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ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.
Sequel to "Ghost"
thirteen months later
Madeline stood in the doorway, watching Michael. Since Nikita had been brought into Medlab, four days ago, he hadn't left her side. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, hands clasped togther and resting in his lap as he watched her.
She hadn't regained consciouness since the accident. The doctors feared that Nikita might not come out of her coma. Madeline hoped they were wrong. She wondered what Michael was thinking. Did he want Nikita to live?
It hadn't been said, and wouldn't be. But after it had been discovered that Nikita had survived the suicide mission that had killed the five other operatives that had been held in abeyance, Operations and Madeline had no doubt that Michael had helped Nikita to escape. It had been a fluke that she had been spotted by a Section operative a week ago. Michael hadn't been told. A team had been sent out to retrieve Nikita and when she had spotted them she had made a run for it. But, she chose to cross a busy intersection and had been struck down by a car. When she had been rushed back to Section and into surgery, word had quickly spread about Nikita's return. Madeline had called Michael into her office before then, to tell him what had happened. He had turned deathly pale, but that had been his only, visible, reaction to the news. When dismissed, he had gone straight to Medlab. He hadn't left since except for a quick shower or run to the bathroom.
"You need to sleep, Michael," Madeline said softly, as she entered the room and moved to his side. Shadows left smudges beneath his eyes, which were red-rimmed and glassy from exhaustion.
He didn't look at her as he replied, "I'm fine."
Madeline swallowed a sigh. "That was Michael's standard answer. "I'll stay with Nikita for a while," she offered. "Why don't you go and get something to eat?" "I'm not hungry," he said softly, still not taking his eyes off of Nikita.
"Michael.." Madeline placed on hand on his shoulder. "If you don't eat soon and get some rest, your going to end up in the next room hooked up to an IV. Is that what you want?"
Michael closed his eyes, a part of him wishing that Madeline would simply disappear. But he knew that she wouldn't, so he offered a compromise. "I'll eat something later," he promised.
Madeline didn't believe him. "I'll expect to see you in my office in an hour. We'll have supper together." It was an order, not an invitation.
"I'll be there," Michael replied, knowing that he had no choice but to agree.
"Any changes?" Madeline asked, her eyes flickering over to Nikita.
Michael shook his head. After a moment he felt Madeline's hand drop from his shoulder, then she left the room. Michael waited a few minutes, unmoving, then he reached out to smooth a lock of pale hair off Nikita's brow. "I don't know if you can hear me...but I think you can." Michael's voice was a husky whisper and he had to pause a moment to swallow back tears. "I want to tell you that I'm sorry, but I think you're tired of hearing that. I've said it so many times...I wonder if you ever believed me. I don't blame you if you didn't. But I meant it. Everytime. It doesn't excuse what I did, and it was never a plea for forgiveness. Nor is what I'm about to tell you."
Michael reached for Nikita's hand, and he held onto it as if it were a lifeline. Perhaps it was. For both of them. For Michael needed Nikita's strength of will as he faced the memories of the past that haunted him night and day. "When we were captured by Red Cell, you asked me about my words. There was only one lie, Nikita. And I'm not the one who told it. When the leader read my file and mentioned my son...that was lie. I never had a son. I'm telling you this because it's connected to the biggest lie of all. Simone. My...wife." Michael grimaced as he said the last word. "I've never been married, Nikita. It's not allowed in Section. The entire mission was a set up. To make you feel sorry for me. That scenario is what started off the sequence leading to the War. Section has always been aware of the possibility of the directory being stolen. The thing with Simone...I knew that they wanted you to bond to me. I didn't understand why, then, and I had long ago learned not to ask. But after the directory was stolen, the next phase went into effect.
" When Birkhoff told us that Operations wanted to see me, alone, it was to tell me the location of the substation, and that I was to feed it to you. After you were captured, he sent me in after you...to be captured as well. It was part of the plan. It wasn't until Red Cell read my file that I really understood what the mission profile was. Section knew you wouldn't crack and reveal the location if tortured. And,after reading my file, Red Cell would know that I would die first, before telling them. So they wouldn't have believed me if I had given them the location. But, it was believed that your feelings for me were strong enough that you would tell them, in order to save me. I was hoping they were wrong." Michael heard the tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat and used his free hand to wipe the tears off his face. He had only now realized that they had fallen.
