He makes her breathless. Still. After all these years – the fights, tragedies, and hardships they've endured together; he still makes her soft and her love for him sometimes surpasses the breaths in her lungs.
They were having a quiet night in. A hearty stew was simmering on the stove and they planned on putting on a movie and spending some good quality time together. Since it was his night to cook, Michael refused to let Nikita lift a finger, leaving her to puzzle with her own thoughts. And as she watched him moving around in the kitchen from the comfort of the couch in their house, that breathlessness returned. Her eyes followed his every movement and pretty soon, she found herself becoming overwhelmed with emotions as tears pooled behind her eyes.
Never in a million years did she envision this would be how her life turned out. For almost all of her existence, life had been a survival game. Orphaned at birth, a burden of the state, abused, hooked on drugs, and craziest of all - working for a secret unit of the government that breeds assassins. She never allowed herself to daydream. She'd hoped her war against corrupt governments would end one day. How? She never fantasized beyond that.
And now, she was at peace. Her demons locked away and neutralized. Most nights she slept long and without nightmares. That in itself was better than any fantasy she could've conjured.
But what shook her the most is that she was married. He married her, on a beach three months ago after surprising her with papers of the land he bought them in Ecuador. He pitched her a dream so real, she couldn't refuse. And now she was forever tethered to the love of her life, soulmate and best friend. And Gosh, he loved her so much. He knew her better than anyone. In spite of her flaws, demons, regrets, mistakes. He loved her in a way she's never been loved before; unconditionally and irrefutably. Most days, this knowledge floored her so much that she found herself unable to breathe.
Lost in her own emotions, Nikita hadn't registered his return to her side until she felt him kneel in between her legs.
Michael had returned from the kitchen with fresh ice tea for his wife, when he realized she was in a daze; fresh tears wetting her lashes. He placed their beverage on the coasters at the coffee table, and kneeled between her thighs. Without saying much, he simply rubbed her thighs comfortingly, waiting for her to jolt back to the present with him.
Feeling his hands on her thighs, Nikita exhaled deeply as she stared down at him. She felt a chill throughout her entire body at his care and attention. When she realized that he was giving her space and waiting for her to communicate with him, she wiped her tears and smiled at him. This was a prime example of him being so perfect, beyond her comprehension.
Another moment passed between them before Michael broke the silence. "Do you want a hug?" He asked.
The biggest smile grew on Nikita's face. As if he ever has to ask.
She stretched her arms out to him, expecting him to climb on top of her on the couch. Instead, he picked her up off the couch. She quickly wrapped her arms and legs around his body. She could hardly help the little giggle that escaped her when he bounced her in the air before sitting down where she previously sat.
For a minute, they just sat. Her straddling his lap as he stared deeply into her hazel eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and leaned in to place a sweet smooch on her nose. Nikita felt her heart melt.
When he pulled away, he started making these silly faces at her until she had no choice but to break eye contact and laugh at his antics.
"There you are." Michael smiled.
Nikita blushed. He was devastatingly handsome and all hers. "You're so silly, baby."
"Only with you." Michael countered. "Why the tears, my Koala bear?"
"Koala bear?" Nikita tilted her head, amused.
"Do you see the way you've wrapped yourself around me?" Michael sassed.
Looking between them, Nikita realized that she still had her legs wrapped around his waist. And though her arms around his shoulders had loosened some, she was still very much glued to him.
"Point taken." She shrugged, leaning in to steal a kiss from his lips.
"Thank you." Michael mumbled, kissing her back. "Why were you crying?"
Nikita sighed against his mouth. He's going to think she's such a baby and possibly tease her.
"They were happy tears." She told him.
Michael perked up; no longer as worried. "Tell me more."
"Okay." Nikita rolled her eyes. "You promise not to laugh or make fun of me?"
Michael burst into laughter. Anytime his wife prefaced a conversation by asking him not to laugh, he always found it hilarious. Because of course he's going to laugh. It was a lot of pressure!
"Bruh." Nikita deadpanned. "What did I just say?"
This made Michael laugh even harder. And she just looked at him, completely delighted by him and his lack of self control.
"Mind you, you used to be this serious, leather-jacket-wearing assassin." Nikita teased.
"Boo, old news!" Michael exclaimed. "I'm a husband now, don't you know?" He said, his voice filled with sass and a grin on his face.
