Set throughout season 4. Michael's thoughts as Nikita's shot and blown up.

All Michael had wanted to do was kiss Nikita.

He hadn't seen her in three months- three long, torturous months. So when he had helped her down from the air shaft, and held her so gently in his arms, all he wanted to do was pull her into an embrace and kiss her thoroughly.

Yet he held himself back. He couldn't kiss Nikita in front of Special Agent Graham. They needed to escape the scene. They needed to go somewhere where she couldn't be grabbed, tortured, and killed. A real reunion would have to wait until later, even when she looked at him like she had just seen heaven for the first time. God, he really wanted to return her look and kiss her. But they couldn't then. They had to focus on more important matters.

Giving her a rendezvous point, Michael walked away from Nikita. For some reason, he thought he could do that easily. He thought he could turn his back to her and leave her. But not even a few steps away, and he had to look back over his shoulder. Since she was back in his sight, he didn't know how long he could go without being by her side. Yet he had to control himself. Again, there were more important matters to attend to than their fractured relationship.

After all, she had left her engagement ring behind. If she could leave him behind after all they had been through together, then he could turn his back to her.

An hour after Nikita was meant to meet with Michael, however, he realized he needed to chase after her. She had promised not to run as she talked to Ryan and Birkhoff on the coms; she knew the team was her only way to survive. So if she hadn't met with him by the zoo, then something was wrong. Michael prayed that it wasn't anything horrific. Maybe she just had to take a detour. Or maybe she had to ditch the car and make it on foot. But when he retraced her steps in an effort to track her, he found a crashed car and blood.

Too much blood.

Michael didn't give himself any time to think. He simply ran off in the direction he believed Nikita would've gone. He informed Ryan and Birkhoff about the wreck and the fact that both Nikita and Graham were gone. Maybe they could find something on satellites and street cams. Though, if Nikita had mostly avoided those for three months, she wasn't going to slip up then. Michael had to chase her on foot.

The whole time he kept telling himself that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Nikita had simply gotten hurt, and she was searching for a place to get assistance. It wasn't anything serious. She'd just break into a pharmacy after it had closed and steal some bandages. Michael would find her then. And afterwards, he'd bring her back to the team.

More time than Michael liked past before he picked up on any sign of Nikita. As he passed a blind alley, he heard dogs barking wildly. Instinctively, he turned to investigate. He wasn't positive what he'd find when he followed the sound, yet he hoped for the best. He somewhat found that. The barking dogs were located in a vet clinic that someone had broken into. Following the trail of glass, he found Nikita stumbling against a counter. He almost sighed in relief upon finding her. Then she collapsed on the ground and went still.

Michael dropped to her side and pulled out his flashlight. Her shoulder was a bloody mess, obviously from a bullet wound. She had been shot. Graham must've had a hidden weapon and shot her. It was a miracle she had even made it that far. But she wasn't going to go much further without any help. She had already lost consciousness. He couldn't let her lose anything else, "Shit. She's bleeding everywhere."

"What?" Frantically, Birkhoff replied. He hadn't heard from Michael since he had told them Nikita was missing- again. The hacker assumed he was just intently focused on finding her- again. He didn't know things were that bad.

"Nikita got shot, tried to fix it on her own, now she's bleeding out," More focused on getting Nikita off the dirty, broken glass filled floor, Michael barely replied. They could figure out what exactly happened later. He had to stop the bleeding first. There was so much pouring out of her shoulder. None of her attempts to stop it had done anything. In fact, trudging all the way to a vet clinic she could break into probably made it worse. If Michael didn't do anything immediately, she'd be lost for good.

"You have to bring her back to the jet," Ryan ordered Michael. Every single person in the tri-state area was looking for Nikita. She and Michael couldn't stay in a broken into veterinary clinic for long. Someone was going to find them, and things would get worse.

