For nearly three days, Nikita drifted in and out of consciousness with no
signs of getting better. This not only ripped Michael apart inside, but it
also gave him hope. Neither Beckman, nor Howard had stayed alive this long
after contracting India. Only once during that time did Nikita wake up and
see Michael.
The sound of his deep, sensual voice lured Nikita from her sleep. Smiling, she realized that it had not been a dream at all, but that Michael was right here beside her, holding her hand, telling her incredible stories of when he was growing up.
"...and then I climbed over the barrier between the crowd and the performers. My father was furious, but like I said, it was my first time to go to the circus, and I wanted to see the elephants."
Nikita quietly interrupted him. "So, how long before your father took you to another circus?"
"You're awake. Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? A blanket?" Michael fussed over her in his calm, reserved way. To Nikita, Michael's face showed no emotion, but to Birkoff, who had watched the man sit with her for hours, anxiously wondering what would happen to her, there was relief etched in every line.
"I don't want anything to eat, but a blanket and some water would be nice. Thank you." A few minutes later, Birkoff came in bearing the water and blanket. After a moment of inquiring as to how she felt, Birkoff left Nikita with Michael and returned to the observation room. Helping her to sit up, Michael proceeded to spread the blanket over Nikita and raised the glass to her lips. Nikita was so surprised by his helpfulness to the point that she didn't know what to say. Momentarily she agreed to eat something. The fact that Michael seemed so adamant about it made it impossible to refuse. Jones came in with a little bit of steak, a few bites of peas, and some chicken soup.
"How are you Nikita?" Jones sounded worried.
"Oh, I'm fine. Haven't you heard? They put all operatives with the flu in quarantine." At first Jones thought she was being sarcastic, but the smile on her face told him that she was just trying to get a laugh out of him. He quickly obliged her and, after giving Michael the tray of food, left the cell. Immediately, Michael took the fork, cut off a piece of meat and put it to Nikita's lips. Now she didn't know WHAT was going on. Michael continued in this manner until the steak and peas were mostly gone.
Nikita groaned. "Why do I feel like I am in grade school, home sick with a cold? I can feed myself, you know." She didn't want to sound angry, just exasperated.
"This isn't a cold. You need all your energy to fight the virus inside of you." ~Because you aren't going to die.~
Regretting how angry she had sounded, Nikita realized that he was right. She needed all her energy, because she couldn't even pull herself up. "Michael, I want you to know something."
"Hmm?" He kept his mind focused on the task at hand.
"I want you to know that I understand that if there had been another way, you wouldn't have killed Jergen. It may not mean much to you, but I just wanted you to know that I forgive you."
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Back at Section, Operations was sitting on the corner of Madeline's desk. He was seeking her advice on what to do about Michael and Nikita.
As always, her voice was rational and cold. "We should just let her die. Most of our operatives, even the higher class ones, still believe that there is no way to cure viruses." At Section, viruses were being cured everyday in top secret labs. It had been only a few hours ago that Operations had been informed that the scientists had finally found a cure for India. He was now left with a huge dilemma.
"But if we let her die, what will Michael do? You remember what happened last time, when Nikita disappeared. That was when Michael only THOUGHT she was dead. What will he do if he WATCHES her die?" Operations knew he had the final say, but he wanted to win Madeline over to his point of view first.
"Yes, but what if we give her the antiserum, and on a mission, Michael's feelings for her overrule his loyalty to the mission- or to Section? Is that a risk we're prepared to take?" Madeline was heartless and unsympathetic. She never thought twice about the people she had killed, or the fact that many of them needn't have died at all.
"On the other hand, what if his attachment to her can save her life, as well as his? Michael's feelings for her might bring her closer to Section. Sometimes a bond between operatives can be a good thing." On that last comment he let his eyebrows raise and his eyes look her over. It was obvious that he was talking about the night they had slept together. He had definite feelings for her, but she brushed it aside, saying that there had been a lot of sexual tension between them and it had been satisfied.
"Not likely. This time, he was ready to go AWOL on us and stay with Nikita if we had denied him the official permission to do so. It's your decision, but I still favor letting her die. If he got over her once, he can get over her again. He got over Simone, didn't he?" There was a slight pause, and when she finally spoke again, Madeline's voice was quiet, yet powerful. "Strange, how much those two situations resemble one another." She had made a valid point and she knew it. Madeline had won, and Operations would let Nikita die.
