Set in the later half of season 1. Michael has a terrible nightmare.
He had to get to her. She was trapped in the car with the briefcase. He had to get to her. She was banging on the windows, the door, the ceiling, doing anything she could to escape. But she was trapped, and he had to get to her. No matter how fast he ran, however, he couldn't reach her. She screamed his name- she never screamed for help, always stubbornly pushed on. She knew what was about to happen. She called for him. She screamed his name. Yet he couldn't get to her in time. Just as he touched the car door handle, it was all too late. She was still trapped inside as the briefcase exploded.
The blast blew them both from the car. They went sprawling to the street, flames and debris falling around them. He fought through it, though. He still had to get to her. She wasn't trapped anymore, but she also wasn't screaming. She was so silent. She was so still. Collapsing to his knees in front of her bloody body, he scooped her up in his arms. She didn't react. She didn't breathe, "No. Nikita, no. Wake up. Wake up, Love. Come on, we gotta go. We gotta save the world. We're gonna live on that beach. We're gonna sit and do nothing and live happily ever after. Wake up. Please, Nikita. Please, don't go. Wake up."
Michael was the one to wake up, however. He jolted awake in the small bed, scrambling pillows and tossing the covers. His heart beat so hard against his chest, it actually hurt. He couldn't get control of his breathing. It was erratic and harsh, hurting his chest even more. Grabbing hold of the blankets, he tried to get ahold of himself. But the nightmare continued to course through him. He needed more to calm down. So, he reached over to the other side of the bed for the one person who could always give him comfort.
Nikita wasn't there, however. Her pillow and blanket were empty and cold. Michael snapped out of bed completely. The rational part of him guessed she was in the bathroom, or simply getting water from the kitchen. But his lingering nightmare wouldn't allow him to be rational. She had fallen asleep with him, yet then she was gone. There could only be one logical explanation. She was trapped in the car with that briefcase, and he had to get to her.
He didn't think of anything else. A part of him was sure that if he checked the bathroom or kitchen he'd find Nikita. Michael could calm down once he did. Except, his heart was beating so fast and he couldn't take a full breath of air. He couldn't focus on anything besides finding her. Luckily, he didn't have to look far. As Michael began to leave the great room of her loft, Nikita returned to him. Just the sight of her eased his heart and returned the air to his lungs.
"Hey. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. It's just, after you and Owen managed to sneak in here, I couldn't sleep until I fixed my security. I don't really want any more surprises," Smiling softly, Nikita explained her absence. There was no way she could sleep peacefully knowing two people had managed to slip past her security measures. It felt as though she had left a door open. Fortunately, she was able to fix her problem easily. She could return to Michael in her nice warm bed and fall asleep in his strong arms. Though, looking him over, she doubted he'd been able to sleep peacefully while she was gone, "Hey, Michael. What's wrong?"
"Just… always glad to see you," Shaking his head, Michael faked a smile. Fear and anxiety hadn't slipped from his mind. He couldn't break away from his nightmare. He didn't want to wrap Nikita in his fear. It was better to ignore it and try to return to bed, even if he was certain that he wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night.
To distract himself from that thought, and every other tormented thought in his rattled head, Michael pulled Nikita closer to him. Whereas he remained in his boxers, she had stolen his button down to walk around the loft. She hadn't buttoned it up all the way, allowing him to grab the open tails and tug her into his arms. He believed the move plus his smile would distract her and help change the subject. Except, she still managed to read his mind, "Did you have a nightmare about me, and I wasn't there when you woke?"
"How do you do that?" Michael had to ask. Although he didn't want to admit the truth, there was no use lying to her. Nikita knew him too well. Even before they were together- as a team and as a couple- she could read him like a book. He always strived to keep his thoughts and emotions close to his chest. But she consistently found a way past his guard. She knew how to get into his heart like no one else.
