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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.
Nikita was seated at the conference table in the briefing room. No one else was there yet, but that wasn't surprising since she had made it a point to be early. Reason being that she knew Michael made it a habit to be early and she wanted a moment to talk to him.
As if on cue, Michael glided into the briefing room. He saw Nikita seated there and allowed a smile to curve his lips, since her back was to him. It wasn't like her to be early, so he wondered if something was wrong. Michael moved forward, silently, and touched her shoulder. "Nikita?"
"Michael." She swiveled around in her chair and smiled up at him. He looked gorgeous, as always, although she was a little surprised by the fact that he wore a heather-green t-shirt under his black jacket. Michael seldom wore actual colors, unless it was for a character he was playing. Which was too bad. As wonderful as he looked in black, Nikita loved him in blues and light colors.
"Is something wrong?" Michael asked, his eyes flickering over Nikita's beautiful face and pausing at her lips, before moving back to her eyes.
She shook her head. "No...nothing's wrong. I just wanted a moment to talk to you."
Michael didn't betray his surprise. He simply clasped his hands before him and asked, "What about?" With Nikita there was no telling what was on her mind.
"About dinner," Nikita replied. She waited for a reaction from Michael but beyond a slight flicker in his silver-green gaze, she was disappointed. But not surprised.
"Dinner?" Michael repeated.
Nikita stood up so that they were eye to eye. "That's right. Dinner," she confirmed. "I would like to invite you over to my place for dinner tonight."
Michael didn't respond for a moment. He simply looked at Nikita, trying to read her thoughts and failing. They're relationship was rocky at best, when moved beyond proffessional status. And even then it was chaotic. After the War with Red Cell, Nikita had distanced herself from him for a time, and Michael had accepted that. In a way, he had felt it for the best. But then Nikita had started to thaw again. She had made attempts to start a *friendship* of sorts between them, but on her terms. Michael had allowed it, but cautiously. He didn't want Nikita to be hurt again.
"Will you come?" Nikita prompted, when Michael continued to look at her without answering.
"Why?" he countered, bluntly.
Nikita laughed. That was one of MIchael's favorite questions. Short and to the point. She was willing to answer it. "Because I want to get to know you better," she confessed. Not that he would allow it, but Nikita decided that it couldn't hurt to try.
Michael looked away from Nikita for a moment, contemplating his reply. "Do you cook?" he countered, putting off her question for a moment.
"Not exactly," Nikita admitted, her blue eyes sparkling. "However, I know all the best places to call for take out."
"Do you like Shrimp Alfredo?" Michael queried, returning his gaze to Nikita.
She titled her head and frowned. "Probably," Nikita drawled, letting him know that she had never had it before, but was willing to try it.
Michael allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. "I'll teach you how to make it," he offered. It was his way of accepting Nikita's invitation. And a way to let her get to know him better, without giving too much away.
"You cook?" she countered, letting her surprise show. Then, again, Michael was a man of many talents, so she shouldn't be so surprised.
"I cook when I can," Michael allowed. "Simone..." He paused for a moment as painful memories washed over him, unbidden. But Michael steeled himself against the pain and continued, his tone neutral. "Simone wasn't very good in the kitchen, so I did most of the cooking."
Nikita was touched that MIchael was willing to share this tidbit with her. She realized that he was trying to meet her halfway. A part of her was surprised, but then she remembered his words at the Red Cell warehouse. After she had called him on his betrayal of her once again, Michael had requested that they talk about things later and Nikita, in her anger and hurt, had blown him off. They had never referred to that time again. Maybe tonight would be a good time to talk about it. She smiled at him. "Tell you what. Since I invited you to dinner, why don't you give me a list of what we need and I'll buy the groceries?"
Michael nodded his agreement. "All right. I'll give it to you later. I'll bring the wine," he offered. "Shall I bring dessert too?"
"Just bring yourself," Nikita shot back, flirtatiously. She let her eyes rove over Michael slowly, but he didn't react. Not that she had expected him too. Michael had to much control over himself for that. "I'll take care of dessert," Nikita promised. She was about to say more, but just then Operations and Madeline entered the room, followed closely by Birkhoff. "Eight o'clock," Nikita whispered, before turning away from Michael to slip into her seat. She watched him move to the chair at the end of the table.
Madeline sat down between Nikita and Michael, her eyes moving over them both. She sensed a new closeness between them and it pleased her, on one level. But Madeline intended to keep a close watch over them.
Operations was unaware of this, nor would he have been concerned at that moment. He had more important things on his mind. He started the briefing by dropping a bomb. "One of the files from the old Directory has fallen into outside hands," Operations' annoucned. His eyes went to Michael, who betrayed no reaction. Then to Nikita who looked stunned. "Needless to say, we need to get the file back, ASAP. From what we know to date, the man who has the file is unaware of it's importance. So far."
"Who has it?" Michael questioned. He had leaned forward in his chair, posture rigid, hands clasped and resting on the table top.
"A man by the name of Gemini Styxx," Operations replied. He hit the remote to bring up the vidscreen. The image there was of a man who was tall and thin, and dressed in black and red.
Madeline picked up the tale. "Gemini Styxx is not his real name, but he had it legally changed to that at eighteen. He is a recluse. He lives in a warehouse that he has turned into a self-contained world. He hasn't left it in over seven years. He is brilliant in a business sense, and has amassed a fortune and the power that goes along with it. He obtained the file off a Red Cell agent whom his people had killed."
Nikita was curious. "Did he know the guy was Red Cell?"
"I don't think so," Madeline replied. "It was something of a random act. But he won't remain ignorant for long. We have to get that file."
"How?"Michael questioned. "From what you've said, he won't be easy to infiltrate."
Madeline nodded. "You're right, he won't. But we intercepted his recruiter. Dino. He was very helpful." Madeline's smile was cold as she continued. "It seems that Gemini Styxx is in the market of a linguist. Someone adept in several languages whom he wishes to use as a mediator for his business transactions since he has many dealings with various countries."
Operations picked up at this point, his eyes falling on Michael. "Your ability to speak ten languages will be the key to getting you inside, Michael," he explained. "That, and the added bonus that is in the resume that Dino has delivered to Gemini, along with his own personal...and glowing....recommendation of you."
Nikita took the bait. "What bonus?" she inquired.
"Michael's photographic memory," Madeline answered.
"Oh...," Nikita drawled, her eyes locking on Michael. She hadn't about that. Somehow she felt she should have. She had always thought he had a superior memory, now it kind of felt like he had cheated.
Michael glanced over at Nikita for a moment, seeing her interest at Madeline's revelation, but then he refocused his attention to the dark-haired woman. "What are his weaknesses?"
Madeline smiled. Michael was a stickler for details and it pleased her. "Gemini is ecclectic, as well as reclusive. He has a fascination with death and the dark side of life. Evil...if you will. Yet he believes in purity. He enjoys getting high, and he manufactures his own brand of heroin called HotIce. It's said to be extremely potent and somewhat hallucenigenic in form. He has never had sex for he believes that carnal pleasures are impure and blur the senses. He also believes that women are dirty and evil."