"And patch her up when? While I'm driving? In a moving jet? I'm doing it here," Michael almost yelled as he argued. The bullet had gone completely through Nikita's shoulder. Although that meant he didn't have to worry about removing the bullet, he had to clean, stitch, and bandage two wounds. That couldn't wait. The veterinary clinic had all the supplies he needed, even more than the jet had to offer. The best place for an emergency operation was there; it was the reason Nikita broke into the place, after all.

Examining her wound, Michael soon realized that he'd have to rip off Nikita's shirt before he'd be able to do anything. He almost hesitated there. He knew how much she panicked when she woke up without her clothes or in different clothes. She wasn't going to like what he was about to do, but he didn't have any other options. He'd suffer her wrath later if it meant she lived, "I'm sorry, Nik. I know you hate this."

"Mikey, someone's gonna find you and take her," Birkhoff tried to warn him. Nikita couldn't be on the ground, especially after her stunt with the FBI. She was safer traveling to the jet while injured than having her gunshot wound stitched up right then and there. Michael had played things so smart and careful before then. He couldn't begin to slip up. They still needed at least one sane member on their team.

"Then be my look out. I'm not letting her suffer," Michael had already begun to operate. He pulled over a lamp, not willing to turn on the lights. He washed his hands and grabbed gloves. And he began to disinfect Nikita's wounds as she laid on a sterile table. As he worked, she winced, but otherwise stayed unconscious. He was going to count that as a good sign. She was still with him. Once the bleeding stopped, she'd be fine.

When the bandages were placed, and all evidence of them had been cleared, Michael carried Nikita all the way to his car. She seemed to curl against him as he held her close, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was true. He could've just been hoping for that. He shouldn't, though. He shouldn't be distracted by thoughts of their relationship- or lack thereof. She had left him. Even if it was in a misguided attempt to save his life, she still left him behind. She didn't want to fight for their relationship, so he'd rather not pursue it.

He did, however, keep his eyes on Nikita after he eventually laid her on a cot in the jet. Michael would watch her until she woke. He didn't want her to wake up confused and scared. He also didn't want the jet's turbulence to pop one of her stitches. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch her; he wanted to soothe her and hold her and ensure she was perfectly safe and sound. Yet, just like with everything else regarding them, he held himself back. He'd just watch her until she woke, then he'd leave her alone for good.

Because if he reached for her, if he crossed the line and touched her or kissed her, he was only setting himself up for more heartbreak.


He never saw her leave the building.

Michael turned to look at the exit, and he never saw Nikita sprinting out. The missile struck, the building exploded, and Nikita had never made it out.

Despite the roaring fires, despite the raining debris, despite the fact that he had been knocked on his ass and he could barely stagger to his feet, Michael stumbled back towards the destruction. Everyone else who had made it out were hurrying to the medics who had arrived on the scene. But he didn't care about his own scratches and bruises. He also didn't care about the danger he was walking back into. Nikita had never left the building. He had to find her.

Scanning the wreckage desperately, Michael prayed to whoever would listen that he'd be able to find Nikita soon. The amount of smoke and fire in the air wasn't good. He needed to get her out; he needed to bring her somewhere safe. He knew she was still alive. She had to be. She had to be breathing and just waiting for him to scoop her up in his arms. He wouldn't believe any other outcome. There could be no other sight waiting for him in the flames than Nikita breathing.

"Nikita?" Michael's voice didn't sound like his own as he called out into the debris. There were other bodies on the ground- other people who hadn't made it out. But the medics could focus on them. He just had to find one person. He just had to see her breathing in the wreckage. By some sort of divine intervention, he managed to spot long legs in unnecessarily high boots behind a crumbled wall. He didn't waste a second in scrambling over to them. He knew who they belonged to; he knew instantly who he had found.

