Set after 2x19 "Wrath". Michael begins to teach Nikita to love herself.
In all the years Michael had known Nikita, he hadn't actually seen her struggle with her drug addiction. He had heard about it. She told him vague stories of relapsing and of withdrawal. And he witnessed her rough transition into Division; though, that came from more than just addiction. He had never seen her slip back into the dark place she had escaped from. She always seemed stronger- more held together. If anyone could fight their demons and win, it'd be her.
Nikita just wasn't as perfect as Michael claimed. She still had bad days- days when she couldn't survive the screaming in her thoughts. Recently, it was harder to make it through the day. She couldn't silence her demons. Michael said he'd help, but she hadn't exactly let him in. She wasn't used to anyone helping. Nikita had always fought alone. It was too much to change then. Everything was too much.
It was easy to pretend it wasn't when she was with other people. She could be taunting on a call to Percy. She could be comforting to Sean. She could mess around with Alex and Birkhoff. But alone with her thoughts, that was when it was pure hell. Without a distraction, she had no chance against her thoughts. She couldn't sit still. She couldn't sleep. It was close to driving her insane. It just wouldn't stop. And all Nikita wanted was to make it stop. She didn't want to struggle. She didn't deserve to struggle. She should've been as strong as her team all thought.
The one sure thing Nikita knew would make her thoughts stop shouldn't have been her go-to. After all those years, she was supposed to have learned a new way to cope. But she didn't know anything better or more complete. It was the best way to forget. Demons couldn't survive it. They drowned in the numbness. Everything vanished once she felt numb.
And in a safehouse full of rogues, that solution was easy to find. It was in the kitchen with the other major first aid supplies. The kit was in easy reach for all of them in case something happened. Nikita didn't have to stray far to find the solution to her pain. She simply had to leave the warmth of Michael's side, and wander through the quiet safehouse. The sun hadn't even risen yet. No one else was awake. She was all alone in the world and with her thoughts. Nothing stopped her from grabbing the bottle.
Birkhoff hadn't taken all of the pain pills he was prescribed after his hand was shattered. There were a few left rattling in the bottle. The team kept the medicine around in case someone else got seriously injured. Considering they couldn't exactly be rushed to a hospital, they had to rely on whatever medical supplies they could gather. That created a haphazard first aid kit, but what else could rogues do.
Nikita certainly didn't mind it as she clutched the pill bottle. She had her escape. Finally, the thoughts since Brandt had resurfaced could be silenced. She wouldn't be a monster. She wouldn't have killed Senator Pierce. She wouldn't be at fault for Sean's pain. She wouldn't be to blame for losing the team their pardons. And she wouldn't have hurt Michael. It'd all go away with a few pills. She'd drift away. The screaming would stop. She could smile again.
Except, all she did was hold the bottle. She couldn't bring herself to open it and shake the life saving pills loose. Despite the burning need in her stomach, the flames licking at her chest begging her to fuel the ever dormant desire, she remained still. Nikita stared at the pain pills in the dark of the kitchen for who knew how long. Her insides were battling themselves. Above the demons tearing her mind to shreds, reasoning commanded her not to fall to past temptations. Everything she had worked so hard for would fall apart the second she swallowed a pill. She had to be stronger. She had to be the perfect beacon of strength they all thought she was.
Michael reached for Nikita in bed. His hand was only met with cold sheets, however. He sighed. The past few nights she hadn't stayed in bed long. She slept wildly, then as soon as she could, she'd leave to start her morning. She never talked to him about it- practically refused to. It was about time he did something about that. He couldn't leave her to keep suffering on her own. Even if she wanted to isolate herself, he would never allow that to happen.
He soon found her in the kitchen. He had to turn on the lights to be able to make her out clearly; the sun was barely rising outside the window. Michael thought he would've seen Nikita drinking water, making a simple breakfast, or even hiding out in the shadows. Instead, he saw her staring transfixed at a bottle of pills. Confusion hit him first. Then, as he moved closer and noticed the struggle in her eyes, he realized what she was doing. Michael had never seen Nikita that bad before. He didn't even know she continued to struggle with her addiction. He believed the temptation and aches were all over. Apparently, he was wrong.
