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She watched him.
Michael could feel Nikita's eyes, following his every move and gesture, which was only to breath at the moment, forcing air into his lungs despite the restriction of a tight chest. The bright blue beams of Nikita's gaze burned into Michael's flesh, but he did not feel the heat. Nothing could warm the cold that flooded his veins, seeping into his body and penetrating his soul.
"Michael..."
He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, whispering his name. Then he trembled when her hand touched his arm. Felt her tremble in response and then she was beside him, keeling on the floor, strong arms wrapping around Michael, enfolding him in her sheltering embrace. He let her hold him, too weak and weary to protest.
Nikita rocked Michael for a long time, blinking back tears when she felt his arms curl around her waist. She rested her cheek on top of his head, feeling the soft tickle of his silky hair against her skin. The smell of cool night air scented his flesh and Nikita inhaled deeply, swallowing back the scolding she should have given him. Michael had slipped out of bed in the middle of the night to walk in darkness again. He should have been resting.
The bullet that had nearly ended his life had been removed, but it left scars. And not only those imprinted in his flesh, but scars that seared his heart and soul. It had been three months since that fateful day, yet Michael was still fragile. Too thin, too weak, too pale. A shadow of himself. A true ghost of the man he had been. In the past his recovery would have been swift and sure, for Michael did not tolerate weakness in himself. But that was the rub, Nikita knew. She was his weakness. And she could not, would not, leave him.
"Talk to me, Michael," Nikita begged. She had tried not to push him, but they both knew that he could not go on this way. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be free. Together...and free.
"I can't let go, Nikita," Michael whispered, lifting his head from the warmth of her soft neck. "I can't forget."
She held him tighter, pressing butterfly kisses to his temple. "We'll never forget, Michael," Nikita replied, her voice husky with emotion. "But we have to move on. We have to let go of the past and take a step towards the future."
Michael sighed and pushed away from Nikita. He stood up on shaky legs and glided over to the window. There was a pale moon glowing in dark sky. "I don't remember what it's like to have a future," he said softly, eyes locked on the shimmering moon. "I only know how to live in the moment."
"No," Nikita countered, her tone suddenly cold as she moved to stand beside him. "This isn't living, Michael. It's not even surviving!" she hissed, hands going to his shoulders and turning him so that he was forced to face her. "You've given up...without even trying." Tears swelled in Nikita's throat and she had to swallow hard before she could continue. "You risked everything to free us, and now you're throwing it all away."
"I'm sorry," Michael breathed, knowing that it was not an excuse, that it didn't absolve him from his responsibility to Nikita. He owed her so much for all the pain he had caused in the past. For all the lies and the betrayals. For pushing her away when all he had wanted to do was pull her close and hang on to her forever. Now they had each other, and freedom, and he no longer had the will to fight.
Nikita wiped away her tears with her shirtsleeve, then she cupped Michael's face in her hands. "Why?" she beseeched him, desperation coloring her voice. "Why won't you try, Michael? Why won't you give us a chance? I thought you loved me..."
Michael closed his eyes, shutting out the pain that glimmered in Nikita's gaze. "I love you," he whispered, but it was hard to say the words. And in that moment Michael found the courage to speak the truth. "I'm...afraid."
"Of what?" Nikita challenged, and she was surprised by Michael's confession. She hadn't believed him to be afraid of anything. Not Michael. Not the man who faced death without flinching.
"Never you, Nikita," he replied, one hand lifting to stroke her pale hair. It was sunlit silk and soft against his rough palm. "I'm afraid of myself. Of failing you. Afraid of....life."
Nikita didn't understand his fears, but she wanted to. Locking eyes with Michael she smiled. "I'm afraid too," Nikita confessed. "I'm afraid that this just a dream. That any minute now Madeline is going to walk through the door and order us back to Section. That you'll look at me and say *I'm sorry, Nikita*...and once again it will have only been a lie. A mission. One more betrayal."
Michael felt his heart constrict as Nikita spoke. He had hurt her so deeply and now her pain came full circle to lance his flesh like a razor sharp blade. "It's not a lie," Michael whispered. "But..."
"But what?" Nikita demanded, her fingers now tangling in his hair when Michael would have turned away. "You bought our freedom, Michael. Operations let us go. You told me we could be together....that you wanted to be with me."
"I do want to be with you," Michael replied, and he spoke from the heart. But the truth did not allay his fears. "I love you more than life, Nikita. But...I don't know how to give you what you need. I don't know how to show you that love. Or how to protect out here." Michael's words choked on a sob that he swallowed down. But he couldn't stop the tears that shimmered in his eyes from rolling down his face. "I don't know how...to be...free."
Nikita felt her own tears flow again as Michael made his confession, for in that moment she began to understand. After only three years in Section, Nikita had found herself unable to be free again. Michael had spent fifteen years in Section. And to survive there, he'd had no choice but to forget what freedom was. Nikita bit her lip then pulled Michael into a hug. How selfish she had been not to realize his fears. "We'll teach each other, Michael," she whispered against his hair. "We'll learn together."
Michael leaned against Nikita for a moment, accepting her warmth and her strength, but then he pulled away and walked away as well. He couldn't bear the thought of causing her anymore pain, but he knew that it was inevitable. "I don't know how to be...normal, Nikita," he whispered. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be out here. I don't know what it takes to survive."
