ELEVEN DAYS AWAY

By LORRAINE 0.

THE USUAL DISCLAIMER APPLIES HERE AS ALWAYS,,, THEY OWN EM, I JUST BORROWED EM!

FEEEEDBACK!

APPLEG@ACCESSCABLE.NET

Any word from Michael?

Operations stood by Quinn, peering over her shoulder at her monitor. Quinn entered a code and nodded, adjusting her earpiece.

Yes, I am sure its from him.

She paused for a moment looking up at him before continuing.

There is a message coming in an underlying code. It says, it took me 4 days to find her, I have 11 days left.

Operations smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets understanding the message perfectly. I'll be damned. He muttered walking away from a very confused Quinn.

Nikita was vaguely aware of someone moving about the room, the soft sound of soothing music played in the background. She hurt all over, her shoulder was on fire and her throat felt like it had been skinned. Swallowing with difficulty, she tried to call out to him. Her voice was weak, raspy. Almost unrecognizable in her mind and she winced as the pain spread through her throat. Michael turned, coming to her side; his hand covered hers in a gentle grasp. For a moment, nightmares of Henry entered her foggy mind and she pulled back, a weak yet defiant growl came from deep within her.

Get away from me Henry. You don¡¦t know what you¡¦re doing.

She pulled her legs up, preparing to fight him if need be. Michael spoke softly to her, his voice calm, soothing as he reassured her she was safe.

Nikita shook her head, the image of Henry blurred over and the face of Michael appeared in its place. Blinking rapidly, she fought the nausea that threatened to wash over her, engulfing her in its sickly clutches.

Michael?

She asked tentatively, praying the man before her really was him and not some image she was conjuring up in her drugged mind.

Yes, it¡¦s me, Nikita. Relax, you are safe now.

Nikita reluctantly let him take her hand back in his, trying to focus her tired eyes without much luck.

With deliberate slowness, Michael urged her to lie back on the large pillows behind her and then reached down for her shoes, pulling them off. She still wore the torn wedding dress he had found her in, the bodice splattered with blood from Henrys head when Red Cell had shot him. Nikita looked down at the dress, fingering the rough tulle of the skirt, a shudder of revulsion came over her.

Why am I in this? Get it off me, please.. I don¡¦t want it.

Her voce quivered as she began to weakly tear the material. Michael stilled her hands in his, waiting for her to calm down somewhat.

Nikita, its ok, I will help you get it off.

His soothing words twisted and Henry came back, smiling his evil smile at her.

Nikita, you don¡¦t need this on anymore,, after all, we are married. Time to fulfill your wifely duty my love.

Nikita cried out, her hand reached up knocking Michaels hand aside, her foot came up catching him directly in the stomach.

Michael grunted as the pain almost doubled him over, but he managed to grasp her legs before she could roll off the bed. She fought hard, screaming in defiance, her vision blurring, distorting the world around her making her fight harder. Even in her weakened state, she was a formidable opponent for him as she always was, making Michael realize reasoning with her right now was not an option.

Reluctantly, he got her in a chokehold and applied pressure to her struggling form until she went limp.

Quickly, he released her and pulled her prone body back up straight onto the bed. Silently, he pulled the torn and stained dress from her body and frowned, a wave of blind wrath rushed over him when he saw the extensive bruising of her usually smooth pale skin. She was covered in welts, scratches and bruises, obvious signs she had been abused badly. He wasn¡¦t sorry Henry and his twisted mother was dead. He just wished it were by his hand and not Red Cell¡¦s.

Gently, he pulled the gown down over her softly flared hips, his mind focused on the task at hand. Tossing the dress into a garbage bag, he went to the sink, filling a bowl with warm soapy water, preparing to wash her filthy bruised body. He was glad there was a med kit in the cabin as he saw by looking at her; he would be using it frequently. It was going to take the full 11 days they had left to get her back to the old Nikita.

A full day and a half had gone by before Nikita was even half to being back to her old self. She was silent most of the time, speaking only when she had to. Instead, she followed him with her eyes, grudgingly accepting help only when it was clearly impossible for her to complete some task.

Michael felt frustrated with her inside but never let it show. He knew she was fragile, unwilling to tell him what had happened during her capture.

The sun streamed in the big window of the living room/ kitchen, warming the big room up to a nice temperature. Nikita sat on the couch, chin resting on her arm as she gazed out at the trees and flowers.

Michael approached, opting to sit on the chair not far from her, and set down their bowls of soup.

