Set after 3x10 "Brave New World". Mikita trying to reconnect. The song is "Coming Apart" by Red.
Is it too late now for you to see me
When I'm breaking at the seams
It was anything but gentle. They clung to one another fiercely, leaving biting nail marks in their wake. Usually when they were that bad, they were desperately trying to keep one another close. Yet their actions weren't quite desperate. It was almost as though they were hurting each other on purpose. The need to feel turned bitter and harsh after the months they spent apart. Absence didn't make the heart grow fonder. It simply wounded it with too much pain and suffering. Weren't they supposed to be stronger than that. The two had survived so much already. Everyone looked to them as the pinnacle of juggling both war and love. But they were struggling. In fact, they might just die out.
Fear gripped Nikita over that thought. She wanted to tell herself that it was ridiculous. She had never really been insecure about her relationship with Michael- confused and desperate, yes, but never worried about them falling apart. Except, they hadn't touched each other in months. She initiated a sparring match between them where she touched him, she kissed him, but he didn't return the affection. She was starting to feel like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. There wasn't anything solid for her to hold onto, not a feeling, not a look. She was afraid that one day she'd blink and everything would disappear. Even the conversation about her giving him hope was fleeting. She just wanted him back with her, "Are you coming home?"
Her voice sounded more like a pleading beg than she wanted it to. Yet her emotions were getting harder to control. Learning that there were people out there testing on children made Nikita sick. She should've listened to Birkhoff. She should've never gone to Kosovo and gotten herself involved in that hell. Michael somehow found the positive in that, however. They had done the right thing in taking out monsters, and they had a lead on a better prosthetic for his hand. The latter ended up stealing all of his attention. That brief with Ryan about how they dug themselves into a deeper hole with Division couldn't even deter him for long. He was back in the nerd cave he occupied to go over his intel. Hours later, when everyone else had left, she had to find him and break him loose. But he wouldn't escape, "Yeah, when I'm done."
"Done with what? This, or pushing me away?" Nikita wasn't certain why she had snapped like that. Alright, she was somewhat sure. She had sustained a nasty head injury, and the resulting minor concussion gave her a headache. She was exhausted from traveling all over the world and fighting bad guys. And she just wanted Michael to come home with her. They hadn't shared the same bed for as long as they hadn't touched. It drove her insane how distant he made himself. All she wanted was to hold him in her arms again, and for him to hold her back. Was that too much to ask for. She missed him more than she thought was possible, despite the fact that he was right there in front of her. Something broke between them, and she didn't know how to fix it without breaking herself further.
You're the one thing I can't, I can't lose
You're my one thing
"I told you I needed time for myself," Michael was far more calm than Nikita. But he was always better at controlling his emotions than she was. Well, better at hiding them anyway. He tore his eyes away from the information he was pouring through to look her over. She kept her distance from him, arms crossed and eyes ablaze with fury. Another emotion was buried in her gaze as well, yet for once he couldn't make it out. For some reason, that pissed him off. There had only been a few times when he couldn't read her mind and vice versa. Yet a rift was growing between them that might make reaching out increasingly impossible. Although he was a large part of the problem, it irritated him, "If you want to talk about pushing people away, then let's talk about you going into hostile territory alone."
"When are you going to realize I can take care of myself? I don't need you to protect me. I was fine. I saved myself, like I always do," She didn't step closer to him. She always stalked closer to him when they argued, but she continued to keep herself away from him. If Michael was going to hurt her by remaining distant, then Nikita could return the favor. If he wanted to put up walls after the hell they went through, then why couldn't she. She had survived on her own for years before him. For the majority of her life, she had been fighting alone. She didn't need a knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet and rescue her from the beast. She was perfectly fine by herself. He could go ahead and leave.
"But you're not fine, Nikita. You never are. Just trust someone with your heart for once," Indicating the giant bruise and gash covering her eye, Michael instantly called bullshit. Nikita could've died on her mission. She didn't think things through and she didn't bring support, and she almost paid the price. As he listened to all hell break loose over her com, he nearly died himself. How many times were they going to have the argument about her sacrificing herself. She claimed her heart couldn't take it if she lost her family, but didn't she know they were consumed by the same sentiment. He didn't think he'd be able to breathe without her. He barely could while he was stuck in ops and she was out in danger.
That was completely unfair for him to say in their current situation. He called her out for not opening her heart, when he wouldn't let people heal with him. He couldn't survive without her, yet he shoved her away. Nikita had enough of Michael's contradictions. They were both hurt and struggling. He hadn't adjusted to the loss of his hand, and she couldn't stop hearing his terrible screams. The two of them needed to talk; they needed to return to the closeness they once had. But harsh words had been shouted between them, and it was going to continue, "Oh, you wanna go down that fucking path, Michael? Take a look at your stubborn ass first. You would rather gut yourself than let anyone see you suffer. Well, I'm not going anywhere you fucking bastard. So let me in."
