"Are you listening, Nikita?" Michael’s voice interrupted a perfectly splendid daydream she had been having. She could hear Operations droning on in the background about some mission or other, but she barely registered the details. Her eyes snapped open. "Um, yes," she said too quickly, in an effort to stave off the inevitable "In my office" command.
Operations noticed Michael’s lack of attention to his recital and followed his gaze to Nikita. "I should have known," he said dryly, without a trace of humor. "Nikita, are we boring you?"
Michael turned around, his face carefully masked in a blank stare. Nikita smiled coolly, as if she actually considered answering the question. "Actually, no."
"Perhaps you would like to share with the rest of us?" Operations said, seemingly determined to humiliate Nikita in whatever way possible. Nikita sighed heavily. "Not especially."
Operations glared at Nikita. Michael, in an effort to distract Operations, spoke. "I’ll bring her up-to-date myself. Later."
Operations’ glare suddenly included Michael. "And just what we were missing, special consideration for certain operatives." Michael’s expression was closed and difficult to read, but a flicker of what might have been annoyance passed quickly over his face.
Nikita sat up abruptly. "Oh, come on...I was just exercising my imagination, for God’s sake. What’s the big deal?"
"Both of you, in my office. Now." Operations snapped out the words as if they were rope he could use to hang them.
Birkoff blinked. "Then the mission briefing is over? On hold? What?"
"Would you like to join us, Birkoff?" Operations grinned sardonically. "I’m sure my office will hold everyone, if the need arises."
Birkoff flinched. "Excuse me, I have another profile to work on." He scraped his chair back from the table with a loud screech. He almost ran from the briefing room.
Operations left the area a moment later, indicating that Michael and Nikita should follow. Michael lagged behind one step, enough to whisper to Nikita, "What’s wrong with you today?" Nikita reacted as if struck, then recovered. "Today’s an anniversary of sorts."
She had Michael’s complete attention now. "It is?"
"Yes," she said, turning her head very slowly to face him. Her eyes sought his unconsciously. "It’s a year since Lyons." She waited one second for Michael to register her meaning, then walked away without even a backwards glance.
His eyes flickered back and forth as they followed Nikita’s exit from the room. But as always, his feelings remained unreadable. Still, the word deposited itself on his tongue, unbidden, unspoken. Lyons.
It was always there between them. Lyons. It was like a huge boulder that neither of them could move nor ignore. If they had never been together at all, perhaps things might have been different. Michael could have gone back to thinking that Section was his first priority, Nikita a distant second. But it was always there. The knowledge that they had once belonged to each other. It was like being offered a glimpse of heaven, only to return to purgatory, knowing that after years and years of toil and turmoil, you had earned a passage to hell.
***
Michael rounded the corner to Operations’ office and saw Nikita standing in front of Operations, dutifully, like a recalcitrant child being reprimanded by the principal. "The price I ask is your continued submission to me, and to Section. Is that clear, Nikita?"
She nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. Operations was so predictable. Unreasoning, but definitely predictable. She curbed the urge to stick out her tongue and genuflect. He would not be amused.
When Operations saw Michael, he smiled lazily, like a tiger inviting its prey closer so he could pounce without exerting himself fully. "Likewise, I expect your continued support, Michael, not an attempt to undermine my authority by bestowing special favors on those you choose. Are we clear on that?"
Michael’s head came up sharply at Operations’ tone. Lately Michael had the feeling that Operations was pushing him quite deliberately. If Operations were not his superior, Michael would have physically challenged him, and the tension could have been resolved that way. But with Operations his superior, and an older superior at that, Michael merely bided his time. He would have his turn one day. He was the heir presumptive, after all. One day, this would be his. Ah, yes, Michael thought wearily, this hell would be his to rule. Well, Nikita already considered him the Prince of Darkness. Someday she would be right. If she were not already.
"Michael, did you hear what I said?" Operations said querulously.