"All right then. I will go with your recommendation. Nikita will die, just like Howard and Beckman."
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Walter listened to the conversation carefully, trying not to look suspicious. He had planted two bugs the day before: one in Madeline's office, the other in Operations'. He was surprised that no one had noticed them yet, but when Nikita had gotten sick, he had decided that it might be a good idea. His eyes were wide as he finally comprehended that Section One had a supply of virus cures, they had found a way to cure Nikita, and they were just going to let her die. He had to do something about it. Walter wouldn't just let her die. He quickly left Section and walked to a pay phone about four miles away. There, he called several friends within Section to find out exactly where they might be keeping Nikita.
Two hours later, his persistence was rewarded when he called an operative in Magdeburg, Germany. He was surprised to find that the quarantine unit was so close to his friend. Walter told his friend to return to the compound immediately and give Birkoff a message. The message was: 'Call this number when your watch says 4 P.M. I have some important information you need to know about Nikita. 01-809-33-579-8374.' Walter knew that Birkoff would call. He returned to Section to work on his contraptions for about an hour before he would walk back to the pay phone.
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The door to the observation room opened and Dr. Vestoff entered. She walked straight to Birkoff and leaned over, placing her hand on the counter next to his, as if looking at something in front of him. A moment later Dr. Vestoff withdrew her hand and Birkoff saw that there was a piece of paper there, folded in half. He opened it and read the message inside, then quickly got up and followed her out of the room. They walked down a long corridor until they reached a door. There, Birkoff and the doctor left the compound, got into her car, and silently drove a few miles until they reached a pay phone on the side of the road. She pulled over and he got out.
-------------------------------------------
The phone only rang once before a familiar voice picked up the other end. "Birkoff?"
"Walter? What is it?" He knew that if Walter was calling him like this, it must be a matter of life and death, and by the message he sent, it sounded like it was a matter of Nikita's.
"Yesterday, I planted a bug outside of Madeline's office. When Arriet came back, he told me what happened over there and that Nikita was sick- that's all I could get out of him. I wanted to find out what was going on, so I-"
"Walter, what did you find out?" Birkoff was impatient and edgy.
"The virus that infected Nikita, they called it India."
"That's the code name for it. Why? What did you hear?"
"They found a way to CURE it."
"Who found a way to cure it? Madeline and Operations? That's impossible. There isn't a way to cure a virus."
"Birkoff, this is SECTION we're talking about. They can do anything. You have to get that antiserum!"
"No problem, I'm sure that it'll be shipped here and we'll get it soon."
"Dammit, you don't get it, do you?! They're going to let her die! Operations and Madeline don't want her interfering with Michael's loyalty to Section."
"God. I can't believe it. I'll tell Michael. Thanks, Walter." There was click and the line went dead.
-------------------------------------------
Michael was called from Nikita's bedside by a very adamant Birkoff. He had told Michael that if he didn't come now, Nikita WOULD die. That settled it.
"I have to go talk to Birkoff. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Stay with me." He squeezed her hand and gently set it down by her side. Looking back at the door, not wanting to leave, Michael turned around and did just that.
Out in the open air of the corridor, Birkoff was waiting for Michael with a steak sandwich and an envelope. He handed Michael both and walked away. In the complete silence, Michael opened the envelope and took out a piece of paper. It read: 'The scientists have found a cure for India. Operations and Madeline are going to let her die if you don't do something- quick.' That was all Michael needed to know. He whispered his good-bye to Nikita from the hallway, not wanting to spare the time to get on another suit and go through deconn. The extra time could mean the difference between saving her life and sacrificing it.
-------------------------------------------
The closing of the door, though incredibly soft, awakened Nikita. With her eyes still closed she called for Michael, believing that he was still there. When she received no answer, Nikita opened her eyes and saw Birkoff sitting there, staring at her.
"Michael had to go somewhere. He'll be back soon." The look of disappointment on her face was almost unbearable. Birkoff was just now realizing how much Nikita and Michael cared about each other.
"I understand. How long do you think he'll be gone?" She was obviously trying to sound like she didn't care one way or the other, but Nikita was doing a horrible job of lying.
"He might be back by the time you wake up again. He had some business to take care of out of the country."
"Thanks, for staying with me I mean." Her voice was soft and helpless.
