This story is for entertainment purposes only, I do not claim the characters as my own. Parents, it is your responsibility to monitor your children's internet use, not mine.
2. In the Moment
"I'm on it." Roan snapped his phone shut with one hand and tapped the steering wheel of his vehicle with the other. This should be good he told himself.
After being briefed on the mission, a sense of satisfaction had settled over him and he looked forward to the task at hand. It takes a unique individual to be a Cleaner and Division had found one in Roan. Amanda had declared him a homicidal sociopath and Percy had declared him the perfect man for the job. He had spent more than half of his life at Division. His unmitigated skill at eliminating problems and canceling collateral was highly valued. From the very beginning, he had a knack for doing his job with no remorse. Like many of his long time colleagues, he was dedicated and proud of his accomplishments. He had, however, felt cheated when he failed to pass the evaluation to become Percy's Second in Operations. But Roan was patient and knew to bide his time. And now, he felt his patience paying off.
Whether Michael failed or succeeded, Roan was clear on the outcome. He would return the black box to Percy and cancel Michael and Nikita. He had smiled to himself, this will be a career maker.
Parked in the shadows outside of the hotel, the Cleaner and his Assistant waited inside a black panel van. Typically, it would be easy to follow a Division agent, but it took more effort to keep tabs on Michael. He had been spared the tracking device due to his elevated status, but his subordinates had not. Michael's preference was to travel alone. He sent one agent ahead of him for reconnaissance and the other followed behind him for back up.
Roan followed the first agent to the hotel, where he checked into a double room located across the hall from the suite reserved for Michael. The agent surveyed the hotel perimeter and checked in with their security, before making a call. Michael had arrived shortly thereafter. He entered the hotel through a service door, where their surveillance equipment captured him, well dressed in a dark suit and wearing sun glasses. He stopped at the front desk, accepted a key card and proceeded to his suite. The agent who had cleared the way for his arrival met him at the door and they exchanged a few words before he entered his room. Michael showered and ordered room service before opening his laptop and logging on. On schedule, the second agent arrived and reported in. Room service came, Michael ate alone and continued working on his computer. After a while, he set his computer aside and extracted a small bottle from his bag and reached up to spray the tiny camera that was affixed to the overhead light. Roan's video feed went dark and a moment later the crunch of their audio bug crackled in their ears. Birkhoff came on-line. "Dude, he wants his privacy."
"Sir, how much longer do you estimate we'll be here?" The operative in the van with him was whiny, fidgety and hungry.
Roan snapped back at him through gritted teeth. "We'll be here as long as it takes."
Michael suspected, the two men parked in the panel van might likely be resentful if they knew. The two agents they had followed to Chicago were currently enjoying a large platter of spaghetti and meatballs and a jug of Chianti. Adding to their resentment would be the knowledge that the double he chose to impersonate him was enjoying the mini bar and free cable in his hotel suite. He wondered how long it would take Roan, or anyone in Division to realize he was in Montreal, eight hundred miles away.
The last two weeks had found Owen hiding and nursing his wounds. He had bribed a doctor to give him the antibiotic drugs he needed to stay alive and the barbiturates he wanted to dull his pain. It wasn't physical pain he ran from. The wounds he suffered reminded him he was alive and gave him his identity. It was the emotional pain he couldn't deal with. Owen grieved for Emily. His heart had been destroyed and his guilt overwhelmed him. Her pretty face and her sweet voice haunted him and loosing her was a mainline to realty. Only the thought of revenge soothed him.
Like all Division agents, he knew how to survive using subterfuge. He had laid low, finding an abandoned building to camp in and gathering only what he needed. His cover as a landscaper was gone, his possessions confiscated and his identity pulled apart by local police. Owen needed food, water and shelter to survive. He had a few hundred Canadian dollars that Nikita had left it in his wallet and a sporting goods store had provided him new clothes, a warm sleeping bag, a camp stove, mess kit, candles, maps and a water purification system. He blended in at the homeless shelters and found a place to bathe. For a few dollars, no questions were asked.
He had hidden the black box. It was the only leverage he had against Percy and Division, and like Nikita, his hatred for them kept him going. What he needed was a plan and what he wanted was Nikita to help him carry it out.
He knew Nikita was back in Montreal and he wanted her to find him. He couldn't make it easy for either of them, it was too dangerous. What he didn't count on was Michael. He knew him by reputation only, their paths may have crossed at Division, but it was inconsequential. Not knowing his enemy made him edgy and jumpy.
Owen stood outside of her hotel and looked up at the windows, wondering which one she was behind. He paced the sidewalk and considered his options before making a decision
"Hello Nikita, I apologize for showing up unannounced." Michael stood in front of her, his hands in his trouser pockets. The darkness in his eyes was evident and he looked hesitant and almost apologetic.
"Why are you here Michael? You want to get your ass kicked again?" Nikita raised her weapon, she looked as bitter as she sounded. "Take your hands out of your pockets and keep them where I can see them."