Nikita kissed his mouth. "Yes. And you're so good at it." She praised. "I was literally tearing up cause I love you so damn much."
Michael's teasing grin fell as his eyes softened. "Tell me more." He said again, rubbing her back in circles.
Nikita took a deep breath before she continued. "I can't breathe sometimes when I look at you. Or when I think about our life together." She confessed. "And it's breathlessness in the sweetest, most inexplicable way. Because this… us..." She gestured between them, "... you are everything to me."
Michael could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he continued to look at his wife with full love and adoration. She had no idea what it meant to him that she was sharing this with him. He felt the same way about her.
Under his gaze, Nikita shied a little as she said her next words. "Obviously I'm not the religious type but I used to pray for you. For us. For this."
A lump formed in Michael's throat and he found himself feeling emotional at her confession. He wanted so badly to kiss her but he also didn't want to cut her off. She was being really vulnerable with him and he felt that he owed it to her to be receptive and let her finish.
"What did you pray for?" He asked.
Nikita shrugged. She began to nervously play with the hairs at the back of his neck. Michael had recently decided to grow his hair and beard. Nikita was obsessed and absolutely loving the newly adopted look on him. She was also learning that his hair curls under the regime of the south american sun.
"It was mostly when I was on the run again. After I left last time."
This was a sore topic for them to talk about. They've talked about new skills she picked up, and the things and people she encountered during her time in hiding, but beyond that, they never discussed how she stayed clean and kept emotionally and mentally sharp.
Nikita found herself reminiscing on those answered prayers.
The first time she did, she didn't even understand what she was doing. It was after she'd severed his hand from the car crash. Watching him get blown up was not an option, no matter how much he pleaded with her to leave. So she made the only choice she could live with. They were en route back to Division with a tactical team, flying through the road to get him medical care. He'd passed out from blood loss despite her best attempt to tourniquet the wound. As she held his head on her lap, tears streaking down her face, she prayed that they would make it in time to treat him. And that he would wake up and all of this would be an awful nightmare to the both of them. Her prayers were somewhat answered because he woke up. He healed. But it was still a terrible nightmare. One that almost cost her both of their lives in the end.
The second time she found herself bargaining with the deities again, she was driving away from him, their found family and everything she ever loved about her tragic life. She could feel her heart breaking and collapsing into her chest. She remembered thinking that she would never stop crying as heartache sunk. She was devastated.
Numbly, she drove for miles with bloodshot eyes. And she prayed.
She prayed he would understand her decision to leave and that one day he could forgive her. She prayed for his safety and his well being. That he would refrain from searching for her. That he would move on with his life. But selfishly, she also prayed that he wouldn't forget her.
The Third time; she was sequestered in a rundown church in Corpus Christi. She had just fled the Los Zetas Cartel and needed a place to lay low until she could cross the border again.
She remembered feeling so exhausted, so drained. Yet sleep never came peacefully.
She stared at the dusty statue of Jesus on the cross at the altar. The image mocked her: Nikita The Martyr.
What started out as an ironic laugh at herself, turned into loud hysterical sobs as she dropped to her knees. She clutched at her chest, beating against it as she struggled to gather air in her lungs. Everything burned.
"Oh God! I miss him so much!" She cried.
That night, she wept until her eyes were raw. She felt weak and tired. Hopeless and heartbroken. For the first time since she left, she wished for an easy, inevitable fate. Death.
She rocked herself back and forth. Taking deep breaths as she prayed to see his face one last time. Prayed to feel his arms holding her, his eyes glimmering at her; his fingers counting the freckles across her face, and his lips kissing hers. She prayed he felt her in his heart, still. Prayed he was looking for her. Prayed for a sweet reunion.
But most of all, she prayed that they would someday have a future together again. Maybe somewhere far. Beyond this plane of existence. In a different realm or lifetime – where they'd meet again and their souls would recognize each other and they could fall in love again. Live a peaceful life. A boring life. She prayed for a happily ever after.
After she was all cried and prayed out, sleep took her. And for the first time since she left him, she dreamt. It was good. He wasn't being tortured or slaughtered because of her.
Instead, he was waiting for her on a beach in white linen clothing, smiling. He was bouncing a baby on his hips while pointing at her. "Oh! Who's that? Is that mama?" He was saying to the little one. "She's so pretty, isn't she? Yeah. Mama's the most beautiful woman to ever live."
