Set after 3x10 "Brave New World". Michael and Nikita finally talk.
It was almost as though they were hurting each other on purpose. The need to feel turned bitter and harsh after the months they had spent apart. Absence didn't make the heart grow fonder. It simply wounded it with too much pain and suffering. Weren't they supposed to be stronger than that. The two had survived so much already. Everyone looked to them as the pinnacle of juggling both war and love. But they were struggling. In fact, they might just die out.
Fear gripped Nikita over that thought. She wanted to tell herself that it was ridiculous. She had never really been insecure about her relationship with Michael- confused and desperate, yes, but never worried about them falling apart. Except, they hadn't touched each other in months. She had initiated a sparring match between them where she touched him and kissed him, but he didn't return the affection. She was starting to feel like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. There wasn't anything solid for her to hold onto, not a feeling, not a look. She was afraid that one day she'd blink and everything would disappear. Even the conversation about her giving him hope was fleeting. She just wanted him back with her.
"Are you coming home?" Her voice sounded more like a pleading beg than she wanted it to. Yet her emotions were getting harder to control. Learning that there were people out there testing on kids made Nikita sick. She should've listened to Birkhoff. She should've never gone to Kosovo and gotten herself involved in that hell. Michael somehow found the positive in that, however. They had done the right thing in taking out monsters, and they had a lead on a better prosthetic for his hand. The latter ended up stealing all of his attention. The briefing with Ryan about how they had dug themselves into a deeper hole with Division couldn't even deter him for long. He was back in the nerd cave he had occupied to go over his intel.
Hours later, when everyone else had left, she had to find him and break him loose. But he wouldn't escape, "Yeah, when I'm done."
"Done with what? This, or pushing me away?" Nikita wasn't certain why she had snapped like that. Alright, she was somewhat sure. She had sustained a nasty head injury, and the resulting minor concussion gave her a headache. She was exhausted from traveling all over the world and battling with monsters. And she just wanted Michael to come home with her. They hadn't shared the same bed for as long as they hadn't touched. It drove her insane how distant he made himself. All she wanted was to hold him in her arms again, and for him to hold her back.
Was that too much to ask for. She missed him more than she thought was possible, even though he was right there in front of her. Something broke between them, and she didn't know how to fix it without breaking herself further.
"I told you I needed time for myself," Michael was far more calm than Nikita. But he was always better at controlling his emotions than she was. Well, better at hiding them anyway. He tore his eyes away from the information he was pouring through to look her over. She kept her distance from him, arms crossed and eyes ablaze with fury. Another emotion was buried in her gaze as well, yet for once he couldn't make it out.
For some reason, that pissed him off. There had only been a few times when he couldn't read her mind and vice versa. However a rift was growing between them that might make reaching out increasingly impossible. Although he was a large part of the problem, it irritated him that there was no immediate fix, "If you want to talk about pushing people away, then let's talk about you going into hostile territory alone."
"When are you going to realize I can take care of myself? I don't need you to protect me. I was fine. I saved myself, like I always do," She didn't step closer to him. She always stalked closer to him when they argued, but she continued to keep herself away from him. If Michael was going to hurt her by remaining distant, then Nikita could return the favor. If he wanted to put up walls after the hell they went through, then why couldn't she. She had survived on her own for years before him. For the majority of her life, she had been fighting alone. She didn't need a knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet and rescue her from the beast. She was perfectly fine by herself. He could go ahead and leave.
"But you're not fine, Nikita. You never are. Just trust someone with your heart for once," Indicating the giant bruise and gash covering her eye, Michael instantly called bullshit. Nikita could've died on her mission. She didn't think things through or bring support, and she almost paid the price. As he listened to all hell break loose over her com, he nearly died himself. How many times did they have to have the argument about her sacrificing herself. She claimed her heart couldn't take it if she lost her family, but didn't she know they were consumed by the same sentiment. He didn't think he'd be able to breathe without her. He barely could while he was stuck in Ops and she was out in danger.
That was completely unfair for him to say at the moment, however. He called her out for not opening her heart when he wouldn't let her heal with him. He couldn't survive without her, yet he shoved her away. Nikita had enough of Michael's contradictions. They were both hurt and struggling. He hadn't adjusted to the loss of his hand, and she couldn't stop hearing his terrible screams. The two needed to talk; they needed to return to the closeness they once had.
Unfortunately, harsh words had been shouted between them, and it was going to continue, "Oh, you wanna go down that fucking path, Michael? Take a look at your stubborn ass first. You would rather gut yourself than let anyone see you suffer. Well, I'm not going anywhere you fucking bastard. So let me in."
