n.
"Why do you do that to yourself?" Nikita questioned, when Michael finally shifted on the weight bench, sitting sideways now, and accepted the towel she held out for him.
"Do what?" Michael countered, as he patted his face and neck dry.
Nikita sighed. "Push yourself too far, too fast," she replied, her eyes locked on Michael's face. She almost winced in sympathy at the pain she saw reflected in his silver-green gaze. "You spent only two days in Medlab after you were hurt, and you only stayed that long because you...literally...couldn't walk. Now it's only been a week and you're working out at a punishing level. Why can't you just let yourself heal, Michael?" It was a deeper question than Nikita realized.
Michael looked at her beautiful face, seeing in the crystal-blue gaze, a true desire to understand him. It never ceased to amaze Michael that she would even bother. But then, Nikita was the true enigma, as far as he was concerned. "I work through the pain," Michael replied, for once giving Nikita a completely honest answer. "It makes me stronger."
"And that's what's expected of you, isn't it?" Nikita hissed, feeling an irriational surge of anger. Not at Michael, but at the circumstances that made him think the way he did. "Section wants you to be the man of steel, and so you are. Bullets barely slow you down, and torture....well..." Nikita paused, offering a shrug. They both remembered what happened with Red Cell. How, after Michael was brutally tortured, he suddenly turned into superman and got them out of hell.
"I do what I have to do, Nikita," Michael replied. He rose to his feet and took a step, only to have his knee buckle.
Nikita was beside him in a heartbeat, gripping Michael's arm to support him. She had almost sensed his sudden weakness and now she felt him resisting her help. "Lean on me, Michael," Nikita commanded, but her voice was soft.
As a wave of pain rippled through him, Michael found himself obeying Nikita. He leaned into her strength and it helped to ease the agony. But when she tried to get him to sit down, he refused. "I'm fine," Michael insisted, unaware of how pale he had become. He shifted his weight so that he was supporting himself once more, then shrugged Nikita's hand off. Her touch was an agony in itself. "Why did you come here?" he asked, suddenly. For she had appeared soon after he had started his workout and had watched him in silent comtemplation.
"I wanted to talk," Nikita replied, as she stepped away from Michael, but not so far that she wouldn't be there to catch him, should he fall.
"About what?" Michael queried, as he moved to pick up a weight bar. He planted his feet then lifted it over his head in a slow, and measured, movement. His knee held, but his ribs protested. Michael ignored them, shifting his focus to the exercise, and Nikita.
She smiled, moving to stand in front of Michael, prepared to help him if neccessary. Nikita knew she should have spotted him from behind, but she wanted to see his face. "You know everything about me, Michael. My past, present....hell, you've probably got a better lock on my future than I do." Nikita was surprised to see a flicker of reaction in Michael's eyes at her words. But before she could identify the emotion, Michael had shuttered his gaze. So she continued. "I want to know about you. About your past..and your present. Most of all, about your future."
Michael lowered the weight bar, setting it aside before responding. "You know what you need to know, Nikita. Section isn't my life, it's what I am. That's my past, my present and my future."
"Fair enough," she allowed, following Michael back over to the weight bench. She was surprised when he sat down and simply looked at her.
"What is it you really want to know?" Michael questioned. He had known this moment would come, had tried to prepare himself for it. But he still wasn't ready to face her. Yet, maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was time for the truth between them.
Nikita sat down beside Michael, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin material of her trousers. After his workout he should have been ripe with sweat, but his scent was musky and masculine, a heady combination that filled Nikita's nostrils and made her senses reel. "I want to know who you were before Section, who you are now, and who would like to be." She waited for a response, but none was forthcoming, so Nikita rephrased the question. "You once said to me that you wouldn't choose this...life...for yourself. For....us. So I'm asking you, Michael. What's the alternative to Section One? If you were suddenly free...what would you do? Who would you be?"
Michael didn't answer Nikita, not right away. He couldn't. He didn't have an answer. He never allowed himself to even dream of freedom. It was his one, true, desire but he knew it would never be, so he refused to even think about it. Now Nikita was asking him to do so. To image a life in the real world. For himself, Michael couldn't answer. From the moment Nikita had arrived in Section One, his life had been bound to hers. So he told her what he would want for them. "I would travel the world," Michael replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "With you."
"Why?" Nikita countered, for the answer surprised her. It's not what she had expected.
"I want to see it through your eyes, Nikita," Michael replied. He let a smile curve his lips at the stunned expression on her beautiful face. "I want to see places and people the way you do. Openly...honestly. I want to remember what it was like being able to trust in people. To look at something beautiful and see only it's beauty. Instead of searching for the ugliness that must be lurking beneath it's pretty facade."
Nikita blinked back sudden tears as she reached for Michael's hand. Section had taught her to trust no one but herself, yet she had never stopped believing in goodness and light. All of the sudden she realized that Michael saw only darkness, that it was a reflection of his soul, and she ached for him. "We don't have to leave Section for me to show you the world outside, Michael," Nikita said softly. "It's not where you go that matters, it's where you look."
Michael shook his head. "I don't understand," he admitted, his fingers tightening around Nikita's as if she were a lifeline.
"When I was on the streets, I was happy," Nikita replied, shifting on the bench so she could lock eyes with Michael. She wanted him to understand, and to believe. In her, and in himself. "I didn't have a family or money, or a place to live. But I had my freedom, and the world was mine. I could go anywhere, see anything, do whatever I wanted."
"And Section took that away from you," Michael interjected, sadly.
Nikita nodded. "Yes...but they can't take away my heart and my soul. Nor my love of life. I still see the beauty in a flower, or the sweetness of a young child. Their innocence touches me when I see them smile, or hear them laugh." Nikita broke off when she saw pain flicker in Michael's eyes and he looked away from her. She could guess why. "You loved your son," she whispered.
Michael untangled his fingers from Nikita's and stood up, moving away from her. Suddenly he felt as if he were suffocating and his eyes filled with tears that he didn't want her to see. "All I know is death, Nikita," Michael whispered, hoarsely.
"I know," Nikita replied, moving to stand behind him. She didn't touch him, but she could see him tremble. "We can't change the past, Michael," Nikita said soflty. "But it's made you strong, stronger than anyone I know. And I don't mean just physically. Michael....I saw how you loved Simone. I know the depth of your passions. And I know you're afraid to let yourself feel again. To love again. To hope again." Nikita paused, waiting for some response. But Michael stood frozen, like a statue. So she continued. "Take a chance, Michael," Nikita beseeched, as she stepped around in front of him. She held out one hand. "Come with me...and let me show you my world."
Trying to look anywhere but at Nikita, Michael took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, hearing how shaky it was. The thought of facing the world outside of Section terrified him. But then he looked at Nikita's outstretched hand and Michael knew that she would never lead him anywhere but into the light. "Show me.." Michael whispered, as he intertwined his fingers with Nikita's.
"My pleasure," she replied, a smile lighting up her face. Nikita tightened her grip on Michael's hand, then led him from the room. She knew that this moment in time wouldn't change him, but that didn't matter. Michael had once said that they take what they could get, and that's what Nikita intended to do. Michael had trained her how to survive in his world, Section One. Now she would teach him him how to live...in hers.
THE END