Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Nikita, 'cause if I did there would be way more Mikita scenes. This takes place starting at the end of Michael and Nikita's conversation in Russia during 1x17 and continues on from there. Will include the Cosmic Love scene – hopefully.
Chapter 1: Sometimes Silence Is Exactly What's Needed
"… I was coming here to," Michael saw the sudden realization of his words pierce Nikita, and she looked shocked for a split instant before she quickly glanced away from him, "double cross you," he finished. Michael couldn't look away from her though, his green eyes still too emotional, too raw from recent revelations, he begged for a silent forgiveness in the only way he still knew how.
Nikita turned back and watched that beloved face, the lines of strain by those green eyes, and the snow that swirled around his tightly-wound figure standing in the middle of a Russian winter. Seeing Michael cry had left her with an utterly helpless feeling in the pit of her stomach and she had been so afraid that her words wouldn't be enough for him – that they wouldn't be what he needed to hear in this moment.
But they had seemed to break through that invisible barrier which had existed between them ever since she had come back to declare war against Division. He was more open to her in this moment than he had been since they had both been here together 5 years ago, the night he had first told her about his family. She figured that in the grand scheme of everything that was between them, the fact that he had been angry and hurt enough to want to double cross her when he arrived didn't matter anymore. She realized that she could forgive him even this.
"Well you didn't," she told him simply, before slowly walking away and leaving him time to compose himself.
She policed her brass, as well as Michael's, and decided against moving the bodies of Kasim and his men. She doubted that the local authorities would be able to piece together what had happened, and she could only hope that when Percy discovered Kasim was dead he wouldn't connect it with her. Percy had an uncanny way of knowing things sometimes that reminded her again and again what a dangerous adversary he truly was.
When she had finished cleaning up to her satisfaction, she walked back outside to discover that Michael was still in the same spot that she had left him. She went over to him to tell him that she was leaving; she wanted to get the earliest flight out of Sheremetyevo Airport back to the States and away from Russia before Gogol caught up with her. As she neared his hunched, leather-clad, back however, she found herself wishing that she could have only five more minutes to spend just being in his presence.
She moved up to stand beside him and then she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She tried to figure out how just being beside him made her feel safe, why it had always made her feel safe even when he was trying to kill her. She had cursed her automatic sense of well-being around him numerous times, afraid it would make her too careless one day, afraid that one day he would actually pull the trigger before he had time to understand how much she needed him – how much she loved him.
Michael turned to face Nikita, ready to tell her they both needed to move out and make their separate ways back to New York, when he noticed how tired she looked. He realized that she had to be utterly exhausted and that she probably hadn't even slept since he had given her the ultimatum to hunt down Kasim. Another way in which I've hurt her, he thought, experiencing again that sudden fear he'd felt when he'd reached this little Russian retreat only to find that Nikita was in Kasim's grasp. Michael swallowed rapidly; refusing to consider what he would have done if he'd have lost another loved one to Kasim Tariq.
He cleared his throat. "We should get moving. Red Eye flight takes off in about two hours. I'm driving," he told her.
She looked at him but obviously forbore to comment because she walked beside him down the road to his car, which he'd parked well back from the hotel. Michael drove in silence all the way back to Pulkovo Airport in St. Petersburg, occasionally glancing at Nikita and watching as she valiantly tried to stay awake. He got them both onto the US military transport, waving a top clearance military badge, and then they both strapped into one of the small side benches that ran along the walls of the plane.
Michael had forgotten how close they would have to be to one another through the many hours it would take them to get back to the US. As soon as she sat down beside him he knew that this was going to be a long flight. Her thigh was pressed into his leg and he could feel every breath that she took. He shifted uncomfortably and refused to look over at her, maintaining the silence that had been their constant companion for many hours now. His mind refused to focus on any one thing since the revelations he'd heard about Percy from Kasim. He wanted to talk to her, but at the same time there was too much that needed to be said between them. He didn't even know where to start and now was definitely not the best time. He was exhausted, she was definitely exhausted, and they were on a military transport with US Marines within shouting distance.
So he leaned back against the cool metal of the plane and he tried in vain to organize his thoughts. But no matter what he did, his mind kept returning to the woman beside him. Nikita continued to fight her exhaustion. Every couple of minutes Michael would watch out of the corner of his eye as her head fell towards her chest, and then as she jerked it up again quickly. After a while Michael discreetly inched over a bit more so that their shoulders were touching. She needed to sleep, desperately, and she was obviously still too wary to do so in his presence.
But soon enough the constant droning of the airplane, as well as Michael's warmth beside her, sent Nikita gently into the arms of Morpheus. With a quiet sigh her eyes drifted shut and her head fell softly against his shoulder. Michael didn't move for a long, long time; afraid that any movement from him would cause her to start awake again and move away from him. He listened to her breathing for what felt like hours, but was probably closer to thirty minutes.
When he was sure she was deep enough asleep he cautiously moved his arm and brought it around her, drawing her closer to him until her head was under his chin and she was lying mostly on his chest. She moved then, a bit restlessly, but she only burrowed deeper into his warmth. He froze until she had settled again and then he gently removed her beret and rested his cheek on her hair. He stared sightlessly into space and felt his mind become peaceful and at ease for the first time in – certainly hours – but probably years, just from the simple fact that he was holding her in his arms. He felt his eyes becoming heavy, but he didn't fight his weariness, and soon enough Michael and Nikita were both sound asleep wrapped in each other's arms and just for a moment perfectly together in a world trying so desperately to tear them apart.
Nikita woke up to find herself ensconced securely in Michael's arms, his leather coat wrapped around both of them, and his scent all around her. His cheek was still resting on top of her hair and his quiet snores made her smile sleepily to herself before she recollected just where they both were and what had so recently happened. She froze and then tried to move away from him but all that did was cause his head to slip down to rest on her shoulder and for him to mutter distractedly and pull her even closer to him.
She laughed a bit sadly at the fact that only when they were both asleep did they show how much they needed one another. But she relaxed back into his grasp and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She had always loved his hair, had always wanted to run her hands through the soft strands and she wondered if this would be the only chance she got to do so. She stared into the distance, her arms securely around Michael until the plane landed and he awoke and quickly moved away from her, and then she did the sensible thing and pretended it had never happened.
They disembarked the plane and then, with only a quick look at her, Michael left. Nikita watched him stride down the runway and disappear around a corner and she shivered suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself. She feared for a second that the next time she saw him he'd be pointing another gun at her, but she didn't contemplate moving her home. She liked the idea that Michael now knew where she lived, and that he could find her so easily. There had been something in the quality of his silence as he left that began to give her a hope she had not felt in a long time.