After both had showered and changed, Michael gave Nikita a tour of Chicago. He mostly showed her the blocks around their apartment building, pointing out the fantastic restaurants, coffee shops, and bars nearby. Nikita was only partially paying attention. She was more focused on the bus stops, subway stations, and taxis piling on the street. She also noted the varying street cams in the area. Coming and going for different Division missions required some tact. Knowing the cameras and transportation routes near her apartment was one way to sneak around successfully. Nikita didn't want to be focused on being a secret agent, however. She wanted to enjoy the beautiful day outside with the excited man beside her.
Michael really was excited to be showing her around. He was smiling and laughing as he told her different stories of each place. Nikita would reply with some sarcastic quips, which spurred him on. His green eyes remained on her, his body drifting closer. He seemed so carefree, he didn't have to keep his guard up or constantly look around him. Nikita was jealous. She wished to be so normal. It appeared to be relaxing. Instead, she was tense and determined to study the city for Division's sake.
It was ironic when they passed by a yoga studio; yoga was all about ease and meditation. Maybe Nikita could stop by, force herself to breathe. Her missions had been hell lately. The things she had done were tormenting her. She was given a week off to settle in Chicago. Yet if her afternoon with Michael was any indication, then the time off wasn't doing her any good so far. She needed to stop being an agent, and start being a person. She had to relax, enjoy the moment. The thoughts in her head needed to be silenced.
That was easier said than done. Nikita was only in Chicago because of Ryan. Ryan had only sent her there because apparently they were becoming too close. They were becoming too close because they were friends and he trusted her with the facts about his brother. He told her about his brother because she was feeling anxious about Operation Pale Fire. And she was feeling anxious about the op because of Alexandra Udinov. No one knew what she had done. She defied Division to save a thirteen year old girl. She knew she had done the right thing; she knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Alexandra was alive and able to live her life. Yet Nikita was nervous. She was terrified Division would find out and they'd both be killed.
A week had passed and she had heard nothing about it. Nikita shouldn't have been so worried. They were both going to live. Alexandra could have a life. Nikita, not so much. She was still stuck in hell. Ryan used to be a lifeline, yet she then was lost. Or maybe not as lost as she thought. Michael extended his hand to her as they neared a pizzeria. She had been replying automatically and without much effort, so she wasn't sure what was occurring. Nonetheless, Nikita took his hand. His smile was so warm and bright, she felt secure. Things just might be alright.
"Come on. I'm hungry. And this is the best pizza joint in the world," Michael gently tugged on her hand, leading her inside. The delicious smells instantly made her melt. Nikita found herself finally breathing and truly enjoying herself. At least, she told herself it was the restaurant and not his hand in her's. His left hand was warm and strong, but he held her softly. She ignored those butterflies again.
"In the world? That's a bold claim," Nikita smirked. Their hands remained clasped as they stood in line to order. To any strangers noticing them, they must've looked like a real, normal couple. For some reason, that excited Nikita. Just the idea that she might be normal made her feel giddy. Part of her knew it wasn't real though. Michael was spending his time with a cover- Nikita King the airline consultant. He had no idea about Nikita Mears, the junkie turned assassin. But she shook that off. Ryan constantly advised her to "live the lie, till the lie becomes your life". She was going to use his words against him. She was going to have a life. She was going to make friends with her neighbors and maybe at that yoga studio if she went. And she was going to be herself- just plain ol' Nikita- while doing so.
"It is Chicago deep dish. There's nothing better," Michael adjusted his grip and drifted ever so closer to her. Normally, Nikita would've pulled herself away to keep her distance. She never wanted to get close to strangers, especially the ones she encountered on missions (she'd rather be sick then willingly let a honeytrap mark touch her). However, after spending the day with Michael, she was comfortable enough to brush shoulders with him while they continued to hold hands. He was funny, kind, smart, and absolutely normal. She couldn't help but start to really like him.
"Well in that case," Nikita went to leave the restaurant. Michael pulled her back, laughing along with her. Their grip had changed again, their hands a little bit tighter in their grasp. Tenderly, Michael's thumb swiped repeatedly across Nikita's knuckles. She didn't know if he was aware he was doing it. He was reading the menu ahead of them, weighing their options. Wanting to keep the warm feeling that had washed over her, she didn't comment on it.
"Alright fine. They have other pizzas. And salads. And fried ravioli," As they moved up to the register, Michael listed. Nikita shot him a strange glance; he had to have been making things up to continue his "best in the world" claim. He laughed, flashing her his smirk, "Fried ravioli is exactly as it sounds. Just trust me."
"Should I? You almost killed me with a weight earlier," For a reason she couldn't quite understand, she slightly swung their hands back and forth. Although he rolled his green eyes, he smiled. Michael ordered the fried food as well as his own pizza and drink. Nikita giggled while she ordered for herself. He was a much better sport when it came to teasing than Ryan or Birkhoff. He could also fire back and defend for himself. Those thoughts that were dragging her down earlier were long gone. How could she stay morose when her fast new friend was grinning at her like that.
"How 'bout some bribery to change your mind," Handing the cashier his credit card, Michael winked at her. He had been a little flirty before, Nikita could tell by the way he teased and of course held her hand. Yet there was something about the way he winked and paid for her food that made the flirting more real. They had only known one another for a couple of hours. She should've been hesitant about how quickly whatever relationship they had was moving. She liked it though, despite everything. It made her return the favor.
"Isn't this a date? Aren't you supposed to pay anyway?" Nikita finally let go of Michael's hand so she could take their order number to an empty table. He followed after her, gaping. Her teeth dug into her lip to keep from laughing at him. Fortunately, she was able to focus on sliding into the booth she found. She took the seat facing the door, while he faced her. It didn't take him long to recover his easy smile.
"If you're so certain this is a date, then you'll grab drinks with me at the bar we passed?" It was more of a nervous question than a flirtatious dare. Michael was apprehensive of what she'd say, just as he was when he offered to show her Chicago. Nikita thought that was what she liked most about him, He didn't expect anything from her. He wasn't cocky or overbearing. He let her make her own decisions, and accepted her choices no matter what. That was so rare for her it almost seemed surreal.
"Maybe. Why don't we get to know each other some more?" Nikita figured knowing Michael better would calm some of her anxiety. If she was aware of who he was, she'd feel more secure about going out with him. Not that she wasn't comfortable enough already. But it would assure the back of her mind screaming about trust and stranger danger. She didn't want to rush into something without caution. Even if rushing appeared so easy.
"Twenty questions?" Michael's prosthetic twitched on the table. Nikita started to realize that some of the movements were caused by his nerves. He really cared how that afternoon with her went. Her smile beamed brilliantly at the fact. There was a possibility she didn't need twenty questions to see who he was. He wasn't hiding anything from her. God, was that refreshing.
"Okay. So where does Michael Bishop earn the money to take me out on a date?" Whereas she had shared with him her cover job the second he asked why she had moved from New York, he had only made references to his job. Michael hadn't told Nikita anything concrete about what he did for a living. All she had pierced together was that he was some sort of analyst of something, loaned out to the Chicago office of his company. The wording of her question caused him to laugh. Smiling sheepishly, he shrugged one of his shoulders.
"Honestly. The CIA."
Fuck.