Disclaimer: As you guys probably figured out, I own absolutely nothing.

A/N: Hey guys. Thanks again for the lovely reviews, I'm so grateful for you guys being so supportive, even when I disappoint you (like I did with last chapter). Thank you so much for sticking with me :) It truly means a lot to me.

Grammar/Coherence mistakes, you guy know what to do. On this chapter it will probably have a lot of mistakes (and missing words, doc manager loves to do this to me), but it's 3 am (I know, but it's the only time I have to write) and these mistakes are just bound to happen. I promise I'll re-read it tomorrow and fix them.

So...

Enjoy!

They watched in silence as the fire crept through the picture, crumbling it into a pile of dark ashes. Michael felt anger spread through his body as the image of his son disappeared on the fire.

It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to Max, not to Cassandra and not to Nikita.

He knew finding a picture of Max and Cassandra on her things had hurt her like a sharp knife to her heart. But he couldn't help it.

He loved his son.

He also loved Nikita, but apparently because of fate's twisted sense of humor, he couldn't have them both.

And now, after weeks of awkwardness and lots of unspoken feelings, he could feel a wall forming between them.

Since they'd found out about Max, she'd been understanding and supportive no matter what. But he knew it hurt her. He knew he had hurt her back in London, and even before that with his overprotectiveness of Cassandra.

Even though she was hurt, she kept supporting him no matter what; putting everything before her real feelings. But after months of doing so, she was getting exhausted and frustrated, and with all the constant drama on her life, she was starting to lose it.

And from the picture on her suitcase, to Ryan's rescue and Carla's death, that day was the last drop. All her calm and understanding was starting fade.

It made him so angry that he was one of the reasons of her misery. It wasn't supposed to be that way.

He sighed as the last of the photograph turned into ashes.

A single tear ran down Nikita's face as she swept the ashes into the sink, turning on the tap to dissolve the remaining vestiges of the picture.

Michael wondered if her tears were just a reflex from the emotional roller-coaster she'd been put through recently, or if she was really that hurt only by the image of Cassandra and Max.

"That's better" she said with a heavy sigh, wiping her tears away and turning away from Michael, heading to the living room.

He could hear the sorrow on her words, and it concerned him. Michael knew she had been suppressing her feelings for a long time now. It was just a matter of time before she snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean, Nikita?" Michael questioned, furrowing his brows.

He hated pressuring her, but they had to talk about it. Nikita needed to put it all out. She had to give him a chance to explain, a chance to tell her how he felt, that he didn't mean for things to turn out this way. Things had been so hectic on their lives for the past weeks they hadn't had the time or the will to talk about them, about their relationship.

And all the things that remained unspoken for all this time were only creating a distance between them.

"What? What are you saying?" she asked, feeling drained.

He knew she was being defensive; he knew she didn't want to talk about it.

But they had to. It was the only way for them to work things out, and finally, hopefully, be back together.

"I think you know what I'm talking about" he looked into her eyes "So I'll stick with my question from earlier: are we still talking about the picture?" he pressured her again. He had to know.

She sighed, exhausted "Not now, Michael" she pleaded

"Nikita…" he insisted "We should talk about this…"

"I said NOT NOW!" she yelled, her eyes swelling with angry tears. Michael took a step back, giving her some space, not wanting to upset her anymore that he already had.

Nikita closed her eyes, frustrated. She took in a shaky breath and left the kitchen. Michael felt his heart ache; every time he tried to do the right thing, he ended up hurting someone.

And lately this someone was usually Nikita.

The air in the beach house was heavy, dark, and almost unbearable. The sun was setting, giving the big room a dramatic look.

Michael sat at the bottom of the stairs, trying to keep his distance from Nikita, knowing he had hurt her earlier, and not wanting to do it again.

Ryan was half asleep on the couch; sometimes he'd jump awake and look around the room searching for Nikita, who would give him a sad smile.