Michael brought himself back to the present with a jolt. His thoughts had been curiously unfocused ever since Nikita had mentioned Lyons. It was unlike him to lose track of a conversation mid-way, but he had. "Yes," he said in clipped tones, sounding more like himself than he had all day.
"Repeat what I just said."
Michael regarded Operations with casual disdain. "Is this a test of some kind?"
Operations looked truly angry for a moment, then a calm smile spread itself over his face like a blanket. "This pointless challenging of my authority has to stop, Michael. Perhaps you’re showing off for Nikita. I don’t know. But I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless it’s "yes, sir." Is that clear?"
"Like crystal." Michael’s eyes were the only thing that moved in his face. The rest of him was like a carefully chiseled block of ice.
"Dismissed."
***
Michael brushed past Nikita without a word, and Nikita didn’t follow immediately. She glanced at Operations, then made her way out slowly. Had she been wrong to remind Michael of Lyons? She couldn’t help it. It had been on her mind for days. It was both the highlight and the great tragedy of her young life. To have loved and been loved so thoroughly, only to have that love stolen away. A tear slipped out from under Nikita’s eyelashes, but she surreptitiously wiped it away before anyone could see.
She knocked on Michael’s office door. "Yes?"
"Michael?" she said softly. She saw the door crack open a tiny bit.
Pushing the door open all the way, Nikita invaded the room, her presence unable to be ignored by Michael. He ran his hands through his hair. "What is it, Nikita?"
She sat down carefully, as if sensing that her being there was unnerving Michael in some way. "I’m sorry that I drifted off during the briefing. I dunno what happened. I just--" her voice trailed off uneasily. She looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap.
Michael stared at her for a long moment, knowing she was completely unaware of his scrutiny. His eyes savored her, as a starving man might contemplate his last meal. He dropped his gaze to his laptop just as she decided to look up at him. As usual, they were both utterly aware and unaware of one another at the same time.
"No need to apologize, Nikita." Michael tried to smile, but his face simply refused. There was an inner sadness in him now that he could not shake, and she had inadvertently put it there. Lyons. And the longing that followed.
"Well..." she shrugged. "Do you think we’ll finish the profile later? Or is Operations going to punish us by keeping us on Close Quarters Standby?"
Michael ran a hand over his weary face. He had been up for hours, and his fatigue was starting to show. Not a good way to go out on a mission. "I hope he keeps us on CQS for a few hours, that way at least I can get some sleep."
Nikita glanced at Michael anxiously. "Are you having trouble sleeping, Michael?"
"Just a few nightmares, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle." He smiled tightly, clearly brooking no further discussion.
"Well...see you in the ready room, then." He nodded at Nikita’s statement, then resumed typing.
Nikita lay on the bed in the ready room. Alone. In the dark. She shut her eyes against the dreams that would come. She knew they would come. The love thieves. They stole into her sleep at night and crept away with her love, her unspoken yet undenied love.
She rolled onto her side, clad only in her silken teddy. When the time came, she would dress in mission black. But until then, she felt vulnerable and defenseless. Against the love thieves. She drifted off, her mind uneasy and filled with distorted images.
Michael strode into the ready room, automatically flicking the light switch. He saw Nikita lying in a huddled mass, her silken underclothes a bright splash of color against the starkly functional bed. Without thinking, he flicked the switch off again, stealing the color from the room. Now he was indistinguishable from the rest of the room. Black against black. He could hear his own breathing. He felt like he was on the verge of making an important decision. An important discovery.
He sat down on the edge of Nikita’s bed. Her hair was the only thing visible in the dark. The light strands were like bright yellow-white silk, and he suddenly wanted to touch them, feel them in his hands. He removed his mission jacket, throwing it onto another bed. He sighed. What he was thinking was madness. He leaned over her, as if the answer to his question was somehow written in her face. She slept uneasily, whimpering softly under her breath. He wondered what new torture she was confronting in her dreams. His hand reached out of its own volition and touched her face, stilling the whimpering. She arched upwards, as if instinctively recognizing the feel of his hand.