"I think I know you pretty well by now. After all, you have been inside of me," Instead of answering seriously, Nikita joked. She had no idea how bad Michael's nightmare was. If it was something he could laugh off, then she'd help him truly smile again. He only chuckled lightly and bumped his forehead against hers, though. He wasn't in a lighthearted mood. She grew more concerned, reaching out to caress his stubbled cheek, "You wanna talk? They always say…"
"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I uh… give me a minute," Michael sighed. He was well aware that talking helped. It was what he always told Nikita, after all. He just couldn't admit what he had dreamed yet. His body still trembled at the mere thought of it. He needed time to simply breathe and hold her. With her in his arms, he should be alright soon.
Nikita understood. Slowly, she led Michael to the bed with her and sat on the edge of the mattress. He was stiff beside her. His leg bumped harshly into hers, and he clutched her hand tightly in his grasp. She turned to face him, but he wouldn't look at her. Eyes downcast, he only played with her fingers. It was as though he was trying to rely more on touch than sight to assure himself that she was there. There were only a few times when she had seen him like that- so afraid and helpless. Instantly, she knew what happened in his nightmare, "I died, didn't I?"
"Car bomb," Barely above a whisper, Michael admitted. He still didn't look at her. In fact, he was fairly certain it'd be worse if he had looked at Nikita. Yet he needed to say something. At least some of his nightmare had to get off his chest. It was constraining to keep it so close; it choked him. He had to let it out before the fear consumed him whole. Luckily, he was with someone he could entrust his whole being to.
"Oh. I'm sorry," Nikita squeezed Michael's hand just as fiercely. She knew his feelings towards car bombs. They were uncontrollable- mistakes could easily happen. They were mass destruction and pain. And they were weapons that took everything away from him. Anything involving them had his heart in a vise. A frightful nightmare was no exception.
"Why? No. You don't need to apologize. It was my stupid subconscious. I was the one who imagined you… there…" Michael started out strong. He wouldn't take Nikita's apology. It wasn't her fault that she had died in his dream. Whatever his subconscious was trying to do to him was the real villain. It kept tormenting him in waves. He couldn't stay calm for long. He remembered what he dreamt, and the absolute horror took hold of his heart once more. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the image of her- them- dying. Before he knew it, tears welled in his eyes and choked his throat. There was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Michael?" Upon seeing the tears in his eyes, Nikita finally made him look at her. She gently cradled his jaw and connected her concerned brown eyes to his tearful green. He blinked hard. When he couldn't clear away his building sob, however, he crashed his forehead into hers and squeezed his eyes shut. She held his cheek, knuckles scraping along his stubble. Her nose brushed his in an attempt to make him look at her again. He wouldn't.
There was something about connecting their foreheads that helped Michael breathe. Maybe it was because they were so close, so intimate. If he opened his eyes, he could see the flash of gold that shone amidst her brown eyes. However, he couldn't quite look at her. He needed to feel Nikita. His touch wouldn't betray him like his sight would. Or, like the words that caught in his throat and in his tears, "I've had nightmares about you before. But… this is the first time you… not dying but… you were in the car…"
Michael didn't need to finish his struggled thought. Nikita knew what he was trying to say. A normal car bomb hadn't killed her in his nightmare. It was the bomb in the briefcase on the military base. No wonder he was so overwhelmed. He literally had one of his worst nightmares, "It was me instead of Hayley and Elizabeth."
Nodding, Michael pulled away from Nikita. He didn't move far; he didn't think he could. Their thighs still burned against one another's. He simply removed his forehead from hers to tuck her dark hair behind her ears and cradled her cheeks. A part of him was grateful that she finished his sentence for him. He wasn't in a place to say it outloud. He hardly ever was in a sure enough place to discuss his late family. Except, of course, with her. She could always draw things out of him, even things he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on, "I shouldn't put that fear on you. I shouldn't have replaced them. I…"
"Hey. You're not replacing them with me. I would never do that. Your heart can hold us both," Patting his sturdy chest, Nikita grinned warmly. Michael just gripped her hand tightly. He kept it where it was, sweeping his thumb over her knuckles. After a moment, she shifted into a more comfortable position on the mattress. She really wanted Michael to look at her.
