An AU for 1x17 "Covenants". Nikita gets shot.
Nikita felt the sting of a bullet before she ever heard the sound of the shot. Pain erupted from her abdomen, dragging her to the ground. She was lucky that it did. She was able to duck and cover from the rest of the volley of bullets. Though, she wouldn't be able to hide out for long. She was severely outgunned, and the blood from her wound was already pouring out of her. It'd take a miracle to save her from that situation. She had finally reached her limit. Her luck had always been bound to run out eventually. She just never thought it'd be then.
Eventually, the gunshots changed. The heavy machine gun fire was replaced with a sniper. After several last shots, things fell silent. Nikita struggled to get back to her feet. She had managed to drag herself and Kasim into an isolated room, but the danger was still present. She had to fight. She needed to ensure only Kasim died that day. Though, she was seriously starting to doubt that fact. It was getting harder for her to focus. She could barely listen to the footsteps racing to meet her. If someone was aiming to kill her, they might be able to succeed.
Fortunately, the man who burst into the room didn't belong to the rescue team Kasim had called on the Division sat phone. He was the one who had killed everyone outside and had saved her. Nikita couldn't help but grin at the sight of him, "Michael."
"You've come a long way to be disappointed," Kasim smirked. Michael ignored Nikita and stormed towards the terrorist. Honestly, that was fine with her. She'd prefer if he didn't look at her. That way, she could rest her extremely heavy bodyweight against the wall and examine her wound without any concern. Blood had already soaked well through her coat. Lightly touching her abdomen only brought pain and more blood. She was definitely not okay.
"Get up," Dragging Kasim to his feet, Michael ordered. He shoved him against the wall and pressed the barrel of his gun against the pulse pounding in his throat. That was his moment. Michael could pull the trigger, and all of his pain would end. He was going to kill Kasim, and his family would finally be avenged.
"I'm not who you think I am," Except, before Michael pulled the trigger, Kasim tried to weasel his way out of death. That stupid smirk remained on his lips; Michael had to smack it off.
"Shut up," Pistol whipping Kasim in the mouth, Michael shouted. He set up for another deadly shot, but he was stopped once more. That time it was by Nikita, who was fighting so hard to expose the truth.
"It's true," Nikita panted. It took all of her strength to lean against the wall. All her body wanted to do was collapse back on the ground and wither away. But she couldn't do that. Not while Kasim was still a threat. And not when Michael needed to know the truth. She shakily pulled the broken satellite phone from her pocket and threw it to the ground. Michael just stared at it blankly. Nikita had to take a full breath of air just to respond, "He used it to call for help."
The satellite phone was password protected. Only those who knew the code could make or receive a call. Since the sat phone belonged to Division, only agents knew the code. They never revealed it to anyone. The line stayed secure. Division only. There was no way Kasim should've been able to make a call on the phone. There was no possible way. Michael couldn't believe any possibility. He simply pressed his pistol harshly into the terrorist's neck and demanded to know, "How do you know how to use that? How?"
"You know how," Kasim almost seemed to take pity on Michael. That would've enraged him if he didn't feel like his reality was crumbling at his feet.
"He's Division," Nikita continued to gasp. Michael finally looked back at her, but he didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. He was just confused about what she was telling him. There was no way Kasim was Division. If that were true, then Division had been the ones to kill his family. If that were true, then he had spent nine years fighting for a place that took his life away. He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't.
"No, he's not," Although Michael argued, his finger became loose on the trigger. He wanted to fight the claim. He wanted to kill Kasim and end it. But the back of his mind held him back. A part of him knew what Nikita was saying was true. How else could Kasim have unlocked the sat phone. And why else would Percy have tried to stop him that morning from completing his revenge mission.
"He works for Percy," Trying to push off the wall, Nikita reiterated. She wanted to move to Michael, be his comfort and support. Moving off the wall, however, made her knees buckle, the room spin, and the world go dark. She couldn't stand on her own. She had to crash back against the wall before she collapsed on the ground once more.
Neither Michael nor Kasim noticed her. They were too focused on one another. As the gun loosened against his neck, Kasim finally began to explain himself. Michael shouldn't remain in the dark any longer. He had been in enough pain, "Percy told me that we must sacrifice the lives of a few in order to save the lives of many. Even if those sacrifices have to come from the blood of our own countrymen."
Slowly, Michael stepped away from Kasim. He had always known he was the intended target of the bomb. But he had always had to guess why. Since he had an answer, he didn't want to believe it. Kasim continued talking, regardless. There was more to the story than just the initial shock, "After a time, I came to see that Percy was not a man of honor. So I cut my ties with Division. And I joined those who I was sent to betray."
