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abby82
in the agony of parting
by abby82
category: AU--Canon Divergence for season 4's "No One Lives Forever"
rating: Explicit
word count: 3640
disclaimer: they don’t belong to me, no money is being made. I’m only borrowing them.
author’s note: I originally had no intention of this being such a long story. I wrote the majority of this chapter, Michael and Nikita's first meeting in years, and then their intimate reunion within a short time span of each other. That was gonna be the story, but then other pieces started appearing and suddenly I had a longer and more involved story on my hands. Chapter titles come from Françoise Hardy's Tant de belles choses...
story began: October 2020
links: LJ | AO3 | Tumblr
summary: The Oversight pilot program is real. Nikita is free from Section One.
When Michael arrived in Section he’d already spent the better part of the five hour flight from Senegal with his nose buried behind a computer screen.
He’d reviewed mission video and the preliminary interrogation of the targets acquired. His debrief promised to be long and uncompromisingly thorough. It was a late run of fortunate timing that allowed them to wrap up the mission a few days earlier than profiled. Every once in a while a low percentage SIM proved to pan out and here they were earlier than expected.
As he walked through the corridors from van access to the main hub of Section’s facilities, he felt the curious sensation of having every pair of eyes drawn furtively towards him. Michael was no stranger to being the subject of public curiosity, but this was not that. The eyes that spied him were laced with edginess. The air around him crackled with uncertainty.
“Michael.”
Walter’s voice carried the short distance over from munitions. His face was tight with apprehension. His normally sure hands fiddled with the components of a disassembled P96.
“What do you know of an Oversight pilot program to release Section operatives back into the wild?”
There was no such thing and Michael said as much.
“Well surprise,” Walter stated with a bitter tone. “Nikita’s been selected. She’s gone. Operations and Madeline already broke the news to her.”
The news hit with a force he should be familiar with by now. Not again he thought to himself. When will this stop?
“How long ago?” He asked, mentally reviewing his post mission obligations with the urgency to get to Nikita.
“This morning.”
Michael never made it into debrief. After Walter’s news he briefly stopped in his office to submit his preliminary report before turning off his cell phone and walked out of Section One.
There would be consequences for his actions. Not only were they completely unlike him but entirely inappropriate. He’d deal with the fallout later.
Once in his car he reached for his secondary cell phone…his unauthorized and untraceable cell phone. His contact at Oversight wasn’t the least bit surprised at his call, just at how long it took him to make it.
Michael listened as his contact outlined George’s rehabilitation program. It was a long dormant proposal by Adrian, developed at the inception of the Sections to reward exemplary and qualified operatives. In a bit of nostalgia, for his lost lady, George resurrected Adrian’s plans and internal vetting selected Nikita as a prime candidate.
The timing wasn’t malicious, he was told, merely coincidental.
Nikita’s compassion and strength of character made her stand out amongst all of the Sections’ personnel. What good was saving the world if our brightest couldn’t enjoy the fruits of their labors.
The rest of his drive to Nikita’s apartment he was tight with tension. What if he’d missed her? What if she was already gone and out of his reach? What if…?
At her front door he knocked and silently willed it to open. When it did, he was greeted by Nikita, a subdued, plaintive smile crossed her features.
“I came to say goodbye,” he told the air around her. Relief and selfishness warred for dominance in his chest.
Once in her arms, Michael breathed her in for what was likely the last time. The lingering scent of her perfume. The sweetness of her skin. He was losing her all over again.
Their kiss was sweet and tender. Sadness colored the caress. Nikita’s fingers clutched his shoulders before slipping his overcoat off.
There was never enough time for them. He feared that this final goodbye would finally break him.
Michael felt the deepest desire to memorize every inch of her. From the soles of her feet, the freckles on her breast bone, that exquisite spot where her back thigh connected to the bottom of her derriere and the muscles of her back encased in silken skin. No part of her escaped his careful attention, his worship. He needed to commit every part of her to memory.
Michael cupped Nikita’s face in his hands. Lips hovering over each other. Eyes, dark and dilated. Eyes that had always captivated him.
Those very eyes have looked upon him in defiance, in anger, and betrayal. Michael’s words and actions have caused tears to shed from those eyes. Those same eyes have also looked upon him in compassion, friendship and even amusement. Passion filled eyes looked at him now. They tell him his slow, sensual perusal of her body needed to come to an end.
