A 1x08 "Phoenix" AU. What if Alex had managed to place the antitoxin in Michael's pocket.
Sprinting out of Medical, Alex searched everywhere for Michael. She had the antidote Nikita needed. All she had to do then was locate the man they both knew would be on the mission trying to hunt the rogue down. It took longer than Alex liked to finally find Michael. He was already with the Alpha team, loading up on the elevator that led to the outside world. She had to stop him. She needed him to pause just long enough for her to slip the antidote into his pocket. The young woman had no idea how she was actually going to do that; though, she had to try. If she didn't try, Nikita was dead, "Hey, Michael. Can I talk to you for a second?"
"I don't really have the time…" Michael attempted to brush Alex aside. But before he could even finish his sentence, she turned him to face her. Her hands were slightly all over him as she dumped the life saving pill in his pocket. Immediately, Michael grabbed her arms as he jerked away from her. He studied the young recruit in alarm as though there were something wrong with her. Panic spiked through Alex. He was going to discover what she had done, and both she and Nikita would be dead. However, once he saw the new cast on her wrist, he relaxed. He probably thought she was acting weird because of her injury. She could play with that.
"I know what you did, to try and help Robbie and Sara. Even though Nikita got in the way. I know you tried to fight for them. And I just wanted to say thank you for always looking out for us recruits," Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and holding her wrist to her chest, Alex ducked her head as if she was shy and hurt. Michael sighed. Yet he didn't say anything to contradict her gratitude. He simply squeezed her shoulder and joined the Alpha team on the elevator. Alex expelled an anxious breath. She waited until the elevator was well on its way out of Division, then she made a hurried beeline for the computer lab.
"The antidote is in Michael's left jacket pocket," Alex messaged Nikita as quickly as she could. She didn't think she had ever typed that fast in her life. Yet she didn't know how long she actually had to spend in the computer lab. She also didn't know how much time Nikita had left. Did she even have a moment to check her computer before rushing off to stop Gogol, Division, and a corrupt senator. Had it been too long since her request for an antidote that she was dead. God, Alex hoped that wasn't true. She really needed her partner to fight that war.
Nikita wasn't feeling sick yet. She had a slight headache, her stomach was twisted up in knots, and her muscles were jittery. Yet that simply could've been her overwrought nerves. When she received Alex's message about the antitoxin, some of those symptoms lessened. Once Division crashed the scene, she wouldn't have to rely on Gogol anymore. She could save herself and screw over a whole bunch of men.
Her plan to defeat both Gogol and Division, and to reveal how corrupt Senator Kerrigan was, wasn't the most thought out. Nikita was mostly running on gut instinct and whatever she could improvise. Maybe for something as complicated as the screwed up situation she found herself in, she should've actually planned. However, in her defense, she was blindsided by Gogol's involvement, and she had been poisoned. There was a lot on her plate. Thinking things through just had to be sidelined.
Acting purely on instinct wasn't so bad, after all. As soon as Division arrived, Nikita was able to take out her Gogol 'handler'. She stealthily crept around the grounds of the estate and removed some Division agents from the equation. Taking one of their walkie-talkies, she located other members of the Alpha team in the kitchen. Adrenaline helped her break into the house and surprise the Division agents. The rogue silenced them before they could raise an alarm, and knocked them unconscious before they could do the same to her. Or before her adrenaline died out and her poisoned body turned against her.
"You're not Michael, and neither are you," Nikita picked her way through the unconscious agents, desperately trying to find Michael. Her headache was steadily becoming a migraine, and her stomach burned with nausea. She wasn't going to last much longer without the antidote. However, none of the agents in the kitchen was the man she needed. At least she spotted the freshly promoted agent Alex kept talking about. The young woman did a decent job of describing him. Nikita couldn't help but chuckle, "Huh. Thom. I can see how Alex likes you."
Shaking her head, Nikita had to force herself to refocus. It was not the time to get distracted. She seriously had to find Michael. No doubt, he was with Senator Kerrigan and the remaining members of the Alpha team. Maybe if she poked around on her stolen walkie-talkie she could find them. Or, she could just listen intently. Soon, she heard her former handler's distinctive smoky grunt, and the panicked sounds of a frightened senator. They weren't far from her. She just had to sprint some more, "Michael."