The gun dropped to Michael's side. He stared at Kasim, the man he had hated for nine years, in disbelief. What he was saying couldn't have been true. There was no reason for the terrorist to tell the truth. Yet all the evidence was on his side. Michael had been tricked, his pain twisted and turned into a weapon. And Kasim knew the whole time. The bastard knew how much he had been played, "Percy walked into your hospital room nine years ago and has been using you ever since. He promised you vengeance against a ghost that he himself has created. You deserve to know the truth."
That was all Michael could take. He couldn't hear another word of the truth. He let his weapon fall to the floor and walked out of the room. He needed air. He needed to breathe if he was to process what he had learned. Honestly, though, he didn't want to process anything. He'd prefer to live in denial. That way, he wouldn't have to admit that he had let Percy manipulate him. He had worked for the man who had killed his family, he had protected him, and everyone knew but him. Michael was a Goddamn idiot. And he didn't think he could live with that fact.
Left alone in the room, Nikita and Kasim stared at one another. He remained handcuffed, and she didn't believe she could move from the wall. She was going to need a huge rush of adrenaline to be able to beat him. She had no doubt that he'd try to kill her. Just because secrets were revealed, didn't mean Kasim wasn't still trying to escape. She was his last barrier. He had to break her down, "I was following orders. Like you did so many times."
"You and I are not the same," Nikita hissed. She had fought orders that didn't seem right. She didn't join terrorists when she went rogue. She was and never would be like Kasim. No matter what she did, she wasn't that monstrous.
"Oh, yes. We are," Kasim matched her tone. Nikita wanted to continue fighting him, but the blood spilling out of her abdomen was a huge distraction. If the terrorist noticed her pain, he didn't let on. His eyes drifted to the gun Michael had dropped on the ground instead, "If you were me, you'd go for the gun."
"I would."
Michael heard the gunshot from outside the house. He didn't turn to look. He knew Nikita had managed to grab the gun before Kasim, and she shot him. It was over. Hayley and Elizabeth were avenged. Yet he didn't feel any sort of relief. He just felt gutted.
The world he had tried to rebuild for himself had been shattered. He had nothing left to believe in. The good he thought he was fighting for was all an illusion. He had been made a fool- a pawn. It was almost as if the past nine years weren't even real. He was a ghost of a man chasing other ghosts. He let a lie sweep him away, and that had only broken him further.
A strange thudding noise in the safehouse behind him broke Michael out of his morose thoughts. A part of him had thought that Nikita would join him outside; she'd try to say something to comfort him and rally him to her side of the war. However, she had never left the house. He turned back towards the door. It remained closed, yet he could hear commotion behind it. There was one more sharp thud. Then, Nikita howled in pain.
"Nikita?" Without hesitation, Michael sprinted back to the house. He burst through the door and found Nikita lying at the bottom of the stairs. She must've fallen down them. It wasn't like her to trip and fall like that. Either she was pushed, or something worse had occurred. Michael didn't see anyone at the top of the stairs. He kind of wished he had. Because when he looked back down, all he saw was Nikita, pale, shaking, and bleeding too much, "Shit, Nikita."
Instantly, Michael dropped to his knees and tried to stop the bleeding. The instant his hands landed on Nikita's abdomen, she cried out in pain. It wasn't a wince. She actually screamed. If Michael didn't know anything was wrong with Nikita before, he definitely did then. Things were bad; things were really, really bad. How had they even gotten that bad. He always believed she was on top of things, "I thought you shot Kasim."
"I did. He's dead. This happened before you arrived," Battling her pain, Nikita admitted. She was honestly lucky that she had gotten that far with her injury. Her adrenaline must've helped. But since it was gone, she had nothing left to support her. The pain and blood loss could wash over her completely.
"There has to be a medkit around here. Where's your bag? You still keep one with you?" Frantically looking around, Michael asked. He could stop the bleeding and patch Nikita up. She would be perfectly fine. All he needed was a first aid kit. They were in a deserted Division safehouse. There had to be medical supplies somewhere. And if not, Nikita always used to carry some in her mission bag; that wasn't a habit she would've broken.
She managed to nod towards the room where she had last left her things. Michael hurried to retrieve them. He also ransacked the kitchen and the bathroom for a medkit. He soon found what he was looking for and ran back to Nikita. Somehow, she looked even paler. Michael fought his panic to attend to her.
