A Mikita AU set after 1x11 "All the Way". Song lyrics are from Digital Daggers' "Do Me Damage".
We made a cut without precision
And we stitched it up the best two children could
"You're bleeding," Michael husked, unsure of what else to say while he aimed his gun.
"So are you," Nikita echoed, hand slowly reaching for any kind of weapon she could use.
Michael and Nikita stared unflinchingly at one another. They were standing fairly close to have a weapon pointed at her; there was a chance ricochet could fly back and strike him. But neither moved. It was as though they were still in Division- staring in shock while he was in Medical and she was in the hall. Some lucky or twisted sense of fate led them to the same hotel bathroom. Maybe they deserved it after essentially stealing the room by swiping a key from the front desk. They could've at least hacked into the hotel's system, or put a 'do not disturb' sign on the doorknob. Although without access to actual money or computers, and a focus to care for their injuries, they were shit out of luck. The universe was essentially mocking them.
But we were ruled by indecision
And we pushed and pulled more than two people should
Had she really been in Division's grasp only hours ago. As Nikita and Michael studied one another, lifetimes appeared to pass. She had been running and never stopping since she escaped. Fatigue was beginning to set in, but she didn't feel as though her loft was safe. So, she snuck her way into a nearby hotel to assess the damage to her wrists and finally breathe. On the other hand, he didn't want to return to his apartment. Division's mole hunt caused Percy to want to search every active agent's home. They might have had Thom to place blame on, yet someone could've been helping him. Michael didn't want to sit around while his apartment was searched. He'd rather crash at a hotel for the night, and take care care of his gunshot wound.
How the hell he managed to stumble into Nikita's room was somewhat impossible. Out of every single hotel in the New York metropolitan area, they just had to steal one of the two keys to the same room. Nikita almost laughed at the fact. It was so ridiculous, it had to be some kind of cosmic joke. Michael, however, was serious. He should do something about the rogue standing within reach. He might've been at a disadvantage with an injured thigh. But she looked exhausted after fighting off an entire room of recruits and sprinting for miles; she also didn't have a weapon. He could make an attack. Yet she surprised him by tossing him a bandage and some antiseptic. She wanted him to fix his popped stitch before he tried anything.
When you want me, I am here
When you change your mind again, I disappear
"A truce to patch up?" Nikita nearly smirked. Where was a fight really going to take them besides more hurt. The least they could do was stop any unnecessary bleeding. Michael rolled his green eyes, but holstered his pistol nonetheless. If she attempted a strike, he could be fast enough to block her. Yet that wasn't her intention at the moment. She began to clean her wrists that had been rubbed raw and damaged by the chains. He followed her lead, gathering supplies to take care of his thigh. However, to really dress the wound he'd either have to drop his pants or clumsily roll up the leg. He glanced at her, and she slightly turned her back to give him more privacy. Things changed from tense to awkward.
"We killed your mole," Michael only admitted to keep her distracted; he didn't want her staring at him with those penetrating eyes while he was pantless. But his words caused her to whirl around sharply. Nikita glared at him in shock, hurt, and something he couldn't quite understand. He thought he spotted tears beginning to form. Her reaction stunned him. He didn't think she'd respond so strongly. She and Thom must've had a deeper connection than he had thought. He wanted to delve into it more, fully understand. But for some reason, he twisted the knife, "The recruit you tried to kidnap shot him."
"Oh. Yeah," Hiding her relief behind her long, dark hair, Nikita turned back around. For a brief second, she thought Michael meant Alex. Fear shot through her at just the image of her friend being captured and killed by that hellhole. But it was alright. Division fell for Alex's lie; Thom was killed because he was the mole, not because he was trying to stop one. Evidence must've been planted on him to sell the story. Although Nikita was relieved her partner made it out alive, she knew the death was going to weigh on her mind. Victories were never that simple. They were going to be haunted by what happened for a long time.
When it's settled and all is clear
Oh, you change your mind again and want me near
Securing the bandage on his wound (some of the stitches must've popped while he stole the key and limped up the cameraless stairwell), Michael studied Nikita. She was excellent at ignoring him, intently focused on wrapping her wrists. He wasn't entirely certain what had happened to her inside Division. He knew Amanda interrogated her. Though by physical torture or by mindgames, he didn't know. She had at least escaped; she broke her chains and she took out the entire training room. The strength it must've taken her was weighing on her then, however. What she had been through had to have been hell. Yet, hadn't they all gone through hell by that point. He definitely had, "Didn't think you'd actually care."