Nikita took offense at that. "So...I guess I won't be going along on this mission," she drawled, sarcasm oozing from her.
"Oh...You'll be going," Operations countered, a smile on his face. "You'll be playing Michael's fiancee. We're hoping that your presence will further distract Gemini to your true purpose, while Michael attempts to get close to him. You'll be the muscle...so to speak. You do whatever killing is neccessary to his work. Michael's...business...is offering his many services to the highest bidder. And guranteeing that the job, whatever it may be, gets done."
Michael rubbed his chin then asked, "Will Gemini take the bait?"
Operations nodded. "Oh yes. He already has. You'll be meeting with him in eight hours. Which means you have less than an hour to get ready. Madeline has your profiles. Study them well. Good luck." With that, Operations dismissed them and left the room.
Madeline handed Michael and Nikita each a disk, then she left the room as well, after asking them to stop in her office for their clothing and luggage, before leaving.
Michael was about to go as well, but Nikita cut him off. "Yes?" he asked, his eyes glimmering silver-green.
She sighed. "I guess dinner is postponed till we get back," she said, letting her disappointment show.
"It will be worth the wait," Michael replied. He let the back of his fingers brush Nikita's cheek, then he turned on his heel and was gone.
"Well....how about that?" Nikita whispered as she watched Michael's retreating figure. Then she, too, headed out, a smile on her face.
************
Michael and Nikita were escorted into Gemini Styxx's domain. It was a self-contained world, as Madeline had said. The most intriguing feature being that the only light came from candles. Hundreds of them, every where, yet Michael knew that electricity was in use. He and Nikita were led into a huge room with several skylights, allowing the beauty of the starry night to be seen above them.
In one corner was a mini carousel, broken down. Michael believed it to be symbolic in nature. This room was also filled with candles and draped with sheer curtains, both black and white fluttering in the breeze caused by central air conditioning. Three, giant screen tv's were in a semi circle, each one showing a different program. But in the far corner, near the fireplace, stood a man. He was dressed in black trousers and a black and red silk robe. He was tall and thin and had short, white-blond hair.
He seemed to sense their presence, even though their footsteps were silent on the thick, white rug. Turning around to face them, Gemini opened his arms wide and laughed.
Nikita caught her breath at the sight of his face. One side was marred by a hideous scar. A burn scar, Nikita realized. Just looking at Gemini gave her the creeps, but Nikita stayed in character and simply stared back at him.
Gemini ignored her, moving forward to greet her companion. The young man who was dressed in black and had the face of an angel. "You must be Michael," Gemini said in a voice that was startlingly deep and resonant. It was also a bit scratchy, a side effect from his burn injury. When the young man nodded, Gemini smiled. "Welcome to your new home," he drawled, and his pale eyes glittered.
At the finalilty of those words, Michael and Nikita glanced at each other. She didn't like the sound of them and she let her concern shimmer in her eyes. Michael simply held her gaze for a moment, for there was nothing he could say to reassure her. This was a job, and it was never easy. Regardless, they would do what needed to be done. Turning back to Gemini, Michael smiled and said, "Thank you."
************
Gemini moved forward to walk a slow circle around Michael. He then came back around to face him. "I'm very impressed with your resume, Michael," he drawled. "So you speak ten languages. You must have a good ear for it?"
Michael nodded. "I'm lucky."
"English is not your native language," Gemini said, a smile curving his thin lips. "You're French." It was a statement, no a question.
"That's right," Michael confirmed. He didn't offer anything else. He would simply follow the other man's lead.
Gemini nodded. "I'm half French myself," he declared, with a sense of pride. "But I'm American born." That fact disappointed him a little. "Now....Michael...tell me about your photographic memory. I'm fascinated." As he spoke, Gemini paced around Michael again. It was a test to see if it would agitate the other man or not. So far, Michael remained irritatingly calm. Yet, Gemini admired him for it at the same time. The woman, however, was getting pissed and that pleased Gemini.
Michael shrugged. He knew what Gemini was doing and didn't let it affect him. That it bothered Nikita was keeping in character for her, so he didn't sweat that. Instead he answered Gemini's question. "There's not much to tell. I discovered that I had the...gift...when I was about twelve," he confessed.
Nikita glanced over at Michael, wondering if that was a tidbit of truth. After all, he really did have a photographic memory. Maybe he was sticking to the truth for this particular character that he was playing. Since he also did speak ten languages. Nikita swallowed a sigh, and dispelled the wishful thought of wanting to deck Gemini Styxx. The fact that he breathed was beginning to annoy her.
"A very interesting gift, to be sure," Gemini drawled. His fingers tugged on a lock of Michael's hair, but the young man didn't react. "It must come in handy at times," he said softly, dropping his hand. Michael's unflappable demeanor pleased him. That, and his other skills, would prove to be highly useful to him, of that Gemini was certain. And now that Michael was in his home, he had no intention of letting him go. He would become part of Gemini's little family.
"It's an interesting talent," Michael allowed. "You can mess with people." He clasped his hands before him and decided to change the direction of the conversation. "I understand that you're looking for someone to play mediator for you in your foreign business transactions," Michael said. "At least, that's what our mutual *friend* told me." He was referring to Dino.
Gemini nodded, knowing whom Michael was referring to, as well as acknowledging what he had said. "I need someone I can trust," he drawled, meaningfully. "And someone who can read people. Almost like a psychologist. You know, manipulate those whom I'm doing business with in my favor."
Nikita couldn't resist. She just had to interject at this point. "Michael is a master of manipulation," she purred, shooting him a cheesy grin. She then mouthed a kiss when Michael merely stared at her.
"Why is she here?" Gemini snapped, not at all amused by Nikita's interruption. He didn't like her and he wouldn't pretend otherwise.
"Nikita is my fiancee," Michael countered, his voice soft but his eyes glinting like cold steel. "She's also my partner. She stays with me, or the deal is off."
Gemini realized that Michael was not going to give in on this issue, so he shrugged. He would simply ignore the woman. But he was intrigued about one thing. "She...kills for you?" he questioned, remebering what Dino had told him about her.
Michael smiled. "Nikita protects our interests," he countered, firmly. Michael wasn't thrilled by Gemini's attitude, but knew he would have to deal with it.
"Fair enough," Gemini allowed. He paced back over to the fireplace. "Are you hungry?" he asked, suddenly remembering to be a good host.
"Starving," Nikita drawled, knowing that it would irritate him. And she was right. But she gave Gemini credit, he glared at her yet waved to the banquet table against the far wall.
"Help yourself," he invited, with a fake smile. He would endure Nikita's presence for Michael's sake.
Nikita looked at Michael. "Want anything?" she asked, gliding over to him and brushing a kiss across his mouth. That, too, would irritate Gemini.
Michael shook his head. "No thanks," he told her, kissing Nikita back. They needed to know how far they could push Gemini. The other man truly despised Nikita, that much was obvious. Which put Michael on guard. He would not allow anything to happen to the beautiful blond.