Michael intended to fire back with a scathing response, but he finally recognized that other emotion in Nikita's shimmering brown eyes. It was fear. She was afraid of what was happening to them. The path they were going down had the potential to burn them both. Their relationship might not survive wherever they were headed. That was worse than losing one another to a knife or a bullet. Losing their heart, watching the other live a life without them, had the power to kill the engaged couple in more ways than one. Michael had really fucked up if Nikita thought their relationship was over. They had fought and had been separated before, but that fear hadn't been among all the other anxieties. Their very foundation had cracked.
He attempted to close the gap between them, however, she stepped back. She wasn't one to run from him. But she was going to stand her ground apart- away- just like he had. Michael shouldn't have gotten as furious as he did. The anger wasn't directed at Nikita. He was enraged at his own damn self for causing all that pain between them. If only they just talked to one another. If only they weren't too stubborn or stupid or afraid to communicate. They wouldn't have been where they were. Hell, a lot of the shit they had experienced wouldn't have happened if they actually talked. It was a lesson they should've learned a thousand times over.
Yet it wasn't going to occur then, not when he grabbed a hold of her so fiercely.
She didn't like that- she didn't like that at all. Too many times had she been forcibly grabbed. She never thought it would've ever come from Michael as well. Nikita shoved away from him, hard. Her expression was a mixture of so much anger and fear, that it could've been hatred she was directing at him. It only made him hate himself more. He reached for her again, and she swatted at his hand.
Quickly, their actions dissolved into some sort of sparring match. It was none of the playful or flirtatious moves they usually employed while squaring off against one another. They were intending to hurt, like they had almost a lifetime ago when they were on opposing sides of a war. Their hearts were too broken to attempt anything else.
Eventually, she was shoved onto the couch Birkhoff kept in his office. She immediately pulled him down on top of her, his suit jacket almost tearing under her grip. His prosthetic gripping the couch cushion near her head, Michael hovered over Nikita. Their noses were nearly brushing, and their breaths mingled on harsh pants. Green and brown eyes connected with a warring, contentious glare. The two silently dared the other to make the next move. Were they going to continue hurting one another, or were they going to talk.
Apparently it was neither, as their bodies betrayed their minds. It was possibly a Pavlovian response after falling into that position so many times. Regardless, their hips shifted and their lips crashed against one another.
Their hands and lips were wild as they immediately fell to temptation. Both were too angry for any kind of gentleness or even tenderness to be expressed. Teeth were bared with kisses, biting at lips. And nails clawed at the skin made free by tearing at clothes. They only managed to remove jackets, shoes, and belts. Michael's shirt was hurriedly untucked from his pants, while the hem of Nikita's dress was yanked upwards. Hips were bruising while they tried to thrust and grind together with enough force to prematurely send them over the edge. Neither cared about how harsh or cruel they were being. By that point, they'd do anything to make the other feel. That time he had forced them apart made their reunion bitter.
Maybe if they had let that go with words instead of action, the two wouldn't have attempted to forcibly leave their mark on each other. Kisses and holds stung with their harshness. Michael and Nikita should've known better than to devour one another on Birkhoff's couch. They should've stopped. Sex wouldn't fix anything. They were simply going to shatter more than they could handle.
But that just might be how they put themselves back together again. Something falling apart at the seams was the only way to know it had to be stitched. Michael and Nikita were barely holding on to anything around them. Focusing solely on their moans and thrusting hips at least made sense. It was rushed, and clothes were only shoved aside enough to give themselves access, yet they just had to succumb to the urgency of their bodies. No one could escape.
The two weren't finished hurting one another. Nikita bit Michael's lip as she kissed him, trying not to scream as she moaned. Movements rapidly grew faster and harder. Hair was pulled and bodies were clutched to keep themselves steady. It wasn't enough to keep them from violently reaching their peak however. They crashed down hard.
It took some time for their minds to clear afterwards. Once they did, and the two were left realizing what had just happened, they didn't dare move. Everything seemed too fragile to simply walk away. Nikita and Michael had to talk- acknowledge where they were. But most of the words were trapped in their throats. They just stared at one another in the eyes, wondering where they went from there.
"I'm going to shower," Nikita muttered when she and Michael entered their apartment. They had eventually decided to clean up and go home after their argument in Birkhoff's nerd cave (they especially cleaned the couch). They didn't say much as they did so. The most either of them said was when he had to grab his things from the room he had been occupying. They moved in silence, continuing to contemplate what should be their next move. Apparently, she had settled on just showering. He knew they needed to do more than that.
