MICHAEL'S BROKEN SOUL

By LORRAINE O.

Characters are theirs...their actions are mine...allll mine!!! ļ Any feedback is greatly appreciated. We fledgling writers thrive on it! appleg@accesscable.net

PART 1

"Michael...it¡¦s me, Nikita," she whispered, leaning down to pull him into her arms. He grew stiff, resisting her immediately and turning his face down towards the hardwood floor. "Michael, please...let me help you," she pleaded in a soft voice, her hand trying to smooth out his disheveled hair.

"Go, Nikita," his voice was faint, cracking with emotion. Nikita spotted the gun by his side, and she felt her insides grow cold. Picking up the gun, she tossed it onto the couch out of his reach.

"No, I won't do that," she said adamantly and renewing her efforts to pick him up. Her eyes took in his loft and wasn¡¦t surprised at its sparse furnishings. There was a simple kitchen in the far right corner of the loft, a couch in front of the huge flat TV screen leaning against a support beam and over in the left corner was his bed. It looked to be a typical Japanese style bed, fairly low to the floor and large. Nikita pulled him upright, still kneeling in front of him, she held him by the lapels shaking him slightly. "Listen to me. You have to pull it together, Michael. Where is your security?" she asked, her well trained eyes assessing the huge loft for dangers.

Michael ignored her completely, his eyes glued to the image of his Adam. Nikita spotted the wall pad and released him, walked over to it, and turned it on. She looked back at him sitting on the floor, his gaze still fixed on the image of his beloved Adam and felt a surge of compassion for him. It was disconcerting for her to see him so broken. He had always been in total control of his emotions, keeping them well hidden from everyone. Since Ops had him killed off and taken Elena and his son from him, he had slowly lost control. Madeline had wisely given him time off, but after not hearing anything from him in four days, Nikita had forced Birkoff to tell her where he lived. She was glad she did, because he was on the edge and she knew he might lose it completely if she didn¡¦t help him. Coming back to his side, she knelt down and picked up his hands in hers, holding them tightly.

"Michael. Listen to me," she said firmly waiting until he lifted his eyes from the screen to look at her. Nikita smoothed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear.

"I am going to help you get through this." He pulled his hands from hers and got to his feet, pulling the long bathrobe tightly around him as he moved away from her.

"Why?' he asked, his gaze once again falling on the screen.

Nikita got to her feet, watching him carefully. "Because I am your friend and I care about you," she said simply.

Michael pushed his hands deep into the pockets, shaking his head sadly. "That would be a mistake," he said tiredly.

Nikita lifted her chin a bit before answering. "Why?" Michael looked at her, swallowing.

"Because anyone that cares for me, gets hurt or dies." His gaze went once more back to the screen.

Nikita shook her head. "It isn¡¦t because of you¡Kit¡¦s the circumstances," she said coming to stand by his side. He remained silent, his body wavered slightly as he stared into the face of his son. "It¡¦s not you," she repeated firmly looking at his profile, hoping he would hear her and start to believe. "Want some coffee?" she asked heading for the kitchen without waiting for him to answer. Nikita pulled the pot out from the machine, pulling the top off, emptying the cold contents into the double sink. "You look like you could use a pot to yourself," she commented opening a few cupboards until she found the filters.

Michael seemed oblivious to her and had sat down on the couch, his bare feet peeking out from under the long robe. He stared at the screen blankly, his hands on his lap entangled in the long sash.

Once she had started the coffee, Nikita came back and sat down beside him. He was leaning forward, so she put her hand on his back, letting it move up and down ever so slightly. She was glad when he didn¡¦t pull away. "He is a beautiful child. He has your nose," she said pulling her feet under her bum, sitting sideways facing him.

"Today is his birthday," Michael¡¦s voice was almost inaudible, making her lean forward to hear him.

"I¡¦m sorry you can¡¦t be with him." He remained silent, moving away down onto the floor again, his back resting against the couch. Nikita let her hands fall into her lap watching him. His hands were clutched together so tightly, his knuckles were turning white under the strain. "Michael. You can¡¦t go on like this," she finally said. He merely stared ahead at the screen, as if he never heard her. Nikita sighed inwardly, then moved around so she was sitting directly behind him. He stiffened when she wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands splayed across his chest, her cheek laying on his back and held him tight. "I don¡¦t want you to die," she whispered fervently.

Michael closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe evenly, silently cursing himself for slowly but surely losing his battle for control. The feel of her arms around him, her soft curves pressed against him, was rapidly destroying his will to remain aloof. Suddenly, he knew he could trust her with his very soul and he allowed the emotion to boil over.

Nikita felt him take in deep shuddering sobs, making his whole body shake within her arms. Nikita held him as close as possible, rocking him, his head falling back on her shoulder. The wetness of his tears falling down the sides of his face soaked her shoulders. He cried for a long time, uttering phrases in French that she couldn¡¦t make out, but Adam's name was the one thing she did understand. She simply held him, stroking his hair until he had quieted down some. He was in a daze when she managed to get him to his feet and put him in his bed. He was once again silent, his whole being was spent, and he fell back without a fight. Nikita pulled the covers up and sat beside him, stroking his hair gently as his eyes closed, finally allowing himself to drift. His hand reached for hers and held it tight. Only then did he let himself fall into the blackness of sleep.