Senator Kerrigan was forcibly ushered into another room at the sight of Nikita. Under normal circumstances, she would've chased after and given the Alpha team hell. Yet that was definitely not a normal circumstance. She needed Michael. Fortunately, he was prepared to intercept her. When she approached, aiming to render him unconscious so she could steal the antitoxin, he fought back. His gun was raised, "You gotta stop this Nikita."
"Stop what? Ending corruption?" Nikita seriously didn't have time for that. She slapped the weapon out of Michael's hand, and kicked him as hard as she could in the abdomen. The longer her operation went on, the more the toxin was affecting her. She didn't strike Michael nearly as hard as she had intended. Their fight was about to turn into an all out brawl. God, she really should've thought that part of her mission through. She should've known asking Alex to put the antidote in Michael's pocket would lead to that. When weren't the two fighting.
"With Gogol?" Recovering quickly, Michael swung his fist at Nikita. It wasn't worth trying to grab another weapon. They always managed to wrestle it out of the other's grip. It was better if the two just tried to hurt one another the old fashioned way. Their strikes and blocks were normally evenly matched. However, as Nikita and Michael kept moving around the room, trading hit after hit, she began to falter. She couldn't hold her own much longer.
"Yes. Because I left Division for Gogol. Such a great trade in. Same criminal organization, but at least I can practice my Russian," Her sarcasm probably would've been more biting if Nikita wasn't struggling to control her breathing. It took all of her might to keep fighting Michael. Her strength was seeping out of her with each move. And her stomach hurt so fucking bad. She had to get Michael distracted just so she could survive the encounter. The best she could come up with was a Russian taunt, "Кто маленькая сучка, ты."
Annoyed, Michael made another grab at her. Nikita dodged the attempt easily. But then blood began to trickle out of her nose. She hadn't been struck in the face. So how could she have been bleeding. Oh, right. She really had to get the antitoxin out of Michael's pocket. Yet she hadn't figured out how she was going to do that without him noticing. He had always been able to notice everything about her. He spotted the blood coming out of her nose, and had the same confused and worried reaction. Nikita tried to use his shock to her advantage, but her fist was sluggish and wide. He counteracted, and slammed her against the wall, "Блядь."
"Are you actually sweating?" Michael wasn't sure why he decided to focus on that. He had her pinned to a wall. He could easily knock Nikita unconscious and deliver her to Division. However, he became distracted by the beads of sweat dotting her forehead. He didn't think he had ever seen her sweat so obviously before, besides in her early recruit days (but she was also fighting off a drug addiction then). Sparring exercises never seemed to wear her out so easily. Sure she'd pant, but she didn't sweat. It was almost like her body refused to show how tired she actually was. Something had to have been wrong if a short fight had her already fading.
"Guess fighting you really is that hot," Oh. Okay. Nikita was definitely dying. She would've never actually said that if her insides weren't literally melting. Michael stared at her, stunned. He was just as surprised as she was that she had said that. He pulled away from her, studying her in concern and bewilderment. Realizing that was her best chance to escape and finally take the antidote, Nikita hurriedly struck Michael in the jaw and shoved past him.
The maneuver allowed her to grab the antitoxin without him noticing- hopefully. With everything else going on, she really didn't need Michael wondering why there was a pill from Medical in his pocket. Nikita just had to take the antidote and continue her mission. The first part of that was easy. But after dry swallowing the pill, she needed a second to adjust. She rested against the wall of a secluded hallway, attempting to catch her breath. It was going to take some time before the antitoxin went into effect. Any way she could hurry that along, the better.
Unfortunately, Michael quickly caught up to her in the hallway. He managed to see her shove something in her mouth before furiously wiping away the blood from her nose. A part of him knew that was the perfect opportunity to capture her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Nikita looked like she was going to collapse right then and there. Obviously, something was very, very wrong with her. Slowly, Michael approached her. To do what exactly, he had no idea. Maybe help her. Yet once he got close, Nikita sluggishly pushed at him and tried to scramble away. Her head was swimming too much for her to go far, though.