The second Michael closed the gap between him and Nikita, however, she shoved the pain pills into his hand. She didn't look at him. She hardly acknowledged his presence. She just gave him the unopened bottle and pulled herself away- far away. Her hands balled into fists and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She shook slightly, but she fought to remain in control. She tried her best to forget about the pills.
"You didn't…" Michael didn't want to assume. He knew her better than to think she fell so easily. She was struggling to stay on solid ground. Nikita's head shake confirmed that. She hadn't taken the pills, yet she had been close. She had been so close to losing it all.
For a while he didn't say anything. Michael just dumped the pills down the sink and destroyed them in the garbage disposal. With Nikita's struggle and Alex's earlier theft (though, that was just to study the kind of medicine her mother was forced to take by Semak) it was better to get rid of them. The team could make do without pain pills in their first aid kit; they had before. Nikita studied his actions like a hawk. She was afraid of what his reaction would be. She understood him getting rid of the temptation. But what was Michael going to do with her since he knew she was weak. Turned out, he simply reached to hold her, "Okay. Okay. It's alright."
She was stiff when he pulled her into his arms. His touch was so gentle as he held her tightly and cradled her head. She honestly didn't know what to do with that. Nikita's head wasn't any better since the drugs were taken away. She still felt jumbled. She still felt as though she could fall apart at any moment. Yet Michael was there to catch her. He wasn't going anywhere, "Why don't we skip coffee this morning and just hop into the shower?"
When Nikita finally managed to nod, Michael urged her towards their bathroom. A few steps in, and she broke away from him. With a goal in mind, Nikita could remove herself from the moment. She could have other things to focus on. Michael thought about leaving her alone. She could collect herself in the shower. However, he soon thought better of that. She needed someone with her. Not that he didn't trust her alone- just that she shouldn't have to feel alone again. So, after a minute, he rushed to join her in the shower. She didn't react to him there until he grabbed the soap from her, "Here. I got it."
"Michael," Shoving him away, Nikita berated. She didn't need to be treated like a baby. Despite what had happened in the kitchen, she could take care of herself.
"Nikita," Michael ignored her harsh tone and tried to help her clean for the day. He was sure she was angry with herself for her near slip up. She was angry with herself for a lot of things that had happened lately. Yet he refused to let that drive him away. Her words in Brandt's torture dungeon hadn't sent him running. Her self-hatred wasn't going to make him love her any less. In fact, it made him want to teach her to love herself more, "I told you I'd teach you to love yourself. Well, the first step is taking care of yourself."
"I know how to shower," Nikita pushed Michael's hands away again. She knew she shouldn't feel irritated with him. He didn't do anything wrong. She just didn't want the attention or adoration. Although her thoughts were dangerous things, she wanted to be left alone. It was what she deserved.
"And I know how to make you feel good," Michael argued. Although his tone was light and flirtatious, he didn't move to touch her. He waited for Nikita's invitation. Wanting to help her shower was probably a little overkill. But he didn't know how else to prove to her that she was worth it. She never believed his words. Yet action was different. She'd know without a shadow of a doubt that he'd keep his promise to her.
Sighing, Nikita dropped her hands. She let Michael scrub her skin clean. He also scrunched her face when he soaped it up, but she fought her bubbling laughter. She wasn't in the mood to feel better. She wanted to keep sulking. He'd never allow that to happen, though, "I can't fight you, can I?"
"Loving persistence will beat your stubbornness. I promise you that," Softly, Michael smiled and began to shampoo her hair. Nikita relaxed as his fingers massaged her scalp. There was no more fight left in her. She soaked under the soothing warm spray while he cleaned himself. When they were both done, he turned off the water and towel dried them. He gently shook her and smooshed her cheeks again, and she had to giggle that time. Michael smiled adoringly at her before he kissed her sweetly.
Her smile came easily. So, he continued what he was doing. She picked out her own clothes, yet he helped her put them on. Nikita rolled her eyes the entire time, but there was no protest. She was starting to really enjoy how Michael cared for her, especially after he got dressed himself. He grabbed her hairbrush, sat her on the bed, and braided her hair. His fingers moved so tenderly against her head. He took extra care of her hair and scalp. He even placed kisses along her temple and crown. She hummed in contentment. He kept smiling at her.