"Mi--chael," she breathed. He started. She did recognize him, even in sleep. Her eyes fluttered open for a second, focusing blearily on his shadowy face. "It’s so dark in here, I can’t see you."
"That’s okay, Nikita," he replied. He stroked her face with his fingertips, pressing one thumb to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and he jumped, electrified by the feel of her on his finger. Without thinking any further, he put his thumb to his own mouth, tasting her. His eyes slid closed as he remembered. Lyons.
***
"I thought I lost you."
"You never had me."
He sought her mouth with a violence that shook him to the core. He needed her in a way that he had never needed anyone before. He had thought she was dead. But she was alive. He had thought he was dead. But he, too, was alive. Their coming together was intense, brought to fruition quickly by their mutual need and heat. He had never allowed himself to think about taking actual possession of her, till now, and now, he could no longer allow himself to hold back the feelings he had for her. The love so long denied.
***
"Nikita," he whispered to her. She looked up at him with sadness haunting her eyes. "Michael..."
He pressed her back against the bed, his body covering hers. His mouth joined hers, sealing whatever protest she might have made inside. When he broke off the kiss, Nikita looked frightened, as if their bond were so easily shattered. "Michael...you’re the only one who can stop them..."
He blinked. "What?"
She said softly, "The love thieves. They come at night, while I sleep, and steal my love away..." The look on her face was so poignant, Michael wanted to cry at the ache it made in his heart. He kissed her cheek, nestling against her for a long moment before he dared draw away. "Then we need to make more, Kita," he whispered against her neck. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, touching her so gently, she felt cherished.
He lay that way a long time, his head snuggled under her chin, his lips barely touching her skin now and again. His breathing slowed, and he became lost in his own nightmare. Nikita was crying out for his help, and he could do nothing but watch. He could not protect her, he could not save her. He was without honor. It was the only thing that truly frightened him. Bereft of honor, he would wander the earth, seeking love but unworthy of the most meager regard from the woman he loved above all else. He woke in a sweat, his head aching slightly. "Kita..." he reassured himself that she was still there. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and drew him close. She wrapped her hands around his face, pressing it to her chest. "Sleep, Michael..."
"Are you sure, Kita?" He didn’t want to force things between them, but he had been so certain it was what she wanted as well. "I’m sure, Michael..."
She could hardly fathom it. Michael lay in her arms, offering himself to her, as a sacrifice to the love thieves. It would have been so right, if it hadn’t been out of duty and responsibility. He was her dark knight. Protecting her, cherishing her, from a safe distance. But he could not admit what he felt for her, and that was why the love thieves still came. They laughed harshly in her ears as she slept fitfully, her body clinging to contact with Michael’s.
***
She stared out the window of the boat. Michael stood next to her, his gaze fixed on her as if he could not bear to let her out of his sight. It was a magical time, a time of wondrous promises, and oh, how the prince had proclaimed his love for the princess at long last. He could not stop touching her face, her shoulder, her hands. It was a dream that the love thieves could not touch. Because for one brief moment in time, Michael had shared himself with Nikita, and they were powerless against that unity.
***
When the light switch was thrown again, it was Birkoff who greeted Nikita. "Nikita, hope you got some rest. We’re leaving in twenty," Birkoff said briskly.
She sat up, awkwardly, as if she had lost her coordination. She dragged her hair back with both hands, twisting the long mass into a careless knot. She rolled back to the wall, retrieving her mission clothing, dressing quickly, her mind gradually coming more awake. Where was Michael? Had she dreamed what happened? Was she losing her mind?
By the time they hit van access, Nikita was sure that she had imagined the entire thing. She felt both relieved and disappointed. She didn’t want much in this life, but it seemed that what she wanted most, she was destined not to have. They passed through the gate, and Michael was standing there, as always, cool and controlled, counting the operatives off as they went by. His eyes seemed to stop for a long moment on Nikita’s face, but his expression was blank. As usual. Nikita smiled brightly as she passed him, thinking the least she could do was to confound him thoroughly. He never noticed.