Michael sat down on the couch, accepting the hot coffee she offered. His hands were trembling, so she cupped his hands in hers for a moment until he was able to steady the cup. She smiled at him, and sat down on a huge pillow on the floor a few feet from him. Crossing her legs, she folded her hands in her lap, and hummed to the strains of the song playing on the radio.

Michael stared tiredly into the blackness of the hot coffee he held in his lap, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Nikita leaned over and picked up her mug, taking a few small sips. The sun streamed into the loft, casting shadows here and there, changing the look of the loft considerably since the night before. Nikita decided it wasn¡¦t such a horrid place after all, and suppressed a smile by coughing lightly.

Michael tucked his hair behind an ear, taking another sip from the large mug seeming to ignore her being there. He had awoke to the sounds of her in his kitchen, and immediately the memory of his breakdown flooded his mind. He felt embarrassed, recalling how he had cried like a child in her arms, sobbing Adam's name, cursing his life and Section. His hand absently rubbed the rough stubble of his beard and he glanced over at her. Her eyes caught his and he hated what he saw in them. Pity, cleverly masked by false good humor, but it was there.

"I think you should go," he said in his usual quiet voice setting the mug down on the small coffee table, purposely avoiding looking at her. Nikita felt her smile fade and she swallowed nervously.

"Not until I know you¡¦ll be alright," she said in a firm voice, hoping he wouldn¡¦t hear it tremble. When she had found the gun lying by his side last night, a part of her turned to ice, the thought of him dead left her cold inside. He got to his feet, pulling the sash of his robe tighter, his face unreadable once more. Nikita knew he was uncomfortable about last night and couldn¡¦t blame him. He was always so careful to be distant, only letting her in just a bit, and only when he wanted. He went to the closet, pulled out her coat and stood by the door, holding it in his hand.

"Nikita," his voice was once again, firm, reserved, just like the old Michael. Reluctantly, she got to her feet and walked towards him. Reaching for her coat, she sighed, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Promise me you wont do anything foolish?" Michael blinked, looking at something just past her head, remaining silent. "Call me if you need anything," she ended up saying, knowing he wasn¡¦t going to answer her. Pulling her coat on, she pulled her hair out of the collar, and buttoned up the long coat. Michael opened the door for her, his one hand buried in the deep pocket of his robe, the other gripping the door handle. Impulsively, Nikita wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long firm hug. She could feel him stiffen slightly, but after a moment, one of his arms encircled her waist and hugged her back. "Promise me?" she whispered in his ear, hoping he would answer.

Michael closed his eyes savoring the moment, the feel of her body pressed to his. "Yes," was his simple quiet answer. Just as suddenly, he pulled away from her and looked away.

Nikita let her arms slide down off his neck and stepped out into the hallway. The door closed behind her and she headed for home, praying her would be okay. She had watched him sleep all night, watching him endure what appeared to be torturous dreams, holding his hand, soothing him through out the night. She loved him. Plain and simple. He had to be alright... because if he wasn¡¦t, she wasn¡¦t.

Nikita heard the far away sound of the phone and reluctantly pulled herself to consciousness, rolling over to grasp the offending object. Flipping it open, she fell back in her pillows. "Yes?" her voice was raspy with sleep and most defiantly irritated at being disturbed.

"Nikita..." his deep voice finally said over the line.

Nikita sat up, immediately wide awake. "Michael? Are you all right?" she asked rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and then flipping on the small table lamp by the bedside. He didn¡¦t reply, the only sound being traffic in the background. "Where are you?" she asked, her heart thumping noisily in her chest, hoping he wouldn¡¦t hang up. She glanced at the clock; it blinked 3:30 a.m.

"Can we meet?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

Nikita swung her feet out of bed, already heading for the closet. "Sure. Where?" she asked pulling out a pair of leather pants, tossing them on her bed.

"I will pick you up in 10 minutes...out front," the phone clicked as he hung up, not waiting to hear her response.

Nikita tossed the phone onto the bed, hurrying into the bathroom and brushed her hair out, then twisting it into a loose French knot. Turning the light off, she wriggled into the pants and sat to pull on the black leather boots. Walking over to the dresser, she yanked out a pale pink woolly sweater, pulling it over her head as she leaned down to pick up her cell. She stuffed it into her long jacket pocket, grabbed her keys headed for the lobby.

The distinctive sound of his bike came down the deserted street and he pulled up to the curb where she stood. As per usual, he was dressed head to toe in black leather, his face all but obscured by his helmet. Reaching around behind him, he handed her one of her own and waited for her to put it on and get on the bike.

Nikita pulled it on quickly, then swung her leg over the back of the bike, settling down on the comfy seat, her arms wrapped around his waist as he pulled away from the curb. They drove through the downtown core and then headed out of the city towards the suburbs. After a few turns, Nikita realized where they were headed. Sure enough, he stopped at the end of the driveway of his and Elena's old home. It was dark now, empty since she and his son had been moved by Section. The bike rumbled quietly under them as he simply sat and stared up at the house, hands clutching the handle bars of the big bike.