However, Michael would give Nikita space to collect her thoughts. While she washed off the day, he put away the things he brought from Division. She still wasn't done showering by the time he finished, so he made them dinner as well. There wasn't a lot of food in the apartment. Actually, there was hardly anything to eat. The best Michael could make was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Hoping that Nikita would soon join him in the kitchen, he ate his sandwich. She never came out of the bedroom. Several more minutes passed, and he was still alone.
Instead of immediately going to her side, Michael thought it was best to continue giving Nikita space. He put her sandwich in the fridge, changed into sweats, and freshened up in the half bath. That should've been enough time to finish showering, change into pajamas, and join him. Yet she continued to be absent. He couldn't ignore that anymore.
When Michael returned to their bedroom, Nikita was still in the running shower. He sighed and tried to open the bathroom door. She had locked it. Either she was trying to lock him out, or she was so deep in thought she couldn't refocus. Michael really hoped for the latter. He could still talk to her if it was the latter. He just had to be the one to initiate conversation, "What's on your mind? Heidecker and his group? The kids? Or us?"
The water finally stopped running, but Nikita still didn't respond to him. Michael knew she had heard him. He had knocked on the door and spoke loud enough that their neighbors probably heard him. She simply didn't want to talk yet. He was sure that he could make her eventually. He just had to stay by her side. And he had to fight. He should've always been fighting, "All three, huh? I told you, once we get what we want from that group, we're burning them to the ground. We've done stuff like this before."
"Look how well that worked out for us," Nikita huffed behind the door. Michael wasn't sure if she had intended for him to hear her or not.
"The kids are safe. They're in a good place," Regardless of her comment, he continued to talk to her. Michael and Nikita had ensured the kids on that plane were brought somewhere safe. They wouldn't be abused or taken advantage of again. They could have a chance at a good life.
"For now," Nikita mumbled again. The kids on the plane were just like her, and they were just like Alex. Someone else was bound to abuse them. They had been cast aside, left alone, and deemed unworthy of life. They were always going to be hurt. That was just how life went.
"We need to talk," Gently, Michael stopped Nikita's train of thought. The two could deal with the group Heidecker worked for and figure out a better solution for the kids later. Preferably, they could work on those things with their team and by using Division's resources. While they were home, they should focus on themselves. Their relationship had been severely frayed because they had ignored the problem for too long. What they had done in Division earlier that night was barely the first step in fixing what they had broken- what he had broken. Nothing else was going to exist that night. It was just Michael and Nikita.
Soon, the bathroom door unlocked. It wasn't opened, though. Michael had to be the one to cross the threshold. He did so instantly. Nikita's back was to him while she towel dried her hair. However, he still noticed that she was wearing one of his t-shirts. He couldn't help but smile to himself. The fact that she found comfort in the clothing gave him comfort as well.
Except, when she finally turned to face him, his small grin dropped. Without makeup on, Michael was reminded of how terrible Nikita's wound was. Her cheek and the area surrounding her eyes was angrily red and swollen. Although no bones had been broken, she had sustained a mild concussion. It was certainly scary to look at. Michael forgot what he had wanted to say to Nikita. All that came out of his mouth was concern for her eye, "I don't think you should've put makeup on. Your eye looks worse."
"It doesn't hurt as much…" Nikita began. Yet the second Michael caressed her cheek, she winced sharply and tried to pull away. Although the injury was only surface deep, the cuts and bruises were severe enough that she was going to have a nasty black eye for the next several days. Fortunately, she knew how to cover that up so no one stared. Unfortunately, the cuts didn't appreciate her foundation and concealer. The wound stung and continuously throbbed.
"Let me help," Reaching for the first aid kit, Michael blocked the door so Nikita couldn't refuse his care. She sighed and collapsed against the sink; she was too tired to fight anyway. Tenderly, Michael cleaned dirt and residual makeup from the cuts. Nikita winced at each sting of the alcohol swab, yet she didn't push him away. It wasn't the worst thing to hurt her recently.
Michael's left hand did all the work. He continued to be clumsy with his non-dominant hand, yet he had improved substantially. Meanwhile, his prosthetic laid limp at his side, almost like he was afraid he might hurt her with it. Nikita couldn't help but stare at it. He didn't wear a glove at home. The prosthetic was uncovered. She could examine it completely as her thoughts ran wild until they all landed on the same idea, "Did you only come back home because I gave you hope for something better?"
"I'm home because that's where you are," Michael tried to gain Nikita's attention with a smile. However, she only looked at him when he moved to put away the first aid kit.
"So you love me again?" Her voice sounded more like a pleading beg than she wanted it to. Yet her emotions were getting harder to control. Tears burned in her eyes (even more so in her injured one). Nikita tried to keep them at bay, but it was nearly impossible. After holding back a sob so many times, she couldn't do it anymore. She was ready to just break apart.
