| Subject: Mea Culpa 4 |
Author:
Rox
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Date Posted: 16:52:19 12/09/01 Sun
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "Mea Culpa (Sequel to Unto Death)" on 16:09:49 12/07/01 Fri
Michael lay on his back with Nikita draped atop him completely spent and content. His hands continued to stroke the soft skin of her back as he lay deep in thought. He suddenly heard a noise, then heard Nikita chuckle, “Gee, how very romantic!” She lifted her face, her cheeks inflamed by a blush. The sound came again, only louder. It had been her stomach grumbling, and Michael started laughing.
Nikita slapped at him playfully before breaking up as well. It was good to hear him laugh. Even as she thought it, it dawned on Nikita that she had never really heard Michael laugh before.
They laughed for a good five minutes before Michael rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Nikita heard him turn on the shower just as her stomach complained again.
A moment later, Michael returned, took Nikita by the hand and led her into the shower. Without a word he quickly lathered and rinsed her hair, then gently bathed her. When he finished, Nikita did the same for him.
Michael squeezed the water out of his hair and reached for a towel, then bent to kiss one pert nipple. “If I didn’t have to feed you… ” he said softly with a smile.
“If you didn’t have to feed me… what?” Nikita asked, provocatively wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her body against his.
In answer, Michael pressed her against the slick shower wall with a passionate kiss.
There was an extremely loud growling sound, this time Nikita laughed the hardest. It was Michael’s turn to protest their fast.
* * *
“Do you eat here often?” Nikita asked.
Michael nodded and took a sip of his wine.
“I feel so underdressed… ” she whispered, pushing up the sleeve of a sweatshirt that Michael had loaned her. “If I had known I was staying, I would have brought a change of clothes.”
“How did you find out where I lived?” Michael asked quietly.
“I followed you,” Nikita answered, mentally crossing her fingers behind her back. She still wasn’t completely sure the past 20 hours hadn’t been a dream or how Michael felt about her intrusion on his privacy. No need to get Walter in trouble if she didn’t have to.
“Why?” he asked suddenly.
“To apologize for the things I said to you. I didn’t remember your holding me in medlab. I was hurt that you hadn’t stopped by to visit. I thought you didn’t care. When Walter showed me the tape… ” Nikita frowned as she remembered her bitter accusation of that morning.
Michael’s expression changed from placid to one of controlled disquiet. “What tape?”
“Madeline made tapes of Ryan, Lester and me to track the progress of the virus. Walter had it that morning when you came by. He was so angry at me for what I said to you and it really was unforgivable, Michael. You risked everything for me, and I… ” Nikita stopped speaking, aware that Michael’s attention was miles away.
Michael’s mind rushed through what Nikita had said. He hadn’t known about the tapes. If Madeline had the tapes, it meant Operations would see them. He had been so sure that Nikita was dying, he had thought of nothing else. Operations was no fool, and if he so much as perceived that Nikita was so important to Michael that he would have died with her willingly…
What would Operations do? Michael wondered. Then he wondered if he could get the tapes somehow, before Operations returned. But surely Madeline had already seen them -- and she had witnessed all anyway. And now, Nikita…
“Michael? Hello? Venus to Mars?” Nikita was whispering.
“What?” Michael’s attention returned to Nikita..
Nikita reached over and slipped her hand atop his as it rested on the table. “Is something wrong?”
Michael looked into her lovely cerulean eyes and forced himself to smile and lie, “No.”
She smiled back. “Good. I was afraid I’d lost you there for a moment.” Her fingers casually stroked his until he laced his fingers with hers and held them still.
“Do you want to go home?” Michael asked, his face suddenly serious.
Nikita’s smile faded a little. “My home or yours?”
“Which would you prefer?” The blank stare was back, and Nikita wasn’t sure how he wanted her to answer.
“Yours?” Nikita looked at him with a fragile expression, as if expecting abandonment or having this date turn out like their first. He’d hurt her so many times in the past, used her to his and the Section’s best advantage, it was only natural that she feared another betrayal. God, he hated seeing that mistrust and fear in her face! He hated himself even more, knowing he was going to have to play out the game once again.
Shoving the bitter thoughts aside for the moment, Michael took the hand he still held and kissed it. “Let’s go then.” He stood and drew Nikita to her feet. He paid for their meal, and they left the restaurant.
Michael was stone silent during the return trip to his house. As she drove through the misty, rainy evening, Nikita’s heart sank. The empty flat expression was back on Michael’s face, and yet there were signs of emotion. She’d known him long enough to read some of them: that far away look, the unconscious gesture of his fingers rubbing against his chin -- a nervous habit she had begun to associate with concealed agitation. Michael was upset, but Nikita had no clue as to why.
She thought back to their earlier conversation, trying to remember and pinpoint the moment he had begun the change from “Michael, the man,” to “Michael, the machine.” It had been the tape, she decided, the tape of him holding her in medlab. She cast a pleading look in his direction, but he was preoccupied with staring out the window and did not notice.
Why, Michael? Nikita thought bitterly. Is it because the tape proves you care? It is because you can’t bear for me to know you care, so you can’t pretend you don’t anymore?
Was he afraid?
The idea that Michael might be afraid of anything gave Nikita a jolt. Michael -- afraid? She looked over at him again. He had braced his elbow against the car door, his long fingers restlessly rubbing, back and forth, against his jaw before stopping a moment to rest his forefinger against his lower lip.
Michael ran the scenario in his head as Jurgen had trained him to do.
“Step by step, think your way through the sequencing. Do it here,” Jurgen had said, tapping his finger against Michael’s forehead, “before you do it for real.”
“What about unknown variables? How do you plan for the unplanned?” Michael had asked with irritation.
“If you do your job right, there shouldn’t be unknown variables,” Jurgen had replied.
“But what if there are?” Michael continued to insist.
“Then find a way to use them to your advantage. Never let the enemy capitalize on your mistakes.”
It had been a mistake to let his emotional guard down in front of the others in Section. Worse than that had been his selfish need for Nikita. The only thing she had left was the life that Section allowed her, and Michael had endangered that life by fueling her love for him. The problem now was how to repair the damage.
His plan was simple, and Michael was sure he had accounted for all the variables, save one. But even that variable was workable.
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