A/N: Happy New Year! I wrote this epilogue to wrap things up more nicely, but it kind of turned into crack. Anyway, I would also like to say that there needs to be more Michael and Nikita smut out there! I can't do their hotness justice, y'all. By the way, I read that Maggie Q was offered the female role in Hawaii 5-0, I'm glad she chose Nikita. :D Lastly, for those who read and aren't into leaving reviews, but still want to send me some feedback, I've got a poll running on top of my ffnet profile page. Thanks a lot!

Epilogue

It was close to midnight when Michael and Nikita finally arrived at his apartment. It wasn't how he envisioned himself spending his Friday night, spending hours in the emergency room, trying to look properly admonished when the attending physician, for all intents and purposes, scolded him for not taking proper care of Nikita.

It was a very near thing, this particularly debilitating form of the flu, the doctor had said, he should have brought her in sooner. If anything, the worry in his eyes only made the doc more annoyed. She'd continued to explain that it was easily treatable and he could take Nikita home tonight provided that he followed the regime of the prescribed medication and gave her the proper TLC. Relieved and properly chastised, he'd nearly replied with a 'yes ma'am', but he didn't think the mercurial doctor would appreciate it.

So that was how Nikita ended up dozing in the passenger seat of his car, and him watching her sleep soundly, without a care in the world. There was nothing standing between them anymore. No Division, no handler and agent, no vengeance. It had been two years since he'd personally killed Kasim. He'd told Elizabeth that one day they would go to Hawaii, so he'd came to Hawaii and stayed. It was paradise but it was also penitence.

The fragrant Hawaiian breeze whispered in the air like a gentle sigh.

Despite the soporific drugs in her system, Nikita slowly opened her eyes to his shuttered gaze. The air stilled as their eyes met. She didn't ask where she was, or any other possibly pertinent questions. His presence at her side wasn't a question as much as a completion of a picture she had always kept in her mind and in her heart. She reached out and touched his unshaven jaw, whispering, "Found you."

Blinking drowsily, her arm started to drop, but not before Michael caught her hand in his. Once lethal and gun weathered, his hand now gently clasped hers, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the pulse in her lissome wrist. Eyes closed, Nikita smiled contently. And as Michael spun her out of the car like the turn of waltz, she was only too happy to be wrapped up in a warmth that was distinctly his. She burrowed into his neck as he carried her up in his arms.

Michael laughed quietly at the ticklish sensation and responded with a playful chin bump to the top of her head. "You came all this way just so I would have to play nursemaid?"

Her arms tightened around his neck as she murmured, "Only you are allowed to see me at my weakest."

His heart constricted with soul stirring ache. He knew Owen had planted a tracking device in his suitcase when he left. As much as he wanted to be angry as his half brother for doing that, it would only be hypocritical, since he'd planted one on him as well. There were still people out there who wouldn't mind seeing them dead. But if Owen knew where he was these past two years, chances were that Nikita did too. She knew him well enough to stay away, but never gave up on him despite everything that had happened. And now here she was, at her must vulnerable state, trusting that he would be there for her, reminding him that he still had her and always had her.

Nikita added, her low scratchy voice at his ear, "Besides, Alex said I was being a pain in the ass and no one in their right mind would put up with me."

No one in their right mind indeed. Michael hid a half smile. "I see."

Nikita smirked into Michael's shoulder, unaware as he surreptitiously adjusted her weight in his arms. She gasped in surprise as he expertly flipped her on to his left shoulder. She hung on precariously on his shoulder, her ass in the air.

"Caveman," she muttered, then mocked, "Help! Help!"

They stopped unexpectedly. Nikita realized someone else was in the hallway in front of them, but she didn't have enough strength in push herself up to see. None of them spoke for a few seconds. That is, until Michael cleared his throat and said, "Hello Kono."

"Hi," came a woman's voice. She sounded startled by Michael's late night proclivities. Knowing him, it probably wasn't every day that he brought home women on his shoulders. "Is everything all right?" Nikita could just hear the narrowing of the faceless woman's eyes.

When Michael didn't respond, Nikita piped up from behind him. "Fine, thanks!"

She heard the woman, Kono, step sideways to let them through, but not before she touched Michael's arm and replied apologetically with a hint of embarrassment, "You know I had to ask."

Michael nodded awkwardly and continued forward. Nikita turned her head just in time to catch the dark eyes of a slender Asian woman. Her flawless skin was tanned by the Hawaiian sun and she smelled like the salt of the sea. Nikita could still feel her inquisitive eyes upon them as they entered Michael's apartment. She'd like to think that Kono wasn't admiring Michael's testosterone filled exhibition. But then, as she eyed Michael's taut gluteus maximus flex with each step he took, she couldn't really blame her, could she? Christ, this flu was doing a number on her.

"Your neighbor seems…interesting," Nikita said as Michael dutifully pulled the covers up under her chin. "Inquisitive."

He gave her an odd look but said nothing.

"Attractive," she added through teeth ever so slightly clenched.

Michael blinked at her and smothered the beginnings of a grin behind his hand before replying, "She's a cop."

