Written by Codename Ghost
Date: 7/15/97
"What do they want me to do?"
Michael sat with his back against the wall, knees up and arms draped over
them, lifting his head from its resting place on his arms, his voice a
rough, weary monotone as he spoke. Nikita shifted position, stretching
legs out in front of her, arms behind her to support as she leaned back,
watching him, her relief at seeing him once again Michael tinged with unease
at the flatness of his tone. He looked...drained, emotionally and physically,
no emotion even when he had related to her in a monotone what exactly the
Legion had done to him, leaving her feeling sick and furious. And of course
there was something he was not telling her, some private part of the nightmare
he'd endured, but she was content to let it go for now.
"Who?" she asked with a frown.
He turned his head to look at her, gray eyes weary and with a bitterness
she'd never seen in him. "The Section. They wouldn't of gone to all
this trouble if they didn't need me to perform a duty for them."
Nikita nodded slowly, lifting a hand to push a long lock of blond hair
out of her eyes. "Elliot Warfield is going to be hosting a fund raiser--they
want you to identify any Legion members that might be present."
"They would be drawing from this cell." he said in agreement,
mouth twisting, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
"When does this happen?"
"Day after tomorrow." He was making the attempt to be more like
his old self but rather than the calm self-possession there was a fatalism
she didn't like, as if he were merely going through the motions. She had
to remind herself of all he had gone through, that he'd had little sleep
over the last few days and had been forced to relive every ugly detail
of his experience--she just wasn't used to seeing him like this... "Michael,
about what I said--" she began awkwardly.
He waved a hand wearily at her, letting his head fall back against the
wall. "Forget it, Nikita. We're even now."
She flushed at the offhand reference to his own attempt at seduction, his
play to make her stay with the Section and not go with Eric, but forged
on. "What if I don't want to forget it?" It came out as more
of a challenge than she'd meant and he merely looked at her, nothing at
all in his eyes to reveal his thoughts, but his mouth was set in a hard
thin line as his eyes slid away from hers, staring down at his hands.
"I can't do this right now, Nikita." he said tightly. "You
don't understand--"
"Then tell me, Michael. Make me understand." He refused to meet
her eyes and she made a sound of impatience, reaching out to touch him
on the head, drawing her hand back when he recoiled, folding her hands
in her lap. "Michael, you can trust me, you know that. Nothing you
tell me goes beyond this room. Nothing."
"I killed Dylan." The admission hurt, hurt far more than he had
thought it would, even if he hadn't known what he was doing, who Dylan
was, it didn't change the simple fact that he had executed one of his few
friends. "I killed him because they told me to--because she told me
to." A kind of horror in his eyes, far more emotion than she had ever
seen him show, and an anguish as well as he turned to her. "They didn't
make me into anything I wasn't already. I belong as much with them as I
do the Section."
"You are different than they are.." said Nikita fiercely, grasping
his shoulders hard. "You do... not...belong...with...them." Each
word punctuated with a shake of his shoulders and he searched her eyes,
seeking any hint of doubt, Nikita putting all the sincerity she could muster
into her eyes; at last he gave a nod and she released him, moving back
as he rose to his feet, extending a hand to pull her up as well.
"Let's get this over with." he said with a sigh and as she took
his hand, letting him pull her up, she gave his hand a squeeze. A flicker
of a smile touched his lips and was gone, so quickly that she thought she
might of imagined it, leaving behind the blank mask she knew so well. Taking
her keys she unlocked the door and let him proceed her, shutting it firmly
behind her.
Sitting at the table an hour later, watching Michael as he poked listlessly
at the plate before him, Nikita managed to hide the growing sense of unease,
lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip. Too quiet even for him
and as much as she wanted to try to draw him out, she realized that he
needed the time to deal with this on his own. For someone as extremely
private as he was, it was difficult to share something so very personal
and painful and to press him on it would only make him withdraw all that
much farther--and added to that was the simple fact that he lived in a
world where even the slightest weakness was a weapon to be used against
him.
"Not hungry?" she asked quietly.
"No." He pushed the plate away from him, sitting back in the
chair, head lifting to look behind her and his whole body going stiff.
Setting her mug down Nikita turned in her chair to see Madeline standing
behind her, a warm smile curving her lips, swiveled back to see Michael's
reaction--anger and repulsion--before his eyes went cold.
"Can we have a few minutes, Nikita?" Not a request but an order
and Nikita looked to Michael questioningly, he gave a slight nod and she
reluctantly pushed herself up out of her chair.
"I'll be upstairs." Walking around the table and behind him,
she touched him on the shoulder before she left the kitchen.
Madeline watched her go, noting how she tried to give Michael reassurance
and seeing his eyes close briefly as she touched him, making a visible
attempt to not draw away, turned her attention back to Michael as she placed
her hands on the back of a chair. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." he replied flatly, rubbing at his forehead.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Slowly she moved toward him,
fingers trailing across the table, wanting to give some kind of comfort,
to ease the pain a little, had her hand extended to touch him.
"Madeline." The accent sharply pronounced as he said her name,
one hand coming up in warning, and she stopped, letting her hands fall
to her side. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, his own hard and cold,
and said, voice tightly controlled, "If I'm to do what I have to do,
you have to leave me be."
There was a time once when he would have come to her, would have accepted
what comfort she could give, but that had been a long time ago, back before
he had known Simone. "Very well. I'd suggest you get some rest--there
will be a debriefing first thing tomorrow morning. You'll be given your
assignment then."
He smiled humorlessly, a mere thinning of the lips. "You trust me
to walk into the Section?"
"If I didn't think you could be brought back, you would of been canceled
at the hotel." she replied evenly and walked out of the kitchen.
End of Part 5
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