"No problem."
-------------------------------------------
"Michael. What a surprise. How is Nikita?" Operations' face matched the tone of false pleasantness in his voice.
Luckily for him, the windows to Operations' office were tinted at the moment, so no one saw Michael draw his gun, cock it, and shove it into the hollow of his boss' throat. Operations moved backward slowly until he was backed into a corner.
"Michael, what is this about? Is this about Nikita?"
"Yes." He looked at the window for a split second and looked into Operations' eyes with a coldness and cruelty he had never felt before. "I know you can cure Nikita. If you don't, and she dies, so will you."
"What do you mean I can cure her? I don't know-"
"Shut up! I know you CAN! I can prove it if I have to, but I doubt I will. The only reason I would need proof is if she died, and I was having to explain your bloody corpse to Madeline."
"Don't do anything stupid. I'm sure we can make a deal. Is there something else you want? Money? Time off? A larger house?" He paused, trying to give his next offer as much impact as possible. "Maybe some time with Adam?"
For a moment, Michael was paralyzed in surprise. He thought about it for all of a second. Even in his surprise and the anger that followed, Michael never sounded anything but calm and detached, though he was anything but. He knew that if the tables turned, he would probably die, and worse, so would Nikita. "No. I won't do it. Nikita's life is simply not a bargaining chip. If I make the deal, then Nikita will die, but if I don't, both of them will live. I love my son, but I also love Nikita, and I'll be damned if I watch her die. You have already taken one woman I loved away from me. You won't take two. Pick up the phone, call Germany, and tell them to administer the antiserum. NOW." Michael kept the gun aimed at Operations' throat as he moved.
Following instructions, Operations planned how he might get the gun away from Michael, or at least alert someone as to what was going on. Dialing another number wouldn't work. Michael was too smart for that; he had been trained too well. "All right." He picked up the phone and dialed the number to the lab in Germany. Dr. Vestoff answered. "Yes, Dr. Vestoff. I want you to tell Dr. Schectman to give the antiserum to Nikita."
"Tell her to hurry." Michael kept his voice low, so as not to attract the attention of the person on the other end of the line, not that it mattered. He knew that Dr. Vestoff was on his side.
Tightening his voice to convey a feeling of urgency and panic, Operations tried to tell Dr. Vestoff what was going on. "Hurry. It is a matter of life and death." He stressed the last three words of his sentence, hoping to alert her.
Dr. Vestoff's voice changed from one of innocence to one of condescendence and pleasure. "I know. Yours." Operations was taken aback that she had been part of the plot against him. The phone clicked as Operations set it on the hook.
-------------------------------------------
In Germany, Nikita was tossing and turning, having nightmares about losing Michael. Birkoff, holding her hand, didn't know what to do, so he just talked to her in a soothing voice.
"Nikita, calm down. Everything's going to be all right. You just need to calm down." His pep talk was interrupted by Dr. Vestoff. She entered Nikita's cell, holding a hypodermic needle in one hand and a small, corked glass bottle in the other. Birkoff raised his eyebrows and addressed the doctor. "Is that what I think it is?"
She nodded. "I got the impression that Michael was holding Operations at gun point." Her smirk disappeared and a note of fear entered her voice. "What do you think will happen to us?"
"I don't know, but Nikita's going to live, and that's all that matters to Michael."
-------------------------------------------
Michael watched as Operations looked at him. Now that Michael had what he wanted, he would leave, and Operations would let him. Michael was the best operative Section had, and Operations now knew that, so long as nothing happened to Nikita, Michael would not pose a threat to Section or anyone inside it. That's why Operations would let him leave unharmed.
"Thank you." That was all he said before he uncocked his gun and left. Operations just watched him walk out the door, not wanting to do anything else. He would let Michael get away with threatening him, only because of previous history and the fact that Michael was the best operative he had, but Dr. Vestoff would not be so lucky. She wasn't that much of an asset to Section and could easily be done without. Operations picked up the phone again and pushed a single button.
"Madeline, make arrangements for Dr. Vestoff to be canceled immediately." Hanging up the phone, he went behind his desk and sat down, thinking about Michael and Nikita. Operations decided that he would allow them to be together, so long as it didn't affect their performance.
