When Nikita finally woke, she noticed Michael sleeping beside her. He was slumped in a plastic chair, body contorted so he could lay his head next to hers and hold her hand in his. It wasn't difficult to figure out that he had replaced Sonya while Nikita slept off her meds. He looked like he had run straight to her from the field. He was covered in ash and grime, and his prosthetic was missing. She couldn't figure that out. She had believed the mission to kill Amanda would've gone perfectly. Everything else had worked, so why not that. What happened to Michael and Alex in the field. What had Nikita missed.
Shifting in the cot to examine her husband better, pain shot through her abdomen. Nikita collapsed back down on her pillow, biting her lip to keep from groaning. The doctor had claimed she'd be in pain for some time. He also said she would continue to bleed for a while. A miscarriage wasn't a simple process that fizzled out after a few days. The effects would continue to wreak havoc on her body for weeks. The bleeding and pain would stop before then. Yet the conflicting and changing and wild hormones would linger. Her body would be slow to recognize that she wasn't pregnant anymore. There was no baby to protect or nourish.
Tears fell from her tired brown eyes. She thought she was done crying. She thought after the initial pain and heartache, she'd be done sobbing. Hadn't she spent enough tears over hers and her husband's loss. Did she even have tears left. Apparently, she did. Clutching Michael's hand as tightly as she could, Nikita cried. The sound and movement soon woke her husband. He instantly grabbed her hand in return and tried to soothe her. But tears formed in his eyes as well. Michael attempted to hold them back, but it was too much. His wife was hurting, and so was he.
Nikita had been wrong. Not everything had been perfect in Division. Amanda's mole had been killed, and Sonya's killchip had been disabled. But not everything went well. Nikita lost her family's future. She never de-stressed. She never addressed the problem. Because she kept pushing so hard, because she just couldn't fucking quit, she lost the baby. The assurances she had heard that claimed it wasn't her fault- those things just happened- didn't mean anything. She knew how badly she had screwed up. She always screwed up everything perfect. She never got to give her loved ones happiness.
Gently sitting on the small cot next to his wife, Michael held her in his arms. They both cried over loss and pain and heartbreak. The tears were short lived since so much had been spent already; however, the married couple continued to hold one another as tightly and as securely as they could. No comforting words were shared between them. That would have to come later when they both could speak with clear thoughts and clear voices. In the meantime, the two simply mourned their loss.
After some time, Nikita began to caress Michael's right arm and wrist. Her gaze set on the part of his appearance she couldn't understand. Dirt and grime- and sometimes ash- were standard post-mission attributes. But how he could've lost his prosthetic was baffling. Nikita could hardly think of how that could've possibly come to be. The best she could come up with were absolutely horrendous situations. She needed to know what had happened to her husband. What had he suffered without her there in the field with him. And did worrying about what she had gone through make it any worse.
Feeling his wife tense in his arms, Michael secured his arms even tighter around her. He could tell that she wanted an explanation for what he had gone through. He needed an explanation for what happened to her as well. But Nikita wasn't going to talk- not then, at least. And waiting for the doctor would provide Michael with more answers. The miscarriage would have to be not addressed and brushed aside even longer. A part of him was alright with that. He didn't want to acknowledge the pain just yet. It was better to be ignored for a while and to talk about other pressing matters.
Michael made sure to look Nikita in the eyes as he told her about his and Alex's side of the mission. He wouldn't shy away from the information. She deserved to know everything that had happened. That he wasn't able to help Alex because his stupid prosthetic wouldn't budge. That he wasn't able to kill Amanda because of his fucking left hand. That he wasn't able to be there with his wife because he didn't think to have backup tail him closely. He and Alex had to wait so long for transport back to Division. Michael could've been with his wife, helpful to Alex, and successful on the mission if he just thought- if his hand hadn't been such a problem.
Although she managed not to interrupt her husband as he spoke, Nikita somehow held him tighter. When he finished his 'briefing' she didn't berate him for his mistakes like he knew he deserved. She only begged him to know if he and Alex were alright. Nikita didn't care about Amanda. She knew she should've. She knew the bitch would bring more hell later. But Nikita only cared about her friends and family. They had lost and suffered so much. No more. Couldn't the team just be safe for once. They weren't allowed to be happy, but couldn't they be safe.
