"Why aren't you home?" Nikita choked back a sob. She clutched her blanket, bit her lip, and stared watery-eyed at Michael's empty pillow. She had violently woken from another nightmare. There was so much blood on her hands and such loud screaming in her ears; she had killed Michael while trying to save him. Waking herself didn't save her from the terror. Her heart raced, her breath was short, and the screams echoed. She should've been able to soothe herself by glancing over at her fiancé sleeping soundly beside her. But he wasn't there. He wasn't going to be there for a long time.
After discussing the latest mission with Ryan and Owen, Nikita went to search for Michael. She had expected him to talk with them. But, according to Birkhoff, he had slunk away from everybody. Nikita couldn't let that be. She wasn't entirely certain why he was pulling away from others; the one idea she had wasn't pleasant, so she refused to give it thought. She simply wouldn't have him sulk or be alone. Positive things had come their way recently. They shouldn't remain focused on so many negatives. In order to move forward, they had to look at the bright side. Nikita couldn't do that without her fiancé, which probably meant Michael needed her too.
Eventually, Nikita found Michael in a storage room near Medical. He must've been keeping his belongings in there; when she walked in, he was changing his shirt. He didn't look far too excited to see her in his space. Even as she closed the door to give them privacy, he avoided eye contact. Nikita tried to ignore that. Maybe Michael was just tired, or she had walked in on him having an emotional moment. He was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He probably was about to burst in frustration. Instead of dwelling on his mood, she should just help him. That could fix things, "Hey. I got it."
"I can button my own shirt," When Nikita moved to assist with the buttons, however, Michael jerked away. His words weren't as harsh as his actions would've suggested. There was a steely calmness to how he addressed his fiancé. None of his emotions were expressed. Nikita assumed that was why he wasn't looking directly at her. He didn't want her to know what he was thinking or feeling. Except, after he had sent Owen to be her partner instead of him, she desperately wanted to know what was going on inside his head. What was making him think he had to do everything on his own.
"Great job on the mission," Nikita praised gently. She took a step back, giving Michael the space to do what he thought he should. But she refused to leave him alone. She would always be right there, whether he believed he needed her or not. She knew he was going through so much at the moment. Trying to live without a hand wasn't in any regard. Yet he didn't have to bear that weight by himself. She could take the burden. And she could carry it anyway he wanted. If he wanted to take a break from the field, then she'd support him- for better or worse until death did them part, "You're really great at bossing me around."
"What are you doing?" Not even reacting to her quip, Michael asked. He had finished struggling with the buttons of his dress shirt; except, he still didn't glance at Nikita. He sort of just stared over her shoulder in the direction of the door. Her slight, playful grin dropped. She tried to rationalize that he was just tired. He was frustrated, exhausted, overwrought. It wasn't the time for light conversations. They should go home, sleep, and talk in the morning. Everything would be better if they just went home together.
But deep down, Nikita knew that wasn't going to happen. A part of her knew something was wrong. Michael wasn't just tired after the long, stressful day, nor was he frustrated with his new prosthetic. He was in full control of his emotions. He was deliberately shutting her out. Nikita couldn't understand it. She only wanted to help- to keep him safe and happy. She might not have had the best strategies to make that happen, but at least she tried. She always had his best interests at heart, "I'm just trying to help."
"You've helped enough," Michael snapped. His angry, hurt green eyes finally focused on her. He looked so livid with his fiancée. He didn't want her near. He wanted her gone. At first, Nikita wanted to scream back at him. She wanted to fight his words and fight him. But then the force of his rage struck her. He hated her for what she did to him. She hadn't saved him when she cut off his hand; she destroyed his life. Tears replaced her lividity upon the realization. Nikita couldn't look at her fiancé anymore. She turned her back on him and ran away.
The events from that evening played over and over again in Nikita's mind. The screams and blood from her nightmare were replaced with the anger and hatred in Michael's brilliant green eyes. Curling into a ball, slamming her forehead against her knees, and digging her nails into her hair couldn't dispel a thing. He wanted her gone. He didn't want her. Her sob was becoming harder to contain. She couldn't stop the tears or the thoughts. It all assaulted her, like the look in his eyes.
He had never looked at her like that before. Even when she had called him a sonofabitch. Even when she shot him. Even when she drugged him. Even when he accused her of working for Gogol, and thus Kasim. And even when she had stopped him from killing the man who had killed his family, he never regarded her with such hatred. He had been hurt. He had been betrayed. He had been angry. Yet he didn't hate her. He had said it once before, he loved every part of her- the good and the bad. However, that might've been the last straw. She had hurt him so much for so long that he couldn't love her anymore.
Her engagement ring burned on her finger. Nikita tried not to sleep with it on. She didn't want anything happening to it. However, with Michael not with her, she couldn't bear to take it off. The jewelry was a reminder that he was still there- he was still with her. But maybe not anymore. The ring was just dead weight. She should take it off. Before she could fully contemplate the idea, however, her cell buzzed on her nightstand. Desperately, she reached for it. Nikita could only think of one person who would call instead of text at that time of night. She really needed it to be him, "Michael?"