It felt so real that when she startled awake, she had tears streaming across her nose. He loved her still.
Snapping back to the present, Nikita smiled tearfully as Michael wiped her cheek.
"I prayed for this exact moment." Nikita simply replied.
Just when Michael thought nothing could possibly shock him; his wife had to prove him wrong. Because he had a confession too.
"I kind of did something similar." He said.
"No way?" Nikita shook her head.
"Yeah." Michael nodded. "Not really prayers. But I wrote you letters daily. I talked to you at night as if you were here. Stupidly hoping that we were so utterly connected and bound together, that you could hear my deepest inner thoughts and tears from wherever you were."
Nikita couldn't bear to look at him after this revelation. Michael's always been her compass. Her North Star. The person that keeps her going no matter how tough life gets. Not being with him nearly killed her. And it broke her heart to think that he spent countless sleepless nights crying out for her. Begging for her return or any sign that she wanted him to continue to fight for them.
Michael understood the emotions coursing through his wife. When he suggested a lowkey night in for bonding and quality time, he didn't exactly picture they would be getting this vulnerable. But he felt that this therapeutic release was needed. They were, after all, still healing. And part of that journey would entail a lot of talking. About the difficult shit. The moments that scarred them and left them feeling raw.
Michael pulled Nikita closer and rested his forehead against hers. He kissed her all over her face, tasting her tears. He refused to let her feel shame about the hurt they both felt. It was okay. They were more than okay. In fact, they are thriving now.
"We were meant to be, baby." He whispered. "It's that simple and clear. It's you and me against the world."
Nikita chuckled. She didn't think she could possibly love him more. But somehow she was wrong. She rested her head against his shoulder and just let him hold her. She needed it. They both did.
After a while, she looked up at him with an ask. "Do you still have the letters you wrote?"
Michael nodded. There were hundreds. He wrote her at least one for every day that she was apart from him. Some were angry and borderline resentful. Some were bittersweet. Some were memories. Others, hopes and dreams. He wrote her these devastating poems. Filled with ache, love, adoration and streaks of dried tears. And he kept them all. Safely hidden inside a biometric box.
"Can I read them sometime?" Nikita pleaded.
Michael was almost hesitant. Until his wife reminded him that he wrote them to her; for her. She could handle his pain. He could give it all to her and they could talk about it, cry about it and let the tears wash them anew.
Nikita was pretty sure they'd need to do individual and couple's counseling anyways. She didn't think it was necessarily a bad thing. Nothing could ever run her out of his arms or his life again.
Convinced, Michael finally agreed. "You can read one a day. I'll give you the first one tomorrow."
Satisfied, Nikita kissed him at last. Sweetly, softly. Without any urgency or fear or doubts. He kissed her back, holding her beautiful face in his palms.
They only separated when Nikita's stomach started to grumble embarrassingly loud. They both laughed. It was also perfect timing because Michael needed to go check on their lentil stew. They would have it with a loaf of warm garlic bread.
"Time to feed you." He gently maneuvered her out of his lap, back to the couch. Before he got up, he couldn't resist stealing another kiss. "Thanks for sharing with me." Michael said. "Of course, I think you know this by now but a little reminder never hurts." His piercing green eyes bore into hers as he poured his heart out to her too. "I pictured us like this too, a million times. And the reality truly doesn't compare." He swallowed hard and smiled at her. "You are the best part of me. You make me breathless too, and I love our life together so much. Being your husband is the greatest joy and honor of my life. I'm so excited to spend the rest of my life with you and I can't wait to experience forever with you. It's gonna be so fun, baby. I promise."
"Oh." Nikita's breath caught in her throat. She was speechless. She didn't know how to follow that. He was quite literally the perfect man for her.
Taking her speechlessness as a sign that they were on the same page, Michael kissed her forehead and got up.
He was halfway to the kitchen when another important thought occurred and he doubleback to where his was still sat.
"What now? I can't handle any more of your charm and sweet words." Nikita pretended to close her ears. All the while blushing at him.
"Final thought. It's the most important one." Michael said.
"Fine. Hit me." Nikita said.
"The next time you're tired and want to leave me, go take a nap, woman. It will save us both time and heartache. You can't get rid of me. Just give it up."
This time, it was Nikita who burst into uncontrollable laughter. She laughed until her sides hurt and her lungs gave out.
What kind of man loves like this?