Jingle Bombs
Michael and Nikita attempt to celebrate Christmas. Things get out of hand.
A/N: I will update Forgetting Josephine and We Used to Wait in the next few days. Promise!
But first here's a seasonal piece. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! :)
It was a fancy-smancy political soiree, with a live orchestra playing Christmas tunes on the lawn of the lavishly decorated mansion that cost more than the income of a small country. Everything was infused with alcohol: the chocolate, the eggnog, the people...
Simply stated, it was a drunken bonanza in which Nikita had to fend off hordes of overweight politicians trying to make a pass at her. Michael hated that part. Hated that he was stuck in the van, on Christmas eve, while others admired Nikita's lithe figure wrapped in that shiny red dress that had a hem that was the length of most of his t-shirts.
"Nikita, promise me I get you all to myself on Christmas," he mumbled over the microphone.
She chuckled darkly as she maneuvered her way through the crowd of people, searching for the target. "Oh, you have no idea the surprise I have planned for you," she teased. "I'll give you a hint: it involves me wearing heels – and nothing else." She smiled as she heard a strangled groan over the radio.
Michael banged his head a few times against the side of the van, trying to wipe the image out of mind so he could focus.
"Found Senator Grisham," Nikita said as she saw her target. The trim, athletic politician in a green pinstripe suit was Oversight, and Nikita and Michael needed him in their custody so that they could uncover the location of Oversight's next meeting.
"I can't find his private security. I'm guessing they probably passed out after all of that spiked Eggnog. You're clear to take him down."
Nikita reached into her beaded clutch purse for her tranquilizing gun, about to discreetly take down Grisham when –
"Ohmygod! I must know! Who are you wearing?"
A tall, lanky blond woman wearing a flowing white dress more suited for a romantic beach getaway than a holiday cocktail party appeared in front of her.
"Marc Jacobs," Nikita said offhandedly, looking past the woman at Senator Grisham. She couldn't lose sight of him.
"No way! I was going to get that dress, but then again I didn't want to upstage my husband's affair," the blond woman said.
Nikita's eyes snapped back to the woman. She couldn't be older than 22, if that. "Who is your husband?"
"Senator Grisham, of course," the blond who was apparently Mrs. Grisham said.
"Nikita, I'm going in. I'll grab the Senator. You keep his wife distracted," Michael said over the radio, glad for an excuse to
"Of course!" Nikita said, both for Michael's and Mrs. Grisham's benefit. "How could I forget. I saw you in the papers last week didn't I?" Nikita asked, steering her towards the refreshments and away from the Senator.
Michael slipped into the party, a glass vial in hand. He wore one of his signature suits, and when Nikita caught sight of him she couldn't help but admire him from across the room. God, she loved this man. He grabbed a platter of champagne, and dumped the contents of the vial into the glass.
"Drink, Senator?" he asked, handing the balding man
"Sure!" The man said.
"Oh, can you also come back to the kitchen for a moment, Senator? There's a problem with the food."
"Problem?" the Senator asked, but willingly followed Michael towards the kitchen. Suddenly, the drug kicked in and the Senator was out cold. Michael squeezed him into a catering cart, draped a white tablecloth over him, and wheeled him out to the parking lot.
"All clear," Michael said. "Try and keep people from going and looking for him until I verify his identity."
Nikita turned back to Mrs. Grisham, who continued to talk about some inane subject.
"I have no room in my closet for skeletons," Mrs. Grisham joked. "I have too many shoes!"
…
The Senator was tied up in the back of the van. Michael waved some smelling salts underneath his nose, and the Senator jolted awake.
"Listen, Senator, I know you're Oversight," Michael said darkly. The man looked around wildly.
"What? Overwhat?"
"Senator, we know what you're involved in. You can't deceive me. Where's the next meeting?"
Senator Grisham cringed away from Michael, shielding himself with his arms. "Please! Don't hurt me!"
"Senator, you get one chance!"
The man shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Michael suddenly stood up. Something in the way this man behaved was off. Birkhoff said that Grisham was the Oversight member. He had assumed it was Senator Grisham.
But this man wasn't Oversight.
His wife was. And Mrs. Grisham and Nikita were still in the party together.
"Nikita!" he yelled over his mic. No response. Nikita would be caught by surprise: and being caught by surprise by a member of Oversight was perhaps the most lethal situation of all.
"Stay here," he said needlessly to the man tied up in the back of his van. Michael jumped out, slamming the doors, and darted toward the manor.
He hoped he wouldn't be too late.