"No. It's Sean. Sorry," Sean replied softly. He should've known the only reason Nikita answered her phone was because she thought someone else was calling. Since she knew that it was only him, she was going to stop speaking and hang up. That wasn't the actual case, however. She did stop talking, but she stayed on the line. What almost sounded like a strangled sob came through the phone. Sean froze at the sound. He didn't know if he had actually heard his sister crying. He could've just mistaken a scoff or a muttered curse. When he heard the shuttered sound again, though, his heart dropped. Nikita was definitely trying not to cry, "Are you okay?"
Again, Sean was surprised by the response he received. He truly believed his question would've been the thing to finally make Nikita hang up. Instead, the words made her breakdown further. A sob finally broke past her defenses. It was muffled, as though she had a hand clamped over her mouth; however, it was still so clear that she was crying. She could hardly breathe. Everything came through the phone choked and labored. When she finally could speak, the words were slurred and harsh, "I can't get his screams out of my head. It won't stop. And… and… he's not home. He won't come home."
"Who's not home? Is Michael not at home with you?" Racing through his apartment to gather his shoes, jacket, wallet, and keys, Sean frantically asked for more information. He was a little slow on what Nikita could've been talking about. But in his defense, he had just woken from a nightmare himself. He thought he could at least call his sister in an effort to settle his mind. Hearing her voice on the answering machine could've been comforting enough. Though, none of that really mattered since she was crying. He had to rush to her aid instead.
"No. No. He… he doesn't want to be here… I keep hearing his screams. How do I make it go away? How can I make it better?" Hardly able to breathe, Nikita rambled into the phone. She really wanted to hang up. She didn't want to talk to Sean, nor did she want to drag him into her drama. However, she couldn't stop herself. The tears and the fears couldn't be stopped. She needed to scream it all out. The fact that it was her brother on the other end of the phone didn't help. She had to seek comfort from him. He would give it to her.
"Stay right there. I'm coming over," As he scrambled out his door, Sean ordered. He didn't think Nikita could go anywhere in her state, yet he didn't want to risk it. He also wanted her to know that, despite how things crumbled and fell apart between them, he'd drop everything to rush to her side. Whenever she needed him, he'd be right there. She had always done that for him. She was his protector when they were kids. She had been his rock when he discovered the conspiracies of Division and Oversight. It was time he be that for her as well.
Sean let himself into Nikita's apartment with his spare key. He closed and relocked the door behind him, then hurried to the bedroom. He could hear his sister's sobs from the hall. They hadn't even slowed since he ended the call. When he burst into her room, all she could do was look up at him. Nikita remained curled into herself, tears streaming heavily down her cheeks. Sean joined her on the bed. He wrapped her in a hug and soothingly rocked her back and forth. She collapsed into her brother's chest. Her watery voice was muffled by his shirt, but the harsh rant was still heard, "I think Michael hates me. That's why he won't come home."
"Michael doesn't hate you. He wants to marry you," Sean spoke gently. He tried not to express his deep concern or his fear. He had never seen Nikita like that before. Whenever she was suffering, she hid her intense emotions from him; she had done that when their mother had died. It was something she had done since they were kids. She wouldn't allow her little brother to see her hurt. She'd stay strong for him. But if she was breaking down then, she was beyond hurt. She was beyond suffering. Nikita was in hell without a lifeline to cling to.
"Not anymore," Nikita sobbed. Her engagement ring weighed down her finger. It used to lift her heart. The jewelry used to be the brightest part of her life. But recently, whenever she looked at it, she only thought of Michael never being home. He didn't want her in his life anymore, not since she ruined his. He finally learned what she really was, and he rightfully abandoned her, "You were right, Sean. I am a monster. I killed Mom and Dad. And I cut off Michael's hand. I made him scream like that. I nearly killed him. He finally realized what I am, and he doesn't love me anymore."
"I still love you," Tightening his arms around his sister, Sean admitted. Although the last words he had said to her in person were horrible, he continued to love her. Nikita was his sister. No matter how scared or angry he became, he'd always have her in his heart. If that was true for him, then it was certainly true for Michael. No one could stop loving her. Nikita didn't want to listen to the facts, however. She shook her head in refusal. Sean squeezed her. She was going to hear him, and she was going to believe him, "Hey. I love you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. You're not a monster. You're my sister. You didn't do anything wrong."
Nikita couldn't respond. She simply clung to her brother with everything she had left. Sean continued to hold her tightly. He wouldn't let go, even remotely. He'd be her lifeline through the storm. When she felt like she had nothing, he'd still be there. Sean wasn't running anymore. Those he loved needed him to stay more than he needed them to leave. There was no way he could abandon them again, "You saved Michael's life. You've saved mine and Alex's and so many other's. I take back everything I said before. I was reacting in fear, and I shouldn't have said all that. You're not a monster. You're a hero- you're my hero."
