FIC: should I swallow all your lies? [la femme nikita]

[abby82]

should I swallow all your lies?
by abby82

category: missing scene
rating: Explicit
word count: 11,500
disclaimer: they don’t belong to me, no money is being made. I’m only borrowing them.

author’s note: Written for n1_samuelle when she issued a friendly challenge over at lafemmenikita_fans to write a story based on several old Porn Battle prompts. The prompts are anger, dominate, trust, and undercover. This story takes place during the Jurgen arc.

story began: November 2022

story finished: November 2022
links: LJ | AO3 | Tumblr

summary: In the midst of Nikita's return to Section, anger at Michael's perceived abandonment leaves her unmoored and lashing out. When a relatively simple undercover mission goes off the rails, can Nikita dn Michael overcome their trust issues without inflicting more damage?

“I’m not looking for company.”

 

Nikita knows her voice leaves no room for argument. Any sensible man would have walked away the minute they heard the ice in her words. Michael’s not sensible. Instead, he takes a seat on the vacant bar stool next to her.

 

She doesn’t look at him, but Nikita can clearly see his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He’s sinfully handsome and dressed as always in elegant, unapproachable black. Still as granite and with a disposition that’s just as unmoving. Not a thing about him is out of place. She can feel his concentrated gaze on the side of her face. Every so often, she can feel him intensely taking inventory of places where he had left her body bruised. Other times, it can feel like an inventory of where his lips had once settled.

 

The bartender comes and takes his drink order. Cognac. Neat. 

 

Nikita silently grits her teeth. The jerk was staying.

 

She shakes her head incensed at the nerve that he has in following her here.

 

“Nikita.”

 

He says her name softly. Each syllable is carefully enunciated. She refuses to turn. She wants to be alone. Everywhere she goes, she feels claustrophobic. She needs to be able to breathe. She can’t do that in Section and she certainly can’t do it with Michael hovering in the periphery.

 

She contemplates her half full martini and absently swirls the olive laden pick.

 

“Nikita,” he says once more, this time with a tone that suggests that Michael won’t tolerate having to call her attention again.

 

She turns her head to him. After a brief moment she mulishly answers him, “What?”

 

If she wasn’t looking right at him, she would have missed the small way in which Michael’s eyes softened just before he spoke.

 

“I need you to understand something.”

 

He pauses, just as the bartender brings him his drink and places it on a coaster. Michael leaves it untouched.

 

“We’re both under a tremendous amount of scrutiny. The conditions I’d hoped for upon your return were denied to us.”

 

Again, Nikita scoffs slightly. ‘Us’ There’s that word that once felt so powerful—the two of them together. It’s meaningless now.

 

Michael continues undeterred by her lack of interest.

 

“It’s essential that nothing about our behavior looks questionable. Confiding in Jurgen is almost the same as confiding in Madeline—dangerous.”

 

She almost wants to roll her eyes at his continued paranoia.

 

“I don’t believe that.”

 

Michael is silent. He studies her and it takes all of Nikita’s strength to not give any indication that the extra scrutiny makes her feel uncomfortable. 

 

“Then what do you believe?”

 

Nikita takes a sip of her drink and then takes a fortifying breath.

 

“You know, I’ve watched you, Michael, do the impossible again and again. Failure is not an option. I’ve never seen you sweat, until now. Now that Jurgen’s in the picture. It also appears that now I have options. And now that I do, you choose to fail with me. You choose to color between the Section dictated lines.”

 

She lets her face show her mock surprise.

 

“It’s curious. It’s clear you’ve made your decision; now that I’m no longer a sure thing; now that I’m no longer ready to jump at the slightest indication of interest. Perhaps no longer worth the effort either, huh.”

 

She looks around at the intimate bar. Couples and groups of friends are gathered at the various tables. Living. Her six months on the outside revealed to her the harsh reality that she could no longer exist in the real world. Section has stripped her of that ability and the man who sits beside her represents Section at its cruelest. 

 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Madeline. I can accept being back, but I don’t have to like it.”

 

Michael angles his body closer to hers. Everything in his body language suggests that he’s trying to find a way to placate her. 

 

“There’s much more at play than you understand.”

 

His attempts fail and only serve to irritate her even further.

 

“How am I supposed to understand if you won’t talk to me? Vagaries are not going to tell me anything, and yet you refuse to say more than what you do. Am I supposed to just take your word for it? You protect me with one hand, Michael, and then hurt me with the other. Forgive me if it’s difficult for me to determine which version of you is approaching me. ” 

 

Michael says nothing. Why can’t he say something, anything that won’t sound like he’s reading off a Section approved manual of obfuscations?