Thought you might like some after you woke up. He said quietly, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her one of his rare smiles.

Nikita looked down at the bowls and then back up to his face as he sat down. Turning slowly, wincing at the pain her movements created in her battered body, she nodded.

Thank you Michael.

Her voice was barely audible as she took the bowl, balancing it in her lap. The effort of eating was tiring but she knew she needed to. The soup was thick, fresh vegetables and chicken floated in the hearty dark liquid. Appreciatively, she breathed in the aroma, knowing he had worked hard on it for her.

Michael ate his soup in silence; his eyes gazed at her every so often, conveying his love for her plainly as he has always done when they found time to be alone.

Nikita managed to get half of it down before she grew weary once again. Sighing lowly she set it down on the coffee table. Leaning back in the couch, she closed her eyes, hands resting on her stomach.

It was wonderful. Thank you.

She burped lowly, covering her mouth with her hand as he smiled at her yet once again.

Would you like to sit out on the porch? He asked still eating his meal.

Nikita opened her eyes again, taking him in silently. He was so devoted to her and she knew it. Despite his actions at times due to Section, she knew he loved her beyond all reason. Rescuing her from Henry was just one more instance of his love. She recalled how he picked her up off the floor after shooting the rope down that held her by the neck in the basement. How she had admonished him for coming in not knowing if it were a substation or not. He had said if she were dead, it wouldn't have mattered if he didn't make it out himself. He wasn't Henry, so why couldn't she let him touch her like before?

Nikita? Michael’s voice calling out to her caught her, bringing her out of her thoughts and she smiled slightly, pushing her long bangs from her eyes.

Later... I just want to sit here.

Michael nodded; dusting off the cracker crumbs from his lap, into his one hand and looked over at her. She looked like she might be in pain again and he stood up, taking their bowls.

Nikita watched him from hooded eyes, taking in his grace, the ease in which he seemed to b able to move. She swore he was a dancer in a previous life.

Michael poured a glass of icy water and brought her a couple of pills. Sitting next to her, he noticed how she eased her knee away from his when they touched but let it pass.

Take these. He held out his hand for her, waiting for her to take them.

Nikita looked down, shaking her head.

No, I don't want them. She refused, looking over at him for a moment.

Michael held motionless, not saying a word, waiting for her to take them from him despite her refusal.

Nikita sighed, reluctantly held out her hand, palm up as he dropped them into it. Bringing them to her mouth, she sipped the water, shaking her head back as she swallowed.

Michael took the water from her, setting it down on the table and then looked back at her over his shoulder.

What happened? He asked evenly, hoping she was ready to talk about it. He didn't know how to help her unless she opened up to him.

Nikita clamped her mouth shut, crossing her arms over her body, her eyes looking down at the floor and said nothing.

Michael turned so he was sideways on the couch to her; his arm rested on the couch behind her shoulders, and let his gaze fall on her silent profile.

Nikita.... What happened? He repeated his question, letting his other hand rest on his leg, his knuckles against her hip.

Nikita shook her head finally and turned her eyes to meet his.

Nothing happened that we could change Michael. What's done is done. The tone of her voice, the hidden meaning in her words made him grow cold inside.

Nikita watched the play of emotion cross his features and she knew he understood her.

He looked up at her, unable to stop his hand from touching her face as he has so many times before.

Nikita tensed up, her eyes closed as she fought to remain still.

He felt ill as the stark reality of what had happened sank in.

He...

Nikita gave him a look that made him stop short, leaving his question hanging in mid air between them. Reaching up, she pushed his hand away and struggled to her feet, wanting to put some distance between them.

Michael wisely held back, allowing her to get to her feet on her own despite the pain it caused her. She needed to feel independent, strong again and he was going to do all he could to help her regain that. Section would make allowances for what happened to some of their female operatives, but only for so long. Any more time that was needed was never given, and some were cancelled.

Blind rage coursed through him at the thought of that animal touching her, yet he knew that anger was futile. He had to let it go, and concentrate on her instead. She needed his support and his love more then ever right now even if she thought otherwise.

Nikita made her way to the doorway, pausing for a moment to catch her balance. With her hands clutching the door handle, her vision began to blur, making her shake her head in an attempt to clear it.

Michael got to his feet, closing the distance between them in time to catch her by the waist as her knees buckled.