Neither one of them had ever been overly vocal when they came together, but a chorus of sighs and moans always helped to chart their erotic progress. When Michael’s mouth charted his path to the very core of her, Nikita’s cry of his name filled him with a mixture of devotion and possessiveness.
Musky moisture danced on his tongue. His fingers imprinted themselves on the pale skin of her thighs. Her body was a treasure.
Nikita reached for him, fingers clutching his hair, and brought his mouth to hers.
One of her hands took possession of him. Her warm, sure hand stroked him confidently. It was a rhythm she’d taken great delight in discovering. He’d give that power to her a thousand times over if he could. After a few intense strokes, Nikita guided him to her entrance. The moment he entered her, Nikita’s breath hitched and Michael lost himself in her heat.
He found welcoming shelter in the cradle of her arms. Her long legs held him to her.
He urged her on. Encouraged her to reach new heights. He offered his body to her, as he had in the past, but this was different. This was the last time. Michael wanted to imprint himself onto her skin. He wanted her on his. He’ll have almost six years of memories to call upon, but this one will be the one he’ll call upon on those lonely nights.
When their mutual release came, he almost refused to acknowledge what it would signify. Their time together was slowly coming to an end. He would have to find the strength to let her go.
In those moments when he ghosted his fingers over Nikita’s perspiration coated skin, raising goosebumps in their wake, he let his mind wander to the legitimacy of her situation.
The offer was real. His contact at Oversight confirmed it.
Nikita’s freedom was hers for the taking. Michael had tried to gift her that freedom several years ago. It didn’t stick then. Would it stick now?
Her heart, steady as it was, was a reliable metronome to her continued survival.
They lie facing each other on the tangled bedsheets, their legs intertwined. Moonlight provided the only illumination, obscuring Nikita’s features with pockets of light and shadow.
“You won’t ask me to stay?” Her voice was a combination of hesitancy and sadness. Her fingers skimmed down his throat where they toyed with the prickly beard growth that had emerged.
“No,” His own fingers slowly caressed her brow. It was an affectionate gesture he’s done countless times before.
“Why not?”
“Because I want you happy.” Fingertips trailed down the side of her face and onto her lips, slightly swollen from their kisses.
“Even if it means we’re no longer in each other’s lives.”
“Yes,” His heart was breaking. He had to let her go. “You do this. You live.”
A deep and ragged sigh escaped her lips as she brought them down onto his collarbone and whispered onto his skin.
“Is this real, Michael?”
He didn’t blame her for doubting. She’s been at the center of so many manipulations—from him, Section, herself even.
Tilting her face back up to meet his. “It’s as real as you make it.”
Nikita leaned forward and kissed him chastely. She nuzzled her nose against his. A small smile on her lips. “I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too.”
She kissed him again. This time with a ferocity to match the reality of their situation. They will never see each other again. If their earlier lovemaking was slow and reverent, their second time that night was soul shattering in its passion.
Nikita was a vision in dominance. Commanding in her ownership of his body. Michael was more than willing to do her bidding.
His limbs were arranged how she wanted them. Her mouth enveloped his aching erection as she took him long and slow. Her beautiful mouth had him moaning deeply as he tried desperately to hold back his release. Her silk soft hair draped on his thighs and stomach and added an extra layer of sensation.
“Nikita.” It was a struggle just to get her name out.
Suddenly she was gone and cool air hit his overheated skin before he was enveloped once more, this time by the heated depths of her sex.
The sense of abandon to which Nikita rode him was exhilarating. All he could do was hang on to her and revel in the feel of her body over his. Her hands were braced on his chest. Her eyebrow furrowed in concentration and her magnetic eyes were locked on his and never drifted. She spread herself over him and her breathy gasps of pleasure in his ear were burned into his memory
She kissed him hard. Lips and teeth clashing onto each other. Her tongue stroked his vehemently. Suddenly her inner walls pulsated with the strength of her orgasm. Michael couldn’t help but quickly roll them over and forcefully thrust into her before he followed her immediately after. Her name escaped his lips like a prayer.
Sleep never came that night. They later came together one last time. Lazy and dreamlike, like they had all the time in the world. They mouthed soft and whispered words of devotion. Their union was exquisite torture. When the dawn came, they knew the time had come. Dressing each other became another way to maintain contact just a little longer. Michael idly adjusted Nikita’s bra strap, his fingers stroked the satin that sat on her shoulders. A chagrined smile showed her amusement at his attentiveness. Nikita smoothed the cashmere of his sweater, ensuring that no imperfection marred its placement on his body. He didn’t want to but the sensation of her fingers on his chest and waist was too much so it forced Michael to grab them and hold them to his mouth in a lingering kiss.