Nikita got halfway across the building before she realized that something was wrong. Her team was cut off, stranded on the other side by a tremendous wall of fire that threatened to envelop all of them eventually. She could place her charges in the designated areas, but how would she get out? How would any of them get out?
She thumbed her comlink on, waiting for Michael’s or Birkoff’s voice to reassure her that help was forthcoming. Nothing. Static. What was going on? Well, she knew one thing. She wasn’t going to die here. Not if she could help it.
Suddenly she saw a hole in the furiously burning wall. It would only last a moment, then close up. But she had to chance it. She leaped through it, barely landing on the other side. She twisted her ankle badly, but she managed to limp to her team. Two operatives grabbed her, one on each side, and helped her down the long fire escape they had climbed to get here. The other operatives took Nikita’s charges, which she had given to them, and began arming them.
When Michael saw Nikita limping towards him, he felt his heart seize for a moment. She was injured. But not badly. He dismissed her from his mind without a second thought. It was astonishing, really, how much pain one could ignore, when one got accustomed to not feeling anything. It was Michael’s specialty, turning off his emotions when things became too intense for him to confront. He lived his life, split in two, or so he thought. His nightmares were beginning to spill over into his waking life, whether from stress or lack of sleep, he didn’t know. He laughed harshly to himself, it seemed as though the love thieves were visiting him as well these days.
When they came back into Section, Michael grabbed Nikita away from the operatives who supported her. They blinked at him in surprise, then backed off. They knew better than to face Michael when he looked like that. He put his arm around Nikita, supporting most of her weight on that side. "Are you okay, Kita?"
He stared at her, and Nikita felt undone by the intensity of that look. "I-I just wrenched my ankle, Michael, it’s nothing."
"Well, we’d better get up to Medlab then." He started to drag her with him when he abruptly realized that she wasn’t cooperating. "I’m fine, really," she insisted.
"Why do you always do that? Keep insisting you’re fine when you’re obviously hurt?" He leaned into her body, his face searching hers intently.
"Why do you always do what you do? Keep insisting I go to Medlab when I’m not hurt all that badly?" she countered, staring back at him with equal intensity.
He bit his lip, uncharacteristically. "Fine, then go make your report."
"Fine, then I will." She snorted in an unladylike manner, then limped down the hall away from him.
Michael watched until he could no longer see her, his eyes shuttered against the pain of seeing her injured. Now that they were no longer working the mission, he could face the fact that he was concerned about her. His eyes clouded, dulling the green to a shade almost mud-like. "Nikita..." he muttered to himself.
***
"I didn’t realize I needed you so much."
He felt his heart skip a beat whenever he thought about that. He did need Nikita. It was why he had risked everything to bring her back to Section. There was no altruistic reasoning. He needed to know she was there, in his life, everyday, where he could see her, breathe her scent, feel her touch. Even if they could never be together this way again. He didn’t care. He couldn’t think beyond the moment. He knew he would not survive if she didn’t come back to him. He would find a way. So he did.
***
But somewhere along the line, they had drifted apart. Because of the deep cover mission. Elena and Adam. Because Nikita was tired of waiting for him to admit the obvious. That there was nothing standing between them now. Nothing. So why did he hesitate? Was he truly afraid to commit to Nikita? No, he worried and wondered about her as if they were already lovers deep into a relationship. Was he afraid of her becoming his weakness? No, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she was, and always had been, his weakness, whether he chose to admit it or not. Was he afraid of losing her? He sighed. To quote Nikita, he had never had her. He could not lose what he never had. He could not win what he never risked losing. He had to find a way to reconcile what was wrong between them. If he could not, he owed it to her to cut her loose and let her go. Once and for all.
***
Operations dropped his bombshell once everyone was gathered around the briefing table. "Here it is, the next mission profile." He slapped a folder down hard on the table. "Everyone awake? Good," he said sarcastically. "You all remember Perry Bauer, don’t you?"