Nikita remained quiet, letting him take the lead.

Eventually, he put the bike into gear, and slowly they moved up the cobbled driveway. When they got to the front winding steps of the house, Michael turned the key off. It was eerily quiet, a few crickets chirped in the trees of the yard, a dog or two from somewhere off in the distance barked. He stayed on the bike, but took his helmet off, his long hair falling in waves onto his shoulders. He set the helmet on the handle and simply stared up into the window of the bedroom Adam had once occupied.

Nikita sat up straighter, pulling her helmet off too and swung off from behind him. She followed his gaze to the window and back, seeing in the soft light of the full moon that his eyes were once again, shiny from unshed tears.

He knew she was staring, but refused to look at her, and instead concentrated on the darkened window above.

Nikita pushed a few stray hairs from her eyes and set her helmet on the seat behind him. His gloved hands rested on his thighs, his breath seemed to be labored but other then that, he was silent as ever, his attention focused seemingly on nothing else but the big window above. Nikita bit her lip as she tentatively reached out, putting her hand on top of his. "You have to stop torturing yourself like this, Michael," she said gently stepping closer so that she was leaning against his leg. He let a long slow breath out and brought his attention fully on her, his face seemingly blank.

"I can't right now," he sounded bitter as he pulled his hand from under hers, to push his hair from his eyes, pulling himself up off the bike away from her. The distinct sound of keys were heard as his hand went inside his jacket. He walked towards the big steps and took them two at a time, leaving her by the bike.

Nikita looked around the area for anyone and was relieved to see it was all clear. Sighing, she ran up after him just as he swung the big doors open and stepped inside. Once inside, Nikita closed the door behind her and watched as Michael slowly walked from room to room, a gambit of emotions passing over his features in the semi-darkness. Michael came to the wide stairs leading to the upper floor, and made his way up, his legs felt heavy as did his chest. At the top of the stairs, on the left was Adams room. The door was closed and he stood by it for several minutes, staring down at the brass door knob.

Nikita came to stand by him, her hand once again reaching for his. This time, he curled his long fingers around hers, squeezing them tightly as he fought for control. His eyes closed tightly, and the echoing sounds of Adams laughter rang in his mind.

"He hated to have his door closed," Michael finally found his voice, his other hand resting on the cold knob. Nikita rubbed his hand with hers, but kept quiet, knowing he wasn¡¦t expecting her to answer him. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. He felt frozen when he looked in the room. As with much of the house, a lot of the furniture was still there, just covered with sheets. The foot of a teddy bear peeked out from under a chair by the window and Michael felt his breath catch in his throat.

Nikita let his hand go as he stepped into the room, his eyes taking in every inch of the room. Michael sat down on the bed, reached down for the bear's leg and pulled it out from under. It was the bear the he and Elena had gotten Adam for his first birthday. The ribbon around it's neck was frayed, but the button eyes shone in the moonlight streaming in from the curtain less window.

Nikita stood in the doorway watching him hold the small bear, his face hidden in the shadows.

"I miss him."

"Nikita...I want him so bad,"

Nikita saw his shoulders begin the shake slightly in the dim light as he brought the bear up to his face. The sound of a soft sob echoed in the stillness of the room.

Nikita rushed to his side, knelt down in front of him and held him tightly in her arms as he quietly sobbed. Michael sat up straighter, letting the bear fall from his face onto his lap. He looked down at her, his eyes were bright green, shiny as the tears fell down his face like small rivers.

"I¡¦m sorry Michael. Try and take comfort in knowing he is well taken care of, as is Elena. Madeline offered to keep you up to date on their progress. Take it Michael. You never know what the future will hold in store for us. You have to hang on for Adam," she encouraged him, rubbing his thighs as she spoke. "Don¡¦t let Section win...don¡¦t let them break your spirit. We are stronger then they are. You know we are. You taught me that. Live Michael, live. Find a reason and fight on."

He looked down at the small stuffed bear and fondled the pale blue ribbon trying to grasp her words, to believe them.

"I lost Simone because of Section. I lost Elena and Adam because of Section, and everyday I face the possibility of losing you." he let his voice trial off, knowing he had just opened something he never intended to.

Nikita felt her stomach flop over, her heart banged in her chest at his admission. Finally, he admitted he cared for her. She smiled in the moonlight, shaking her head as she reached up to wipe his tear-stained face. "You won't ever lose me, Michael...I promise you that. One day, we will find your Adam. But you have to pull it together. Just as you have always helped me Michael...I will help you." she promised him, taking his hand in hers and kissing his open palm.

Michael closed his eyes and nodded slowly¡Kfor once in many, many years, he once again allowed the man he really was to come through, to love and trust totally in another human being. He leaned down, his mouth grazing over hers in a sweet kiss. It was then he knew he loved her beyond all reason¡Kthis woman called Nikita¡K. his equal in everyway, had decided his fate. He would fight on...for her, for Adam...and most importantly, for himself.