"You know, I always thought I'd die on a mission. Glad my last one was spent helping you," Nikita chuckled weakly. She wasn't being pessimistic. She had been shot before. She had countless scars left behind from bullets. She was familiar with gunshot wounds. So she knew that time was different. She was losing far too much blood. She felt dizzy, sick, weak. She had to fight just to breathe. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
"You are not dying. You're too stubborn for that," Michael flashed Nikita his wonderful half-smile. She grinned and relaxed at his beautiful expression. Then, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and the world went dark. She wasn't aware that she had lost consciousness for a second until Michael frantically shook her awake. Pain roared through her, and her eyes snapped open. He crouched over her with so much concern that she almost cried, "Whoa. Stay with me."
Soft groans slipped past Nikita's parted lips. Michael didn't think she was aware she was making any sounds. Tears had pooled in her eyes, and sweat began to dot her brow. She wasn't fairing well. Anxiety in the pit of his stomach told him that she was suffering from more than just a bullet wound. Stopping the bleeding and giving her a field dressing might not save her. But he had to try. He wasn't going to give up on her. There had to be a way to save her after everything she had done for him.
More quick than gentle, Michael picked Nikita up off the floor. He had to ignore her pain filled screams. He moved her to an empty, sturdy table and placed her on top. He then gathered all the medical supplies again, washed his hands, and went to work.
He attempted to remove Nikita's clothes as best he could. With the amount of pain she was in, however, Michael only managed to pull aside her coat and lift her shirt. There was so much blood. Everything was sticky and dark, and he couldn't get a clear enough look at her injury. Although he wanted to be gentle, the amount of blood she had lost and continued to lose wouldn't allow that. He needed to staunch the bleeding as soon as possible.
Cleaning her abdomen so he could see the injury wasn't as easy as he had wanted it to be. Her skin was feverishly hot to the touch, and she cried out at every move he made. Nikita tried not to. She bit her lip hard to keep from screaming, yet that only drew more blood. Gently, Michael tried to calm her. He'd take care of it. She'd be okay. Except, once he saw the grizzly wound, his reassurances stopped. The bullet had torn through more than just her skin and muscles. It was lodged deep in her abdomen. No wonder there was so much blood. She was bleeding externally and internally.
Realistically, there was nothing Michael could do for that. Nikita needed a doctor. She should've had expert medical attention the instant she was shot. But rogue agents couldn't just show up at hospitals with unexplained gunshot wounds. They needed alternatives. They needed desperate acts made by desperate friends.
Grabbing sterile tweezers, Michael believed his best course of action was to remove the bullet and pack the wound. That'd at least do something about the bleeding. As for actually healing her, he had no idea. Hopefully, it'd come to him after he stopped the blood.
Nikita continued to groan and cry. Michael was surprised she was still conscious. Her eyes were closed, but she was fighting to stay awake. She was probably afraid to slip away. If she did, she might not come back. She was so close to death, that the instant she relaxed she might be gone forever. She wasn't ready to go yet. There were more things for her to do. One of those things, she had determined, was to comfort Michael after what had just happened with Kasim. That was too raw to let go of just yet. He needed to heal from that if he was going to help her heal, "Just talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."
Michael sighed. Currently, his thoughts were a screaming mess of anxiety and fear. He couldn't share that with Nikita. She needed something light. There was an old memory he had been thinking about on the plane to St. Petersburg. It was more bittersweet than light, but it'd definitely calm both of them, "I bought them a house. Elizabeth and Hayley. One night, Lizzy and I just started flipping through a housing catalog. Lizzy saw this house in Hawaii, and her eyes just lit up. So I tore out the page, and without telling her, I started saving up."
The smallest of smiles appeared on Nikita's lips as she pictured the image. Michael smiled as well. It had been a very happy moment for his family- a feeling he clung to in his darkest moments, "Before you knew it, I had enough money for the down payment. When I called the realtor and he said the place was still available, I nearly jumped out of my chair. My plan was to fly them there for a vacation. And tell them that that house was a rental."
A quiet chuckle broke past Michael's defenses. He didn't mean to laugh. But remembering Hayley's and Elizabeth's excitement about a vacation to Hawaii just made him happy. Nikita seemed happy simply hearing him chuckle. Her body relaxed, and he didn't have to fight so much to remove the bullet. He finally got the damn thing free. Before she could writhe too much in pain, Michael soothed her with the rest of his story, "And I know on the last day of vacation Hayley would just look up at me and tell me it's time to go home. But I would look back down at her and I'd tell her 'we are home'."
