Title:  Push Comes to Shove

Author:  Silk

Fandom:  La Femme Nikita

Pairing:  Michael/Davenport

Rating:  R

Email address: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Date:  5/16/01

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.

Archive: Yes

Series: This is a sequel to The Keeping of Secrets. This is Part 8 of  the
In Command series.

Warnings:  Set at the end of Season 3/beginning of Season 4 for those who
need to be aware of spoilers.

Summary:  Michael realizes that he may have to make a difficult choice.

This is for Gail, whose encouragement is all I needed. And as always, for
Tinn, whose absence is deeply felt. Hurry home soon, Sis!

*****

Push Comes to Shove

By Silk

"Michael, your mission is loading in ten."

Michael's head snapped around, his gray-green eyes opening to reveal their bleak expression. "I know," he said tersely, dismissing Birkoff with a slight inclination of his head.

He was alone. Nikita had gone, God only knew where, ostensibly to ensure that the intel they were using was updated. He didn't trust her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he felt a throbbing headache take up residence behind his forehead.

The gloating smile she wore as she exited his office would stay etched in his mind forever. Though he still didn't know what she knew, he remained convinced there was *something*. Her obvious glee at his discomfiture and his own hastily-swallowed anger lay in the pit of his stomach like a stone.

What was that saying? Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know. Knowing Nikita as well as he did should have given him an advantage. But the new, improved Nikita showed precious few weaknesses. However, turnabout was fair play. Nikita was using everything she had eventually learned about Michael against him.

But she didn't know everything.

*****

Davenport collected his inventory, storing his weapons automatically. "Thanks, Walter."

"No problemo, amigo. Stay safe out there."

"I'll try," Davenport said with a weak smile. Even the muscles in his face protested the effort it took to smile. He was doomed. Fucking doomed. He'd let Michael in close enough to hurt. And dammit, it *did* hurt.

He spun on his heel, shifting the nylon rucksack over his shoulder, and came face-to-face with his lover. "Michael!" He couldn't hold back the startled exclamation. So much for fucking neutrality.

"Dav, I need to talk to you. *Now*." Michael edged closer, daring to slide one hand onto the larger man's shoulder. Davenport flinched.

"They're calling our mission, Michael-"

"They can't go anywhere without us, Dav," Michael hissed.

"Don't make me do this, man. I need every brain cell I can scramble together to survive this mission."

Michael's hand on Davenport tightened. "I can explain."

"Don't," Davenport ground out. "There's nothing you could say right now that would-"

A muscle jumped in Michael's cheek, the only visible sign that he was just as stressed as Davenport. After a surreptitious glance at Walter, who immediately busied himself at the opposite end of the Munitions area, Michael whispered, "I love you."

"What?' Davenport was incredulous. He couldn't have heard Michael right.

His hand released its harsh grip on Davenport's shoulder, beginning a gentler massage of the area that threatened to turn into a caress. His gray eyes softening as they gazed at his lover, Michael repeated, "I love you."

Davenport groaned. Michael's timing sucked. "You love me?"

Michael nodded silently.

"Ready room. Five minutes."

"Dav, we don't have five minutes."

"You said they'd wait." Michael sighed. Throwing his own words back at him was *so* typically Davenport.

"Yeah, but-"

"Be there."

*****

"Dav, no one's here."

"That was the idea."

"People are waiting for us."

"So what? *This* is more important. *You're* more important."

"I-I am?"

Michael's uncharacteristic stammer brought home just how much things had changed for him. When he was with Davenport, he was a different person. Not one he respected any less. Just different.

"Come here. Let me show you."

"But-"

"No buts, Michael. Just this." Without further warning, Davenport kissed him, his lips warm and pliant against the cool dryness of Michael's mouth.

He buried his face in the soft silken hair that was beginning to cover Michael's neck. "I love you."

Michael's smile was gentle but automatic, a flowering of feelings long kept under rigid control. "Thank you."

"Christ, you don't have to thank me, Michael. You're damned easy to love, y'know." Davenport sounded more exasperated than angry.

"No, I didn't know," Michael said wonderingly. "Nikita-"

With a growl that was directed at the absent woman, Davenport snarled, "Pardon my French, Michael, but fuck Nikita."

Michael clung to Davenport, his arms instinctively wrapping around the larger man's neck. His face pressed against the massive chest, Michael whispered, "I'd rather fuck you."

"Oh, man. What a way to start a mission."

"Oh," Michael said with a start. "About the mission-"

"You've got a bad feeling, too, right?"

"More than bad. I think Nikita's planning something."

"You checked the mission profile?"

Michael nodded. "But you know what she's capable of."

"She doesn't have that kind of clearance, Michael."

"What if she does?"

"Are you saying that she might be working with Operations to bring you down? I thought the cancellation orders were rescinded. Again."

"They were. Or we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"Michael...I never would have gone through with it. I couldn't. I would have a found a way."

"And sacrifice yourself? Dav, I wouldn't have wanted to live if it meant-" Michael's voice broke as he imagined a world even colder than the one he already inhabited. A world without Davenport in it.

"Ssh," Davenport comforted, kissing the man in his arms. "I know, baby, I know."

Heaving a great sigh, the big man tightened his grip on Michael before reluctantly releasing him. "We've been up here too long. We'd better move."

"Dav? If one of us doesn't come back-"

"We're both coming back, Michael. No one's going to come between you and me again. Not even Nikita."

End