A/N: Intersection was fantabulous, that is all. This is post 3x08, not post 3x07 because we can tell that Mikita fight in the next ep and this is how I imagine it would be resolved.

Enjoy!

He was going to check whether she was coming home that night. It surprised him when he realised that was his intention – they'd never had a fight on this level before and honestly, he knew that he was being selfish. Owen was right. She'd saved his life and this probably hurt her as much as it hurt him but she knew all about needing space and she was giving it to him. Which was why – he reasoned – he sought her out to clarify if she was coming home or staying with Alex. He found the two of them curled up on a couch in an abandoned office on sector 3 and he paused at the doorway to listen.

'Nikita,' Alex said, 'we don't have to talk about this. After everything that happened with Michael...'

'Don't change subject,' Nikita said sharply and Michael couldn't help but smile to himself at how motherly his fiancee acted towards the younger woman.

Alex glanced down, fiddling absent-mindedly with the cuffs of her shirt. 'A lot of stuff went down with Sean,' she said softly. 'And you know, I got shot. I wanted to get back in the field and I felt cooped up inside Division, especially after everything that happened in medical and what Sean said about the possibility of him losing me if I stayed in here. I guess I...' Her voice choked up and Michael felt a sudden rush of protectiveness towards her, hoping Nikita wouldn't be too angry once the explanation was over.

'I slipped,' Alex whispered, her voice breaking. 'Oh God, I'm so sorry Nikita, I – '

'Hey, hey, hey, it's okay!' Nikita said quickly and Michael saw her reach forward to comfort Alex out of the corner of his eye. 'Alex, I know I freaked out before but it was only because of everything that was going on with Amanda.' Nikita's breath hitched in her throat. 'To be honest,' she sighed, 'I felt guilty. I can't believe I didn't notice it. I'm the one that should be sorry. I should have figured it out...'

'You're not supposed to have to look out for me 24/7 anymore,' Alex insisted. 'It's not your responsibility.'

'I'm still supposed to know when something's wrong!' Nikita pointed out. 'You're my best friend, Alex. You're more than that. You're family.'

'I know,' Alex replied with a small smile. 'So are you. Which is why we need to talk about what's going on with Michael as well. I promised him I'd stop using when he confronted me in the park and you can help me recover from now on. Right now, you're the one who's in need of some serious venting.'

Nikita groaned, roughly pushing her hair away from her face.

Michael knew he should leave. Now, he was eavesdropping and both Nikita and Alex would kill him if they found out he was at the doorway. But he needed to know how Nikita felt about their falling out and there was no way she would tell him the truth, considering what he was going through. She'd definitely tell Alex.

So he balled up his fist in his left hand, holding his breath at the cool touch of his engagement ring upon his palm, keeping his ears pricked for Nikita's confession.

Finally, after a long, heavy silence that was only broken by Alex's small sniffs, – (she'd been crying) – Nikita said one sentence in a very small voice.

'I couldn't let him die.'

Michael felt his heart break and the edge in her voice and he could hear that she was close to tears. He'd been stupid enough to not even consider what he would've done had he been in her position and it was clear and obvious to him. He'd have done the same thing.

'Of course you couldn't,' Alex replied gently.

'But now he can't go out into the field,' Nikita continued and the cracks in her voice told Michael that she was definitely crying.

'It's all my fault,' she said. 'I mean, maybe I wasn't thinking straight! Maybe I could've shot bit of the car that was on his hand. Or I could've tried harder to pull him out. Why did I have to cut his hand off? What am I going to do without him in the field?'

'Nikita, listen to me,' Alex said firmly. 'This was not your fault. Michael was trapped and you did all you could to bring him home. You were thinking clearly and it was the only solution. If you shot the car, the whole thing would've blown up and killed you both. If you tried to pull him out, you might not have gotten out in time or, you could have injured his hand beyond repair. Cutting it off was the only option you had to get him back alive. And as for going out into the field, until Michael gets adjusted to having a robotic hand, you know you can call on me or Owen or any of the other agents that we have. I know I'm still recovering but I can back you up.'