"I know. It took me a while to realize that, but I know. It took a long time to work past the guilt. I can move on and keep living my life. I can love again. It almost took too long to realize that," He finally glanced at her as he spoke quietly. His words were a bit of a rambling mess, yet he wasn't sure how else to express himself. It took a decade for Michael to heal from his guilt and grief over his family's death. And it took him five years to realize he wasn't doing anything wrong by being with Nikita. If he wasn't so consumed with rage and vengeance, he would've been in a better place earlier. He probably wouldn't have any lingering nightmares either.
"No. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Guilt and trauma are hard to work through. You should just be proud that you did," Nikita instantly reassured him. In St. Petersburg, when she had called him the strongest person she had ever met, she wasn't exaggerating. The pain Michael had lived through and endured was remarkable. She couldn't have done that. There were still things from her past she hadn't healed from. He was far better than her in every way.
"Then why did my subconscious replace you? Why does it feel so wrong to put you in their place?" The tears caught up on Michael again. It wasn't the fear and anxiety that time. Other negative emotions bombarded him, so much so that he couldn't name them all. He knew he felt guilty, though. He never wanted to compare Nikita and Elizabeth. They were two completely different women, and he wanted to treat them as such. Yet, his subconscious made them one person- one person who he was always bound to lose.
"You didn't replace us. I have my own place, and so do Hayley and Elizabeth. You just love us all so much, you're afraid of losing us in the same way," Nikita pulled Michael's hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. She never felt out of place when it came to his late family; she never would. He had enough space in his heart for all of them. She didn't doubt that.
Returning their clasped hands to his chest, Michael tried to close the gap between them. He didn't know what he would've done without Nikita. Somehow, she always knew what to say and what to do to make him feel better. Maybe it was the wonders of letting her into his heart. He let her know him, and she became his life support. He didn't know how he could repay her for that. He could hardly even express it to her. It sounded more like a sarcastic comment than immense gratitude, "When'd you get so smart and supportive?"
"A lot of time to think when you're alone," Nikita shrugged. She tried to play it off as nonchalant. The moment wasn't about her. The time she spent alone and how damning that could've been on her psyche wasn't the focus of that conversation. Maybe later they could delve into it. But, honestly, she didn't want to. She'd rather keep focusing on Michael. He deserved more comfort than she did.
"You're not alone," Tenderly, Michael negated. Between him and Alex (and Owen and Ryan too he guessed) Nikita would never be alone again. She had built up too much around her for life to tear away at it again. That could possibly be how Michael repaid her for being so wonderful to him. He'd always ensure that she was never alone. Nikita would have her family.
"And you're okay. It was just a nightmare. You didn't do anything wrong. It's your big 'ol heart that's stupid. Not you," Joking, Nikita attempted to make Michael laugh again. She got a much brighter smile that time. He chuckled softly and reached to pull her into his lap. She followed his silent command willingly. Once they found a comfortable position together, they embraced one another tightly. Their foreheads brushed once again.
Although Nikita was aware that Michael wouldn't sleep throughout the rest of the night, she knew they couldn't stay like that forever. Sooner or later, one of them would get cramped from the position. They should also probably keep talking. All those complicated emotions couldn't have been solved just yet. But Nikita wouldn't force Michael into doing anything he didn't want to do. He had a voice, "Do you want to stay like this? Or watch a movie. Or…"
"This. I just want this," Michael tightened his arms around her. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and just breathed her in. With his shirt on, Nikita smelled distinctly like herself and a little bit like him. Somehow, that seemed to help calm him further. Not only was she there in his arms, she was also with him. They were together, safe and sound (at least for the moment). And they were alive. She was in his arms, heart beating against his chest and breathing in the same air. He couldn't allow that to not be true. Since he had her, he wouldn't let her go again.
"I'm not going anywhere," Reading his mind once more, Nikita whispered into his ear. She cradled his head as she held him and continued to mutter soft comforting words. She repeated a lot of the same phrases over and over, but that didn't matter. Her meaning remained clear. He was alright. She was there. And she loved him so much.
"I love you, Nikita," Eventually, Michael echoed in response. The three words barely scratched the surface of his emotions for her. Yet he didn't have to say more. She knew. They both knew what they meant to one another. It was beyond words.