Michael helped finger comb Nikita’s shorter hair behind her ear. She wore no jewelry but he couldn’t help stroking a single finger over the shell of her ear and down to the lobe. He could feel a brief tremor go through Nikita’s body at his actions. Nikita held his belt in her hands and ran it through the loops of his slacks. The belt buckle clinked as she fastened and tightened it around his waist. They were one step closer to parting.
Neither one of them fooled themselves with what they were doing. All of it was simple delay tactics as they tried to squeeze additional precious seconds together.
By silent agreement they walked down to the living room area of Nikita’s now barren apartment where their coats awaited. Bright morning sunshine filled the room with the optimism of tomorrow.
For them there would be no more coffee tinged kisses or quiet dinners with only each other for company. The final seconds of this chapter in their lives were ticking down.
“Always remember how strong you are.”
The backs of his fingers smoothed over her cheek and she graced him with a smile filled with gratitude and readiness.
His final words to her, “I believe in you.”
He looked into her eyes and tried to convey the magnitude of his feelings for her and his desire for her happiness.
He cradled her hand in his and dropped a lingering and reverent kiss on her knuckles.
Michael couldn’t tell her what was in his heart, that he loved her, that he would always love her.
He feared those words would tether Nikita to him, especially now with her freedom so close at hand. He wasn’t that cruel.
Nikita’s eyes, large and luminous, shone at him. She leaned forward, placed a hand over his heart, where it beat for her, and kissed him. Her lips soft, a final crushing farewell cloaked in sweetness.
Then she was gone, and Michael was left in Nikita’s empty apartment alone.
He pivoted on his heel and gave the room one final perusal before he too walked out of the space for the last time.
Life went on in Section.
The hole Nikita left behind was profound. For the first time since his incarceration and his arrival in Section he was truly alone.
First there had been Simone and the realization that even within Section, something resembling happiness could be carved out. Simone showed him that. Section had given him purpose, but Simone gave him her love.
After what he thought was Simone’s death, Michael did manage to find some comfort in his blood cover with Elena. He was numb inside but playacting as the happy husband and concentrating on the mission at hand gave him something to focus on. And Elena loved him. It was easy to pretend that she loved all of him, including the man who was trained to kill terrorists and seduce the vulnerable. Michael just couldn’t confide in Elena like he could with Simone, but he told himself it was enough. Her easy smiles and her warmth helped immensely. If not for that Michael suspected he would have been far worse during those times.
Nikita’s arrival in Section threw him off balance. Nikita made him reckless even back then. He began to selfishly steal moments with her just because he wanted them. An extended dance while doing surveillance, a completely unnecessary pet name or peck on the lips while undercover, or a quiet confession about his past and the idealistic yet deadly misdeeds that brought him to Section. In short, Nikita made Michael live a fuller life. He would have denied her growing importance, but it was there. Six months of mourning her loss brought that knowledge into sharp relief. He once again took comfort in Elena and now Adam as well, but Nikita’s absence loomed large in his life.
Now, today, and tomorrow there was no Simone, no Elena, no Adam, and no Nikita. There was only Section.
When Elena and Adam were spirited away mid dinner prep he had truly and finally lost them. He’d monitored them in much the same way he had his sister, but Section made sure that was no longer an option. Yes, it kept them safe and he was grateful for that, but it also gave him no way of monitoring their safety.
In acknowledging the reality of that, he had wanted to find comfort in Nikita’s embrace. Instead Michael dealt with the knowledge that his son was irrevocably out of reach by communing with his cello. Mournful adagios, aggressive concertos, and quiet nocturnes emerged from his loft.
His time at Section now was monotonous. That could be dangerous not only to him but to the operatives under him. He dreaded falling into the stupor he had during the six months he’d believed Nikita dead or the dangerous indifference following the end of his blood cover. Yet a large part of him bristled at resuming a more solicitous approach to Section’s demands on him. Michael always knew he was expendable and he knew that the potential of not returning from a mission was very real. However Section ideology had slowly shifted in the last few years. In many ways it had become petty and entirely self-serving. Its impact on his and Nikita’s lives made it even more obvious.
With Nikita gone from his life, Michael chose to focus his attention on the inner workings of Section and on Operations’ and Madeline’s stewardship. A course correction was needed. Section One would never be a benevolent organization. He and Nikita had spent hours debating Section’s role in safeguarding the tenuous balance the world existed on. As much as he treasured their physical relationship, those conversations stimulated a part of him that had been dormant ever since he’d been recruited by Section.