That was it. Michael tore himself away from the doorway, hurrying towards the elevator. He didn't care where Nikita spent the night. He couldn't hear her beat herself up over it anymore and he couldn't barge in there and attempt to convince her it wasn't her fault because he'd get the living hell beaten out of him by two angry women.

Storming up to the garage, he instinctively went to grab his keys with his right hand, only to have them slip through his plastic, black, artificial fingers. Anger surged through him and with a strangled growl, he punched his car furiously with the stupid robotic hand. The window shattered, the glass flying onto the seat and out towards Michael.

'Crap,' he hissed. 'Now Niki's got more than one reason to be pissed at me.' He managed a pained smirk when he realised something else. 'Well at least punching glass doesn't hurt anymore.'

'Whoa, whoa, whoa – Mikey, what the hell are you doing?' Birkhoff demanded, bounding down the stairs, a look of sheer horror on his face at the possibility that his car might've been the one that had suffered a broken window.

'Don't freak out Birkhoff, your car's fine,' Michael muttered, awkwardly stepping around the glass to crouch down and pick up his keys.

'Are you seriously expecting to drive home in this wreck?' Birkhoff asked, obviously unimpressed. 'Plus, with your super-hand, I doubt you'll be breaking any land speed records. In fact, you'll probably get pulled up by the cops. Your driving is shocking enough without that robot crap getting in the way.'

Michael couldn't resist a choked laugh. At least his best friend wasn't shying away from the topic. Maybe that was one of the things that made Birkhoff so great to have around. His jokes may have been terrible most of the time, but when you really needed it, he pulled through.

'Come on, buddy,' the techy said. 'Get in the masterpiece. I'll drive you home. Where's Niki?'

'She's sorting things out with Alex,' Michael said through grit teeth. 'I dunno if she'll be coming home tonight. She might crash at Alex's apartment.'

'I doubt it,' Birkhoff said, slipping on a jacket. 'You guys have your fights but she'll always come home to you. Especially now. Don't make a big deal out of it. Everything will pan out.'

–({})–

Nikita hoped Michael was asleep when she slipped through the door to their apartment, kicking off her shoes. The night was unusually cold and she felt the heater from the living room, relaxing slightly when she was assured that Michael actually was here and hadn't stayed the night at Birkhoff's or something.

After a long conversation with Alex (that included returning to the topic of relapse, an in depth discussion about Sean and Alex letting out some long held in tears), Nikita had convinced herself that she'd best return home. All she wanted right now was to flop into her own bed and curl up under the covers, whether she was alone or not.

She knew Michael was having trouble adjusting to his new disability and to the fact that he was not going to have such an active role in the field as he had previously. The loss of limb was completely unexpected. The mission was supposed to run smoothly – not severely change the dynamics of their team.

'Ouch!' Nikita yelped when she bumped into the edge of the coffee table. The sharp wood hit bare skin and she felt blood trickle down her leg, causing her to swear angrily under her breath.

'Nikita?' His voice was soft and hoarse but as gentle as it always was. (Or used to be. She hadn't heard his voice like that at all day). The light flickered on and she glanced up to see him leaning against the doorframe, hair mussed and ruffled, eyes squinted at the sudden light but face shining with a certain relief to see her here.

'Were you expecting anyone else?' she half-joked, trying not to draw her eyes to his right arm hanging at his side.

'Actually, I wasn't expecting anyone,' he admitted, cracking a small smile. 'I'm glad you're home.'

'Yeah,' she agreed, shifting her weight nervously. 'So am I.' Glancing down at the cut on her leg, she muttered something in irritation before side stepping the armchair, striding past him into their bedroom and scooping up her pyjamas from the end of the bed.

'I'm going to grab a shower,' she announced.

'Okay,' Michael answered, his arm lightly brushing against hers as he hurried past her to get back to bed. 'Have you eaten?'