Michael complied. "I'm not armed." He proved it by slowly opening his jacket and showing her. "We need to talk."
"I think it's all been said unless you're here to give me Percy's blessing."
Michael frowned and cocked his head slightly. "What I have to say is a bit more complicated than that. You should know I haven't been teacher's pet since you left."
Nikita lowered her gun, she narrowed her eyes at him, like she was trying to get him in focus. "I know why you're here, where are your little friends?" She knew Michael wasn't a threat to her life and she placed her gun on the bedside table. She peeled off her parka, her long sleeved cashmere sweater and black leather pants clung to her curves.
"I'm alone." His eyes soaked her in and he underestimated the affect she had over him. "My mission is to bring Percy his black box and your head on a platter. If I fail, I'll be canceled." Michael's eyes flashed with intensity and his voice was urgent. "Nikita, give me the box and leave. I'll take my chances with Percy and Roan. I'm asking you to do this and to go before it's too late."
Nikita swept her hair away from her face and glared at him. "What black box, Michael? You want me to leave? And go where? I've got no place to go, and no one to go to." He could see her distress, her eyes sparked with anger, she wore it plainly.
Michael took a step toward her and closed the gap between them. The look of concern on his face infuriated her and she slapped him hard across his cheek.
There were very few people in this world who could make him feel this reckless. He grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her back, slamming her up against the wall. He felt her shift her weight to fight back and he used his body to pin her in place. She seemed smaller than he had remembered, but he knew her stature had nothing to do with her strength.
"Stop it!" His voice was harsh and his words strangled. "You shouldn't have come back. You should have staid away. Percy is determined to find and kill you."
"I'm not afraid of him, if anyone should be afraid, it's him."
Nikita felt Michael's strong frame enveloping her. She willed herself to breathe, it was one of the gifts Amanda had given to her and she did her best to keep her intake of air steady and in control. Then she did something she hadn't done in almost four years. She allowed herself feel his body against hers and the sound of his voice seep into her. It was like a narcotic entering her bloodstream and she couldn't fight the emotion that consumed her.
"I can't protect you if you won't trust me." There was a wistful almost hurtful tone in his voice. He murmured the words and they brushed against her face gently.
He relaxed his grip on her and she slowly turned around to face him. He hovered over her, his hands planted on the wall on either side of her. "I want to help you."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. "You can't protect me or help me, it's too late. You once told me there are no happy endings in Division. I didn't want to believe that, but I do now. I will never forgive myself. Daniel didn't deserve to die, he was a good man. I wanted to love someone and be loved back, so I didn't listen to you out of spite. I let him fall in love with a lie."
Michael pulled her against him and felt the anger and bitterness flow out of her. Nikita held this burden of guilt on her shoulders since Daniel had been murdered. She had been warned and chose not to listen and the consequences would forever haunt her.
"You should blame me, for God's sake, blame Percy and Division, but don't blame yourself. Our lives don't belong to us." He whispered.
He was prepared for her to reject his show of compassion and to lash out and fight him. Instead she embraced him and rested her head on his shoulder and wept. He closed his eyes in surrender. Nikita had gotten to him. She had imprinted herself in his subconscious and he couldn't escape his feelings for her. He had tried to make her his past but realized, she would always be with him in the present.
"Michael, I'm so tired right now." Her words faded into her heart. "Please, don't hurt me."
He was stunned by the emotion in her voice. They were both vulnerable and exposed and like her, he allowed it. Michael took his hand and cupped her cheek. He gently tilted her face towards his and when he kissed her for the first time, it was gentle, caring and loving. "I couldn't give myself to you then, they would have canceled us both." He whispered.
Nikita let this web of yearning spin around them. She was not the rogue agent being hunted down or a white knight trying to protect an innocent. There was no grief and no objective. Just Nikita and Michael.
He kissed her again, than again and again. Each kiss made them ravenous for more and for once, their timing was right. He felt her hands slip inside his jacket and she slid it off of his shoulders. The palms of her hands ran down his arms and she traced every curve and muscle with her fingertips. His large warm hands crept under the edge of her sweater, her skin felt smooth and velvety and he pulled her closer.
"I want you Michael." She murmured the words, they were barely audible but he let her know he had heard them. He turned her away from the wall, and like a dance she followed his lead. He laid her down on the bed, his body covering hers, and she whimpered with contentment.
His breathing was labored as he felt the passion between them grow. "Nikita... tell me again." His voice was low, sensual and aroused.
"I want you!" Her words were like a wisp of air lingering over them. She breathed deeply, his scent was masculine, powerful and erotic. When she reached up to unbutton his shirt, he knew they felt the same wave of passion pass through them and their next kiss left them breathless.
Piece by piece, they decorated the floor with articles of their clothing and all the while the heat between them burned intensely. They loved each other instinctively. The sounds of approval guiding them, their longing to be together urging them forward. Division had taught them both to be efficient, detached and unemotional, but now, they taught one another to be connected, to savor this encounter, and to live in the moment.
"Nikita..." Michael murmured under his breath. "Nikita..."