His happy memory stopped there. As he began to pack Nikita's wound, Michael's thoughts turned bitter. That should've been the life he had. Instead, he was a killer. A ghost. Nothing. Everything he was supposed to be and supposed to have was ripped away by Percy. And he had let him get away with it for nine years, "Percy took that away from me. He made me into this. I'm going to go into his office and I'm going to shoot him."
"If Percy goes down, this country will never recover. Do you remember telling me that?" Nikita replied quietly. She tried to reach for Michael, comfort him. But her arms felt so heavy. She could barely lift her fingers.
"I don't care," Noticing her efforts to reach for him, Michael gently grabbed Nikita's hand. He held to her for a second, sharing warmth and strength. Then he went back to his task.
"I don't believe you. You're stronger than that. You're the strongest person I've ever met. You do the things that other people won't do. You sacrifice and you dedicate your life to people you know are innocent. I don't think you're capable of not caring," Her words slurred, Nikita argued. Michael couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course she'd be stubborn as she fought to breathe. And of course she'd try to comfort him, even when she needed all the strength.
Although her eyes were closed, Nikita noticed a darkness wash over her. She was losing her grip. First, she would slip unconscious. Then, her breath would stop. She had to keep holding on just a while longer. She had to stay conscious long enough to ensure Michael and Alex continued to fight, "You will find the rest of the black boxes, and then you will kill Percy. And he will not be able to do this to anyone ever again."
"We. Not just me. You and I will find them," Michael tried to sound more soft than stern. But Nikita had to get it through her thick head that she wasn't going anywhere. She was staying right there with him.
"And Alex."
"I was never going to hand her over to Amanda. I was bluffing. I knew you'd never gamble with her life," Michael admitted. He probably would've told Nikita the truth of his actions eventually. But then was the perfect time to clear the air between them. The two shouldn't leave things unsaid. They should fix their relationship and create a future to fight for.
"I know. I knew you wouldn't hurt her. Why do you think I changed the deal?" Although Michael could see the corner of Nikita's mouth twitch, she couldn't actually manage a smile. She reached for him again, and he moved even closer to her.
"I lied to you. I didn't get the locations. I was coming here to doublecross you," Making another confession, Michael apologized. Despite the deal he and Nikita struck (well, ones they forced each other into) he was never actually going to deliver on it. He was far too focused on killing Kasim and getting justice. He didn't care about anything else, including Nikita. He realized then how stupid he was. Vengeance wasn't the only important thing. She could take up just as much prominence in his life.
"Well you didn't," Nikita's breath almost seemed to rattle as she expelled the words. Michael tried not to think too much about the sound. She could've just been trying to sigh. She was only disappointed in him. There was nothing else wrong with her. She should be fine.
However, packing Nikita's gunshot wound wasn't enough. When Michael finished, he saw that clearly. He was too unequipped to save her from her injuries. Desperation couldn't heal her. She needed a doctor. Despite the risk of Division (and Gogol thanks to him) she had to go to the hospital. There was no other solution.
Calling an ambulance was out of the question. Too many dead bodies surrounded the house. Michael had to take Nikita himself. Fortunately, the abandoned Division safehouse was close to a local hospital. He could rush her there in no time. And maybe he'd be able to bribe a doctor or two into silence, "This is bad. This is really… you need to go to the hospital."
"Division…" Nikita couldn't finish her argument; though, she didn't really need to. The one word was enough. She couldn't go to the hospital. Division would catch her in an instant and send someone to kill her. Which kind of felt like a moot point at the moment anyway. She was already dying. She'd just rather die in Michael's arms than in a cold, sterile hospital room.
"I'll worry about that. We have to get you somewhere safe," Determined, Michael began to gather things to rush Nikita to the closest hospital. He'd have to worry about cleaning the scene later. Maybe he could just sight fire to the safehouse and be done with it. But that would have to be saved for after he rushed Nikita to a doctor.
She had a couple fake IDs in her bag that'd hide her at the hospital for a while. He pocketed those and her cash. He made sure he had his own IDs and cash, and he also checked that he had a passable fake Russian police badge. No one would ask questions if he waved that around. The two should be covered long enough for her to have surgery. After that, he'd have to come up with a more concrete cover. But again, that was a problem for later. All that mattered at the moment was Nikita. Michael couldn't let her die.
Securing her clothes back around her, he also wrapped her in blankets and pulled a hat over her head. The bitter Russian cold outside could kill her, and so could shock. Michael wasn't going to risk it. He had put Nikita in enough danger- he was the reason she had gotten shot. He'd do anything in his power to protect her. He owed her that much.