Hold on, be strong
I'm coming apart, don't give up on me
Michael intended to fire back with a scathing response, but he finally recognized that other emotion in Nikita's shimmering brown eyes. It was fear. She was afraid of what was happening to them. The path they were going down had the potential to burn both of them. Their relationship might not survive wherever they were headed. That was worse than losing one another to a knife or a bullet. Losing their heart, watching them live a life without them, had the power to kill them in more ways than one. Michael had really fucked up if Nikita thought their relationship was over. They had fought and been separated before, but that fear hadn't been among all the other anxieties. Their very foundation had cracked.
He attempted to close the gap between them, however, she stepped back. She wasn't one to run from him. But she was going to stand her ground apart, away, just like he had. Michael shouldn't have gotten as furious as he did. The anger wasn't directed at Nikita. He was pissed at his own damn self for causing all of that pain between them. If only they just talked to one another. If only they weren't too stubborn or stupid or afraid to communicate. They wouldn't have been where they were. Hell, a lot of the shit they experienced wouldn't have happened if they actually talked. It was a lesson they should've learned a thousand times over. Yet it wasn't going to occur in that moment, not when he grabbed a hold of her so fiercely.
She didn't like that- she didn't like that at all. Too many times had she been forcibly grabbed. She never thought it would've come from Michael as well. Nikita shoved away from him, hard. Her expression was a mixture of so much anger and fear, that it could've been hatred she was directing at him. It only made him hate himself even more. He reached for her again, and she swatted at his hand. Quickly, their actions dissolved into some sort of sparring match. It was none of the playful or flirtatious moves they usually employed while squaring off against one another. They were intending to hurt, like they had almost a lifetime ago when they were on opposing sides of the war. Their hearts were too broken to attempt anything else.
Eventually, she was shoved onto the couch Birkhoff kept in his office. She immediately pulled him down on top of her, his suit jacket almost tearing under her grip. His prosthetic gripping the couch cushion near her head, Michael hovered over Nikita. Their noses were nearly brushing, and their breaths mingled on harsh pants. Green and brown eyes connected with a warring, contentious glare. The two silently dared the other to make the next move. Were they going to continue hurting one another, or were they going to talk. Apparently it was neither, as their bodies betrayed their minds. It was possibly a Pavlovian response after falling into that position so many times. Regardless, their hips shifted and their lips crashed against one another.
I'm gone, but not too far
Don't give up on me today
Their hands and lips were wild as they immediately fell to temptation. Both were too angry for any kind of gentleness or even tenderness to be expressed. Teeth were bared with kisses, biting at lips. And nails clawed at the skin made free by tearing at clothes. They only managed to remove jackets, shoes, and belts. Michael's shirt was hurriedly untucked from his pants, while the hem of Nikita's dress was yanked upwards. Hips were bruising while they tried to thrust and grind together with enough force to prematurely send them over the edge. Neither cared about how harsh or cruel they were being. By that point, they'd do anything to make the other feel. That time he forced them apart made their reunion bitter.
Maybe if they had let that go with words instead of action, the two wouldn't have attempted to forcibly leave their mark on each other. Kisses and holds stung with their harshness. Nikita had one hand gripping his neck, while the other undid his fly and fiercely took hold of him. Michael only allowed his prosthetic to grip at the fabric of her dress as his hand cupped her. He didn't trust the device attached at his wrist to not ruin anything. Though, were they not there already. Although he was hard, she was wet, and they were moaning hotly, sex wouldn't fix anything. They were simply going to shatter more than they could handle.
But that just might be how they put themselves back together again. Something falling apart at the seams was the only way to know it had to be stitched, right. Michael and Nikita were barely holding on to anything around them. Focusing solely on their moans and thrusting hips at least made sense. It was rushed, and clothes were only shoved aside enough to give themselves access, yet he entered inside her. She didn't give either of them time to adjust before she rolled and snapped her hips. He pressed his forehead into hers, lips smearing. He tried to match whatever rhythm she set, but they were too out of sync. They just had to succumb to the urgency of their bodies. She slipped a hand down between them, and he trapped her in his arms. No one could escape.
Snapping hips didn't want to, however. Moans were full of curses. The two weren't finished hurting one another. Michael managed to shift to his knees and bring her with him. He remained inside her, and was able to thrust into her with different angles. Nikita bit his lip as she kissed him, trying not to scream. Movements rapidly grew faster and harder. Hair was pulled and bodies were clutched to keep themselves steady. It wasn't enough to keep them from violently reaching their peak however. They crashed down hard. It took some time for their minds to clear. Once they did, and the two were left realizing what had happened, they didn't dare move. Everything seemed too fragile to simply walk away. They had to talk, at least- acknowledge where they were. It was only right for him to make the first move. Tenderly caressing the bruise on her cheek, he whispered words that made tears fall from both their eyes, "I'm sorry."