Once her hair was perfect, Michael turned Nikita to face him. He placed his hands tenderly on her waist, his thumbs caressing her abdomen. She held his forearms, and traced her fingers along his skin from wrist to elbow. Eventually, he brushed his nose against hers and asked about the next part of their morning. He wasn't done showering her in love, "You hungry? What do you want for breakfast?"
"Cereal," Nikita shrugged. She didn't think she was that hungry. If she had to eat, a small bowl of cereal was good enough.
"So, fruit and juice and super chocolaty waffles," Michael amended, flashing his charming half-smile. It was a grin that sparkled his green eyes and trapped Nikita under his spell. He only reserved the look for her, which made her fall for it even more. He even stared at her as though she was special. How could the universe give her that gift after everything she had done.
Squeezing her sides reassuringly, Michael moved to heft Nikita in his arms. It wasn't an easy move, yet he soon managed to bridal carry her out of their bedroom. She wiggled and protested throughout the process. She had grown okay with the pampering. But he didn't need to carry her. She wasn't an invalid. She was perfectly capable of walking, and he had done enough for her already, "Hey. I can walk."
"Second lesson of loving yourself is knowing you should be treated like a princess," Holding her closer to his chest, Michael refused to let her go. He carried her back to the kitchen and set her atop the counter. Before she could hop to the ground, he held her in place and kissed her. She melted helplessly into the affection.
"You win this time," Shaking her head, Nikita couldn't help but smile. Michael kissed her again. In fact, everytime he made her smile, grin, laugh, giggle, chuckle, whatever while he told her jokes and made breakfast, he kissed her. It didn't matter that he was moving around the kitchen like a goofy maniac. He kissed her as often and as lovingly as he could. And he kissed her everywhere- lips, cheeks, forehead, crown, neck, shoulder, you name it. He kissed her and made her joy last forever.
When he nearly cut himself while slicing fruits in his effort to kiss her, Nikita realized what he was doing. Amanda had taught recruits and agents about anchoring feelings. They could win over a mark by anchoring one of their happy emotions to an elated feeling- like sipping alcohol or a teasing touch. It was a way to seduce a mark to do whatever they wanted. Although that wasn't Michael's intention, he was anchoring her feeling of joy to the love of his kisses. He wanted her to know that love could be joy, not heartache. She couldn't handle that fact. Tears bit in her eyes, and she shook her head. He had to stop, "Don't do that."
"Don't do what?" Michael wondered, tenderly caressing her cheek. Nikita pulled away. Her brown eyes wouldn't look at him again. She shut down once more.
"You don't have to… I'm not…" Nikita couldn't bring herself to fight Michael. She knew all the things he'd say to negate her. She couldn't win that argument, even though she wanted to. He always worked so hard for her to see herself as perfect. But she wasn't. She'd only drag him down to her level. Wasn't what happened with Brandt proof enough of that.
"You are beyond worth it. I'm just helping you see yourself how I see you," Cradling her cheeks in his hands, Michael made Nikita look at him. He caressed her skin, massaged her scalp, everything so that she'd look in his eyes and know how serious he was. He knew she had flaws. He knew she struggled. But that didn't make her any less perfect to him. That didn't make her any less strong. It was the fact that she always continued despite that that had him captivated, "I love you, Nikita. And I know you love me. I just want you to love yourself too."
Although she barely spoke, he understood her perfectly, "What if I can't?"
"I will never stop trying to teach you. Nothing you do will ever make me stop loving you. You're worth unconditional love, Nik," His confession brought tears to her eyes. Michael gently wiped them away, and Nikita surged into his arms. He held her tightly, swaying back and forth. He never let go, even when she stopped crying. Nothing could separate him from her.
Except, the burning waffles he left on the stove, "Shit."
Laughing brightly, Nikita hopped off the counter to help Michael. They worked together to finish breakfast, but he was the one to set the table. He pulled her chair out for her and ensured she ate all she could. She did the same for him. She wouldn't take his love without returning it. Once they finished and he cleaned their dishes, she moved to the livingroom to start a movie for them. Birkhoff, Alex, and Sean would be awake soon and would probably join them, so Nikita placed extra blankets and pillows. The whole team should be together. They deserved to be. And, as Michael would tell her, she deserved to be with all the love she had built around herself.