"We'll make our own definition of *normal*," Nikita declared, striding over to Michael to confront him once more. This was one time when she would not allow him to run away from her. Or from himself. "We'll find a way."
"It's not that easy," Michael protested, for he wanted Nikita to face reality. If she didn't, they had no hope."
Nikita heaved a sigh of frustration. Michael was the most stubborn human being she had ever met, and he refused to give himself the benefit ot the doubt. But she could be stubborn too, and Nikita refused to give up on him. "Answer me one question," she beseeched him.
Michael nodded, he owed her that much. "Ask."
"Do you want to be with me?" she whispered. Nikita had no doubt that Michael loved her. In the past it had been with actions rather than words, but it was love just the same.
"Yes," Michael replied, almost reluctantly. He was suspicious of Nikita's motives in asking. "Why?"
Nikita offered a smug smile. "One thing about you, Michael, that I learned from day one....was that you never do anything halfway. It's a hundred and ten percent...or nothing. So....All I'm asking you to do now is give us that hundred and ten percent. But don't do it for me. Do it because YOU want it. Understand?"
Hauling in a deep breath, Michael let it expand his lungs then he released it slowly. And with the action came a sudden calm. He understood what she wanted. It was written in her eyes. Nikita was asking him to believe in himself because she did. And that meant more to Michael than anything else in the world. It meant she trusted him.
"I'm ready to be patient, Michael," Nikita whispered, and she blinked back tears as she saw the light of understanding burn in Michael's eyes. A year ago he had asked her to *Be patient* and Nikita hadn't been willing to do that. She hadn't been ready to believe in Michael. But she did now. She believed in him, and in his love for her. And she believed, in her heart and soul, that their love for each other was strong enough to move mountains.
"I can't promise you..." Michael began, only to be silenced by a kiss. It was a brush of sweet lips that was quickly gone, but the warmth of it lingered.
Nikita smiled again. "I'm not asking for promises, Michael. Just...try."
He nodded. "Oui...I will try." Michael felt a smile curve his own lips but it trembled then faded. "But...it won't happen overnight, Nikita."
"I know," she replied, reaching for Michael's hand and pressing a kiss into his palm. Nikita then pressed his hand over her heart. "But...it will happen, Michael. If you let it." She waited for him to speak, but he spoke with a kiss, not words. And when they parted, Nikita felt breathless and hopeful. She hugged Michael then pulled away. "Would you like some coffee?" she asked, more for the chance to be alone for a moment than because either one of them needed it.
"Yes," Michael replied, for he needed some time to himself as well. He watched Nikita nod, then glide away, then he let himself remember that fateful day that had brought them to this place in time.
It was the day that Michael had confronted Operations. After the scenario with Adrian and Nikita's challenging the head of Section One, Michael had known that Nikita's time was limited. That she wasn't cancelled outright had not consoled him. He knew that Operations would neither forgive nor forget. So Michael had done what he had to do. Had been gather facts together for years. Facts and information and the like that proved Adrian's charges against Operations. That the man was on an ego trip for world power. With CD in hand, Michael had approached his superior and made a bargain. Freedom for himself and Nikita in exchange for handing over the information and Michael's word that he would never use it against Operations in the future.
Operations had agreed to consider Michael's request, asking for twenty-four hours to decide. Michael had agreed, knowing that the other man would attempt to undermine him in some way, but all the bases had been covered. Michael knew he was secure. But then fate had intervened.
Walter had been assigned a recruit to help him, since Operations and Madeline both felt that the old man needed a break. It had been a stressful year for Walter and he still felt the strain of Belinda's death. The only problem was that his helper, Bartlett, was unstable. Only no one had seen it until it was too late. The catalyst had been Madeline. Adrian's accusations that Madeline slept with the recruits was true. She had seduced and bedded Michael in his first two years. She had done the same with Bartlett, only he didn't handle rejection well. He had entered the conference room, gun in hand, with the intention of killing her. But Michael had stepped in front of Madeline, acting as a shield, taking the bullet that would have ended her life. And it was for that reason, more than any other, that Operations had granted Michael his freedom. His and Nikita's.
Michael believed that Operations' would keep his word, yet he couldn't accept the reality of it. That he was free, and with Nikita. That they could have a future together. As he returned to the window and gazed up at the moon, Michael remembered how he had spoken to Lisa Fanning about freedom. How he had told her to follow her heart and to not be afraid. Now it was time to take his own advice. But it wasn't so easy to forgive himself. To accept that he deserved to be free. And to be with Nikita.
"Here you go," Nikita announced, as she entered the room with two steaming mugs of coffee. She handed the black one to Michael, but her eyes were locked on his face. Nikita was relieved to see that the tears had faded.
"Thank you," Michael replied, accepting the mug and taking a careful sip. "It's good."
Nikita laughed. "It's instant."
Michael reached out to brush a knuckle across her cheek. "I know," he said fondly. "Someday I'll teach you to make real coffee. We've got time."
"All the time in the world," Nikita confirmed, capturing Michael hand in hers and lacing their fingers together. She knew that he was still afraid, but so was she. Only it wasn't so bad being afraid...together. With her head resting on Michael's shoulder, Nikita gazed at the moon and smiled. And in her mind's eye she could see Michael's spirit take flight on silent wings.
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