 

“I don’t want to be played,” she says quietly. “Not like this. It hurt too much the first time you did it…and the second. And here I find myself a third time, not having learned my lesson when it comes to you.”

 

She’s drawn to Michael in the most primal of ways. It might just be the appeal of the forbidden, but she doesn’t think so. Regardless, her attraction to him isn’t healthy and unless he’s willing to be honest with her, then nothing good can come from it. 

 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Spare me the humiliation.” She’s on the verge of tears but not because her heart is breaking, but because of all the whiplash the man before her causes. It’s infuriating to be manipulated like that. “Here I am hating you for being you, for being so good at what you do. At what you were trained to do. In all honesty, I’d prefer that you bruise my body rather than my heart. At least that’s honest.”

 

Nikita knows Michael well enough to know that some of that got through to him. She knows he’s sorry for inflicting physical pain on her.  

 

His eyes cloud over and he searches her face for something. She doesn’t know if he found it before he turns his sights on a distant corner of the bar.

 

He’s silent for a long time before he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a quiet breath.

 

“Things…aren’t safe right now.” 

 

“Something tells me that things will never be safe. It’s convenient to hide behind that. I mistook freedom for living. I don’t need to be free to live. I would just rather not do it alone.”

 

“We’re all alone in Section. Attachments to others can be a double edged sword.” There’s introspection in his voice. She wonders if he’s thinking about his wife. Seeing him with Simone was the first time Nikita was allowed a glimpse at the strength that Michael’s love was capable of. It had rocked her perception of him and gave more depth to what she’d first chalked up to as a crush. “There’s a fine line between wanting and needing someone,” he continued. “They’re both dangerous. Going forward alone is less complicated.”

 

Nikita laughs bitterly underneath her breath.

 

“When have you ever known me to be anything other than complicated? You had me, Michael. I was ready to tear off my clothes for you,” She calls up an embarrassing truth. The timbre of her voice had risen just a tad higher than would be acceptable in a quiet bar but she was beyond caring. She scoffs. “Talk about a lack of self respect.” 

 

She had been under his spell. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought about her night with Michael. His touch, his private words—it all swirled in her head until she was consumed with unspeakable lust. The fact that they’d been kept apart for most of her recovery only added to the fantasies she harbored about him once she was released. She naively thought she and Michael would have more nights like the one they’d shared. Section was going to be bearable because she had him. It turns out she was nothing but a fool. She was no different than the dozens of women who had fallen for the illusion that he had presented them. Jurgen had helped her see that. Since her return to Section, Jurgen has been the one person who has told it to her straight. 

 

She was grateful for the honesty, as unpleasant as it might have been sometimes.

 

“You said you wanted me to understand a few things. I understand now that I must have made a terrible mistake. One I’m determined not to make again.”

 

He places a soft hand on her forearm. It burns her skin and she efficiently moves away from his hold. 

 

“No,” she tells him softly.

 

She’d seen the bartender eyeing their exchange and with her denial of Michael’s touch, he moves closer to them.

 

“Is this guy giving you some trouble?” He asks, his voice laced with protective concern. He was young, probably a university student and very likely trying to ascertain if he could take Michael on.

 

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Nikita gives him her most agreeable smile and waves the young bartender off. “He’s no one,” she turns to look Michael straight in the eye to ensure that her dismissal is received. “In fact, he’s getting ready to leave.”

 

She leans in close. Close enough to feel the heat of his body.

 

“What were you gonna do?” She whispers menacingly into his ear. “Drag me back to Section? Fuck me into submission? You’ve already done that.”

 

She’s dangerously close to him now. Nikita can see the kaleidoscoping colors of his clear eyes. The beauty of them can truly be overwhelming. It had been a heady experience to witness them reflect intense passion. Passion directed at her. She calls on all her strength to not fall into their depths once more. 

 

His eyes rake over her face and he opens his mouth to say something more when the familiar trill of Michael’s cell phone breaks the impasse.

 

“Yes?”

 

Nikita pulls back and watches his brief conversation.

 

“I’ll be right there.”

 

Information conveyed and information received. Cell phone closed and stashed away inside a pocket.

 

Michael glances at her briefly before he opens up his wallet and deposits several bills onto the bar. It’s more than enough to cover the drink he never touched.

 

“You’ll likely be needed later.” He tells her after he rises and buttons his suit jacket. “Stay close.”

 

“Whatever,” she answers after he’s long gone.