Quickly, Michael swore that he and Alex were fine. They were just banged up from the wreck and explosion, and Alex's wounded arm would heal nicely. She was home with Sean then, resting and mending. Nikita relaxed at the information. Yet it was only for a second. Dull pain coursed through her once more. She curled into her husband's side, doing her best to fight the rolling agony. Michael didn't know how he could help her. He didn't know what he was suppressed to do to soothe her pain away. All he could do was hold her and mutter soft- yet ultimately meaningless- words in her ear.
Eventually, the pain passed, and Nikita just slumped in her husband's arms. Michael considered going to get a doctor, but he couldn't leave her side. Although Sonya had sat with her, Nikita had been dealing with the agony on her own for far too long. Michael couldn't force her to do that again even for just a second. Maybe that was overkill on his part. Maybe he was overreacting. Yet he wouldn't chance it. Michael would just have to keep waiting for someone to check in on Nikita. He refused to leave her alone again.
It wasn't long before a medic came into the room to see how Nikita was doing. The instant someone else appeared, Michael jumped out of the cot and demanded information. He needed to know every single thing about the miscarriage and all the after effects. The doctor seemed to have been expecting that reaction from him. She was calmly and efficiently able to tell Michael everything he had missed- from Nikita arriving in Medical bleeding and in pain, to the kind of medication given to her to help pass the fetus. It would be some time before Nikita was one hundred percent again. Until then, the couple should take the time to adjust and heal.
The doctor didn't linger. She soon left Nikita and Michael to talk amongst themselves. He turned to her with lingering questions till in his gaze. He didn't have to ask them outloud; she understood it loud and clear. He wanted to know how a miscarriage had even happened. The last thing Nikita had told him was that everything was okay. What happened. Although there were no more tears left to fall, she broke down into a sort of sob. Finally, she told Michael the truth. She told him about how she was warned of the risk- how the fetus wasn't developing right, and she was so stressed. She told him what she should have a long time ago and cried.
For a moment, Michael simply stared at his wife. He had to absorb the information before he could truly react. Nikita continued to explain herself as he thought. She told him why she didn't say anything. She told him she was a coward, and that she didn't want to believe the truth. She only wanted the future he wanted. But look where that got them. They were still so far away from their happily ever afters. The married couple wasn't free, they were still fighting in a war, and the family they were planning for was lost. Everything was screwed up. And it was her fault.
Upon hearing those last words, Michael snapped out of his haze. He rushed back to his wife, scooped her up in his arms, and swore over and over again that it wasn't her fault. Nothing was her fault. The miscarriage, the ruined mission, the seemingly lack of a future, none of that was on her. Nikita didn't do anything wrong. She had made mistakes, yet she had done nothing wrong. She wasn't to blame. Michael would repeat that to her over and over again, whether she was willing to believe it or not. She wasn't at fault.
Michael and Nikita spent the next few hours talking, then dozing, then talking some more. They made sure to discuss the failed mission and the miscarriage, nothing was being left unsaid. At least, they tried to say everything. Raw emotions were kept at bay. Neither brought up their deeper, darker thoughts and feelings. They were already dealing with so much. Anymore weight to their conversation could send them spiraling into only God knew what. They had to wait until things settled before they could even address the hurtful thoughts in their minds. Though, with their record, would that even be a possibility.
When Nikita was released to go home, the couple didn't think about any raw or heavy emotions. They simply tried to keep one foot in front of the other and move on past their pain. The two stopped talking about what happened (except for a brief conversation between Nikita and Alex). Neither wanted to dwell on the loss. Nikita and Michael thought it was best to focus on healing without constantly discussing the miscarriage. That conversation had been dealt with. They could keep slowly yet surely moving on, keeping one another close as they did so.
With Amanda still on the loose, Michael's prosthetic gone, and a lot of unchecked emotions still running rampant throughout the team, however, the married couple's tactic might not work in the long run.