-------------------------------------------
Michael's flight had been bumpy and unsettling. Every moment he was away from her, he was afraid that it was already be too late and she was dead. If she died alone, he would never forgive himself. Stepping into a black biohazard suit, Michael pulled on boots, followed by a racal hood with a built-in HEPA filter for breathing.
Birkoff looked up as Michael opened the door to Nikita's room and stepped in.
"How is she? Is she...?" Michael couldn't finish the sentence. He looked to Birkoff for answers.
"Nikita's fine. We were able to give her the antiserum and she's doing better." Once again, he let go of her hand and surrendered his post to Michael.
"Thank you, for staying with her." Michael gratefully sat by Nikita and retook her hand.
"Hmm, that's just what Nikita said to me earlier." He had a kind of amused half smile on his face.
Michael spoke to him without turning around, anxious to know if she had asked about him. "What did she say?" Just like Nikita's, Michael's attempt at sounding casual failed miserably.
Birkoff chuckled. "Yes, she asked about you. Actually, she asked FOR you, and when she realized you weren't here, I thought she was going to die right then and there. She loves you Michael. She really does."
Birkoff exited the room and Michael returned his full attention to the woman lying in front of him. "Nikita?" He was startled to hear a noise from her, as though she were asking why he had called her name. "I want you to know that I love you."
Half asleep, Nikita rolled over onto her left side. "I love you, too, Michael." Michael squeezed her hand a little tighter and ventured a small smile. Feeling the increased pressure on her hand, Nikita opened her eyes and saw Michael sitting there once more. Believing that the whole thing had been nothing more than an idle fantasy, she didn't mention his confession, nor her reply, but instead pulled his gloved hand to her face, letting her head rest on it. Nikita fell asleep in that position, blissfully lost among her own thoughts and Michael's love.
Michael continued his soft cooing in her ear. "Everything's going to be just fine now. You're going to get better, and I'm never going to leave you again. I swear, I'll never let anything happen to you ever again."
A few minutes later, a nurse came in with a tourniquet, a rag dipped in alcohol, and a hypodermic needle for Michael. He was going to have a shot, so he could take off his suit and have skin to skin contact with Nikita. Seeing her approach, Michael stood, pulled his hand out from under Nikita's head, and stripped off his biohazard suit. He retook his seat and let the nurse tie the tourniquet around his upper left arm, never taking his eyes from Nikita. Skin was rubbed with alcohol and the needle was inserted. He didn't even flinch as the thick antiserum flowed into his vein and the nurse pulled out the needle.
-------------------------------------------
It was nearly three hours before Nikita awakened again. When she did, Michael was asleep, his head resting on her side, his hand clutching hers. For the first time in days, Nikita could sit up on her own. When she noticed Michael's head on her stomach, she saw that he didn't have on a safety suit and raised his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. The contact jarred Michael out of sleep and he quickly rose to find his hand being lowered to rest on Nikita's heart. He couldn't shake the feeling of her lips against his skin.
He moaned slightly, trying to shake off the remaining feelings of sleep. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel good. How about you? Why aren't you wearing a suit?" Nikita was obviously concerned for his well-being, not wanting him to become infected, but was also touched by his concern for her.
"I feel fine. I had a shot." He turned, showing her the puncture mark on the upper part of his left arm. "It is like a vaccine."
"So you won't get sick?" Her face brightened and it touched Michael's heart to see how much she really did love him.
He smiled at her. "No, I won't get sick."
-------------------------------------------
Michael stepped off the transport and turned around to wait for Nikita. Side by side they walked down the long dark gray corridor in silence, both looking at the floor as they walked.
"Can I take you back to your apartment?" Michael expected the usual answer of 'no, I think I'd rather be alone.'
"Sure."
"Great." His expression didn't change but there was happiness in his tone. He couldn't believe that she actually wanted to be with him. It was the first time she had agreed to see him outside of Section since he had killed Jergen.
-------------------------------------------
Back in Nikita's apartment she and Michael sat next to one another on the white carpet. She set her crystal wine glass, filled with crimson liquid, on the glass table in front of her.
All of a sudden, Nikita looked up and stared off into the distance, just to the right of Michael's face. She spoke with a dreamy, wistful quality in her voice.
"While I was unconscious, I had the nicest dreams. You were sitting beside me, holding my hand, telling me stories."
"What kinds of stories?" Michael looked into her eyes.