"What? You think I'd use people for my own means. I'm not Percy," Acidity bit at Nikita's statement. Her attention was back on Michael, fury in her gaze. She had managed to stop the bleeding at her wrists. But what was the point when he continued to wound her. How could he even think that of her. Didn't he know her. Even though Thom wasn't her real mole, his death was awful. Having Alex in constant danger was horrendous as well. She never wanted any of that pain to happen. But if that was what Michael thought, then that was what he was going to get. That was simply what it was between them- intentionally harming one another because they didn't know what else to do with their complicated emotions.
Limping closer to her, Michael seethed. Nikita attempted to keep her harsh gaze locked on him, but she couldn't help but spare a glance at his boxers. It was awkward at first, him pantless. But they soon found themselves not caring. Words were distracting and damaging enough, "Could've fooled me with Kasim. Nikita, I had him. I was past security. I was on the tarmac. In five more seconds, that shiv would've been between his ribs. And I would've been the one pushing it in, looking at him as he realized it was me. I would've been gone, and nobody would've seen anything. That is what you took from me, because you just had to save me."
So do me damage or do me right
We could be the ones to see the other side
The hotel bathroom was small. Michael and Nikita hadn't been that far apart to begin with. But since he had moved closer, they could feel each other's body heat. Both were livid. They had pressed buttons for the sole purpose of pissing one another off. At least they were only talking instead of shooting. Their injuries and fatigue probably came into play there. Emotions were running ragged with their stress and exhaustion. However, there was nowhere to run and hide. The two were stuck in the small space, arguing. She wasn't going to be the first to back down, "I couldn't have known you were that close. All I knew was you could've easily been killed. I didn't think…"
"That is it with you. You don't think, you just do. Nikita the righteous," Why did he paint that as an insult. Michael could remember a time when he saw her need to do what was right as extraordinary. Nikita's heart never seemed to be destroyed. What could've possible changed his mind. It wasn't her war with Division; he didn't care about that. All he wanted was to protect the recruits and get revenge for his family. But was he really that angry with her for ruining his chance of that. She admitted it was to save his life. He couldn't fault her when he'd do the same for her. Was he so hurt he couldn't see straight. Was he so wrapped up in revenge, grief, and pain that nothing else seemed to exist.
We made a pact and said forever
Then we blurred the lines so much we lost our way
"Fine. Yes. That's me. You think you know me so well, Michael. What I did, I did out of… not wanting to see you get hurt," Nikita forced herself to stop and think before finishing her argument. Had she really been about to tell Michael she loved him. Did she actually love Michael. The two were even closer then. She could see the different shades of green in his eyes. And he could see the gold in her brown. He was momentarily stunned by her pause. A thought crossed his mind about what she almost said, but he didn't want to ponder it too much. He didn't want to give himself hope. Though, would Nikita loving him really give him hope. Did he actually have love for her in return.
What the hell were they doing so close. And why the hell hadn't they pulled away. The two could grab one another and either fight, or- The thought crossed both of their minds. Nikita glanced at his lips, and Michael twitched to pull her into him. It wasn't as though they hadn't fallen to temptation before. They knew what each other felt like. They knew what it was like to be held in their arms. Yet there hadn't been as much hurt between them; they hadn't dug their nails in just to cause pain. What was wrong with them. Were their feelings for one another really that complicated. Or were they simply too stubborn to allow themselves to fall in love.
Neither knew who started it. It was probably Nikita. She was more sure of things. She was always quick to act, doing and not thinking. Yet wherever she led, Michael seemed to follow. He hadn't with her war against Division, but he could change that then. He could kiss her back. Their lips moved against each other slowly and hesitantly. She stepped into his arms, sliding her fingers into his hair. He held her waist securely, and caressed her abdomen through her tanktop. As Nikita and Michael kissed one another, lifetimes appeared to pass. Time stopped; all that mattered was the affection expressed between them. Eventually, he had to part from her. His forehead pressed against hers, while he whispered, "What are we doing?"