"If you're not interested in food, Michael," Gemini said, moving to a side table that had a small drawer. From it he removed a slim, black case, "Maybe you'd like this?" he questioned.
"What is it?" Michael asked, although he had already guessed.
Gemini held up a syringe. "Hot Ice," he whispered, almost reverently. "It's my own creation. A rush unlike any other. I understand that you enjoy the rush." It was one of the tidbit's that Dino had revealed and it pleased Gemini, for it would make what he had planned far easier to commence.
Michael nodded, throwing a sidelong glance at Nikita who was at the banquet table filling a plate, but Michael knew she was listening to them, and she was not going to like what was about to happen. Not that he was too thrilled about it himself. "It depends on the rush," Michael countered, letting his words sound like a challenge.
"You'll like this," Gemini promised, taking the bait. "Try some."
"All right." Michael slipped off his coat, laying it on the back of a nearby chair. Then he pushed up the sleeve of his turtleneck, baring his left forearm. He noticed Nikita had put down her plate and was striding over to them.
Gemini looked at Michael's arm. The skin was smooth and unblemished. He let one fingertip brush over it and said, "No tracks." It was an accusation.
Michael wasn't intimidated. In fact, he smiled. "I'm a recreational user," he explained, his voice soft as a whisper. "And I don't advertise. It's not good for business."
"How true," Gemini drawled, a smile lighting up his face. He could accept that reasoning. There were...hidden..places to shoot up. He pulled a rubber tube band out of his pocket and wrapped it around Michael's bicep. Then he tapped smartly next to Michael's elbow to pop a vein. Once he was satisfied, he reached for the syringe.
It was at this point that Nikita made her presence known. "What the hell are you doing, Michael?" she demanded, remembering to keep in character, even though she was scared, as well as furious. "You promised me that you would give that shit up!"
Michael glared at her. He was beginning to think that he should have warned Nikita about this in advance, but Madeline had advised him against it. But now he had to make her understand, only he knew it wouldn't be easy. "You indulge yourself with chocolate, sweetheart," Michael drawled, pinning Nikita with a look that warned her not to interfere. "This is my....indulgence."
"Right!" Nikita spat. But she let it go, for she had gotten Michael's message, loud and clear. But they were going to discuss this, the moment they were alone.
"Maybe I should leave you two alone?" Gemini interjected, his irritation with Nikita obvious.
Michael shook his head. "No. Go on. I'm ready." He held up his arm. When Gemini slid the needle in, Michael didn't even flinch. Compared to the kind of pain he had suffered through in the past...this almost tickled.
Gemini watched Michael's face as he pushed in the plunger. Hot Ice was immediate in it's effect. He smiled as he saw Michael's eyes ficker. There was a rush of icy coldness when the drug first hit the bloodstream, then a beautiful warmth. Then the pleasure kicked in. Almost sensual and quite illuminating. "How do you feel?" Gemini asked.
"Good," Michael whispered. He knew, at once, that Hot Ice had hallucinogenic qualities. Madeline had prepared Michael, somewhat, for this, but it was more potent that he had expected. It wouldn't be that easy to control, but Michael exerted his iron will and won. He smiled at Gemini and saw the other man's disappointment. "It's not bad," he said with a shrug.
"I'm impressed," Gemini admitted, even as he reached for another syringe to inject himself. He was able to control the rush because he was used to it. He hadn't expected Michael to be able to do so. It would make it more difficult to addict him, but it could still be done. And would be done. Hot Ice had a special property. The user became addicted after just one time. And getting Michael addicted would insure the young man's loyalty to Gemini, for a lifetime.
Nikita was watching Michael closely. He didn't appear to be affected by the drug, which didn't entirely surprise her. Michael seemed part machine at times. Bullets and torture had barely slowed him down in the past. "I'm tired," she announced, wanting to be alone with Michael, none the less. So they could talk about what had just happened.
Michael was almost grateful to Nikita. "It has been a long day for us," he concurred. "Mind if we headed off to bed?" he asked, smiling at Gemini.
The other man nodded. "Of course. How thoughtless of me. I want you to get a good night's sleep, Michael," he said, moving forward to put an arm around the other man's shoulders and leading him towards the spiral staircase in the center of the room. "I've picked out my favorite suite for you and Nikita. Your luggage is already there. Top of the stairs, turn left. Last door."
"Thank you," Michael replied, stepping out from under Gemini's arm and gesturing for Nikita to proceed him. "Good night then."
"Good night," Gemini called out. "Oh." He waved an arm to call them back. "Almost forgot," he giggled, caught up in the sensual heat of the drug and the image of his hand seeming to float in front of his eyes. "I have a business meeting after breakfast tomorrow. Japanese exporter. Consider it a test of your skills, Michael. Impress me and we'll make beautiful music together for many years to come."
Michael nodded. "I'll do my best," he promised. Then he turned and nudged Nikita up the stairs.
The moment they were in the room and the door was closed behind them, Nikita was in Michael's face. "What the hell were you doing, taking that shit?" she demanded.
"It was part of the profile Madeline gave me," Michael explained. He went to his suitcase and pulled out some clean clothes. He could feel a sheen of sweat on his skin and he was starting to shake with his effort to control the effects of the drug.
"What are you talking about?" Nikita shot back, shaking her head. "Shooting up heroin is part of the mission profile?"
Michael closed his eyes for a minute, trying to slow his heart rate. He knew Nikita needed answers, but they were difficult to give right now. "Gemini has a habit of getting the people he goes into partnerships with addicted to Hot Ice so that he can control them. Madeline had it put into my background that I'm a user, and she expected that I would have to shoot up in order to make Gemini trust me." Michael met Nikita's gaze, seeing fire blazing in her blue eyes. She was furious, but beautiful. Surreally so, and Michael realized that he was seeing Nikita through the haze of the drug. "We don't have alot of time," he reminded her.
Nikita realized that Michael was fighting that effects of the drug and that it was taking it's toll on him. His eyes were glassy and his skin was sheened with sweat. "I don't like this," she declared, letting her opinion be known. But then she dropped her anger. "Are you all right?" she asked, moving to his side.
"I'm fine," Michael replied, easily telling the lie. "I'm going to take a shower. Go to bed, Nikita. We've got a long day ahead of us." With that, Michael gathered his clothes and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
"Dammit.." Nikita muttered, as she slumped down onto the bed. They didn't give a damn what Michael had to suffer through, just so long as the job got done. And Michael always got the job done. Nikita punched a pillow, then she slid off the bed and pawed through her duffle bag. She undressed then slipped an oversized t-shirt over her head. Then she crawled under the covers. Her intention was to wait for Michael to come out of the shower so they could talk some more. She wanted to make certain that there weren't any other surprises in store for her. But, the moment her head touched the pillow, she was asleep.
************ Madeline found Operations in his office. Her expression was grim. "We may have a problem," she offered in greeting.
He was not happy to hear that. "What kind of problem?" he questioned, his pale eyes locked on her face.