Nikita sat bolt upright in her seat, barely managing to suppress a gulp. Michael stole a sidelong glance at her, and he was relieved to see how attentive she was. He was not, however, impressed by her brave front. He knew how much the Bauer mission had damaged her emotionally. And he wasn’t just referring to the damage Bauer had inflicted. He closed his eyes, struggling not to let himself remember.
***
They were posing as a married couple. They were oh so convincing as a couple in love. It was an irony to end all ironies, that two who could not be together in reality were constantly forced to role-play people who were. He remembered how Nikita had tried on the ring. It was too big for her finger. He had corrected her gently, "That one is mine. This one is yours." He slid the ring onto her finger, and she had stared at it for the longest time. He knew what she was thinking. He did. Because he was thinking the same thing. He wished it was for real. Even back then.
Bauer was a twisted man. Sick with sexual perversities. He liked to perform with other couples, he liked to watch other couples perform. Michael and Nikita were forced to perform for Bauer, and yet, somehow, Michael was able to protect Nikita from the sheer outrage of their situation. Or he thought he had. But it wasn’t the public lovemaking that had hurt her. It was his own rejection of her feelings, wrenching the ring away from her for daring to dream that there could ever be a real relationship between the two of them.
***
Operations nearly clapped his hands with glee. He had Michael and Nikita right where he wanted them. Down and almost out. "Bauer has a brother. A twin." He stared directly into Michael’s eyes, as if willing him to protest on Nikita’s behalf. Michael looked down at his hands, his expression unreadable. Nikita blinked, but otherwise showed no reaction to Operations’ statement.
"You know the drill. Same song, different verse. We infiltrate Bauer’s camp the same way we did with his late brother. Oh, he might be a tad unwilling to do business with people who killed his brother. So, I wouldn’t mention that if I were you, Michael." Operations’ face drew back into a sneer. Michael looked blankly back at Operations.
"Won’t he recognize us?" Nikita finally asked.
"Why should he? He never saw the people who killed his brother. He just knows it was a couple of mercenaries who liked to wife-swap. Besides, you were disguised, Nikita. You can always disguise yourself completely differently, if you’re worried about exposure."
Nikita sighed. "No, I’m not that worried. But I would prefer not to go in as myself."
Operations smiled. "Ah, yes, it would help to detach yourself from the mission, wouldn’t it, Nikita? I hope this won’t be too damaging to your fragile psyche. I would hate to see a good operative go down."
Nikita smiled back, but the look in her eyes was frosty. "I’m sure."
Nikita leaned against the door to Michael’s office. He arrived a moment later, looking surprised to see her there. "What’s up?" he said, without any indication that the mission profile concerned him.
"Can we go inside for a moment?"
He looked both ways, and seeing no one around, he nodded. He opened the door, and Nikita walked into the room, a slight limp still evident in her walk. "How’s the ankle?"
"Fine."
He winced at the sharpness of that word, echoing in his ears. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. "And?"
"Doesn’t Operations worry you, Michael? He seems so out of control these days."
"I know you don’t mean that," he said, a warning in his eyes. He flicked the switch to secure the room and breathed a sigh of relief. "Be careful, Kita."
Suddenly she looked sad. Michael wanted to hold her, but he was uncertain of how she would respond. "Michael...Operations is a love thief, and so was Bauer. People like them steal the love and humanity from us, and leave us with nothing," she said brokenly.
He closed his eyes for a second. "Kita, you shouldn’t say such things."
"Really? Then who can I say them to, if not you? Michael...you’re the worst love thief of all...I pretend to be ruthless, but you really are. You like it."
Michael cringed at the pain in her voice, each word like a nail being driven into his heart. "Kita, stop."
"Do you know that the only times you’ve told me how you feel, you were manipulating me? How could I ever believe that you love me, when you always reveal yourself as the consummate liar afterward?" She searched his face for a real emotion, and finding none, began to cry.
"Kita..." The look Michael gave Nikita was anguished. He couldn’t find the words to tell her what was in his heart. He truly couldn’t. And because he couldn’t, he would lose her. He knew it as surely as he stood there, struggling to say something, anything.
