Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Never have, never will.
A/N: Wow you guys are awesome! I almost couldn't believe in the positive response I got on this story, thank you so much. As I mentioned on my replies to your reviews, I wasn't planning on continuing this, but seeing your response to it encouraged me to do so. English still not my first language, so just tell me where the mistakes are and I'll fix them.
This is set in between Michael and Nikita leaving Birkhoff's house after it was blown up, and the next day when Nikita tells Michael the truth about Max.
Okay, so here it goes. I hope you like it
Enjoy!
She didn't realize what she was doing, she wasn't thinking straight. When Nikita came to her senses she was being dragged out of the house by Michael after putting two bullets in Richard's chest. For the first time in her life, she wasn't regretting killing someone.
"We need to move before division gets her "she thought she heard Birkhoff say, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything else anymore.
Michael gently guided her to one of Birkoff's cars; the one that hadn't been blown up; placing her on the back seat, and then sitting in the front seat next to Birkhoff. The young nerd looked through the rear mirror to see a very torn Nikita numbly looking out of the window.
"Mikey, maybe you should…" Birkhoff said motioning with his head to the girl in question.
Understanding what his friend meant, Michael moved to the back seat, pulling her against his chest "Nikita…" he whispered kissing her hair "I'm so sorry" He tightened his hold on her when the sobs started rocking her body.
Nikita was feeling nauseous; disappointment, betrayal and shame taking over her body, making her feel worthless. As if she didn't already have enough issues on her mind.
The drive was silent; the only noise was the muffled sound of Nikita's cries and the silent engine of the car. They pulled at an inn outside the city only a few minutes later.
"Isn't this too public?" Michael asked when Birkhoff handed him a key.
Birkhoff looked at the broken girl sitting in the backseat of his car and back at Michael "Do you think a cheap, creepy motel is the best place for her? She kind of needs to relax and a dirty motel room won't do the trick this time" he said "Plus I just burned my house down and I really would like a decent, comfy bed to sleep in tonight"
Michael just sighed.
"Go get her" he went on, giving him the car keys as well "I'll see you in the morning. I'm in the next room if you need anything"
Michael looked back at Nikita; she hadn't moved from her previous position.
"Hey, you take good care of her, you hear me?" Birkhoff demanded narrowing his eyes.
Slightly annoyed, Michael asked "What?"
The youngest man snorted "You heard me" he emphasized "this has been going on for days before things got crazy tonight. I'm telling you, you better fix things up or I'll give you a piece of my mind"
Walking away, Birkhoff didn't give Michael time to respond.
Turning his attention back at Nikita, he helped her out of the car "Come on, baby. Let's get some sleep" Michael said leading her inside the room, and easing her off his hold and into the bed.
Nikita stared at him with sad eyes "I believed him, Michael" she whispered "I believed everything he said to me. How could I be so stupid?"
Michael felt his heart ache at the hurt tone in her voice "Don't beat yourself up. You couldn't have known he was lying"
She shook her head and sobbed, tears filling her eyes once more "I should have known"
He put a strand of hair behind her ear "Look, he was Division. You know how Division works. They knew your past was your weakness and they used it against you. It was a low blow" he kissed her forehead when she clutched his hand in an unspoken request for his affection "no one can blame you for wanting to know who your parents were or where you came from"
Nikita took a shaky breath in an attempt to control her sobs, but failed miserably. Michael held her to his chest while rubbing soothing circles on her back " Just cry it out" he said into her hair, slowly rocking her back and forth.
Too tired to fight her feelings, Nikita let out all the tears she had been holding since the week prior, in the hopes it would ease the pain inside her.
"If you wanna talk about Richard…"he started, but the look on Nikita's face made it very clear that wasn't the best thing for him to say.
"Well, I don't" she sobbed.
"Nikita…" he sighed.
"Why does it even matter?" she questioned, her voice a little louder than she intended.
Michael tilted her chin up "Because it does" he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her face.
But she just shook her head and wiped her tears, desperately trying to stop them.
"I get it that you're frustrated" he kept talking, but she didn't let him finish.
"I'm not frustrated. I'm angry at myself" she admitted, her voice low and tense "It was really stupid and naïve of me to think my real father would have actually cared about me. Whoever he is, I bet he didn't think I was worth it, and that's why he gave me up"
Feeling her sorrow, he stroked her hair lovingly "Don't say that"
"Why not?" she asked, looking up at him her eyes full with unshed tears he didn't want him to see, but still couldn't hide "I've been through different families and not one of them thought it was worth keeping me. Why would my birth father be any different?"