"About your life- before Section." She smiled a little. "You even told me about how you met Simone."
~Should I tell her that those weren't dreams?~ After a split second of internal debate, Michael decided that, though things wouldn't go back to how they were, he couldn't tell her the truth just yet. "That's nice."
The sound of his deep, sensual voice lured Nikita from her sleep. Smiling, she realized that it had not been a dream at all, but that Michael was right here beside her, holding her hand, telling her incredible stories of when he was growing up.
"...and then I climbed over the barrier between the crowd and the performers. My father was furious, but like I said, it was my first time to go to the circus, and I wanted to see the elephants."
Nikita quietly interrupted him. "So, how long before your father took you to another circus?"
"You're awake. Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? A blanket?" Michael fussed over her in his calm, reserved way. To Nikita, Michael's face showed no emotion, but to Birkoff, who had watched the man sit with her for hours, anxiously wondering what would happen to her, there was relief etched in every line.
"I don't want anything to eat, but a blanket and some water would be nice. Thank you." A few minutes later, Birkoff came in bearing the water and blanket. After a moment of inquiring as to how she felt, Birkoff left Nikita with Michael and returned to the observation room. Helping her to sit up, Michael proceeded to spread the blanket over Nikita and raised the glass to her lips. Nikita was so surprised by his helpfulness to the point that she didn't know what to say. Momentarily she agreed to eat something. The fact that Michael seemed so adamant about it made it impossible to refuse. Jones came in with a little bit of steak, a few bites of peas, and some chicken soup.
"How are you Nikita?" Jones sounded worried.
"Oh, I'm fine. Haven't you heard? They put all operatives with the flu in quarantine." At first Jones thought she was being sarcastic, but the smile on her face told him that she was just trying to get a laugh out of him. He quickly obliged her and, after giving Michael the tray of food, left the cell. Immediately, Michael took the fork, cut off a piece of meat and put it to Nikita's lips. Now she didn't know WHAT was going on. Michael continued in this manner until the steak and peas were mostly gone.
Nikita groaned. "Why do I feel like I am in grade school, home sick with a cold? I can feed myself, you know." She didn't want to sound angry, just exasperated.
"This isn't a cold. You need all your energy to fight the virus inside of you." ~Because you aren't going to die.~
Regretting how angry she had sounded, Nikita realized that he was right. She needed all her energy, because she couldn't even pull herself up. "Michael, I want you to know something."
"Hmm?" He kept his mind focused on the task at hand.
"I want you to know that I understand that if there had been another way, you wouldn't have killed Jergen. It may not mean much to you, but I just wanted you to know that I forgive you."
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Back at Section, Operations was sitting on the corner of Madeline's desk. He was seeking her advice on what to do about Michael and Nikita.
As always, her voice was rational and cold. "We should just let her die. Most of our operatives, even the higher class ones, still believe that there is no way to cure viruses." At Section, viruses were being cured everyday in top secret labs. It had been only a few hours ago that Operations had been informed that the scientists had finally found a cure for India. He was now left with a huge dilemma.
"But if we let her die, what will Michael do? You remember what happened last time, when Nikita disappeared. That was when Michael only THOUGHT she was dead. What will he do if he WATCHES her die?" Operations knew he had the final say, but he wanted to win Madeline over to his point of view first.
"Yes, but what if we give her the antiserum, and on a mission, Michael's feelings for her overrule his loyalty to the mission- or to Section? Is that a risk we're prepared to take?" Madeline was heartless and unsympathetic. She never thought twice about the people she had killed, or the fact that many of them needn't have died at all.
"On the other hand, what if his attachment to her can save her life, as well as his? Michael's feelings for her might bring her closer to Section. Sometimes a bond between operatives can be a good thing." On that last comment he let his eyebrows raise and his eyes look her over. It was obvious that he was talking about the night they had slept together. He had definite feelings for her, but she brushed it aside, saying that there had been a lot of sexual tension between them and it had been satisfied.
"Not likely. This time, he was ready to go AWOL on us and stay with Nikita if we had denied him the official permission to do so. It's your decision, but I still favor letting her die. If he got over her once, he can get over her again. He got over Simone, didn't he?" There was a slight pause, and when she finally spoke again, Madeline's voice was quiet, yet powerful. "Strange, how much those two situations resemble one another." She had made a valid point and she knew it. Madeline had won, and Operations would let Nikita die.