"Michael, how is it that you can say the words when you don’t mean them? But you can’t say them when you do? I want to understand, but I just...can’t." Her voice squeaked at the end, as she lost the fight to maintain her composure.
Michael stared at her, his grey-green eyes bright with unshed tears. "Kita! I want to tell you what you need to hear."
"But you just can’t." She slumped forward, her head almost touching her chest. Michael broke his composure finally, grabbing Nikita by the shoulders and shaking her. "Nikita! Please don’t give up on us! Not now!"
She smiled through her tears. "I suppose that was an admission of sorts, wasn’t it, Michael?"
He shook his head. "You have no idea how I feel about you, Kita. No idea." He looked as if he would cry himself. "I am ashamed of how I’ve used you, and how I’ve lied to you." He couldn’t look at her. His hands continued to grip her shoulders, almost painfully, but she relished any physical contact with him.
"I l-loved Simone, beyond words." His voice was so soft, she had to strain to hear it. "I loved Elena, because she was dear, and because she was Adam’s mother." He looked up suddenly, and she was stunned at the depth of feeling she saw in his eyes. That couldn’t be just for her. Could it?
"Look at me, Kita," he whispered hoarsely. "If I can’t say it, I know I’ll lose you. But please see beyond the words. Please..."
Yes, she thought, there was desperation there, and frustration, but there was love, too. He did love her, after all. It was more than she could have dared hope for. She launched herself against him, and Michael kissed her fervently, trying to put into actions what he could not yet say. He kissed her again and again, as if he would not even spare the time to draw breath. Panting, he stopped finally, leaning his forehead against hers. "Oh, God, Nikita, please say you understand..."
"I understand, Michael...and I love you." She said the last against his mouth, and he felt the actual vibration of her words on his lips. It made him shiver with the feeling he had yet to adequately express. His mouth softened against hers, and he closed his eyes, deepening the kiss as much as he could without hurting her.
"You make me feel...almost violent." Michael shuddered with the intensity of what he was feeling, trying to will himself to say the words she longed to hear. She kissed his neck and lay her head on his shoulder, tears running down her face. He felt the wetness against his skin, and again, he felt hot and cold all at once. He swallowed hard. "Nikita?"
"Ssh," she said against his neck. "I can wait, Michael..."
"But I might never--" He looked horrified at the thought.
Her grip tightened on him, as if she could somehow pull him into herself. "Then I will try to love enough for both of us, Michael. To keep the love thieves away."
"Now concentrate..." she said, willing him to focus. "On what?" he said, bewildered now.
"On us finding a way to be together."
He wrapped his arms around her then, closing his eyes as he clung to her. "We will be, somehow, Kita. I promise."
Walter glanced casually at Nikita before handing her the inventory for the new Bauer mission. "You look good today, Sugar...anything new?" She smiled slowly, but didn’t answer right away. The fact that Michael had let the barrier between them fall, however briefly, was not for public knowledge. She wanted to hug that particular feeling to herself, for as long as she could. It might never happen again. But she had hope again...and that one, unselfish act of Michael’s had banished the love thieves last night. She had been able to sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time. And it showed.
She had a feeling that things might be different between them in the future. But she had no intention of sharing that with Walter. Or anyone else. She was rarely superstitious, but she couldn’t afford to take the slightest chance of jinxing this newfound relationship between her and Michael. She meant what she said. She had more than enough love for both of them, and even if he never admitted his love, if he stopped pushing her away every time they got close, she was willing to settle for what he could give. Maybe that was wrong, but she needed him too much to give up on him yet.
Walter didn’t pursue the question. If Sugar was happy, he was happy. That was all that really mattered.
Nikita checked over the inventory, oblivious that Michael had come in behind her. He waved to Walter, and Walter nodded back, his mind already working overtime. Michael looked the same, yet there was something different about him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Yet.