"Nikita! Nikita," Michael collapsed to his knees by her side. He pulled her limp body into his lap, cradling her head ever so tenderly. She didn't react to him in any way. However, he could feel a slow, small pulse in her neck. Nikita was alive. She was barely holding on, but she was alive. He didn't thank God just yet for that. She needed to be safe first. Someone had to help her and ensure she continued to breathe, "Medic!"

It was going to take some time for the medical team to make it to him. He silently urged them to hurry as he held Nikita securely to his chest. Michael pressed his forehead against hers, hoping that his breath would help her. She still didn't stir. Frantic, Michael smoothed her wild hair out of her dirty, bloody face. He held her lovingly against him, rocked slightly back and forth, and caressed her cheek. Her shallow breathing didn't even change. She was almost too far gone to come back to him. Tears blurred his vision, "Hey. Stay with me, Nik. Stay right here."

Taking one of her limp hands in his, Michael squeezed tightly. He brought Nikita's knuckles to his lips, and he kissed them softly. Then he brought his forehead back to hers and kissed her cheek. He couldn't leave her alone. She had to stay with him. She had to keep breathing, and he'd do anything to make that happen, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Stay with me, please. You've been through worse, right? You always say you've been through worse. So fight. Wake up. Wake up please, Nikita. You can't go now. I can't lose you."

His tears fell on Nikita's cheeks as he held her, yet he didn't care. All he wanted was the constant rise and fall of her chest. If he cried on her, if he held her too tight, so what. He'd stay with her forever. Nothing could break them apart again, including their own rashness and stupidity. He'd make sure of it.

Even when the medics finally whisked her away, Michael desperately stayed by her side, reaching to grab her hand in his.


Michael's dark green eyes were fixed on Nikita. Since they had been dropped off at a military base and given the all-clear from medics, Michael had not taken his eyes off her. She remained unconscious. He had to carry her into the house and lay her gently on the couch. She didn't so much as stir. Although the medics had claimed she'd be okay, Michael couldn't help but think otherwise. He wouldn't know if she was safe until she woke up. She had to look at him with those golden-brown eyes of hers for him to know everything was okay. Until then, he'd watch her like a hawk. If anything was wrong, he'd be the first to know.

He kept his hand on her leg. He sat on the couch at her feet, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, and he kept his hand on her leg. Just as he wouldn't dare take his eyes off her, Michael wouldn't stop touching Nikita. He had to feel her- know without a shadow of a doubt that she was there. Sight wasn't enough for him. Touching her let him know that she was actually safe and sound, that she'd actually wake up. He hadn't lost her yet. There was no way he was ever going to lose her.

While Michael kept watch, Birkhoff and Ryan made calls. Ryan called Alex and Sam, telling them everything that had happened since they last talked; he also told them to stay away. They didn't know what was going to happen to them yet. So it was better if Sam and Alex kept their distance until the team knew they were truly safe.

Birkhoff called Sonya. He could've advised her to stay away as well. But they had been separated for so long, and he had to see her. She could be safe with them while they were moved to the next military base. Besides, it wasn't as though she was as high-profile as Alex or as volatile as Sam. Her presence would be calming and helpful to the team as they faced government action. Also, again, Birkhoff really wanted to see her.

The others were mostly tuned out as Michael stared at Nikita. He trusted that Ryan and Birkhoff were making the right calls when it came to their team and for their steps moving forward. He didn't have to worry about all of that. He could just focus on Nikita and picture their future together. They were going to have a future together. There was no question about that. Michael and Nikita were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

Although he had once stupidly thought otherwise, his future was clearly set. He was never leaving Nikita's side ever again. He couldn't lose his love, no matter how much pain and hurt they were going through. She had left him; he had left her. That wasn't right. The two needed to survive together. They had survived together. They were done being stupid; they were done making rash decisions based solely on overwhelming decisions. Michael and Nikita had to be together until the end. Their war was over, but not them- never, ever them.