"All right then. I will go with your recommendation. Nikita will die, just like Howard and Beckman."
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Walter listened to the conversation carefully, trying not to look suspicious. He had planted two bugs the day before: one in Madeline's office, the other in Operations'. He was surprised that no one had noticed them yet, but when Nikita had gotten sick, he had decided that it might be a good idea. His eyes were wide as he finally comprehended that Section One had a supply of virus cures, they had found a way to cure Nikita, and they were just going to let her die. He had to do something about it. Walter wouldn't just let her die. He quickly left Section and walked to a pay phone about four miles away. There, he called several friends within Section to find out exactly where they might be keeping Nikita.
Two hours later, his persistence was rewarded when he called an operative in Magdeburg, Germany. He was surprised to find that the quarantine unit was so close to his friend. Walter told his friend to return to the compound immediately and give Birkoff a message. The message was: 'Call this number when your watch says 4 P.M. I have some important information you need to know about Nikita. 01-809-33-579-8374.' Walter knew that Birkoff would call. He returned to Section to work on his contraptions for about an hour before he would walk back to the pay phone.
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The door to the observation room opened and Dr. Vestoff entered. She walked straight to Birkoff and leaned over, placing her hand on the counter next to his, as if looking at something in front of him. A moment later Dr. Vestoff withdrew her hand and Birkoff saw that there was a piece of paper there, folded in half. He opened it and read the message inside, then quickly got up and followed her out of the room. They walked down a long corridor until they reached a door. There, Birkoff and the doctor left the compound, got into her car, and silently drove a few miles until they reached a pay phone on the side of the road. She pulled over and he got out.
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The phone only rang once before a familiar voice picked up the other end. "Birkoff?"
"Walter? What is it?" He knew that if Walter was calling him like this, it must be a matter of life and death, and by the message he sent, it sounded like it was a matter of Nikita's.
"Yesterday, I planted a bug outside of Madeline's office. When Arriet came back, he told me what happened over there and that Nikita was sick- that's all I could get out of him. I wanted to find out what was going on, so I-"
"Walter, what did you find out?" Birkoff was impatient and edgy.
"The virus that infected Nikita, they called it India."
"That's the code name for it. Why? What did you hear?"
"They found a way to CURE it."
"Who found a way to cure it? Madeline and Operations? That's impossible. There isn't a way to cure a virus."
"Birkoff, this is SECTION we're talking about. They can do anything. You have to get that antiserum!"
"No problem, I'm sure that it'll be shipped here and we'll get it soon."
"Dammit, you don't get it, do you?! They're going to let her die! Operations and Madeline don't want her interfering with Michael's loyalty to Section."
"God. I can't believe it. I'll tell Michael. Thanks, Walter." There was click and the line went dead.
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Michael was called from Nikita's bedside by a very adamant Birkoff. He had told Michael that if he didn't come now, Nikita WOULD die. That settled it.
"I have to go talk to Birkoff. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Stay with me." He squeezed her hand and gently set it down by her side. Looking back at the door, not wanting to leave, Michael turned around and did just that.
Out in the open air of the corridor, Birkoff was waiting for Michael with a steak sandwich and an envelope. He handed Michael both and walked away. In the complete silence, Michael opened the envelope and took out a piece of paper. It read: 'The scientists have found a cure for India. Operations and Madeline are going to let her die if you don't do something- quick.' That was all Michael needed to know. He whispered his good-bye to Nikita from the hallway, not wanting to spare the time to get on another suit and go through deconn. The extra time could mean the difference between saving her life and sacrificing it.
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The closing of the door, though incredibly soft, awakened Nikita. With her eyes still closed she called for Michael, believing that he was still there. When she received no answer, Nikita opened her eyes and saw Birkoff sitting there, staring at her.
"Michael had to go somewhere. He'll be back soon." The look of disappointment on her face was almost unbearable. Birkoff was just now realizing how much Nikita and Michael cared about each other.
"I understand. How long do you think he'll be gone?" She was obviously trying to sound like she didn't care one way or the other, but Nikita was doing a horrible job of lying.
"He might be back by the time you wake up again. He had some business to take care of out of the country."
"Thanks, for staying with me I mean." Her voice was soft and helpless.
"No problem."