"'Again'?" Michael snapped his attention back towards Nikita. Upon seeing the tears in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms and gently cradled her cheek. She tried to avoid eye contact, but he stared at her intently. She couldn't misunderstand him or think anything else. He loved her- always had and always would, "Nikita, I've always loved you."
Breaking out of his hold, Nikita ran from the bathroom. Her used towel and dirty clothes were abandoned on the floor, and her engagement ring was forgotten on the sink counter. Michael pocketed the jewelry as he chased after her. He wasn't going to let her go. He had pushed her away far enough; it was time he brought her back into his warm embrace, "I don't know who taught you otherwise, but love isn't conditional."
"You could've fooled me!" Barely containing her scream, Nikita rounded on Michael with the same fear and anger she had in Birkhoff's office. Her brown eyes were drowning in it. The look made him freeze. She really believed that he had stopped loving her- that he had moved on from her. What kind of a man was he that he caused the love of his life to ever think that.
"Fuck! I'm a jackass," Michael wanted to kick his own ass. Angry, bitter tears blurred his green eyes. How could he have ever made Nikita cry. How could he have made her believe she was unloved. What the fuck was wrong with him. Sure, he had been upset, and in pain, and struggling with so much. Yet that wasn't an excuse. He should've never made her feel like that. He had no reason to break her heart.
Seeing the tears in Michael's eyes instantly made Nikita's anger vanish. He wasn't solely to blame for what she thought or believed. She should've known better. It was ridiculous to think that Michael would ever stop loving her. That was her own insecurities talking. It had nothing to do with him, "No. You were hurting. You had a lot to deal with. I should've…"
"No, Nikita, there's no excuse for what I did to you. Yes, you're right, I was hurting. But I should've never… I am so sorry," Slowly closing the gap between them, Michael shook his head. His pain was no excuse for his actions. Nothing could absolve him for how he treated the woman he loved. He was so truly sorry. Saying it once wasn't enough, especially since it took him too long to even realize what he had done to Nikita's heart. He had to keep apologizing. He had to make up for all the heartache and tears.
Nikita looked like she was about to argue with him. Even after everything, she still wouldn't let him carry all the burden. Yet Michael needed to. He had at least learned that on the ten hour flight to Kosovo, "You were gone for fourteen hours. You were in danger for fourteen hours, and I didn't even realize you were missing. Ryan had to tell me that you took off for a few days. I never noticed. Something could've happened to you in those fourteen hours, and I would've never known. I could've lost you without ever knowing you were gone."
"Well, I did leave when everyone went home for the night. So really, you didn't realize I was gone for about five hours. If that," Nikita shrugged. She had strategically left for Kosovo in a way that no one would notice she was missing. Michael shouldn't beat himself up for that. Going on a dangerous mission alone was her fault. She carried the blame for all the destruction and anxiety that had occurred.
"Don't. Don't make excuses for my shitty behavior. If I had been home with you, I would've known. I should've been home with you. Then you would've never questioned why I went to Kosovo to rescue my fiancée," Nikita's question when Michael had found her in Kosovo burned in his ears. She had been so confused that he had flown across the world to save her. She had studied him, and wondered what he was doing there. It should've been obvious. He loved her. He couldn't lose her. Of course he'd go on the mission to rescue her. But the way he had been acting recently, of course she'd question him. He had made her think otherwise.
"That could've been the concussion and twelve hours kept in a tiger cage talking," Shrugging, Nikita tried to take some blame off Michael. She hadn't even known that Division had heard her over coms after she had been captured. Alex had to tell her on the long journey home. She hadn't known anyone knew to rescue her, let alone Michael. However, he wouldn't accept the excuse. He shook his head again, and she shrugged again, "Sorry."
"I need to apologize, not you," Michael replied softly yet sternly. Her mission was reckless and dangerous, yet Nikita would've never gone after Heidecker had he not pushed her away for so long. She didn't need to apologize for what she had done. It was all Michael's fault.
"I did some shitty things too. I mean, I'm the reason Division is more fucked than usual," Nikita hung her head. The things her team had to do in order to rescue her jeopardized their future with Division. Their goal to just cleanup the hellhole had drastically changed. They were never going to escape that place and have a happily ever after.
"You normally are," Michael attempted to make a joke about Nikita's rogue activities. It was a terrible time to do so. She threw him a confused glance, and her mouth dropped open with an argument. He shook her head to cut her off. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the couch. They sat together, closely yet stiffly. Neither could relax in each other's presence just yet. But continuing to talk would get them there, "Look. You cut off my hand. Yes, it was to save my life. And I am so grateful that I have more time to spend with the woman I love. But it is still a difficult fact to get used to. It's all very difficult."