Michael shook his head "Nikita, listen to me, and listen good, okay?" he held her gaze, his face serious "They're all wrong. You're worth everything. Everything" he stressed his words "Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise"
She shook her head again, disbelieving his words "Just for a moment, Michael…Just for a moment I thought I had something real. He told me about my mother, about how they met...All lies" she took in a shaky breath before continuing "I just wanted some sort of a home, some guidance, anything! I wanted so badly".
She bursted into tears again and Michael held her in his arms, trying to comfort her. He knew how sensitive she was when it came to family matters. Especially her family matters.
"You have me" he declared "I'm real. I'll be your home, I'll guide you" he assured her.
She looked up at him, her eyes still blurred with tears "I know…And that's why I don't wanna lose you, Michael"
"Who said anything about losing me?" he questioned, holding her tight and running his hands up and down her back.
"I just feel…like I'm not going to be enough" she said, her voice only above a whisper.
He loosened his grip on her, creating space between them. When she looked down, he tilted her chin up, making her look him in the eyes "What makes you think that?"
Her eyes were watery again "I'm just so scared, Michael"
"Don't be. I'm not going anywhere" he promised.
Nikita buried her face on his neck, taking in his familiar scent, which made her feel a little calmer.
Neither of them was really sure how long they stayed that way, but Michael only loosened his grip on Nikita when he was certain her tears had subsided.
She let out a loud sigh and then looked up, her brown eyes burning into his, pleading for his reassurance. He stroked her cheek, absently brushing through the bruises on her face, making her hiss at the pain his touch and the salty moisture of her tears had caused.
"Sorry. I'll go find something to tend your wounds with" he said looking at the cuts and bruises on her face "Why don't you take a shower? Try to get some rest".
Nikita nodded "Yeah…I'll do that" she said in an almost whisper.
He kissed her quickly on the lips before getting up "Are you going to be okay by yourself?"
"I'll be fine" she guaranteed.
"I won't be long" he said getting the key card from a small table by the door "I'm taking the key. Do not open the door to anybody, okay?"
She just nodded.
" I'll be right back" he said before closing the door behind him.
She didn't immediately move from her spot on the bed, though. For about ten minutes, she just sat there, trying to figure out how she should feel about all the things happening in her already messed up life.
Not being able to find the answers she was so desperately seeking, she headed to the bathroom.
Nikita felt relieved when the hot water fell to her body, undoing the knots on her back, lessening her tension. She closed her eyes taking deep, even breaths, trying to soothe the anguish within her heart. However, as her eyes closed, she couldn't prevent the thought s from rushing through her mind in such an intensity that made her dizzy.
Feeling her legs tremble and her head spin, she slowly sat on the floor of the tub, bringing her knees up the her bare chest, and resting her head atop of them, her mind wondering once more. Confused memories filled her mind, suddenly numbing her body.
"Michael is Max's father" she stated
Cassandra looked up at her, mortified "You cannot tell him" she pleaded.
.-
"… I don't wanna lose him" she admitted to the man she once thought was her father "It has been so hard, keeping this from him"
.-
"Just…wondered if you ever thought about children" Richard had said to her.
She shook her head, slightly embarrassed "Ohh, I don't know…With this life that we lived, seems far off" she swallowed the lump in her throat "Although sometimes I think that…Michael wishes he had a child"
.-
She stared at the two little plastic sticks on the sink, to the one in her hand, and then back at her watch. One showed a little plus sign. The other had the display turned red. She stared at the third one, waiting for the answer that would either confirm of invalidate her suspicions.
She took a calming breath. This couldn't be happening to her, she thought. At least not now.
Long five minutes passed, and one single line showed up in the display. And although she was mostly feeling relived, a small part of her was disappointed that she wasn't pregnant.
.-
"Sounds like there's something you wanna tell me" he tried to persuade her.
"Michael…" she started, but couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
"Oh, my God" he exclaimed.
"What?" she asked, alarmed at the tone in his voice. She turned around to face him.
"Are you…?" he stared at her, and she could have sworn she saw hope and excitement in his eyes.
Getting his meaning her heart raced "No…" she interrupted him as fast as she could.
"…Pregnant?" he finished his question, an almost smile crossing his face.
"No…" she said, hiding her face from him, suddenly feeling bashful "I know what you meant… the answer is no"
"Ohh, good" he said, and she gave him a questioning look "No…I didn't mean 'good'" she frowned, confused "I didn't meant 'good', I meant'' he stuttered " you know what I meant"
And even though she knew he didn't meant it like that, for some reason she was mildly hurt that his first reaction was saying "good".