"We got back the first test results of the Hot Ice," Madeline explained. When she had given Michael his profile, they hadn't yet had a chance to test the drug. The window in which to get in tight with Gemini and retrieve the directory file was limited. So she had sent him in blind, so to speak.
"What did you find?" Operations prompted. He could see that Madeline was worried and it wasn't like her to show it. But then, he knew that she had a soft spot for Michael. He also knew why. But that was not important now.
Madeline sighed. "We just discovered that Hot Ice is addictive after the first time. And it's highly concentrated. Michael may not be able to control himself, as we had hoped."
Operations was silent for a moment, digesting this information. But then he shrugged. He trusted that if anyone could get the job done, it was Michael. "He'll have to," Operations drawled, then he turned his attention back to the report he had been studying, effectively dismissing Madeline. Only once she had gone did he slam his fist onto the desk top, his only reaction to the anxiety he felt. But then he was back in control once more and it was business as usual.
************
A crash yanked Nikita out of a sound sleep. She sat up in bed and reached for the beside lamp. Blinking in the sudden glare she was stunned to see Michael sitting at the desk across the room. He was thrashing about and calling out a name.
"Simone..." he cried out. "Forgive me!"
"Michael!" Nikita was out of bed in a flash, carefully stepping around the broken glass of the lamp Michael had knocked off the desk. It was obvious to her that he was caught up in a nightmare. No doubt brought on by the Hot Ice. She went to him and placed her hand on his arm, meaning only to shake him awake. But Nikita cried out as Michael's strong fingers clamped over her wrist. He came near to breaking the bone. But she barely had time to register that pain when the wind was knocked out of her. Michael had tossed Nikita over his hip so that she hit the floor hard, on her back. Then he was looming over her. Nikita felt cold fear ripple up her spine at the wild look in Michael's eyes. But it was the broken shard of glass that he held in his right hand that make Nikita whimper.
Michael snarled as he pressed the jagged edge to the soft skin of Nikita's throat.
************
"Michael...." Nikita whispered his name, hoping to reach him, for any minute now, the glass pressed to her throat would draw blood. In Michael's hands, she knew death would be swift and certain. Nikita closed her eyes and prepared herself, but suddenly found herself free. Her eyes flew open and she saw Michael, his back pressed against the wall. He was staring at her and shaking. Nikita got to her feet and walked towards him, a smile on her face.
"Don't!" Michael hissed, holding up the hand that still held the broken glass, to keep Nikita back. He could see, by the look in her eyes, that she was no longer afraid of him. But she should have been. He was terrified of himself....of what he might do. "Please, Nikita..." Michael beseeched, when she continued walking towards him.
She shook her head. "It's all right, Michael," NIkita said softly. She wanted only to hold him and offer the comfort he so desperately needed. "Let me help you."
Michael almost laughed at that, tossing aside the glass shard that he suddenly realized he was still holding. "You can't help he whispered, andhe heard the anger coloring his tone. One more sign of his loss of control. Pushing away from the wall, Michael strode into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
"Dammit, Michael," Nikita sighed. For once, why couldn't he let her help him? Why did he always have to be so strong and so alone? Nikita knew she would never get the answers to those questions because Michael would never let her get close enough to him to ask them. Wincing as she stretched the kinks out of her body, Nikita dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and stepped into sneakers. Then she knelt down to clean up the mess on the carpet. It was four am when she finished. Michael was still in the bathroom, so Nikita curled up on the bed and allowed herself to drift back to sleep.
************ The meeting with the Japanese Exporter had gone well, so that evening Gemini decided they would celebrate. He opened bottles of champagne and made countless of toasts to his *profitable* future with Michael. Gemini, purposefully, left Nikita out of the toasts.
Nikita didn't care. He entire focus was on Michael. He was pale and his hair curled about his damp face. Nikita was a street rat, she was accustomed to the symptons of withdrawal. Michael was in agony, and she found herself hurting for him. Hot Ice was a potent drug. He shouldn't have become addicted so quickly, and Nikita was frightened. But she kept her fears to herself, knowing that Michael wouldn't appreciate having them vocalized.
Michael could feel Nikita watching him. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he could guess. He didn't worry about that now. It took all of Michael's concentration not to reveal just how bad off he really was. This was worse than what he had suffered in the past in many ways. Michael was guessing that the drug that Red Cell had intended to inject him with during the War, might have been similar in nature, just more pure in it's concentration. Control was slipping through his fingers and Michael was terrified. But he didn't let it show. He couldn't. But he was paying for the effort it took.
Gemini was faring better. Not only because he was used to the drug, but because he thrived on the loss of control. That, to him, was the *rush*. And he was looking forward to more. Moving to the desk, Gemini removed the black case then went over to where Michael and Nikita were sitting. He shooed Nikita away and reached for Michael's arm. The other man was wearing a black t-shirt, so he had easy access to him. "Time to party..." Gemini drawled as he tied the band around Michael's bicep.
"Let's do it," Michael replied, forcing a smile. He felt Nikita glaring at him, but concentrated only on the needle sliding into his arm. The moment Michael felt the drug pump into him, there was relief. But he new that it would be fleeting. Still, it would give him a chance to prepare for the next phase. The smile he offered Gemini this time, was genuine.
************ It was after two am when Gemini collapsed in a drunken stupor on the sofa. Michael covered him with a blanket, then took Nikita aside. "Go to bed," he told her, making it an order. "And lock the door."
That surprised her, and Nikita let it show. "Michael..."
"Do it!" he hissed, cutting her off. The second time around with Hot Ice was definitely worse than the first. Michael had nearly killed Nikita last night, he would not put her at risk again. He would remain downstairs with Gemini. If he killed the other man, he really didn't care at this point. "Go to bed, Nikita. Now!" Michael shoved her towards the stairs then walked out onto the catwalk, putting as much distance between them as he was able. He wasn't even going to attempt to sleep. Not after the nightmares from last night. Too many sick and painful memories that he was not able to handle right now. Not that he ever would be.
"Good night," Nikita whispered, even though she knew Michael couldn't hear her. She turned away from him and slowly climbed the stairs.
************
Light filled the room and Nikita blinked against it's brightness as she opened her eyes. She stretched and was just sitting up as Michael stepped out of the bathroom. His hair was damp and haloed his face in soft curls, making Nikita smile. He looked impossibly young, and somehow vulnerble. But he also looked pale and his eyes were marred by shadows. "How do you feel?" she asked, drawing up her knees beneath the sheets, and wrapping her arms around them.
Michael pulled a black blazer on over his black turtleneck. "Why didn't you lock the door?" he countered, his eyes flashing as he turned to face Nikita.
"Because I trust you," she replied, with complete honesty.
"Why?" Michael shot back. He was a bit surprised by Nikita's answer, but didn't let it show.
Nikita sighed. It saddened her that Michael had to ask. There was so much pain and misunderstanding between them. Their fault...as much as Section's. Nikita locked eyes with Michael. His were shuttered, but she was more than willing to let him see into her soul. "Because I know you won't hurt me," she replied.