Nikita moaned, her arm going around his neck and shoulders in an effort to remain standing. Even in her weakened state, she stiffened as he scooped her up under her knees with his free arm, carrying her towards the bedroom. Nikita closed her eyes, fighting the panicky feelings that were washing over her. A part of her knew she was safe, held in the arms of the one man in this world who loved her and yet another part was screaming to be away from him for the simple fact he was a man. A man who could hurt her like another had only a few days ago.

Michael turned sideways, walking them thru the narrow doorway to the bedroom and deposited her gently onto the soft pillows.

Nikita held her head in her hands, turning onto her side as she curled up, trying calm herself again. The ache in her head and body was nothing compared to the ache she felt in her soul. She wanted so badly to be held by Michael and yet she was scared of him. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes and she coughed, trying to cover the sobs that threatened to erupt.

Michael pulled a blanket up over her, his hand resting on her shoulder, softly rubbing in small circles.

Rest Nikita.

. His voice filtered thru and she shivered, images of Henry doing the same thing as Michael was now. Reality now and then was distorting her mind and she fought for inner control.

Michael, unaware of her inner turmoil, got up and pulled a chair close to the bed, and sat down, his eyes watching over her carefully.

Her back was to him and he took in the waves of blonde hair falling onto the pillow, recalling how it felt to be wound around in his hands as the made love, the gentle flare of her hip and how it felt when she moved against him. Crossing his leg over the other, Michael leaned back in his chair, hair falling over his eyes in careless waves as he stood vigil over his now sleeping love.

With Nikita sound asleep, Michael got to his feet after an hour of sitting by her side and left her to rest.

His head was aching due to clenching his jaw muscles so tightly. He felt powerless, angry and frustrated he didn't find her faster. If he had, she wouldn't have suffered at that mans hands so badly. He had seen her beaten, and shot, but never had he encountered this. He felt it to his core and the rage threatened to boil over.

He looked around the cabin and suddenly needed some kind of release. Stepping out into the sunshine, he pushed his loose hair back from his eyes, breathing deeply.

His fists clenched painfully at his side as he moved down the steps onto the grass.

After a few moments of clearing his mind, he pulled his shirt off, letting it drop onto the ground. Centering himself, he began the slow precise movements of Tai chi.

All too soon, his movements began to take on a more aggressive stance, and his body moved to some unheard beat. Beads of sweat poured from his body but he paid little heed to the discomfort he was causing himself. He was too busy fighting an unseen monster he called Henry.

Nikita awoke suddenly; her eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as she gathered her senses, remembering where she was. Rolling onto her back, she yawned, stretching her arms carefully not wanting to pull the sore muscles too hard. Thankfully the pain meds Michael had given her were still in effect and the sharp pain she expected was only a dull thud.

The cabin was strangely quiet and she pushed herself to a sitting position, feet dangling over the beds edge.

Michael? She called pushing the blanket from around her waist. Looking up, she realized he wasn't there.

Cautiously, she got to her feet and made her way out into the kitchen. The cabin door was open so she made her way over to it, stopping short when she caught sight of Michael. She stepped back out of sight and went to the kitchen window instead, peeking thru the lace curtains.

His face was hard, deep in concentration as he moved with lightening speed. His upper body was glistening with sweat in the sunlight as he moved. His hair was damp, curls whipping in the air as he whirled in midair kicking out with his lean leg only to stick to the side of his face when he landed with agile grace.

Nikita knew where his anger was coming from, sympathizing with him. She too felt anger, a rage mixed with bottomless sorrow at her ordeal. Henry had taken something from her that was meant only for Michael and her. To have him abuse her and not be able to fight back was devastating to her, it was like it was happening to someone else,,, and she was caught up in the nightmare, unable to leave.

Nikita watched him strike out, his eyes burning holes into his unseen target, the wrath plainly evident in his face. She knew he was working through this the only way he knew how and to let him know she saw this was not even a consideration.

Michael had always been an intensely private man, only letting a certain amount of emotion to come to the surface.

Nikita turned, slowly making her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Leaning on the counter, she turned on the faucets waiting for the hot water to start. When the steam rose from the sink, she slipped in the stopper and filled it, dropping in a face cloth. Turning the faucets off, she pulled her sweater off with difficulty, groaning lowly as she raised her very bruised arm and shoulders up over her head. Bending over, she let it fall off onto the floor, not really caring it was going to be even more difficult to pick up later.

Nikita reached for the brush she shared with Michael and began to pull her long hair back from her face, cursing at the pain it caused her to perform such a menial task. Finally after a lot of cursing and swearing, she managed to get it in a ponytail, the long strands dangling down her back, tickling the sensitive skin there.