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"Michael. What a surprise. How is Nikita?" Operations' face matched the tone of false pleasantness in his voice.
Luckily for him, the windows to Operations' office were tinted at the moment, so no one saw Michael draw his gun, cock it, and shove it into the hollow of his boss' throat. Operations moved backward slowly until he was backed into a corner.
"Michael, what is this about? Is this about Nikita?"
"Yes." He looked at the window for a split second and looked into Operations' eyes with a coldness and cruelty he had never felt before. "I know you can cure Nikita. If you don't, and she dies, so will you."
"What do you mean I can cure her? I don't know-"
"Shut up! I know you CAN! I can prove it if I have to, but I doubt I will. The only reason I would need proof is if she died, and I was having to explain your bloody corpse to Madeline."
"Don't do anything stupid. I'm sure we can make a deal. Is there something else you want? Money? Time off? A larger house?" He paused, trying to give his next offer as much impact as possible. "Maybe some time with Adam?"
For a moment, Michael was paralyzed in surprise. He thought about it for all of a second. Even in his surprise and the anger that followed, Michael never sounded anything but calm and detached, though he was anything but. He knew that if the tables turned, he would probably die, and worse, so would Nikita. "No. I won't do it. Nikita's life is simply not a bargaining chip. If I make the deal, then Nikita will die, but if I don't, both of them will live. I love my son, but I also love Nikita, and I'll be damned if I watch her die. You have already taken one woman I loved away from me. You won't take two. Pick up the phone, call Germany, and tell them to administer the antiserum. NOW." Michael kept the gun aimed at Operations' throat as he moved.
Following instructions, Operations planned how he might get the gun away from Michael, or at least alert someone as to what was going on. Dialing another number wouldn't work. Michael was too smart for that; he had been trained too well. "All right." He picked up the phone and dialed the number to the lab in Germany. Dr. Vestoff answered. "Yes, Dr. Vestoff. I want you to tell Dr. Schectman to give the antiserum to Nikita."
"Tell her to hurry." Michael kept his voice low, so as not to attract the attention of the person on the other end of the line, not that it mattered. He knew that Dr. Vestoff was on his side.
Tightening his voice to convey a feeling of urgency and panic, Operations tried to tell Dr. Vestoff what was going on. "Hurry. It is a matter of life and death." He stressed the last three words of his sentence, hoping to alert her.
Dr. Vestoff's voice changed from one of innocence to one of condescendence and pleasure. "I know. Yours." Operations was taken aback that she had been part of the plot against him. The phone clicked as Operations set it on the hook.
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In Germany, Nikita was tossing and turning, having nightmares about losing Michael. Birkoff, holding her hand, didn't know what to do, so he just talked to her in a soothing voice.
"Nikita, calm down. Everything's going to be all right. You just need to calm down." His pep talk was interrupted by Dr. Vestoff. She entered Nikita's cell, holding a hypodermic needle in one hand and a small, corked glass bottle in the other. Birkoff raised his eyebrows and addressed the doctor. "Is that what I think it is?"
She nodded. "I got the impression that Michael was holding Operations at gun point." Her smirk disappeared and a note of fear entered her voice. "What do you think will happen to us?"
"I don't know, but Nikita's going to live, and that's all that matters to Michael."
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Michael watched as Operations looked at him. Now that Michael had what he wanted, he would leave, and Operations would let him. Michael was the best operative Section had, and Operations now knew that, so long as nothing happened to Nikita, Michael would not pose a threat to Section or anyone inside it. That's why Operations would let him leave unharmed.
"Thank you." That was all he said before he uncocked his gun and left. Operations just watched him walk out the door, not wanting to do anything else. He would let Michael get away with threatening him, only because of previous history and the fact that Michael was the best operative he had, but Dr. Vestoff would not be so lucky. She wasn't that much of an asset to Section and could easily be done without. Operations picked up the phone again and pushed a single button.
"Madeline, make arrangements for Dr. Vestoff to be canceled immediately." Hanging up the phone, he went behind his desk and sat down, thinking about Michael and Nikita. Operations decided that he would allow them to be together, so long as it didn't affect their performance.
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Michael's flight had been bumpy and unsettling. Every moment he was away from her, he was afraid that it was already be too late and she was dead. If she died alone, he would never forgive himself. Stepping into a black biohazard suit, Michael pulled on boots, followed by a racal hood with a built-in HEPA filter for breathing.