Michael almost laughed at that. Almost. He turned away and scooped his watch off the dresser. "We both know better than that, Nikita," he whispered. Watch in place, Michael turned back and saw pain ripple across beautiful face. He had just proven his point. That was how it was between them, and how it would always be. "Get dressed, " he ordered. "Gemini is waiting for us."
************
Breakfast was a long, drawn out, affair. Gemini was still riding on champagne fumes mixed with the Hot Ice. He talked, non stop, oblivious to the fact that neither Michael nor Nikita were responding to him. But he did throw Michael for a loop when he tossed an electronic file in his lap. "You're a man of the world, Michael," Gemini drawled, slumping back down in his chair. "Maybe you can tell me what that is...and if it's worth anything."
Michael couldn't believe what he was staring at. It was the operative file from the directory. Gemini had just handed over to him what he and Nikita had come for. "It's...very interesting," Michael replied, his eyes locking with Nikita's.
She got his silent message and stood up to look over his shoulder. She didn't betray her surprise, but it wasn't easy. At a nod from Michael, Nikita smiled and strolled over to Gemini until she was standing behind his chair.
"So what is it?" Gemini asked, but then he gasped as Nikita's arm snaked around his throat, choking him.
In a flash, Michael was on his feet and removing a capped syringe from his jacket pocket. It was a sedative that would put Gemini out for ten to twelve hours. Michael tapped the needle into the other man's next and depressed the plunger. Seconds later, Geminit sagged in Nikita's arms. "Go," Michael said.
Nikita ran to the door and flung it open. Two guards were standing outside, armed with rifles. Gemini was paranoid, among other things. "Call 911!" Nikita shouted at the guards. "Gemini collapsed."
They rushed in. One quicker than the other. He ran into Michael's foot as the operative delivered a crescent kick. Nikita slammed the heel of her hand into the other guards throat. She then took his rifle as Michael grabbed the other one. He went to her, taking her by the arm. "Let's get out of here," Michael said. The electronic file was in his pocket. "Our job is finished."
************ Nikita finished debriefing, then went in search of Michael. She had expected to find him in his office, but it was empty. So she stopped by Walter's station. He seemed to keep track of everyone at Section. "Have you seen Michael?" Nikita asked, even as she peered over Walter's shoulder. He was soldering a circuit board of some sort.
"He's with Madeline, debrefing," Walter replied, as he put down the iron.
"Still?" Nikita questioned, surprised. There wasn't that much to tell.
Walter sighed. He had seen Michael earlier and knew that the young man was in bad shape. He also knew why. Walter had ways of finding things out. Sometimes he wished he was smart enough to mind his own business. He smiled at Nikita. "You're worried about him," Walter said softly. It was as plain as the nose on the beautiful blond's face. Nikita could deny it all she liked, but she was attracted to Michael. Any fool could see that, and Walter was no fool.
Nikita didn't respond, instead she asked a question. "Do you know anything about Hot Ice, Walter?"
"Only that it's no good, sugar," he replied, seeing no reason to lie to her. Nikita might be able to help Michael, if he would only let her. And Walter hoped that he would.
"Thanks," Nikita drawled, leaning forward to brush a kiss against Walter's leathery cheek. "Later." She headed off in the direction of Madeline's office.
************ Michael was sitting in the chair across from Madeline's desk. He could feel his heart racing and felt rivulets of sweat slide down his back. It was becoming difficult to concentrate, or to keep his eyes focused. But Michael did his best not to let his condition show. He didn't realize how miserably he was failing.
In Michael and Nikita's abscence. Madeline had thoroughly tested Hot Ice. It's side effects were horrific. Michael had been addicted to heroin before, for the sake of a mission, and had suffered through withdrawal afterwards. But this was going to be worse than he could ever imagine. Madeline was worried, but she didn't let it show. If anyone could get through it, it was Michael. "I want you in Medlab," she said softly.
"I'll be fine," Michael countered, forcing a smile. The last place he wanted to be was Medlab. He had logged to many hours in that place as it was.
"This isn't going to be like the last time, Michael," Madeline warned, her eyes darkening almost to black. "It's going to be alot worse than you realize."
Michael couldn't image how, but he still wasn't ready to give in. "I'll handle it," he said firmly, even as he clasped his hands together tightly to stop them from trembling.
Madeline suppressed a sigh. Michael was one of the most stubborn people she knew. If his mind was made up to go it alone, then nothing she said would sway him. Of course, she could order him to Medlab, or have him placed there by force, but that would only be a last resort. She would try another tactic. "It's all right to let people help you, Michael," Madeline said softly, her eyes locked on his pale face.
"Can I go now?" he countered, unwilling to meet the intensity of Madeline's, all-seeing, gaze. Michael, desperately, wanted to be alone. To curl up in some dark corner and wish for oblivion.
"You can go," Madeline allowed. But as Michael stood up she said, "I don't want you leaving Section," she told him. And that was an order. If he slipped into shock, or suffered a seizure, she wanted him where help was nearby.
Michael nodded. "I'll be in my office." With that he left the room.
************
Eight hours later, Nikita returned to Michael's office. She had been side-tracked while on her way to Madeline's office by a summons to see Operations. He asked her to type up the mission report, explaining that Michael would be unavailable to do so for the next few days. So Nikita had faked her way through the report, with Birkhoff's help. Operations' was a stickler for details, Nikita had learned, after redoing it twice.
The office was dark, and appeared empty, but Nikita entered it anyway, since the door was open. She sighed and was about to leave, when she heard a muffled crash. It was coming from behind the back wall. Nikita remembered seeing the outline of a door and guessed that it led to Michael's living quarters, for when he was in close quarter stand by. Or, perhaps, he lived in Section, like Birkhoff did. Not that it mattered, Nikita decided, as she turned the knob and opened the door. What she saw brought tears to her eyes.
There was a large bed against one wall and huddled up in the corner was Michael. His knees were drawn up under his chin and his arms were wrapped around them as he rocked himself to and fro. He was pale as marble and his hair was soaked with sweat. "....sorry.....sorry...sorry...." he whispered, over and over again. Like a mantra.
Nikita bit her lip, then she ran to the bed. Crawling onto it, she went to Michael and pulled him into her arms. What frightened Nikita more than anything, was that he allowed it. He was trembling so severely that his teeth were chattering. Yet even through his shaking, Nikita could feel his body spasm with pain. "I'm here, Michael," she whispered, as she smoothed back his hair. "I'm right here."
************
Forty-eight hours had passed. Michael had spent forty of them suffering through the agony of withdrawal. Nikita had stayed with him, offering what comfort she could. Holding Michael when his body spasmed with pain, and wiping his face with a cold cloth after a bout of dry heaves. Twice she had wanted to call Medlab. Once when he had brought up blood, the second time when he had seizured. But Michael had begged her not to, and she had listened to him. Thankfully, he had survived. Nikita could almost believe that she had suffered more than Michael had. His pain had become her pain, and seeing him in agony had torn her apart.
The last eight hours, Nikita had drifted in and out of sleep, while curled up beside Michael on the bed. Finally, she had passed out from exhaustion. When she awakened, she was alone. Nikita had quarters in Section one as well. She went there for a shower and a change of clothes, then she went in search of Michael. He was at Birkhoff's station, and the two were discussing something on one of the monitors.