Birkhoff was just sitting on the couch next to Nikita; his eyes far away in a traumatized expression. He'd squeeze Nikita's hand from time to time in an unspoken request for her reassurance. She'd kiss his hair or lean to rest her head on his shoulder, like she'd grown accustomed to do since she came back from London.

"You should get some sleep" she said gently kissing Birkhoff's hand.

The young nerd just shook his head "I don't think I can, Nikki"

"Try it" she advised gently.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You should follow your own advice" Ryan said giving her a small smile "You could use some rest"

"Maybe you're right" she whispered "Maybe we should all get some sleep"

"In that case I'll have to find that painkillers I have left from my injuries" Birkhoff said as he got up the couch.

"These are very strong pills" Nikita said, alarmed "Promise me you won't do anything…"

"Stupid?" he supplied for her, his face twisting in a hurt expression "I think there's a limit of stupid things you can do in one day, Nikki. And I used all mine"

Nikita looked down "I didn't mean it this way"

The computer technician sighed heavily "I know… I'm sorry" he closed his eyes in frustration "I'll be okay, don't worry" he guaranteed and kissed her forehead.

When he left the room, Nikita and Michael exchanged glances; for the first time after hours; and Michael got the message.

"I'll check up on him" he said getting up "Are you two coming up?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there" Ryan assured.

Ignoring the hint of jealousy going through his body, he nodded and disappeared up stairs.

Nikita and Ryan; alone for the first time since he'd been back; remained quiet for a few minutes, before Nikita broke the silence.

"I thought I had lost you" she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes.

"Yeah, I know" he moved to sit next to her "But you didn't. I'm still here"

The brunette nodded "Yes, you are" she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

Ryan realized how shaken up she was, and pulled her into a hug.

He held her while she cried, the sobs rocking her petite frame. He remained silent, just rubbing soothing circles on her back.

After half an hour, she finally calmed down, and he gently wiped her tears.

"So, I'm sure all these tears aren't just for me" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. He was happy he got a half smile for her "Tell me what's going on"

She let out a painful sigh "It's everything" she said in a tortured, sad tone "I completely lost control of my life, Ryan. I don't know what to do. Percy is still free, Amanda is still commanding Division, Gogol is trying to kill me, Alex's is in Russia" she stopped to catch her breath "You're back, Carla died, and Michael…"

New tears streamed down her face.

"Hey…" he tilted her chin up "I get it that it has been hard for you. But you're the strongest person I know. You'll make it out of this"

She shook her head "I don't know, Ryan… I'm just so tired. Everyday something happens. There's always something aggravating my already messed up life. I can't take it anymore"

"Yes you can…You're Nikita" he said with a smile "If someone can make it out of all this, it's you"

She gave him a thankful smile.

"I can't do it on my own, though"

"Well, you're not alone" he said "You have me. And Birkhoff, and Alex and Michael"

Ryan noticed pain crossing her features when he mentioned Michael.

"Are you and Michael…?" he questioned, trying to get some context on the recent events.

"Some stuff happened recently. We are…" she swallowed the lump on her throat "I don't even know where we stand"

Ryan squeezed her hand gently "I'm sure you guys will figure things out"

Nikita shook her head "I don't think we will" she sniffed "It seems to me that we are in a situation that can't be fixed. He had to make a choice, and this choice does not include me."

"But he's still here" Ryan pointed out.

"He's not here for me" Nikita sobbed "I really lost him, Ryan"

"You'll be fine, Nikita" Ryan guaranteed, pulling her into his arms again.

Nikita sighed and closed her eyes, but though she knew Ryan's words were sincere and that he was genuinely trying to comfort her, he was not Michael. Only Michael could make her feel better.

She didn't feel relaxed when she was in Ryan's arms as she was in Michael's. She didn't get that warm, fuzzy feeling. Ryan's heartbeats didn't soothe her like Michael's.

She didn't feel as safe.

Yes, she was thankful to have a friend like Ryan.

But he was not her Michael.

From the top of the stairs Michael just watched them; he felt like talking to her, explaining to her that she hadn't lost him.