Once Nikita was bundled up, and Michael had everything he needed, he gently picked her back up. Her head fell against his shoulder. He held her as close to his chest as he could and rushed her out to his car, "Come on. I got you."
Nikita was only aware of the fact that Michael was carrying her. Everything else seemed to just come and go out of her consciousness. She barely registered that he was placing her in his car. She couldn't hold on. Breathing was too much. Yet she wouldn't go quietly. There were things she needed to say, to ask for, "Look after Alex. She's…"
"I know. She's your mole. I'll protect her," Michael hastily secured the seatbelt around Nikita, then ran to the driver's side. She wasn't going to give him instructions from her deathbed. That wasn't it for her. She could do everything she was saying herself.
"No. She's just like you. Division killed her family, and she needs revenge. Make sure she doesn't get lost," Nikita forced the words out. She refused to leave Alex alone on her revenge mission. Michael had needed her, and so would Alex. But if Nikita couldn't be there, then Michael could step in. She trusted him with Alex; she was safe with him.
"Look after her yourself," Starting the car and tearing off down the road, Michael actually ordered Nikita. She had never listened to him before. But then could be the start.
"Help her find who ordered the hit. I could never find anything on Pale Fire…" Continuing her ramble, Nikita wasn't entirely sure what she was saying. It all came pouring out of her, needing to be said. Alex's secrets were hers alone to tell Michael. Yet Nikita couldn't think to stop herself. It was a shock she was even still breathing. Everything was going to spill out of her whether it should or not.
"Pale Fire… Alex is Alexandra Udinov?" Bewildered, Michael glanced at Nikita. She had saved Alexandra Udinov. How. How did she keep her hidden. How had they teamed up to fight a war. How did she get her into Division. Michael had a million questions he needed to ask. But considering Nikita could barely nod in response to his first question, he couldn't ask anything else then. He'd have to wait until she was safe and sound, "Alright. You're gonna tell me all about that when you recover."
Nikita's breathing became less labored. Michael naïvely thought that was a good thing. However, when he glanced at her, he saw it was because she had finally lost consciousness. She wasn't fighting anymore. Either she lost her strength, or she just gave up. Michael begged that it was neither, that she just needed to rest. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed until she weakly flinched. Although it was a losing battle, he fought the fear in his voice, "Hey. Hey. Keep fighting, Nikki. You don't get to give up now. You've been fighting all your life. You just gotta hold on a little longer."
After a long moment, Nikita finally squeezed Michael's hand back. Really she just touched him. She had no strength to squeeze. But he'd count it. She was still there. That was enough until he got her to the hospital, "You said I was the strongest person you ever met? Well, you're way stronger. I've never been able to fight like you."
He wasn't getting any reactions from her. Maybe he should just leave her alone until they reached the hospital. They were almost there. It would be alright. Yet Michael was too afraid to risk it. He didn't want Nikita to disappear in any way. He needed her to keep talking, keep fighting the strong pull of oblivion. Saying her three favorite words could do the trick. She'd always smirk if he said, "You were right."
"No…"
"Yeah, you were right. If I had just listened to you five years ago, none of this… things could have been different," Tears had appeared and disappeared in Michael's eyes throughout the majority of the night. Mostly, he teared up thinking of Hayley and Elizabeth. But as he listened to Nikita's hollow breathing, he finally cried. That was his fault. He had led her to that moment. He could've done so many things differently over the years. If he had, she would've been safe. She would've been happy. And maybe he would've been too.
"Things will be different," Nikita had stopped groaning in pain. She sat limp in the passenger seat, her grip on his hand nonexistent.
"Nikita? Hey, Nikita. Stay with me. You need something to fight for? You have me. You've always had me," Michael ignored the road; there were no cars in front of him. He could take a moment to caress Nikita's cheek and press his forehead against hers. He couldn't hear or feel anything from her in response. She was slipping so far away from him. For once, she didn't have the strength to fight. It was easier for her to just submit. Even her stubbornness couldn't help her. There was nothing for her to cling to.
Fortunately, Michael had one more thing Nikita could fight for. He knew just what to say to bring her back to him. It was something he had felt for years; he just finally had the courage to admit it. The timing was terrible, but he shouldn't hold it back anymore. He needed to express his heart, and she needed to hear him and stay, "I love you."
"I love you too," Michael could've sworn he heard Nikita faintly breathe before everything went silent.