Nikita studied Michael from a distance. She marvelled that he was standing. She wouldn't have been, after what he had suffered through. That he wasn't well was apparent. Michael was deathly pale and appeared shaky, to Nikita's worried eye. But he was back to being impeccably groomed. Dressed in his customary black, his hair smoothed behind his ears. But Nikita could see pain glimmering in his silver-green eyes when he glanced up and caught her staring at him. A flicker of surprise, then he looked away.
Michael returned his attention to Birkhoff and the schematics on the monitor, but he was fully aware of Nikita's presence. The withdrawal he had suffered through had been only part of Michael's agony. Being so close to her, having her hold him and care for him, had added to Michael's misery. It wasn't that he didn't want her with him, for she had helped him through it....but she had seen him in a time of weakness, had gotten closer to him than he felt was safe. And that would always be between them now. A part of Michael was glad, but a bigger part was worried. Section would know what had happened, and it was just one more piece of ammunition for them. Nikita had revealed her feelings for him, more plainly than if she had stood in Operations' office and shouted them out for everyone to hear.
"Whatcha doin'?" Nikita asked, as she sauntered over to the two men. She smiled at Birkhoff, then he gaze went to Michael. He didn't meet her eyes.
Birkhoff frowned. "We're running through mission schematics," he replied, obviously irritated at being interrupted. They didn't have much time.
Nikita nodded. "What mission?" She couldn't imagine that Michael would be going off on one, not anytime soon. He was no where's near recovered from his ordeal.
Michael answered her. "Birkhoff and I will be leaving for Prague in an hour," he replied. And this time he did meet Nikita's gaze. Shock, as well as anger, shimmered in the crystal-blue depths.
"You're joking," Nikita shot back, her eyes boring into Michael's. "You can't go on a mission. You're not well."
"I'm fine," Michael whispered, giving his standard reply. He would have said more, but Operations was coming towards them.
Nikita turned to the man in charge, uncaring that she was being disrespectful. "You aren't, seriously, sending Michael off on a mission?" she challenged. "You aren't that stupid!"
Operation's let the insult pass. "Michael has assured me that he's fine and ready to return to active status." The gray haired man turned to Michael. "Isn't that right?" Of course he knew that Michael was still shaky, but he also knew that he wouldn't accept the assignment if he didn't feel capable of handling it. Michael wouldn't jeapordize the mission, or the lives of the other operatives. Operations also understood that Michael wanted to get away from Section...away from Nikita. He, heartily, approved of that.
"That's right," Michael confirmed, dutifully. He looked at Nikita. "Let it go," he beseeched her.
"Fine." Nikita hissed the word, then turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor. She and Madeline were going to have a long talk.
************ Madeline had been expectiing Nikita, so she was smiling as the young woman stormed into her office. "Sit down," Madeline invited.
Nikita dropped into a chair, but her eyes were flashing. "Why is Michael going on a mission?" she demanded, forgoing all niceties, like a *hello*.
"We need him," Madeline replied. And it was the truth. Michael had contacts in Prague that would be useful on the mission. "He'll be back in two days."
"He's not ready for this," Nikita insisted. Tears were blurring he vision and she blinked him back. They were angry tears. Nikita was furious at the world right now, but she was content to take it out on Madeline, for the other woman represented Section One and all it stood for. Everything that Nikita hated. "Hasn't he suffered enough?" she beseeched, as much for Michael's benefit, as her own. "What the hell have you people done to him?" It was as much an accusation as a question. And it was a statement of Nikita's confusion. Michael had known only pain at the hands of Section One. So why was he so loyal to them? Why was he content to be their puppet?
Madeline studied Nikita carefully, her dark eyes not missing a single nuance of body language, tone of voice, or the reflection of Nikita's soul in the crystal-blue eyes. She was in love with Michael. She didn't recognize it as that, not yet. But it wouldn't be long, Madeline guessed. She wondered if Nikita was ready to learn more about him. If she was ready for the truth. "Do you really want to know?" she countered, her tone neutral.
Nikita nodded. "Yes. I really want to know," she stated, without hesitation. Michael was a complete mystery to her, and any information that Madeline was willing to give her would be more than welcome.
"All right," Madeline replied, turning to her keyboard and tapping at the keys. She brought up a file, Michael's medical history. It would give Nikita a place to start in understanding him as an operative. To see what he had suffered, and endured, for the sake of Section. If Nikita wanted a better understanding of Michael from an emotional standpoint, she would have to take that up with him. Nor would Madeline reveal her own analysis of Michael's psychological profile. She got up from her desk and gestured for Nikita to take her seat. "This is Michael's medical records. Take all the time you need. I have things to do. And, just so you know, you can't tap in to anything else, so don't even waste your time," Madeline warned her.
Nikita smiled, a bit sheepishly. She had thought about trying to get into other files, but she realized that it was a show of trust on Madeline's part to even let her see the medical file. "I'll behave," Nikita promised, as she dropped into Madeline's chair. She watched the other woman leave, then focused her attention to the screen.
It made for interesting reading, to say the least. Michael had been shot or wounded over two dozen times. He had suffered three concussions and had broken seven ribs at various times. With each injury listed was a notation of how it had been incurred. To Nikita's surprise, everything Michael had suffered seem to be mission related. There were nothing so simple as the flu, or bronchitis. Or even appendicitis. Reading further, Nikita felt her mouth go dry. Michael had suffered heroin addict, and the subsequent withdrawal, on three occassions, including the most recent at Gemini's hands. All of them, mission related. Nikita shook her head at the thought of Michael letting himself become addicted to heroin, simply to serve Section. But that wasn't the worst of it.
Nikita had seen, first hand, the agony Michael had suffered when tortured by Red Cell. At this point she wasn't entirely surprised to discover that it was the fourth time he had been subjected to torture. There were three previous times, and all mission related. Nikita was beginning to hate that term. Tears filled her eyes as she thought back to the War. In retrospect, Nikita realized that he had allowed himself to be captured, all the while knowing that he would, consequently, be tortured. She remembered the hours she had spent watching him, wondering if he were going to die on her. But Michael had proven to be indestructable. Nikita wondered how.
The doctor's report explained that Michael had been subjected to electro shock, which had resulted in a brain concussion, causing the bleeding he had suffered, from nose and ears. Nikita remembered how pale Michael had been, his skin sheened with sweat, his breathing labored. Yet, despite his agony, Michael had managed to break them out of their cages. And when Nikita was shot, he had brought her to safety. Only in reading the report did she now realize that he had been in worse shape than she had, yet had spent only one day in bed. A reluctant smile tugged at Nikita's lips as she read the doctor's notation at the bottom of the report.
......recommended bed rest for three to five days, but Michael refused to stay put from the moment he had regained consciousness. If he hadn't collapsed upon arrival, we wouldn't even have gotten him to rest at all, without use of restraints.....