A part of Michael wanted to stop and walk away. Not from Nikita, but from the truth. But he knew that she deserved the truth. That she had earned it. And he would be the one to give it to her. .. The consequences be damned. So Michael took a deep breath and continued. "Up until that time, I didn't think that we would leave that place alive. But after what you did....betraying Section to keep me from going insane...I knew I couldn't let you die. But...sometimes....I wonder if that wouldn't have been kinder of me. That's why I let you go. I wanted to believe that you could be free. You don't belong here Nikita." He would have said more but Michael sensed a presence behind him. He turned to find Walter in the doorway.
The old man offered a sad smile. "Sorry to bother you, Michael," he said. "But...Operations wants to see you."
"All right," Micheal replied. He turned back to Nikita and slowly stood up.
Raising her hand to his lips, Michael pressed a kiss to her soft skin. As he did so, he felt her fingers tighten about his. Michael smiled then, for he knew that Nikita had heard his confession. But the smile was gone as he laid her hand back down on the mattress and left the room.
************* seven days later *************
Nikita had come out of her coma soon after Michael had left her. At least, that's what the doctors believed. She spent the next three days resting, then she felt ready to face the long road to recovery. Nikita was resigned to her fate. She had seen the car that had struck her and had hoped to die. But she hadn't, so she would find a way to live. But first, she needed to talk to Michael. He hadn't been back to see her since his confession. So Nikita had asked Walter to bring him to her. She was expecting him any minute. As if on cue, the doors opened and he stepped into the room. "Hello, Michael," Nikita said soflty.
"How are you feeling?" He countered, not leaving the doorway.
"Better." Nikita offered a smile, then gestured for him to sit down beside her.
His chair was still waiting for him. "We need to talk," she said firmly.
Michael knew what about. He moved to the bed, but remained standing. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Nikita nodded. "I know you are," she said soflty. "I believe you, Michael. A part of me always wanted to....now I do."
"Good," he replied. That was all. Michael would follow Nikita's lead.
"I have two questions for you," she declared, her eyes locked on his face. It was obvious that Michael hadn't slept and he was, visibly, thinner. Nikita worried about that. And the fact that his eyes reflected so much pain, and it wasn't like him to let it show. "Will you answer them for me...honestly?" Michael nodded. "If I can," he allowed.
Nikita took a moment to gather her courage. She wanted answers, but knew that you sometimes had to be careful what you wished for. "Why did you tell me the truth about Simone, and the War? Why now? Was it because you thought I was going to die?" Nikita was asking three questions, but they were connected into one.
"In part," Michael acknowledged. His eyes flickered away from Nikita's intense gaze, but only for a moment. He would face her with the truth. "But I owed you the truth. You earned it."
"Section isn't big on being honest, Michael," Nikita countered, a wry smile curving her lips. "You took a risk in telling me."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
Nikita studied him carefully, trying to see if there was a hidden meaning to his words. But she believed that he was speaking from his heart. "Why not?" she prompted.
"Is that your second question?" Michael countered, allowing himself a glimmer of a smile.
"No." Nikita laughed softly, ignoring the pain that it caused to ripple through her. "Do I get a freebie?"
Michael reached out and brushed a lock of pale hair out of Nikita's eyes. "No more lies between us," he said softly.
Nikita was thoughtful for a moment. "For now...or forever?" she countered. "For now," Michael replied.
"Good answer," Nikita said, appreciating his honesty. She woudn't have believed him now, or believed in his confession, had Michael said *forever*. They both knew better than that. "Third question."
Michael nodded. "Ask."
Nikita felt the need to lead up to it. "I had time to think while I was gone. About you...and me. About the reasons why you did the things you did. You protected me in the past, Michael, at risk to yourself. You set me free, and that was the biggest risk of all. I know you're not afraid to die..."
"What is your question?" Michael interjected. He was almost afraid of what Nikita was leading up to.
"Do you love me?" she blurted out. Then she waited, her eyes locked on his face.
Michael hadn't expected that particular question. He was surprised, and let it show for a moment. Then he locked eyes with Nikita, even as he pulled his defenses around him like a cloak and felt himself slipping into machine mode. It was the only way to protect them both. His voice was soft and without inflection as he replied, "You don't want me to answer that."
Nikita bit her lip as she watched Michael turn on his heel and leave the room.
The moment she was gone she whispered, "You're right, Michael. I don't." Nikita realized that she wasn't ready for either answer. So she closed her eyes and let herself drift off into sweet oblivion.
THE END
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