Wringing out the cloth, she brought it to her face and sighed with pleasure at its fragrance and warmth it provided.

Outside. Michael had begun to lose some of the pent up anger that had been festering for the past few days and he slowed down his efforts somewhat, gradually cooling off his muscles, regaining control of his erratic breathing. The workout had helped, but he wished he could have felt the satisfying crunch of Henrys face under his fists instead of the cool air.

Bending over, hands on his hips, Michael closed his eyes, shaking his head and neck muscles out. Opening his eyes once again, he stood up and walked over to where he had let his shirt fall onto the ground. Slinging it over his arm, he made his way up the steps onto the covered porch and sat down, not wanting to go in quite yet.

The porch swing creaked slightly as it moved to and fro, its occupant letting his head fall back, his mind wandering back to the woman inside he loved so much.

Nikita had finished washing up and had managed to pick up her sweater when she heard his footsteps in the cabin thru the door. Her heart jumped for a split second, her mind flashing back to the sound of his boots over her head on the hardwood floors before he came to her each night.

Shaking herself inwardly, Nikita had to remind herself where she was and whom it was she was now with. Michael would die before letting anything happen to her and she clung to that thought.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and saw him in the kitchen by the sink, drinking a glass of water.

He turned to look back at her, water glistening on his lips, the droplets falling down onto his chest.

Nikita gave him a slight smile before disappearing into their bedroom.

Michael set the glass down and pulled his boots off, leaving them by the door on a mat. Straightening up, he made his way to the bathroom, looking forward to a much-needed shower. He hated feeling sticky like he did now and closed the door only part way.

Stripping out of his pants, he stepped into the stall and let the water cascade over his tense body.

Nikita had managed to dress herself in a pair of casual tan coloured pants and slipped on a tank top. She was surprised by Michael preparedness in finding her clothes and packing things he knew she liked to wear in her down time.

Going to the top drawer, she found the matching tan shirt and slipped it on over the tank top. The smell of coffee reached her nose and she sighed turning to go out to the kitchen in search of a cup.

It was then she noticed the pain meds were wearing off and she decided she really did want them. The pain in her heart was enough to deal with. After much searching, the meds were nowhere to be seen.

Reluctantly, she knew she would have to ask Michael.

Knocking on the door, she gave a small squeak when it immediately opened.

Michael stood there, towel draped around his middle, one hand holding it securely at his hip.

Nikita looked down at his lean flat stomach, the dark hairs that disappeared under the towel and gulped, stepping back nervously.

Michael stood perfectly still knowing she was obviously wrestling with herself and her fears.

Nikita swallowed and brought her eyes slowly up to his chest, the small nipples hard, the faint trace of hairs flat against his skin.

The meds,,,,, where.. She stammered for a moment and then caught a hold of herself, her arms crossed over her stomach as she tried hard not to be nervous around him.

Michael stepped back and reached into the sliding mirror and retrieved a bottle. He offered her the bottle, waiting for her to take them. With a shaking hand, she took the bottle from his.

Thanks. She mumbled glancing at his face before turning to go back to the kitchen.

Nikita.

The tone of his voice stopped her dead. Turning her head slightly, she waited for him to speak.

Michael stared at her back, wanting so badly for her to let him in to let him help her.

Nikita..

She knew he wanted her to turn to face him and after a moment's hesitation, she turned slowly, heart pounding in her chest. She saw the look in his eyes right away... one of hurt, sorrow, sympathy, love. The sight made her stomach wrench painfully.

I'm not him.

The words hung between them as they stared at each other.

I know. She whispered breaking the stare, choosing instead to look down at the floor.

Michael took a few steps towards here, watching her carefully for any signs of rejection and said a silent prayer when he saw none.

Holding out his one hand to her, he waited silently for her to accept it.

Nikita felt tears of fear start, stinging her eyes at the corners. Blinking rapidly, she looked at his hand, waiting, begging for her to take it into hers.

Summoning all of her courage, fighting the panic that welled up in her, she shakily placed her hand in his.

Michael kept his fingers from curling over her too tightly and pulled her to him gently, letting her set the speed at which she approached him.

Michael brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles lightly and raised his eyes to look into hers.

She was shaking visibly and he shook his head.

I love you.

His voice wrapped around her, making her smile faintly as she nodded wordlessly. He wasn't Henry,,,, he wasn't evil, he wasn't going to hurt her.

He was her Michael... her love, her black angel.