"Stop. Stop," Grabbing Nikita's wrists tightly, Michael tried to force her to stop struggling. He wasn't going to take her in. Not anymore. Not when she already looked about to die. Yet she didn't know his change in intentions. Even with her depleted strength and poorly contained coughing fit, she tried to fight him. It wasn't until he gently cradled her cheek that she ceased all movements. She glanced up at him with wide bloodshot brown eyes. His thumb absentmindedly caressed her entirely-too-hot bronze skin, "What'd you just take?"
"Nothing," Although Nikita was well aware that she had to move away from Michael, she couldn't. He didn't have a fierce hold on her or anything like that. She just couldn't step away from him. His hand on her cheek was so soft. And the hand he placed on her abdomen soothed her in ways she didn't think was possible. Her breath came easier, and her muscles relaxed. Everything that had felt so wrong before began to melt away.
"You're not…" Michael stopped himself from going there. For half a second, he thought Nikita had relapsed. But he knew that wasn't possible. Not only did he believe she was stronger than that, she also didn't show any signs that she had taken a narcotic. Her pupils weren't dilated, nor was her attention scattered. Her breathing became even- not slow, just even- as did her heartbeat. Whatever he had seen her take seemed to be helping her. She was becoming stronger by the minute. It wouldn't be long until she'd be able to kick his ass.
"Look. As much fun as this is, I gotta go," After forcing herself to remember that it was the antitoxin that made her feel better, not Michael, Nikita shoved him off her. He actually stepped back. She wanted to spend a moment studying why he was doing all of that. Except, she didn't have the time. Division and Gogol agents were still trying to kill her. And she had to complete her mission. She wasn't done screwing men over yet.
Michael should've followed her. He shouldn't have just stood in the hallway, watching Nikita remove her mission clothes to reveal a cocktail dress underneath. He had to stop whatever she was up to. It was no doubt going to burn him and Division. Except, he was rooted to his spot, thinking over his weird encounters with Nikita that night. All of that seemed to disappear since she had taken the pill. She wasn't one hundred percent herself again, but there wasn't something wrong with her anymore. It was as though she was cured. That thought caused Michael to freeze. Did the pill she take actually save her life. How messed up was she, "Were you poisoned?"
"Told you I wasn't working for Gogol," Tossing her clothes at Michael, Nikita ran away one more time. It took him longer than it should've to chase after. He had simply been too shocked to move. She had almost died in front of him. He had almost watched her die. But then the two were back to their game of cat and mouse. They couldn't comfort or soothe one another over the fact. They were on opposing sides of a war. They didn't get to care about each other.
In the five minutes it took for Michael to catch up to Nikita, she had caused plenty of damage. She stole a gun from a downed agent, kidnapped Kerrigan, got what she needed from him, and used him as a shield while she escaped. There was nothing Michael could do but keep watching her slip away. Focusing on the fact that she could walk away from him helped settle the rest of his shock- somehow. She was still fighting. And she was still winning, "Stand down."
"Stand down?" Bewildered, the remaining conscious Division agents stared at Michael; they couldn't just let their rogue get away. The handler wouldn't reverse his decision, however. He simply stared at Nikita. Her non-bloodshot brown eyes connected with his green. He couldn't believe she had been poisoned. He couldn't believe that despite that she still managed to complete her operation and screw over both Gogol and Division. She had him in awe. It shouldn't have been like that, but Michael couldn't deny the truth. Nikita was remarkable. No wonder, despite his better judgment, he tried to help her.
"There are guards everywhere and she has a U.S senator hostage. Stand down," Sternly, Michael repeated the order. The Division agents lowered their weapons. Nikita appeared to thank him for that. Although it was dark and she was far away, Michael could've sworn she mouthed 'thank you'. Yet that thought didn't last long. Nikita soon shoved Kerrigan away from her and sped off into the night. She had survived to be a pain in Division's (and Gogol's) ass another day. Nothing could keep her down, especially when she received help from unexpected places.
