Title:  Eat 'em and Smile

Author:  Silk

Fandom: La Femme Nikita

Pairing: Michael/Davenport

Rating: PG (Pre-Slash)

Email address:  silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Date:  2/1/01

Webpage:  www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Disclaimer: Michael and Davenport belong to LFN Productions, Fireworks
Entertainment, Warner Bros, and USA Network. All of whom are not me. Still
not making any money off these things. Haven't given up writing 'em, though.

Series: Yes, this is the first in a series, unnamed as yet

Warnings:  None, but this is set at the end of Season 3, beginning of Season
4, for those who don't wish to be spoiled.

Summary:  Davenport stops trying to kill Michael and decides  to act on that
*other* impulse.

This is too short for a real dedication, but to my Muses, you know who you
are, and this is for you.

*****

Eat 'em and Smile

By Silk

The punch came out of nowhere, blindsiding him. His body slammed awkwardly into the wall, almost dislocating his shoulder, but he made no sound other than a low exhalation of breath.

"You used to be good."

"Used to be?"

They were not that far apart in age, but they were worlds apart in appearance, if not demeanor. In truth, their respective demeanors were curiously similar. However, only someone inside Section would understand why.

Michael was a Level 5 field operative, skilled in everything from martial arts to Valentine missions. He was equally at home in battle and in bed. Nothing surprised him anymore. He was jaded. Not bored. To be bored meant losing his edge. That was unacceptable.

So was this constant business of someone trying to cancel him. Michael was well used to looking over his shoulder every other moment. It came with the job. But ever since Operations issued an order to kill him, Michael found himself facing Davenport at every turn.

"I should end this right now."

"You can try." Michael's voice held little expectation that Davenport would be successful.

Davenport kicked Michael in the abdomen, forcing him back, but Michael grabbed the older man around the neck, taking him with him. Their bodies came together with a dull thud that did nothing to injure either one.

"This is getting us nowhere."

"I agree."

"We're too evenly matched."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would."

Michael snorted derisively. While it was true that he had little opportunity to demonstrate his sense of humor, this was one instance when he wished that he could show Davenport something other than the cold, vaguely blank façade that he presented to Section.

"There must be another way to settle this."

In unison, they backed off, accepting the decision not to re-try combat without question. It was futile. It solved nothing. Now a bullet, on the other hand, might very well....

Michael raked a hand through his nutmeg-brown hair. Damp with sweat, he showed definite signs of exertion, but he was hardly weakening. Davenport glanced at the younger man quickly, refusing to let his black eyes linger on that hard body.

In Section, it didn't pay to develop relationships. You could fool yourself into thinking you had a friend or even a lover. But the next day, the next mission, the next posting, and they could be gone.

Davenport admired Michael. For years, he had studied his techniques, made him an unwilling mentor, even saved his life on more than one occasion. All in the name of duty. And something else. Something that remained unspoken by Davenport.

The big man shifted uncomfortably beneath that intense gray gaze. How many times had he wished that those eyes would look at him, really look at him, and see what he had to offer? But no, there was always a woman between them.

First, Simone. Then, Elena. And finally, the biggest challenge of them all, Nikita. Michael was a man who valued control. Rarely at a loss, Michael always dictated how things would go.

But now, with the two of them pitted at each other's throats, with Nikita's mind a virtual cipher, Davenport saw a chance to take what he wanted.

Michael would resist. He would go down hard. But he *would* go down.

End