But he knew he had no place in that conversation.

He just wished she'd talk to him like she had talked to Birkhoff, to Owen and now to Ryan. She didn't thought she could, she thought she'd lost him.

Again, he couldn't help but feel jealous of Ryan; he knew the CIA agent was just trying to be supportive, but there was something about the all the hugging going on between them that made Michael really bitter.

Powerless, he decided that going to bed was the only reasonable option for him. But of course, he couldn't sleep.

And he doubted that someone in that house actually could.

After rolling in bed for a couple of hours, he got up to check on his nerdy friend, only to find him groggily sleeping.

Alex's room's door was closed, so he figured Ryan was already asleep.

But Michael could see from under the door that Nikita's room had its lights on. He thought about knocking to check up on her as well, knowing her hysteria usually happened at night, but he refrained from doing so, not wanting to bother her.

He headed downstairs to get a glass of water, and when he came back up, he could hear a low whining coming from her room.

Alarmed, he pushed the door open without a second thought, only to find her on the floor, pressing a gauze to her wounded abdomen.

"What happened?" he asked, worried.

"I had a nightmare. I must have tossed and turned in my sleep. When I woke up I was bleeding" she gasped.

He shook his head, distressed "I told you needed stiches" he said with a sigh.

Without giving her any time to protest, he scooped her up in his arms and placed her gently on the bed.

"Let me see" he said trying to remove the gauze, but she didn't let him.

"I'm fine" she said, closing her yes at the sharp pain.

Michael looked deeply into her eyes.

"No, you're not" he said seriously.

Nikita wondered if he meant only the wound, or if he actually realized her suffering. His eyes were staring so deeply into hers; carrying such concern and tenderness at the same time she moved her hand away, allowing him to help her.

"Let's stich you up, okay?" he said with a hint of s smile.

Michael tried his best to make it less painful possible, and every time she hissed he'd apologize. Nikita watched him in silence, wondering what was going through his mind, and at the same time marveling at his presence.

This was the closest they'd been lately, and even though he was giving her stiches, she liked to have him around.

"You okay?" he asked, snapping her off her thoughts.

She nodded "It's just stiches"

He shook his head "That's not what I meant" he looked up at her "I mean with everything that happened with Birkhoff and Carla"

She sighed heavily and he immediately regretted asking her. However, she answered him anyway.

"She was the closest thing to a mother I ever had" she said closing her eyes to avoid more tears; she'd cried enough for one day "It's hard to think she's gone" she took a deep breath "We've been apart for so long…but knowing I'll never see her again is just…"

"Too much to handle" he supplied for her.

"Yeah…" agreed, a tear running down her face.

Michael looked up at her again, feeling his hart sink at the sight of her tears.

"I really am sorry" he said honestly.

She gave him a sad smile "Thank you"

They fell silent again as he finished stitching her up.

"You'll be as good as new soon" he said pulling her pajama tops back down, and Nikita felt a jolt of energy were his hands had touched her.

Out of instinct, he grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she felt a warm, tingling sensation spreading through her body. It always happened when he touched her affectionately, and it never failed to make her heart swell.

She'd missed that sensation so much.

Michael kissed her head before whispering 'good night'.

But before he could let go of her hand, she squeezed his hand back, stopping him.

"Stay with me?" she asked with pleading eyes "I don't wanna be alone tonight"

He looked at her like if trying to figure out if she had actually said those words.

She remained silent, not repeating her question. But when they eyes locked, they spoke volumes. There was a connection between them as all the things they couldn't manage to verbalize were there, flickering in their eyes ; all their fears, all their insecurities, all the emotion, all their sorrow, but most importantly, all their love that was still there.

And in a matter of minutes, they were side by side on the bed, both immersed in a light, but dreamless sleep.

A/N: Characters might be a little OOC (Nikita most specifically) , and I apologize fro that.

Soo...tell me what you think ;)

Thank you so much for reading!

~Rose.