Nikita threw up. All morning she had been hunched over the toilet, vomiting until not even bile was left. She had woken with terrible cramps and an unimaginable migraine. The instant she stumbled into the bathroom, however, all she could do was throw up. Michael immediately rushed to her side, held back her hair, ran a cold damp cloth across her heated skin, and soothingly rubbed her back. Except, none of his kindness helped. He checked for a fever, but the thermometer came back normal. Nikita continued to heave. Worried, Michael attempted to figure out what was wrong, "You don't have a fever. Did you eat something weird?"
"I think it's just my period," Shaking her head, Nikita managed to mutter. What else could explain her cramps and her headache. She had had terrible menstruation symptoms before- a cramp had once been so severe she nearly passed out. Sure, they never made her vomit; that was certainly weird. But, she'd take being sick over losing consciousness any day. Despite being hunched over the toilet, breathing hard and gagging, it was better than her usual debilitating pain. She could fight through the nausea. Well, after a moment she could.
"Do you have cramps and a headache too?" Continuing to rub her back, Michael wondered. Nikita nodded, coughing and spluttering in the toilet. He did his best to keep her hair out of her face as he ran the cool, damp cloth over her skin once more. She'd have to shower, and he'd have to clean the bathroom. Yet that would just have to wait. She didn't seem as though she could move at the moment. He wasn't going to rush her. The fact that she allowed him to comfort her was a miracle onto itself. It was better if he let her be. She knew her body best, after all, "Yeah, that could be it. I mean, you haven't had your period in awhile."
"Stress and anxiety make it worse," Nikita sighed, resting her head on the cool ceramic lid. Her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach continued to rock, but she was done vomiting. The migraine and cramps were the next battle for her to face. She hadn't been too stressed lately, enjoying her new marriage and new apartment with Michael. Except, as the few months passed, the slow going of shutting down Division caught up to her. She wanted to bring in the Dirty Thirty immediately. She wanted everyone to have their pardons right that second.
Michael understood Nikita's anxiety. Continuing their war to ensure every single person had their freedom was stressful. There was a lot riding on how successful they were in controlling the fallout of Division. However, he could also understand how other things could be contributing to her sudden illness. It wasn't as though he kept track of her menstrual cycle (he was fairly certain she didn't keep track either). But he did know when she was menstruating and when she wasn't. And it had been some time, "Yeah. Yeah. So do other things…"
"I'm not pregnant," Immediately, Nikita cut him off. She adamantly refused the idea. Her husband's concern about her stress simply made him paranoid. Besides, hadn't they had that discussion before. She had been so racked with guilt about not telling Ryan he was Max's father, that Michael misconstrued it as something else. He thought she was trying to say that she was pregnant, not drop the bomb that their friend had fathered a child. Whereas she was able to lightly chuckle at his stumbled assumption then, at that moment she was irritated. Maybe it was because she felt like shit. Or maybe, it was because a small part of her believed it to be true.
"I didn't say you were. But, that would make sense," The last part was only muttered. Michael didn't want to argue with his wife at the moment. There could be a million reasons Nikita threw up, her head hurt, and her body ached. Pregnancy wasn't the only solution as to why she suddenly woke up sick. But combining her symptoms with the fact that she hadn't had her period in some time, he couldn't help but think she might've been pregnant. It was something he shouldn't dwell on. He should only focus on her. However, the thought continued to prickle the back of his mind. He couldn't shake the idea loose.
"It's just stress and the start of my period soon," Irritated, Nikita pushed herself away from the toilet and shrugged Michael's comforting hand off her shoulder. She didn't need those thoughts. She had enough on her plate. If she just found a way to manage her stress, it would all be fine. Nothing else was wrong; though, she couldn't argue against how weird she felt. She had felt off for the past few days. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't that surprised by the vomit. Except, she wouldn't admit or accept the possibility that her husband suggested. She'd rather push to her unsure feet and fight through her nausea and pain.