"Obviously." That wasn't the point. She'd roll her eyes, but now that she was warm and in bed, fatigue was once catching up with her and she wasn't sure she had the energy to pursue her own ridiculous line of thought.

"Go to sleep." At Nikita's feeble attempt to stay awake, to have him in her sights, Michael gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be here when you wake up." He handed her a box of tissues and tried to keep a straight face as she unprettily blew her nose.

Nikita sniffed, her eyes gazing up at him with childlike supplication. "Promise," she whispered as she drifted into sleep.

Standing, Michael took in the vision of Nikita curled up in his bed and felt a light like no other expanding and filling the emptiness in his chest. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

"You have me."

The days passed as Michael administered the prescribed care the emergency room doctor had ordered, most of which involved waiting on Nikita hand and foot. He had a feeling she was enjoying it a little too much and feigned weakness when she felt otherwise. It only served to amuse him, how she'd flutter her eyelashes at him with each request, when he would have done her bidding just the same. But as she began to recover in earnest, their eye contact grew more heated, and her touch started to linger for long electric seconds.

Things came to a head one bright and sun shining morning.

Michael sensed the bed dipping at a new weight next to him. He kept still, until he felt the wind of movement above him. His eyes opened with a snap and his left hand caught the arm that was aiming for his windpipe. He twisted and pushed Nikita's shoulder down, flipping her completely underneath him and knocking over a bedside lamp with a crash.

Michael leaned over her, his hands pressing her wrists into the pillows. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice still gruff from sleep.

Nikita lifted her hips to his, and replied with a saucy smile, "Yes it is." She waited until his eyes darkened before hooking her right leg on to his, and with the momentum of his fall, propelled the both of them onto the floor with a loud thud. Now on top, she sat astride him, her hips grinding against him as she pushed her arm up against his neck, keeping him down.

"You've gotten rusty," she said with a reproving grin.

"Rusty?" He pressed his thumb into a precise spot on her bare waist, beneath the shirt that she'd pilfered from his closet.

She yelped in surprise and valiantly ignored the way his touch shot straight to her groin. But it was all he needed to buck her off him. She quickly rolled away and up to a standing position against a table before he could catch her. A cup and plate fell to the ground with a noisy clash. She was panting now, but was pleased to see Michael's eyes flicker to the heaving movement of her chest. Her stomach, amongst other things, tightened under his smoldering gaze.

"You remembered." Sometime during their rough and tumble training sessions as recruit and trainer, Michael had uncovered that particularly sensitive spot.

He smiled dangerously. "I remember a lot of things."

She shuddered with anticipation, tingling right down to her toes. He always knew how to tease. "I'll have to take you up on that."

He chuckled lowly as he approached her, his eyes filled with heated promise. "I've got nothing but time."

Her body flushed with a fever that was no longer flu induced, and her fingers were flexing and aching to touch him. She unconsciously licked her lips, her mouth suddenly gone dry as he pressed right up against her, hip to hip, chest to chest. So close that the buttons and threads of the shirt she wore were imprinting into her skin. They hadn't even kissed and already she felt out of breath. He circled her waist and lifted, first dragging her up against him, her pelvis bumping against his hard contours, then pushing her out to sit on the table. His left hand caressed the underside of her knee while the right swiped off the bothersome contents of the table. Dishes, utensils, and papers unceremoniously crashed on to the floor.

He tugged at the collar of her shirt, exposing a wide expanse of skin. His shirt, actually. He bent down and licked a spot on her neck.

"This is mine."

She'd laugh if she wasn't already a bundle of nerves, teetering on the edge.

Then came a loud knock at the door. She nearly hissed with frustration and dug her nails into his shoulders. Don't you stop, they said.

Another knock, louder this time. "Michael, it's Kono. Is everything okay in there?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Nikita abruptly pushed Michael away. At his puzzled expression, she tossed back a mischievous grin before bounding up to answer the door. He stared after her, the shirt tail fluttering against her bare legs.

She opened to the door to find Kono, and to her surprise, another man standing at the beyond the threshold. Another cop, his posture told her. Wide stance, hands free, unobstructed path to his piece. Armed, but wasn't a threat.

Kono took in Nikita's appearance, along with the small red welt on her neck and her flushed cheeks. She had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh. I'm sorry," she said, attempting to tug the other man away.

He couldn't be moved. "Ma'am. We heard loud crashes, is everything all right?"

Michael appeared and smoothly stepped in front of Nikita. Kono looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. To her cousin, the other cop, he said with straight face, "Sorry, we'll try to keep it down."

The cop caught the amused twinkle in Nikita's eyes before nodding back at Michael. "Just making sure." Kono hastily pushed the man back and turned her head to mouth 'I'm sorry' at them before taking off in a hurry. Leaning out, Nikita could still hear them conversing down the hallway.

"That was so embarrassing. Why did you even have to ask?"

"We're cops, we should be thorough."

"Wasn't it obvious what they were doing? Oh God, why am I talking to my cousin about this? Ew."

Michael's neighbor was unlikely to forget this little interlude. Nikita turned around only to face Michael, glowering at her in mock exasperation. "Show's over?"

His shirt pooled at her feet.

"We're just getting started."

THE END