Thinking so much about his future with Nikita, Michael began to picture it clearly. He could see her by their house on the beach; the sunlight bouncing off her dark hair, creating golden rays. He could see her smiling at him so brightly, the sun dimmed. He could see her running in the sand and water, laughing as she fooled around and made a mess. He could see her lying beside him in the warm sand, staring up at the stars and falling asleep as the waves crashed against the shore. He could see her so beautifully and lovingly, that he prayed they could be on their beach right that second; then they could kiss and hold each other as much as possible.

It wasn't until his body stumbled into the couch cushions that Michael realized he was actually dreaming. He had fought the pull of sleep while he watched over Nikita for so long, he hadn't even known when he had lost. He had to shake himself awake, shift in his seat, and reaffirm his tender touch on Nikita's leg. That only slightly helped. He began to drift off again, lost in the images of her so happy and free on the beach.

After days of fighting and months of sleeping on a perpetually moving plane, Michael couldn't stay awake on the soft couch with Nikita in his grasp. He needed to stay alert. He had to be right by her side when she woke. She couldn't be scared or confused by her surroundings. She was safe; they all were at the moment. He didn't want her to be terrified and think otherwise. They had won. They were free.

Despite his resolve, however, exhaustion gripped him tightly. Michael couldn't keep his eyes open. The sight of Nikita on the couch blurred with dreams of her on the beach. He couldn't keep them straight, no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes and moved around.

Birkhoff soon noticed Michael's struggle and sighed softly. He didn't need to torture himself over Nikita. It'd all be okay soon. He could relax as well, "Mikey, if you need to go or do something, we can watch her."

Although Michael was startled awake by the offer, he was hesitant to take it. Even if he left for a second to wake up, he couldn't bring himself to leave Nikita's side.

Ryan rolled his eyes and smiled at him. Of all people Michael could trust his love with, Ryan and Birkhoff were completely safe. At least Nikita thought so. Michael would too if he just thought straight, "What? You don't trust us?"

Michael actually managed to chuckle sheepishly. Ryan and Birkhoff were right. While he went to the bathroom and splashed water in his face, Nikita would be perfectly alright. He'd be back by her side in no time.

When he soon returned, Nikita was already sitting up. Bewildered, Michael glanced at Birkhoff and Ryan. He wanted to make sure he wasn't still dreaming. They nodded. It was real. Nikita was awake and reaching for him. He didn't hesitate to sit on the couch with her and hold her. Michael's hands landed on Nikita's thighs and wrapped around her hips. She stared into his eyes, desperate to understand what was going on. He moved closer to her and held her even gently. It was okay. She was alright. The team was safe, "Hey…"

"Is it over?" Unable to understand why the men were excited, Nikita begged to know that they had actually won. She clung to Michael, helping herself stay grounded to reality. He held her tighter so she could feel how real the situation was. When her imploring brown eyes met his green, he smiled brilliantly. It was the first real smile he had flashed in months. It was over. The war was over. The team was free. Michael and Nikita could fix their frayed relationship and have their little house on the beach. It was over. The two could finally live happily ever after.

Nikita wrapped Michael in a tight embrace. He was surprised by the speed of it, considering she had been unconscious for almost a full day. But Michael soon melted into her warm hug. His lips landed on her shoulder as he pulled her even closer. Despite the dirt, and grime, and smoke, he breathed her in. He couldn't help but squeeze her tighter. He just had to hold her forever, kissing every inch of her skin that he could reach and reveling in the feel of her. She held him as tightly as she could manage, and then some.

Eventually, Nikita pulled away from their embrace to press her forehead against his. She cradled his head in her hands, her fingers slipped through his short-cropped locks. Michael's hands pressed into her waist, ensuring she never moved far from him. As her eyes connected with his again, he kissed her. He couldn't hold himself back. Michael had to kiss Nikita. He thanked God that she kissed him back

The two had a real future ahead of them. Finally, there was an actual light at the end of the tunnel. Michael and Nikita could see their happiness, and they were going to face it together.