We were broken and stuck together
Then we tried to find the reasons we should stay
"I don't know," Nikita breathed against Michael's lips. She had no idea what they were doing. And not just concerning the kiss. What were they doing to each other's hearts. They fought, but they also protected. They were on opposing sides of a war, but they saved one another. All the two wanted was for the other to be safe and happy, yet in trying to secure that they caused pain. Nikita soon found herself not caring anymore. She only wanted to remain in Michael's arms and continue kissing him senseless. With everything between them, it felt right. It was as though they were meant to be there. She had to know if he believed the same, "Do you want to stop?"
"No," In his entire life, Michael had never been more serious to simply dive right in.
"Me neither," For once, Nikita stopped to think, and she found herself unwavering.
When it's settled and all is clear
When you want me, I am near
They kissed again, that time more passionately. Michael cradled her head, and Nikita shoved at his blazer. He fell back against the sink, but that only helped to support him with his injured leg. He could keep his weight off of it, his mind clearing of the pain and focusing on the feel of the kiss instead. When she cleared his jacket from his shoulders, he tugged at her tanktop. The press of their lips wasn't enough for them; they had to feel more. Her top landed next to his slacks on the bathroom floor. As she worked on his button down and removed his side holster, he slipped his hands under the waistband of her pants. He pulled her even closer, and she straddled his uninjured thigh.
Hurt feelings disappeared. The two should probably talk about them, help each other understand their side of things. But stronger feelings had overwhelmed them. They were both topless, and kissing one another with such intensity it was searing. Michael tried to yank off her pants, but her boots were in the way. Nikita sensed his frustrations on the matter, and pulled away to step out of her shoes. He felt the need to step close to her again, not wanting to drift far. Yet when he pushed off of the sink, she nudged him towards the door. She didn't plan on staying in the bathroom with used first aid supplies for long. Not when there was a bed across the hotel room. He caught onto her idea quickly, taking her hand to drag her along with him.
Nikita and Michael stumbled towards the bed. Walking was difficult with his gunshot wound, the removal of the rest of their clothes, and their desperate need to not sever the kiss. The two ended up falling clumsily onto the mattress. Her back winced from the taser burn she had received, and his thigh screamed. Yet when the pain subsided, they began to laugh. Giggling and smiling for the first time in what felt like forever, they settled against the pillows as comfortably as they could. Abandoning themselves to kisses and caresses had made them feel free. Their hearts were finally allowed to soar.
When you say that you're mine I come running everytime
Straddling his hips, Nikita smirked in satisfaction. She started to move, her wet heat sliding over his hard length. Michael moaned. He tried to sit up, but she held him down with her hands on his sturdy chest; he shouldn't stress his injury. However, her arms and wrists weren't content with the force. She was shaky from her overexertion and bondage earlier. He traced her defined, bronzed bicep, in awe of her strength- both physical and emotional. She had escaped Division and her past time and time again, while he was still held captive. Maybe he could learn from her, lean on her strength. She could help him become better. He already wanted to try so hard to be perfect with her in his life.
In the meantime, however, their hips were greedy and demanding. Michael gently stopped her movements to roll them on their sides. The position allowed them both to relax and completely take one another in. Nikita smiled, and kissed him tenderly. Hands roaming over soft, warm skin, they lightly caressed where they needed each other most. She threw an impossibly long leg over his upper thigh, and he buried two fingers inside her. A moan escaped her full lips. She grabbed him, twisting and pulling. Touches were driving them insane, their kisses growing feverish. She nipped along his stubbled jaw and neck, and he kissed her forehead. Brown eyes connected with green, strong love sparkling.
Tenderly, Michael caressed the bruise on her cheek. Guilt flashed in his gaze, and Nikita kissed it away. It wasn't his fault. She understood his powerful connection to his late family; he didn't need to explain his desire for revenge or how he thought Division could get him there. It was only the two of them at that moment. Their feelings for one another outweighed it all, and promised they could fix things later. Wrapped in each other's arms, hips were finally able to blissfully join. They moved as one, setting a tantalizing rhythm. Thrusts were short but intense, neither wanting to separate. Encouraging moans drove the tempo higher. 'Yes', 'fuck', 'faster', and 'right there' was whispered between breathy kisses. It skyrocketed them to their peak and pushed them over the edge. Michael and Nikita came hard, everything else melting away.
So do me damage or do me right
We could be the only lovers left alive