Michael tightened his grip on Nikita's hand to keep her from running away. Although the conversation was hard, he hadn't finished saying what he needed to. She needed to hear the rest, "However, I never should've pushed you away. I thought I could protect you from my pain and anger by healing on my own. But when I couldn't pull the trigger on that first mission, I was so scared. I'm not the same agent. Things have changed. And I was terrified that fact was going to hurt you too. I never intended to hurt you. I wanted you safe. But I know now just how much of an idiot I was for that. I shouldn't have pushed you away. I should've held you closer."
The tears returned to Nikita's brown eyes and immediately broke through her defenses. As she cried, Michael began to as well. He caressed her cheek with his hand and tried to rest his prosthetic comfortingly on her thigh, "Remember when I told you that I loved all of you? Not just a part, but all of you? Nikita, that's still true. The worst thing I've ever done is make you think I'd ever stop loving you. I love you more each and every day. Even when I'm an asshole and don't deserve it, you still fight for me- you always love me. You're so strong. I love you so much it scares me. You're the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, now and always."
Clinging to Michael, Nikita tried to control her sob. He pressed his forehead into hers, and that seemed to help. She managed to breathe before asking, "So you still want to marry me?"
"Yes," Chuckling through his tears, Michael removed Nikita's engagement ring from his pocket. A surprised smile broke through her sob. He gently grabbed her left hand and shakily slipped on her ring. She grabbed his hand tightly. Beaming, he tried to move even closer to her, "The second we have real identities again, regardless if I have my hand or not, I am going to marry you. It is going to be real, and official, and forever. I will never move on from you."
Instantly, Nikita crashed her lips against Michael's. She buried her fingers in his hair, anchoring him to her. He wasn't going anywhere, though. He kissed her back. As he held her in his arms, the kiss slowed from frantic desperation to adoring passion. There was no fear of anyone leaving forever. The engaged couple was there to stay. If their kiss wasn't enough to express that, then their tight embrace afterwards certainly was. Nikita and Michael hugged one another with all their might, burying heads into shoulders and breathing each other in.
The only thing that broke the engaged couple from their embrace was the loud growl of Nikita's stomach. Michael pulled away slightly, unable to contain his chuckle. She blushed and shrugged. Continuing to laugh, he got to his feet and pulled her along with him. They could move their conversation to the kitchen without problem. In fact, it might be easier to keep talking if she had food in her system, "I managed to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
"Yeah. I haven't really prioritized grocery shopping," Letting Michael lead her to the kitchen, Nikita admitted quietly. She was surprised there was even enough food to feed the both of them. Since the accident, she hadn't gone shopping for anything. She only really left the bunker to sleep. Nothing besides Division, her team, and Michael seemed important.
"Why don't we take the next few days off? We can run some much needed errands, and we can keep talking," Opening the fridge and handing Nikita her sandwich, Michael suggested. They were much better than they had been, but things weren't perfect yet. The two needed to continue talking. They also needed to spend time together and take care of one another.
Taking a bite of her sandwich, Nikita temporarily forgot what they were talking about. She took a few more bites of her delicious food, relishing in the amazingness that was the first thing she had eaten in a long time. Michael chuckled at her and handed her a glass of water. She washed down the sticky bread and smiled. Yet only for a second. Her mind quickly came back to her. She and Michael couldn't take time off, not then. There was too much going on, "I don't know if we should right now. We created a mess in Division and…"
"And there's plenty of other agents. Our relationship is more important," Michael interrupted. Their team could hold down the fort while they prioritized themselves. The others would understand. After all, Michael and Nikita deserved time alone together.
"I'm sure Ryan's pissed at us anyway. He'd be glad to get rid of us for a few days," Grinning brightly, Nikita relented. She took another huge bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich as if to finalize the decision. Michael laughed.
"I love you," Despite the fact that she was eating, Michael kissed Nikita's cheek; he just had to express how he felt for her one more time. Except, after he did, she choked on laughter. He couldn't even begin to guess why. Maybe her exhaustion or her concussion had caught up to her. Or, she was finally in a good enough mood to tease him, "What?"
"I love you too. But peanut butter…" Nikita fought to speak past the peanut butter stuck in her mouth. Michael collapsed in his laughter. After chugging water, she laughed with him.
P.S. The beginning is an edited version of Only Place We've Ever Had Any Fun chapter 53. Check it out if you want to read a slightly more M rated version.