The doctor had referred to Michael by name, instead of using *patient*. Not surprising considering the hours he had logged in Medlab in the past. Yet, since Nikita had known him, in spite of the fact that he had been shot, twice, in Russia, Michael had spent less than twenty-four hours in the medical facilities. Nikita had logged in nearly a months worth of time. It was as if Michael felt that allowing himself to be hurt was showing himself to be weak. During the past two days that she had helped him through the withdrawal, it had frightened Nikita that he had never once cried out in pain, nor complained. Men were notorious whiners when sick or hurt. But not Michael. It was like he really was part machine.
Nikita wondered that since Michael was so capable at seperating his mind from his body, could he do the same with his emotions? It was a frigtening thought. "Why, Michael?" Nikita whispered, as she reached out to switch off the computer. "Why do you feel so damn loyal to Section? What hold do they have on you?" Nikita knew that they had betrayed him in regards to Simone, and that Michael believed Section to be responsible for his son's death. So why his single-minded devotion to them? These were questions that Nikita desperately wanted answers too, but she doubted that she would ever get them. The only one who could answer them was Michael, and he would never open up to her. And that thought made her both angry, and sad.
************
Michael returned from his mission two days later. He was in his office, typing up the report, when Nikita came barging in. "What is it?" Michael asked, not looking up from the monitor.
Nikita didn't respond at first. She was too busy studying Michael. He looked exhausted, and Nikita guessed that he hadn't slept the entire time he was gone. That would make six days without sleep. It was taking it's toll. But that was only part of why she was there. "Madeline showed me your medical file," Nikita announced.
"Why?" Michael shot back, surprised enough by the declaration to type an entire sentence of gibberish.
"Because I wanted to know what they've done to you," Nikita replied, her eyes locked on his face. It was time for Michael to be held accountable for his actions. "Why do you let them?" she challenged.
Michael had known that, someday, this moment would come. He only wished Nikita had picked a better time. He was too weary for this confrontation. Then, again, Michael reasoned....maybe that's why she had chosen it. Nikita was good at reading people. She would know that he was more vulnerable now. Swallowing a sigh, Michael held Nikita's gaze. "I have no choice," he said, quietly.
Nikita shook her head. "Not good enough, Michael," she shot back. She moved around the desk to confront him. "You're not afraid to die...so why do you go on living? If you call what you do...living." Nikita was pleased to see a flicker of reaction in his silver-green eyes at her words. "Why not end it all, Michael?" she continued. "Why suffer?"
"It's what I do," Michael countered in his own defense.
"I see," Nikita drawled, knowing that Michael was being deliberately obscure in his replies. So she changed tactics. "When was the last time you slept?"
Michael was surprised by the question, hearing a coloring of Madeline in Nikita's tone of voice. He wondered if she realized it. But that didn't matter right now. Nikita was waiting for answers that Michael wasn't willing to give. "I have work to do," he replied, turning his attention back to the vid screen.
Nikita grabbed the arms of his chair and swung it around so that Michael was facing her. "Answer the question!" she demanded, her eyes flashing blue sparks. When he remained obstinately silent, Nikita smiled. "It's because of the nightmares, isn't it?" she drawled, knowing she had hit the nail on the head when Michael's gaze flickered away from hers. He couldn't face the truth. But she wouldn't back down. "When we were at Gemini's, you had a nightmare. You called out Simone's name. You dream about her still. And Red Cell, he said you suffered nightmares regarding the death of your son. But it's more than that...isn't it, Michael?"
"What do you want from me?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion that he couldn't hide.
"I want you to trust me," Nikita replied, her eyes softening. She wouldn't back down, but she hated to see the pain that shimmered in Michael's beautiful eyes, especially when she knew that she was the cause of it. "Michael....I want to help you." It was a plea from the heart.
He shook his head. It hurt to see the compassion that glowed in Nikita's crystal-blue gaze. "I told you, you can't help me."
In spite of her intention to be strong, those words pierced like a knife. "I see," Nikita replied, stepping away from the chair. she shrugged, affecting a blase attitude that she didn't feel. "Stupid of me to think I could. After all, no one can help you....right, Michael? Hell....you can't even help yourself." With that parting shot, Nikita moved towards the door. But then she stopped. Looking back at him, over her shoulder, she smiled. "I seem to recall owing you dinner," Nikita said softly. Her mood had changed, as if someone had flicked on a switch and there was light, where a moment ago there had been darkness. "Will you come tonight?" she requested. "You promised to show me how to make shrimp Alfredo."
"All right," Michael replied, the words of acceptance slipping out before he could stop them. And then it was too late to take them back, and a part of Michael didn't want to.
"Good," Nikita drawled, her gin lighting up her face. She was surprised, yet thrilled. "Seven o'clock then. Don't be late. Oh...I'll need a shopping list."
Michael shook his head. "You take care of dessert, I'll bring the rest," he told her.
Nikita blew him a kiss. "See you later," she singsonged, then she skipped from the room, before Michael had a chance to change his mind.
"Later..." Michael repeated, softly. Then he swiveled his chair back around to the front of his desk and refocused his attention on the report. He never noticed that he had typed out Nikita's name.
Nor did he ever learn that Madeline deleted it out for him, before handing it over to Operations.
************ Seven o'clock, on the dot, Michael stood before Nikita's door. He rapped on it several times. It opened a moment later.
Nikita smiled at Michael. "Come in," she invited, reaching for the grocery bag he was holding.
"Thank you," Michael replied. He stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind him. There was no turning back now. ************
While they were preparing dinner, Michael set the ground rules for the evening. He had Nikita stirring the pasta, while he fixed the sauce. Pausing for a sip of wine, Michael turned to look at her. Nikita was beautiful in a simple outfit of white jeans and a beige, cashmere, turtleneck. "Nikita..." he said softly. When she turned to face him, Michael continued. "I want tonight to be about here..and now. Not the past....or the future. Agreed?"
Nikita understood what he was asking. She smiled, letting her eyes rove over Michael slowly. She was pleased that he had chosen to wear a sapphire-blue pullover with his black pants. It showed that he was making an effort to step outside of his *Section* persona. It wasn't a big step, but it was meaningful. So she nodded. "Agreed." Tonight they would learn about who each other was right now. Where they had been or where they were going, that didn't matter so much. They were stealing time for themselves. Creating a moment where Section didn't fit in. And Nikita was grateful for the chance to forget....if only for a moment.
"Get the plates," Michael requested, as he checked the pasta. Dinner was ready. He served up generous portions, then followed Nikita to the table. She had candles lit, and a white rose for a center piece. "It looks beautiful," Michael commented, as he set the plates down.
"Thank you," Nikita replied, as she refilled their glasses with white wine. Michael had brought that as well. A moment later she caught her breath, as he came behind her chair to seat her. His manners were so gallant and Nikita was charmed.
"You're more beautiful," Michael whispered in her ear, before moving to take his own seat. He smiled as he watched Nikita duck her head, trying to hide the blush that stained her cheeks crimson.
