoulders, his other hand brushing her hair away so he could assess her condition.
Her almond eyes caught his. They were so close. The energy between them was like a livewire, pure electricity kindled by the proximity of their bodies.
Nikita felt the temperature in the van rise.
Literally.
One of the computers had caught fire.
"Michael!" She pointed at the flickering flames burning on a stretch of exposed wire. Michael yanked off his suit jacket, quickly putting out the flames.
"We need to catch a cab back to the rendevouz point before the cops get here," he said, hearing sirens in the distance. "Division can't help us if we get caught and thrown to the media."
Nikita nodded. She gingerly stepped over to the back doors, turning the handle to open them. But they were stuck: the metal had become so distorted by the blast that the doors were melded shut.
"They won't open!"
Michael tried the handle, and then threw himself against the door. She was right. "Hold on." He went to the front of the van, and climbed up towards the passenger door that faced the sky. It was stuck as well.
"Can you call Division?"
He held it up. It was cracked in two. "All of our equipment is destroyed, too. We're in the dark out here."
"Windows?"
"Bulletproof."
"We're stuck here," she realized, slumping against the wall of the van. "And it's only a matter of time before we get caught and framed for the bomb."
Michael slid down next to her, contemplating their fate. Division wouldn't help them. If you fell behind, you got left behind.
"Well," he said slowly, "we've probably got a few hours left until the cops are done with damage control and begin canvasing this street."
"So?"
"Might as well find something to pass the time," he said.
A mischievous smile crossed her face as she cocked her head at Michael. "What are you asking?"
"An age-old question."
"I see. What question is that?" her heart started beating erratically.
"Truth or dare?"
A/N: So I finally broke my writing hiatus. Going to update "Forgetting Josephine" and "We Used to Wait" this weekend, I promise. Also, this one is going really quickly, and I plan on finishing it this weekend as well!
In other news, Nikita is back! Everybody tune in tonight!