"Wait. You haven't even started yet? It has been awhile, right?" Michael's confusion and concern didn't wane. In fact, it became increasingly worse. The suspicion in the back of his mind pulled even sharper. Nikita's glare silenced him for good, though. He had learned to not fight against his wife's angered looks. Raising placating hands, he took a step back. He'd relent for the time being, "Okay. You're anxious about shutting down Division, and that's throwing you off. Why don't you do some yoga today instead of heading in? I'll cover for you."
She had been wanting to go to the yoga studio by their apartment since they moved in. That moment was her chance. And if she was as stressed as she claimed, then yoga was the perfect activity for her to do. Without any extra thought, Nikita took the opportunity. Michael sighed. He left her alone as she got ready for the day, cleaning up and preparing to head into Division. He didn't plan on telling anyone of their adventure that morning; he didn't need to add more stress. Besides, there was enough for the team to deal with already, as texted by Birkhoff the second Michael arrived, "Hey. I got your text. What's up?"
"No Nikita?" Birkhoff glanced around in surprise. Since their wedding, the married couple had been glued at the hip. Nikita and Michael entered Division together, went home together, caught a bite to eat with the team together. They wouldn't leave one another alone. So when only Michael walked over to the computer station he was occupying (he seriously had to set up his own rig) it was beyond strange. Birkhoff half expected Nikita to pop around a corner and scare him. She had done so before. However, the former rogue was nowhere in sight.
"You know her; she chooses when she wants to come in," Shrugging, Michael decided to keep his response vague. It was easier to tell a partial truth than it was to actually lie. No one would question him further if he stated that Nikita was only being Nikita. They had all dealt with her enough to know what that meant. The less anyone questioned her motives, the better. Nodding, Birkhoff easily accepted the explanation. He wouldn't want to be hanging around Division if he didn't have to either.
"Well, you better go get her. We got a hit on one of the Dirty Thirties. You guys are needed out in Hong Kong," Unfortunately, the team was needed in Division that day. Birkhoff showed Michael the chatter they had received of former agent Martin killing a CIA operative. He and Nikita, along with the support of the newly dubbed 'Wolf Team', had to fly out and bring the rogue back in. If they could accomplish that without killing him, that would be for the best. The group of agents, spies, and assassins had to prove themselves better. It was a New Division. And the New Division got to have pardons and freedom if they played nice.
Although Nikita was excited for a mission, she hated being interrupted from her sense of normalcy. Going to yoga, making friends, it was all so normal she forgot how stressed she was. Her sickness from that morning completely vanished. Focusing on an op didn't make her nausea, headache, and cramps return; it felt amazing to actively do something that'd shut down Division. It was just the long flight to Hong Kong that was tortuous. Her body seemed to rebel against her, especially her mind. She wanted to blame her rising pre-mission anxieties, but the back of her mind said differently. Under her breath, she couldn't help but curse, "Fucking Michael."
While her husband grabbed their bags and checked in with Division, Nikita tried to collect herself in the bathroom. Her nausea and cramps crashed into her like waves. She was able to manage those. Her migraine, on the other hand, was killer. Maybe she could blame the intense headache for replaying Michael's comments from that morning. It had been a long time since her last period. And her feeling off could mean something way more than stress was going on with her. Either fate or cruelty intervened when she finally exited the airport bathroom. There was a toiletry store nearby that sold pregnancy tests. Without thought, she grabbed one.
Not a word was shared with Michael about her actions. She should've told him. But he was focused on the next steps of their mission, and Nikita gladly paid attention to that. They had a hotel suite to stay in, Sean and Alex were meeting them in a few hours, and they could begin their search for Martin. She simply had to take the test in the meantime. And place it back in the container and slip it into Michael's jacket pocket without him noticing. She didn't want to wait for the results. She could believe it was negative, and her husband could tell her otherwise- once he was finished staring out the window, "Amazing view, huh. New Division already is better."
