Episodic

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(Expansion of a cut scene from the episode, Beyond the Pale)

"There’s another option. I mean, we could live this day like it was our last," Nikita said hopefully, pressing her hands together beneath her chin as if in prayer.

"It very well could be," Michael replied quietly turning his head to gaze at her in the candlelit room.

Nikita waited in vain for some overture, some hopeful sign that Michael would put this precious time together to good use, but it seemed the mission--for that's what she now suspected they were on--came first. As it always had; as it always would. She saw no purpose in fighting the inevitable. She didn't have the heart for it anymore. The fact that he carefully covered her with the blanket before lying back to sleep cemented her assurance that he had no intention of touching her.

With a sigh, Nikita stretched out on the cold blankets facing away from Michael, careful to hide both her hurt and disappointment. The bed was lumpy and shook with every restless movement she made. For a fraction of a second, Nikita found a comfortable groove in the ratty mattress, only to realize the candle on her side of the bed was still lit. She slapped at it half-heartedly, trying to avoid burning her fingers, but the stubborn flame would not go out. A second time and a third failed as well. Anger succeeded with a fourth, even through the tender skin of her palm smarted from a burn as a result.

Michael watched Nikita shift on the bed beside him, her slender body barely discernable in the inky silence of the room. He knew what she wanted; he wanted the same thing with an intensity that nearly frightened him, but he wasn't willing to risk their fragile relationship by allowing her false hope. Nothing could come of this night, not with Section hunting them. He hadn't yet let her in on the mission profile. He hoped she'd figure it out on her own. But the fact that she came without an argument, that she trusted him with her life, filled him with hope. Despite their tortured past, she still cared for him.

Nikita’s arm bumped against his, making the bedsprings rattle.

Instinctively, he caught her hand and held it. His thumb stroked the soft skin of her wrist, moving casually in a circle. For a moment he felt her try to pull away and laced his fingers through hers to prevent it. The need to touch her, to somehow reassure and calm her, overwhelmed Michael; she was hurt and he could no longer bear it. His fingers curled around hers binding her to him with a silent plea for forgiveness. He felt her slowly relax, as his fingers slid against hers, slowly rubbing, stroking, caressing . . . .

"That's nice." He heard her whisper in the dark and then felt the bed wobble as she turned on her side to face him. “Michael?”

“Yes?”

“This is a mission, isn’t it?” she whispered even softer.

Michael turned on his side towards her, her hand still clasped in his own. “Yes.” He was bitterly ashamed to add, “I’m sorry.”

“And they’re listening?”

“It’s possible.” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them tenderly.

“I’m cold,” Nikita said and scooted closer. She slipped an arm beneath Michael’s neck and pressed full-length against him. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and gently kissing her forehead. They lay together, simply holding on to each other in the darkness.

“So, are you going to let me in on the profile?” Nikita whispered after a long while.

Michael let his fingers comb lovingly through her hair, much more interested in her than the mission, but answered quietly, “Operations believes Zalman has defected to Red Cell.”

“So Operations is setting him up by using us as bait?”

“Using the router as bait. Our escape was only to set up a plausible scenario for getting it out of Section. If Zalman is Red Cell, getting his hands on the field router would be a major coup. Killing us to get it, would be icing on the cake.”

“So what now?”

“We wait until Zalman makes his move.”

“Won’t I be facing containment when we return? You knew this was a mission; I didn’t.”

“No.” Michael’s hand paused in its caress. “Operations will assume I told you before we left.”

“But you didn’t tell me before we left, Michael. So, why didn’t you?” She lifted her head and looked into his face, even though the darkness shielded his expression.

There was a long moment of silence before Michael admitted, “I needed to know if you trusted me enough to do as I asked, without question.” His thumb found and caressed the fullness of her lower lip.

“I see. Another test,” she said, her voice clipped with disappointment. “So all that talk in the truck about…wanting me was just….”

Michael silenced her with a passionate kiss. When he finished, he added softly, “I profiled the mission.”

“So that we could be together?” she replied with awed surprise.

“Yes…away from Section.” He kissed her again with a tenderness that brought her near tears.

“How long do you think we’ll have before Zalman tracks us down?”

Michael’s fingers moved to stroke her face as he answered sadly, “Not long, a day, maybe two.”

Nikita buried her face against his shoulder and clutched the front of his sweater. “Then, I’ll take what I can get,” she whispered.