Birkoff looked up as Michael opened the door to Nikita's room and stepped in.
"How is she? Is she...?" Michael couldn't finish the sentence. He looked to Birkoff for answers.
"Nikita's fine. We were able to give her the antiserum and she's doing better." Once again, he let go of her hand and surrendered his post to Michael.
"Thank you, for staying with her." Michael gratefully sat by Nikita and retook her hand.
"Hmm, that's just what Nikita said to me earlier." He had a kind of amused half smile on his face.
Michael spoke to him without turning around, anxious to know if she had asked about him. "What did she say?" Just like Nikita's, Michael's attempt at sounding casual failed miserably.
Birkoff chuckled. "Yes, she asked about you. Actually, she asked FOR you, and when she realized you weren't here, I thought she was going to die right then and there. She loves you Michael. She really does."
Birkoff exited the room and Michael returned his full attention to the woman lying in front of him. "Nikita?" He was startled to hear a noise from her, as though she were asking why he had called her name. "I want you to know that I love you."
Half asleep, Nikita rolled over onto her left side. "I love you, too, Michael." Michael squeezed her hand a little tighter and ventured a small smile. Feeling the increased pressure on her hand, Nikita opened her eyes and saw Michael sitting there once more. Believing that the whole thing had been nothing more than an idle fantasy, she didn't mention his confession, nor her reply, but instead pulled his gloved hand to her face, letting her head rest on it. Nikita fell asleep in that position, blissfully lost among her own thoughts and Michael's love.
Michael continued his soft cooing in her ear. "Everything's going to be just fine now. You're going to get better, and I'm never going to leave you again. I swear, I'll never let anything happen to you ever again."
A few minutes later, a nurse came in with a tourniquet, a rag dipped in alcohol, and a hypodermic needle for Michael. He was going to have a shot, so he could take off his suit and have skin to skin contact with Nikita. Seeing her approach, Michael stood, pulled his hand out from under Nikita's head, and stripped off his biohazard suit. He retook his seat and let the nurse tie the tourniquet around his upper left arm, never taking his eyes from Nikita. Skin was rubbed with alcohol and the needle was inserted. He didn't even flinch as the thick antiserum flowed into his vein and the nurse pulled out the needle.
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It was nearly three hours before Nikita awakened again. When she did, Michael was asleep, his head resting on her side, his hand clutching hers. For the first time in days, Nikita could sit up on her own. When she noticed Michael's head on her stomach, she saw that he didn't have on a safety suit and raised his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. The contact jarred Michael out of sleep and he quickly rose to find his hand being lowered to rest on Nikita's heart. He couldn't shake the feeling of her lips against his skin.
He moaned slightly, trying to shake off the remaining feelings of sleep. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel good. How about you? Why aren't you wearing a suit?" Nikita was obviously concerned for his well-being, not wanting him to become infected, but was also touched by his concern for her.
"I feel fine. I had a shot." He turned, showing her the puncture mark on the upper part of his left arm. "It is like a vaccine."
"So you won't get sick?" Her face brightened and it touched Michael's heart to see how much she really did love him.
He smiled at her. "No, I won't get sick."
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Michael stepped off the transport and turned around to wait for Nikita. Side by side they walked down the long dark gray corridor in silence, both looking at the floor as they walked.
"Can I take you back to your apartment?" Michael expected the usual answer of 'no, I think I'd rather be alone.'
"Sure."
"Great." His expression didn't change but there was happiness in his tone. He couldn't believe that she actually wanted to be with him. It was the first time she had agreed to see him outside of Section since he had killed Jergen.
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Back in Nikita's apartment she and Michael sat next to one another on the white carpet. She set her crystal wine glass, filled with crimson liquid, on the glass table in front of her.
All of a sudden, Nikita looked up and stared off into the distance, just to the right of Michael's face. She spoke with a dreamy, wistful quality in her voice.
"While I was unconscious, I had the nicest dreams. You were sitting beside me, holding my hand, telling me stories."
"What kinds of stories?" Michael looked into her eyes.
"About your life- before Section." She smiled a little. "You even told me about how you met Simone."
~Should I tell her that those weren't dreams?~ After a split second of internal debate, Michael decided that, though things wouldn't go back to how they were, he couldn't tell her the truth just yet. "That's nice."