One glance at his wife and Michael knew the sentiment wasn't returned. Nikita paced the suite, her hands nervously fidgeting with her wedding ring. She couldn't stay still. She didn't even glance at him. He hardly ever saw her that worked up. If he had, it was over a more consequential mission than that one. It was possible that she was placing too much weight on New Division's first op, though. She wanted it to be perfect, so that the rest of their lives could be as well. Gently, he tried to reassure her, "Hey. It's okay. It's just another mission."
"There's going to be a lot of missions for awhile, huh?" Nikita couldn't look at Michael. He'd know she caved the second his green eyes connected with her brown. As much as she knew she had to tell her husband what she'd done, she didn't want to talk about it- she didn't want to think about it. Doing so would make it all too real. She didn't believe she'd be able to handle the consequences if it was real. Ignoring the problem completely allowed her to pretend it wasn't even happening. She was stressed, and that was all. Nothing else was wrong with her.
"Until all the Dirty Thirty are brought back into the fold. But that doesn't mean we can't live our lives," Michael smiled softly, pulling his wife close to him. She appeared to soften in his embrace. Nikita had been a rollercoaster of emotions and sickness since they woke up. Although she hadn't shared all of that with him, he knew. Her stress about Division and the Dirty Thirty took hold of her tightly that day- if that was all that was wrong. He shook that thought away in order to entirely focus on her, however. He wouldn't entertain the idea unless she told him.
"Right. Our lives…" Nikita mumbled, her eyes drawing away from Michael again. She spared a brief glance at his jacket on the chair, before her thoughts ran away from her. She was so glad they did. For a blissful moment, she thought about the mission instead. Something Ryan had said back in Ops came back to her. Martin had been away from Division for years. There was no way he stayed loyal that whole time. She hadn't on her extended assignment, "Ryan said Martin was on extended assignment for six years. He had to live his life too, right?"
Before Michael could say anything or ask for her to clarify, Nikita tore away from his arms and searched her bag for her burner cell. She had an idea for how they could find Martin, and she had to state it immediately. The faster they tracked their rogue down, the faster she could go home and forget everything she was currently going through. Obviously, that wasn't a real solution to her problems. But she could pretend. She could also distract herself with more missions and her friends. Teasing them could make her feel better. A theory she tested the second Birkhoff answered her call, "Nerd, stop looking at pictures of Sonya and help us out."
"I'm not… what do you want?" Birkhoff huffed. He hadn't been looking at pictures of his ex-girlfriend (had they even dated enough to call one another that); though, he was daydreaming about her. He wouldn't allow Nikita to know that, however. She might have scoffed in disbelief, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of being somewhat right. He had already been in a bad mood after talking to Ryan, who had become more vague and standoffish. He didn't need to get into it with her. She should just say what she wanted to, and leave him alone.
"I want to know what happened to you two. I also want to know if Martin had a special lady friend out here," Placing the call on speaker, Nikita admitted. Michael nodded in agreement, sitting so close to her on the edge of the bed that their thighs touched. He never paid any more attention to his abandoned jacket, yet she kept staring. She had to constantly shake her head clear. She was sure she was overreacting. It was nothing. It was stress and anxiety. Everything would work out okay once she settled.
"Well I can answer your second request at least," Birkhoff snapped Nikita back to the present with his grumble. Both she and her husband rolled their eyes. They felt for their friend; they didn't want to see him hurt or confused. Yet if he talked about it, maybe it wouldn't be so terrible (Nikita should learn from what she wanted for others). Michael attempted to pressure him into either opening up with them or with Sonya. However, Birkhoff was quick to shut the idea down. His computer chirped and he interrupted, "Look at that. Your hunch paid off. There's a model in town that he uses a lot for his shoots. She's your best bet in finding Martin."
"We're not done talking about this," Nikita managed to get out before Birkhoff hung up. As the nerd texted them the information, she shrugged at Michael. Instead of replying with an eye roll or an echoing shrug, however, he stared at her pointedly. They had to talk as well. She had more to tell him than he thought, but her anxiety, Division, and how their lives would look with all of that had to be discussed. Unfortunately, it would have to wait for after the mission. Turning to change into mission clothes, Nikita placed her back to Michael. He sighed, and grabbed his jacket off the chair.