Nikita reached for her fork, going for a distraction. She leaned over her plate, inhaled, then sighed. "Michael, this smells wonderful," she enthused, as she curled the pasta, drenched in the thick sauce, around her fork. She took a mouthful, chewed, then closed her eyes as she swallowed. "It's delicious," Nikita complimented. And so it was. Michael was a wonderful cook. Not that she was surprised. Everything he did, he did well.
Michael was pleased. He delighted in watching Nikita, for she let everything that she was feeling show on her expressive face. "I'm glad you like it," he said softly.
"What else can you do?" Nikita inquired, as she speared a shrimp and held it out for Michael. "Besides cook?" she clarified. Her eyes were on his gorgeous face as he leaned forward to accept her offering. He didn't chomp it off, like most men would have. Michael took Nikita's wrist in his hand then slid the shrimp off the fork with his teeth, then he pulled her arm forward to press a kiss to the back of her hand. It reminded Nikita of another such kiss, but she had been holding a gun, not a fork. She dissolved that memory, since it was a part of the past, and they were spending tonight in the present.
"I do lots of things," Michael replied, a smile curving his lips. He knew what Nikita had been thinking, he remembered that moment at well. But he didn't let it linger. "I paint," Michael offered, knowing that he would surprise her.
Nikita was stunned. "Really? I would love to see some of your work sometime," she said, and she meant it. "What do you paint?"
Michael paused for a sip of wine. He wanted to be open with Nikita, but it wasn't easy. Not after closing himself off to everyone for so long. "It depends upon my mood at the time," Michael confessed. He didn't admit to having painted Nikita's portrait. That was a secret that not even Section was aware of.
"Not to break the rules, but I heard you mention once that you knew how to fly." Nikita was referring to the time when Michael had been forced to seduce Lisa Fanning. It had been painful for Nikita to watch...yet interesting. For Michael had shown a side to himself that Nikita had never seen before. Perhaps a side of who he had once been. "Is it true?" Nikita questioned, curiously.
"Yes," Michael replied. He shrugged. "I learned because of Section, but it was something that I've always wanted to do." He realized that it was going to be difficult to keep Section out of the conversation. His fault. Nikita had no connection to him outside of the place. It was all she knew of him.
Nikita took another bite of pasta, before continuing her line of questioning. She wanted to get in as many as she could while Michael was willing to answer them. "Tell me something that you would like to do that you never have," Nikita requested.
Michael was quiet for a long moment, contemplating how to answer. There were so many things he wanted to do. But had long ago accepted that he never would. He smiled before he answered. "I want to go to Disney World."
"What?" Laughter bubbled out of Nikita. "Are you serious?" But even as she asked the question, she could see that he was. Michael's eyes glimmered and Nikita couldn't hold back her curiousity. "Why Disney World?"
"I've been all over the world," MIchael replied, shoving aside his plate so that he could fold his hands on the table. "Even before Section." Michael left it at that, not willing to explain his background. Not now. "But I want to be....normal. To just be a simple tourist." He shook his head and couldn't meet Nikita's gaze. "I'm not making any sense," he said, feeling frustrated.
But Nikita understood. She left her chair to kneel before Michael, and one hand lifted to his face. She saw exhaustion shimmering in his beautiful eyes, as well as a glimmer of his soul. "It makes perfect sense," Nikita replied, softly. "My life was never...normal. I never really knew my Father. My Mother hated me, and I lived on the streets. Funny thing is...I liked it. I was happy there....free. That's not normal." Nikita laughed soflty and let her fingers slide into Michael's hair. It was soft as silk. "Then came Section. Now....here we are."
Michael nodded, realizing that Nikita truly *did* understand. "Dinner's getting cold," he reminded her, in an attempt to distract himself from her closeness.
"I don't care," Nikita replied. She stood up and reached for Michael's hand, drawing him to his feet. "Dance with me," she requested. At his nod, she went to the CD player and picked a slow song. STILL WAITING...by Big Sugar. Then she led Michael to the middle of the livingroom and stepped into his waiting arms.
They danced for a long time, not saying a word. Simply holding each other. Nikita rested her head on Michael's shoulder. There weren't any words to explain what she was feeling right now.
Michael felt the same way. He was *happy*...simply to be holding Nikita. He didn't need to bare his soul. He couldn't anyway. And it was enough that she didn't expect him too. Nor did he feel the need to take things to the next level. Michael desired Nikita, but now was not the time to explore those feelings. Maybe that time would never come. Michael could accept that. For now.
The song played out...over and over. Nikita wanted to dance until dawn, but she sensed Michael's weariness. He hadn't slept in nearly a week, and had suffered through the effects of heroin withdrawal just a few days ago. He needed to rest. So Nikita pulled him down onto the cushions that were scattered about the floor. "Is there anything you'd like to know about me?" she offered, since he had willingly answered her questions earlier.
"I want to know what you dream about," Michael replied, and it was a question that had haunted his own sleepless nights. He had made Nikita what she was today. Michael put the blame for that squarely on to his own shoulders. Nikita's loss of innocence and his responsibility for it, was a part of his nightmares. He wondered if he was a part of hers. If he was the worst of the monsters that tormented her soul.
"My dreams....?" Nikita echoed, surprised by the request. She smiled at Michael, then made herself comfortable by propping her back against the sofa. Then she patted her lap. "Come lay down," Nikita invited. When Michael hesitated, she made it an order. "Lie down, or I won't tell you."
Michael allowed the blackmail. He shifted himself so that his head was lying in Nikita's lap. Then he closed his eyes as her fingers combed through his hair. "Talk to me," he beseeched.
************
Twenty minutes later, Nikita fell silent. A smile curved her lips as she stared down at Michael. He was sound asleep. He looked strangely peaceful and impossibly young. Not to mention beautiful, and vulnerable. Nikita felt touched by the fact that he had allowed himself to let go. It was a show of trust on Michael's part that he didn't fear betrayal from her as he slept. For once, he let his iron control slip. He let her in. Not very far, but far enough. Now that Nikita had her foot in the door, it wouldn't be long before Michael invited her in. She just needed to be patient.
"Sweet dreams, Michael," Nikita whispered. Then she sighed, leaned her head back, and closed her own eyes. Soon, she was alseep. The briefing was dismissed. In ten hours, Michael and Nikita would be on their way to Tel Aviv. Operations and Madeline left the conference room deep in discussion, and the other operatives quickly filed out. Michael waited then cut off Nikita when she went to follow. He didn't waste time. Brushing the back of his hand against he cheek, Michael whispered, "Thank you." Then he was gone.
Nikita smiled as she watched him go. A phone call had awakened her this morning. Michael's voice whisperering, "Josephine." Nikita hadn't noticed when he had left her apartment and wasn't surprised. Michael had the stealth of a shadow. She had also been prepared for things to go back to the way they had been. Back to *normal* per se. That was okay. Nikita knew that things had changed between her and Michael, but they still had to deal with Section. She would bide her time. But she couldn't keep the smile off her face now, for she knew what Michael was thanking her for. Last night, he had slept without having nightmares. "You're welcome, Michael," Nikita whispered, then she headed out as well.
THE END
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