'Alex and I got some coffee on the way home,' Nikita shrugged. 'I'm not really hungry.'

Michael frowned. 'You haven't really been hungry since we got back from Quebec.'

'I know,' Nikita mumbled. 'I've been distracted. With you and Alex and Amanda and other Division stuff. I'm fine, though.'

Michael initially looked like he was going to keep quiet about his obvious objections but then he shook his head and grabbed her arm with his proper hand, pulling her out of the bedroom, guiding her through the living room and into the kitchen.

'Uh – Michael – what the hell?' Nikita protested, although not bothering to break free of his hold, almost afraid to hurt him further.

'I don't care what crap we're going through right now,' Michael said bluntly. 'You have to take care of yourself. There's some leftover pizza in the fridge and I need to eat something anyway.'

'It's almost midnight,' Nikita said flatly.

'When has that ever stopped pizza?'

Nikita bit her lip as the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a grin. 'Still being overprotective, huh?'

Michael's face softened. 'I love you,' he said. 'Of course I am.'

Nikita's almost smile faded. 'I was starting to doubt that after today,' she let slip, instantly regretting her words after she said them but Michael didn't even flinch.

'I know,' he said heavily, looking ashamed. 'I'm sorry, Nik. I know that...'

'No,' Nikita interrupted, eyes blazing with a sudden fire. 'No, Michael, you don't know. You have no idea how much I love you and how close I've been so many times in the last two and half years to losing you. What do you think I would do if you died, huh? If you yelled to me to just leave you and somebody dragged me away, leaving me to watch you get shot or blown up and then I had carry on with my life. How the hell am I supposed to do that? And you told me this a year ago, while we were on the run. After I drugged you, you had to remind me of how you would feel if you lost me, despite you having a son that you had to live for. Michael, I cut off your goddamn hand because it meant I could still wake up the next day and see your face, whether you resented me for the rest of my life for it or not – it meant I could see that you were alive and I didn't have to continue my life without you. Got that?'

'Got it,' Michael croaked, immediately looking down at the marble of the counter top so Nikita didn't see the sudden tears that had pricked his eyes. She moved past him carefully, waiting for an outburst or some kind of extended reaction as she forcefully shoved the pizza into the oven. After a moment, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He was still sitting while she was standing so she found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, smiling as he nuzzled his face into her petite stomach.

'I love you,' he said, voice coming out muffled.

'I love you too,' she whispered back as a reply, sliding onto his lap so that their faces were inches apart. 'I need you to know that I'm here, Michael. That I understand it's going to be hard for all of us to adjust, but I'm always here for you.'

'I know,' Michael promised, moving his hands to rest on her waist, letting out a small breath of relief when she didn't even seem to notice his replacement hand against the skin revealed by her singlet riding up.

'You've always been there,' he added, the realisation clicking in his head. 'Back when we were in Division and I told you about Liz and Haley. You promised to help me catch Kasim and years later, we were on separate sides and you were still there. Whenever I've fallen, you're there to catch me.'

'That's 'cause I'm expecting you to catch me when I fall too,' Nikita ordered, a smirk playing at her lips, ducking down to steal a kiss.

'I will be,' Michael said. 'Whatever happens, we'll face it together, right?'

'Your words, not mine,' Nikita said lightly. 'We always knew this fight would be difficult... all of us. You, me, Alex, Birkhoff, Ryan, Owen, Sean... we just have to properly come to terms with that.'

'It's gonna take time,' Michael sighed. 'But we'll get there.' He grinned suddenly. 'You still want that shower?'

To that, Nikita just laughed.

A/N: How they're going to do a shower scene with a robotic hand is beyond me but, hey, this show is great so let's just wait and see!

I know I haven't updated Roommates in FOREVER but Sean's been such a dick this season that I'm getting annoyed at him and can't write season 2 him. I think I'll rewatch season 2 to get into character.

Read and review please! Promise I'll try hard to put up some more fics!