Michael’s face was a mask of inscrutability. He glanced at Nikita briefly. "How did you sleep?" he asked softly. His hands slid across her shoulders quite casually and rested there. Nikita had all she could do not to react outwardly. She looked down at the inventory and tried to relax her shoulders, which she knew had tensed at Michael’s touch. "Very well, actually," she said, almost matter-of-factly, which astonished her, since she felt curiously out of breath.
"And you? How were the nightmares?" she asked him. He half- smiled. "I didn’t have any last night." He seemed surprised himself.
Walter watched the by-play from a safe distance. On the surface, nothing seemed different. But to a trained observer like he was, everything was different. If he didn’t know better, he would swear they were seducing each other through the most mundane conversation. Nah...Walter shrugged to himself.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Michael said. "The rings." He looked at her, then looked away, his eyes flickering back and forth between the wall and her face. He held out his palm. On his outstretched palm rested two rings, identical except for size. She gasped slightly, and her eyes widened, the pupils dilating as she saw they were the same rings. The ones they had used during the original Bauer mission.
Michael’s mouth was tight, his expression giving nothing away. But his hand trembled ever so slightly, and Nikita noticed. She closed her hand over his briefly, and she felt it, that frisson of electricity between them, as his body automatically reacted to hers. She liked that. There were some things beyond Michael’s control, thank God. Or she would despair of ever making him admit his feelings.
She palmed the rings, pretending to examine them carefully. She felt him watching her. But she knew Walter was still nearby. She took the larger of the two rings and indicated that Michael should give her his hand. He looked at her in surprise.
"You first," she said. "Okay," he nodded. He held out his hand and she slid the ring onto his finger. She could just hear his intake of breath, but she was sure that Walter hadn’t. She resisted the urge to kiss it, knowing they would both give away their feelings if she did.
She sighed. She didn’t know how Michael did this all the time. Hiding her feelings was hard work. Much harder than just letting them all show.
He took the other ring from her before she could say a word, and he slid it quickly onto her left hand. Unlike her, however, he did bend and kiss her ring finger. Her lips parted involuntarily, and she knew she was staring. "For luck," he said, allowing himself a half-smile. "For luck," she echoed without really believing a word.
Walter saw the two of them and almost dropped the gun he was holding. So that was the way it was, he thought. Well, hell, it’s about damn time.
***
"We fight all the time just to stay alive. Let’s not fight what’s between us. Let’s just take what we can get."
Michael stared into Nikita’s eyes, and she was mesmerized by what she saw there. She felt him run his hand along her leg, and she swayed in his arms. His hands found hers, and they danced. His fingers worked into the palm of her hand, and she felt herself moving closer to Michael. Staring at his eyes. His mouth. She could not take her eyes off his mouth. The anticipation was almost tangible. When he finally kissed her, he kept his eyes open. He watched her react as he took her mouth, again and again. Plundering her treasure slowly, his tongue just reaching out to flick wetly against her lips before retreating again. She was ready. He was ready. Then Michael’s phone rang. And he closed his eyes finally. The moment was no more.
***
Nikita was unsure why she considered this a good memory. She sometimes thought it was the first time she realized the power that Michael held over her was real. Or was the fact that it began as a manipulation the actual illusion? Michael was capable of acting a role so well, she didn’t know. It was one of the reasons he was so hard to trust.
Michael touched Nikita’s hand cautiously, and his fingers worked their magic against the palm of her hand. He couldn’t help but remember how they had danced. His thumb pressed against her knuckles, repeatedly, as if it would remind her of the sensual dance they had shared all that time ago. But his face showed no sign of such remembrance. Neutral and non-committal, his face might have belonged to someone else entirely. Then his eyes flashed at Nikita, and she knew he was hypnotized by the same memory she recalled.
Walter cleared his throat, as if to remind both of them of his presence. He grinned mischievously. "I’ve never seen you two look forward to a mission this way."
Michael’s eyes looked almost slumberous, yet he responded to Walter in a tone that was far from sleepy. "Well, we’re merely practicing our roles, Walter. It’s important we be convincing as a couple."
Walter almost laughed out loud, but he didn’t. He didn’t need a diagram to figure out where this was going, but perhaps Michael did.