Did having ultimate authority of an organization such as Section One change the one in charge? Nikita seemed to think so. During that brief time he was at the helm of Section, she’d seen his actions on the Bergomi mission as entirely apart from who she thought he was. She’d accused him of being ruthless in the past, but that time was extremely troubling to her. She believed that his control of Section had changed him into someone she would rather not associate with. Nikita’s blunt assessment was not flattering, but her concerns needed to be heard. Michael had Nikita’s words in his ear whenever he considered his next steps within Section. She was forever his conscience.
Section One played a vital role in providing security in an increasingly insecure world. Keeping its existence classified was instrumental in accomplishing its objectives. So too was its ability to remain focused and free of political squabbling. People’s lives depended on their efficiency.
He would help ensure that Adam and Elena would remain blissfully unaware of the danger that once hung over the heads. He would ensure that the freedom Nikita was experiencing would never be threatened.
She was selected for a reason. She possessed the greatest chance for success. Michael wanted to believe that Nikita would survive…would flourish.
It wasn’t like before. Oversight would provide her with resources to start off with, until she could make her own way. She wouldn’t have to worry about being hunted down and brought back against her will. Nor would she be forced to exist on the fringes of society, taking jobs that underpaid to survive. An identity and background, as good those created for them when out on the field, would also help ease Nikita’s transition back into the outside world.
She was monitored, of course. She had regular visits from an Oversight representative to help gauge her emotional and practical assimilation back into the real world. She’d exhibited an expected amount of skepticism, despite his assurances to her that the exercise was legitimate, but slowly she allowed herself to enjoy her freedom. Eventually, the in person visits ceased and Nikita was kept on shadow surveillance.
His Oversight contact forwarded him Nikita’s progress reports. Through them he was privy to the minutiae of Nikita’s life on the outside. He was allowed access to her accomplishments and to her setbacks.
Nikita had remained in Paris for only a short while before she relocated to London. Eventually she moved again, this time to North America, more specifically Manhattan. Michael wondered if her wanderlust was a remnant of her time on the streets or natural instinct. It pained him that he didn’t know the answer. Perhaps her time in Section had satisfied that urge to experience different places and she’d reverted to a pre-Section pattern.
Michael had looked forward to the reports on Nikita, but he knew that objectively he couldn’t continue as he did. He firmly believed that Nikita was the stronger of them two. He was the one who wallowed in despair during those uncertain months after her abeyance mission. Nikita, in contrast, survived.
The day Nikita took a lover was when he knew he needed to stop. She was going to be fine. She was living, as she was intended to.
Reports on Nikita indicated the presence of several men. She was, after all, a beautiful and vibrant woman. People naturally gravitated towards her. She dated occasionally but none were serious. Dinner with one man or a theatre outing with another. She let them down easy when she chose not to pursue anything further with them. There was a small part of him that was pleased that he was not so easily replaced. However, the guilt of such thoughts quickly took over. He didn’t want to deny Nikita the pleasure of romantic companionship. Just because he had chosen not to embark on a physical relationship, the sporadic Valentine missions aside, didn’t mean she had to abstain.
When the Manhattan restaurant owner charmed his way into Nikita’s life Michael expected it to follow the same course as the others. Then one outing became two, which then became three. He quickly outlasted all of her other suitors. Michael waited anxiously for the next report from his contact. When news of a vacation to North Carolina’s Outer Banks came, he knew he had his answer. Two guests, one hotel room and a week long stay.
Nikita had opened her heart to another.
A call to his contact came immediately after. Michael no longer wanted to receive progress reports on Nikita. For his own sanity he needed to cut off the stream of information. George’s implementation of Adrian’s program had worked. A Section One operative had successfully reintegrated back into the real world, and that operative was Nikita.
It could be done.
For his part, all Michael could do now was continue what he’d been doing since he first arrived in Section. He would continue to operate at the highest caliber he was capable of. His POS would remain high, his operative casualties would remain low, and he would continue to nurture strategic relationships within the other Sections and Oversight.
The world they lived in was now changed and Section needed to adapt.
Operations and Madeline’s ambitions had started to fray and were ultimately their undoing. Their petty infighting and lack of focus continued, even without Michael and Nikita as targets. Michael had to be ready for what the future may bring. Elena and Adam were counting on him.
Nikita was counting on him.
