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"Do you love me, Michael?"
The question caught him off guard and Michael was unable to hide his reaction. His mask slipped and he knew Nikita saw it. However, he was not ready to answer the question, so he tried to distract her. "Why do you ask?" Michael countered, leaning back in his chair as Nikita entered the room, closing the door behind her. He reached for the drawer to mute the monitors in his office but froze when Nikita shook her head at him.
She didn't care who listened, not anymore. Smiling as she dropped into the chair across from Michael's desk, Nikita replied, "I've been... remembering things."
"What does that mean?" Michael prompted, feeling a twinge of curiosity. Nikita's expression was one he could not identify. She was not angry or happy, nor sad or challenging. If anything, Michael would have labeled her as being...detached. Not in the way he had learned to be, but Nikita appeared to be outside of her emotions at the moment. She was questing but lacking intensity. Curious not condescending. Michael sensed that she would not condemn him for his answers to her questions, she would simply accept whatever he said and move on. He wondered why.
"It means..." Nikita began then paused to sigh deeply. "It means I've been thinking too much," she responded after a long moment of silence had filled the room. "Thinking about us, Michael. About what our relationship is as well as what's it's... intended... to be."
Michael blinked then made a confession. "I don't understand."
Nikita smiled at him, loving the beauty of him. Michael was like an exotic bird trapped in a stainless steel cage. He was a swirl of bright colors forced to cloak himself as a something less distinguished. A macaw masquerading as a sparrow. A simplified analogy for a complex truth. "I don't understand either, Michael," Nikita allowed, as she drew one leg up to her chest and wrapped both arms around it. Resting her chin on her knee, she attempted to explain. "From the first day that I met you in the white room, I sensed that we were meant to be together. I didn't understand how... or why... not then." Nikita shrugged then chuckled. "I still don't know how or why."
"What is it you're asking me, Nikita?" Michael interjected. "What do you want?"
More silence filled the room as Nikita considered her reply. She locked eyes with Michael and whispered, "An answer."
Michael stiffened. He had expected a different response. Had expected Nikita to challenge him to give her the truth. It had always been that way between them in the past. And many times Michael had given Nikita what she wanted, but not what she had needed to hear. Section was not that Section. Surviving within its structure meant twisting the truth, even at times when he was being completely honest with Nikita, Michael had been forced to make her think otherwise. To keep her guessing. The very air seemed to be watching and listening at all times. Trust was something Michael didn't believe in anymore, so he was always at odds with himself when it came to Nikita. Unable to accept what his instincts screamed at him. That she was different and always would be. Yet in the end she had come to betray him as well. To lie and deceive with the best of them. Only Michael didn't hold it against her, never could.
Rising to his feet, Michael moved to the corner of his desk, standing before Nikita with his hands clasped before him. His stance was relaxed yet every muscle was rigid. "Why ask me this now?" he challenged her.
Nikita knew what he was asking. Why do it when Section was watching? "I need to know, Michael," she replied. "I think we all need to know."
"Nikita..." Michael began, only to fall silent when she raised one hand.
"Let me say something first," Nikita requested, smiling when Michael nodded consent. She took a deep breath then began. "So much has happened in the past four years. I've been on a roller-coaster ride of emotion. I've faced life and death time and again, sometimes fearing them both, sometimes embracing them. I've grown up, Michael... but not without a fight."
Michael closed his eyes, unable to bear the naked emotion that glimmered in Nikita's blue gaze. He had been the enemy to Nikita for much of those four years. He had been her pain and the force of darkness that had snatched at her soul. Michael had been the one to make Nikita what she was never intended to be. A killer. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Nikita slid out of her chair and stood before Michael, one hand reaching out to touch his face. "Don't be," she whispered, one finger stroking at his cheek till she felt him tremble. "Look at me," Nikita beseeched, for she needed to see into Michael's soul. She knew, that in this moment, it would unguarded. When Michael's eyes fluttered open, Nikita caught her breath. In the depths of his jade-green gaze, Nikita saw her soul reflecting back to her. "No regrets, Michael," she breathed. "Just one answer." Letting her hand slide downward, Nikita laid it over Michael's heart. "Do you love me?"
Time stood still in that moment, even as the question echoed in the air. It was as if Section held its collective breath in anticipation of Michael's reply. He parted his lips then wet them with the tip of his tongue. The truth suddenly became crystal clear to him as he gazed at Nikita's beautiful face. "Yes," Michael whispered. He wanted to say more, to say the words themselves, but she was already turning away from him.
"Thank you, Michael," Nikita said as she reached the door and pulled it open. She turned to glance at him over her shoulder then smiled. "Maybe we could meet later... for a cup of coffee?"
It was on the tip of Michael's tongue to say that he had work to do. Reports and things, and it was true enough. But he found himself smiling back, almost painfully. "That would be nice," Michael replied.
Nikita nodded. "About seven at the Crystal cafe?" When Michael nodded confirmation, Nikita turned back to the door and stepped into the corridor. As she strode off she felt a sense of peace. Michael had told her what she needed to hear and, maybe, tonight she could return the favor. In the past four years Michael had shown his love for Nikita in his actions, only she had been too blind to see it. At times he had even said the words, but she had been too stubborn to listen, certain that he was simply playing a part. Doing the job. Just another role. But although Nikita had learned the hard way that the heart could deceive, she believed that the soul never lied.
And tonight she would teach Michael to believe. The End
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