.-
"Michael is Max's father"
"You cannot tell him"
.-
"The decision is yours" Cassandra said before walking away.
.-
"Michael is Max's father"
.-
"The decision is yours"
.-
"The decision is yours"
.-
"… I don't wanna lose him"
.-
"The decision is yours"
Those scenes kept repeating in her mind over and over again. Nikita wanted to scream; the decision was not hers. She had nothing to do with this. How could Cassandra throw this kind of responsibility on her?
Nikita only realized she was crying again when she missed the feeling of the hot water on her body, and felt Michael wrapping her up with a towel, pulling her out of the tub.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone" Michael said, holding her and trying desperately to make her stop crying. He had seen her cry more this past few days then in the last few years he had known her, and it was very unsettling for him to see her so heartbroken.
"I'm fine, Michael" she said in between her sobs.
Pulling her wet hair off her face, he stared down at her "Well, then you have a very bad definition of 'fine'"
She sighed "I'm just so confuse" she said, her voice thick with tears.
"Hey, hey… You're going to be fine, I promise. I won't let you break" he softly kissed her lips, sealing his promise "Come on, you must be cold" he said unwrapping the wet towel covering her body, making her shiver. Feeling self-conscious under his gaze, Nikita was more than grateful when he quickly helped her into the soft white bathrobe.
"Better?" he questioned; his hands rubbing her arms up and down as he realized she was slightly uncomfortable.
She nodded "Yeah, thank you".
He gave her a comforting smile "Good. Now come on, let me take care of these bruises" he said as he gently guided back to the room.
Nikita sat on the bed in silence while Michael cleaned the cuts on her face with cotton and some alcohol. The silence was only broken by eventual whines from Nikita.
"Sorry" Michael apologized "I know it burns, but it was the best I could find"
"It's okay" she brushed it off like if it wasn't a big deal "How's your chest?" she asked.
He chuckled "It stings a little, but I think I'll survive"
She gave him a sad smile. Putting some alcohol on one of the cotton balls and pressing it on the bruises in his face, they fell back in silence while tending each other's bruises.
"Michael…"she broke the silence but trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
He put the cotton down "What is it?" he asked, seeing her hesitation. It was the second time she did that and he just knew she was hiding something.
She sighed and looked down, still not answering him.
"Nikita…"
"I've been wondering…"she started, slightly nervous.
"You've been wondering…?" he encouraged her.
She took a deep breath "Yesterday, you asked me if I was pregnant… Why did you thought that?" she asked, her voice almost breaking.
"Ohh, that" he said, averting her gaze.
She nodded, feeling awkward "Yeah, that"
"I…I knew you were late. And then you were really sensitive about… well, everything. I saw you crying the whole week and…then I felt you were hiding something from me, so I just thought…"
"Yeah, me too" she admitted, her cheeks reddening.
He looked up at her, surprised "You really thought you could be pregnant?" he questioned.
She nodded "Yeah, for about fifteen minutes" she sighed "I was totally freaked out"
Michael stroked her hair "Why didn't you tell me?"
Nikita looked away and got up, walking towards the window and turning her back at him; she hated feeling vulnerable and she didn't want him to see her so susceptible.
"I didn't want to disappoint you" she tried her best to keep her voice even.
Michael was quickly by her side, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her back against his chest "Disappoint me?"
She turned around, fully facing him "I know how much you want a child. I wasn't going to create an expectation out of something I wasn't sure about" she sighed "I guess I was just trying to avoid seeing that look on you face"
Michael frowned "What do you mean?"
"I saw the look on your face when you asked me if I was pregnant" she looked down at her hands "You seemed so excited, and… when I told you I wasn't I could see disappointment crossing you face and…" she sighed again, not managing to organize her line of thoughts.
Michael sighed loudly, realization suddenly hitting him. He mentally kicked himself "I'm so sorry, Nikita. I never meant to put this kind of pressure on you" he apologized "It's just… sometimes I miss having"
"A family?" she asked
"Kids" he answered "Kids. Because I have a family" he pulled her to his arms again "right here, like you said it" he stroked her hair.
Nikita rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and relying on the sense of safety she got every time she was around him.
"And if our lives ever get less complicated" he continued "I'm sure you'll make me a father again"
A chill ran down Nikita's spine at his last words.
Little did he know he was already a father again. The thing was, she just wasn't the mother.
And she was not ready to tell him that just yet.
A/N: I really hope this didn't disappoint you. And yes, I know Nikita's flashbacks are a little confused, but that's kind of the idea
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