THE OTHER

By LORRAINE O.

Disclaimer….. You know,, the usual,, they own them on the networks,, but on paper, they are all mine. Feedback is craved, always wanted and welcomed! appleg@accesscable.net

PART 1

His hand pressed against the glass of the med bay’s doors, his eyes glued to the deathly still form of a battered and bruised Nikita. A crushing weight pressed on his chest as two more personnel came rushing over to help the already frantic doctor. Machines blared warnings, lights blinked and blood seemed to be everywhere. Her platinum blonde tresses were smeared with it. Her skin, paler then normal, gave her the distinct look of death. Michael pushed his disheveled hair back for the hundredth time wishing it were him instead of her lying there.

"How is she?" the voice of Madeline came from beside him. Michael shook his head,

"I don’t know…," Madeline turned to look at his worried profile, noticing the worry etched in his normally controlled features.

"What went wrong?" she asked turning her attention to the scene on the other side of the doors.

"Intel was incomplete. We never should have gone in." he replied in his business like voice.

"How many Ops?" she asked.

"Five dead, four injured," he answered noticing the activity had slowed down around Nikita's seemingly lifeless form. She seemed to have a bit more hue to her features, he thought with immense relief.

"And the target?" she asked smoothing her skirt with her hand.

Michael shook his head. "Escaped. The RP is unknown."

Madeline pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Operations will be expecting you in debrief within the hour. Be on time Michael." Madeline glanced back at him then turned on her heel, headed for her upstairs office without a backward glance.

Michael ignored her, his attention focused on the activity inside the med bay.

6 HOURS LATER…..

The debrief had gone smoothly enough, but Operations was furious with the failure on Section's part to bring in the target. He ranted about how foolish they had made them all look with their complete lack of success in the raid. He didn’t have to remind them of the dire consequences they faced if they failed again. Time and resources were not to be wasted and valued Ops lives put on the line for nothing.

By the time he was done, Section had a new profiler and poor Birkoff had virtually aged two year by the time Ops got finished chewing him out. He was feeling badly enough with the knowledge his false Intel had cost the Section so many lives. And what was worse, was that it had almost cost Nikita her very life.

Michael changed from his combats into his classic black pants, black turtle neck sweater and jacket before making his way to the Med bay. The sliding doors opened quietly and he strode into the room, quickly going to her bedside. She was covered in stark white sheets, her upper body left uncovered. Her stomach was wrapped in a large bandage and both her arms had IV’s in them, an oxygen mask covered most of her pale face. Her hair was thankfully clean, free of the bright red blood of her injuries and lay across her pillow, dropping down over the side of the bed. Michael pulled a stool over to her side, and sat down, his attention focused solely on her.

A nurse came by, adjusting the IV’s and gave him a smile. "Hello Michael. How are you?" she asked picking up a notepad, jotting down some readings from the machines attached to Nikita.

"Fine. How is she?" he asked still gazing down at her relaxed face.

The nurse glanced over the machines adjusting a knob. "From what I can see so far, Nikita will pull through all right. She took a bad hit in the abdomen but she is young and strong," she replied smoothing out the sheets after she checked the bandage. The nurse glanced up at him and saw the worry in his face immediately. Reaching over, she touched his arm giving it a small squeeze. "She isn’t supposed to have visitors, but I think I can arrange to have you stay.. would you like that?" she asked.

Michael lifted his gaze up and gave the nurse a quick nod of thanks. "Yes, I would," he said simply.

The nurse smiled and pulled the curtain over to give them some privacy.

Michael pulled the stool closer to the bed and let his hands rest on her arm, being careful not to disturb the lines and wires. He watched her breath, relishing the sound, thankful he had the chance to hear it. She had nearly died on the way back to Section, hemorrhaging badly, she had clung to him in the van, trying valiantly to remain awake. Just before she lost consciousness, she had given him a weak smile, her hand squeezing his in hopes to reassure him.

Michael toyed with the long silky strands of her hair, enjoying the feel of it in his fingers his eyes never leaving her. Without her in his life, he knew he would die. He vowed to let her know of his true feelings for her when she awoke. He decided he wasn’t wasting anymore time. He was ready to let her into his life. Ready to allow himself to love again.

"Nikita, come back to me," he whispered, the backs of his fingers grazed the softness of her face, trailing down to rest on her bare shoulder. "I need you in my life. Please don’t let it be too late for us." He swallowed back a distinct lump in his throat. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

Nikita slowly became aware of her surroundings as the thick fog in her brain lifted slightly and she immediately knew it was bad. Her stomach felt like it was on fire, her head was aching and she felt incredibly weak. Trying to move her head up off the pillow, she moaned at the searing flash of pain that shot through her body. At the same time, a warm hand squeezed hers, another gently moving her hair from her eyes.

"Nikita? It's me, Michael."

She winced, instinctively squeezing his hand back in reflex to the intense pain she felt. Blinking rapidly, Nikita tried to focus her eyes, looking about her surroundings. The shadowy outline of a man was nearby, his voice soothing yet she was too drugged to understand him. She desperately wanted to know where she was but was unable to form the words to ask the shadow hovering over her. All she wanted was to have Michael nearby. Her last thoughts as she passed out again were of his worried face in the van. Then, nothingness.

Michael let a long breath out when he realized she hadn’t died on him, but rather only passed out again. Her chest moved up and down in rhythm, face turned to the side slightly as she slept. He wondered if she heard him as he picked up her hand is his, holding it against his cheek.

"How is she Michael?" The voice of Walter made him drop her hand covertly, and get to his feet to turn and face him.

"Stable, but weak," was his simple answer as Walter came closer to stand on the other side of the bed. His grey eyes watered slightly when he saw her, how weak and fragile she looked.

"Aww hell.. my poor sugar," he said in a sad voice as he rubbed her arm. "You just gotta get better now. I would miss you too much if you went away," he said quickly wiping a tear from his eye.

Michael stood back a step to allow Walter a moment with her. Walter looked up at him and shook his head. "You don’t have to leave. She would want you to stay right close. She needs you Michael."

Michael kept his gaze on her face, clasping his hands together, his feet slightly apart. "I need her more," he thought to himself.

"I know that, but it's nice to hear you finally admit it," Walter said chuckling slightly.

Michael looked sharply up to his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, not sure what Walter meant.

"You need her more," he repeated pushing his one hand into his tattered jeans pocket.

Michael blinked, his shoulders straightening chastising himself silently for his slip up.

"You said you needed her more," he said looking back down to Nikita. "Bout time you got around to saying it out loud," he grinned knowing he had caught him in a weak moment. Michael immediately went into his blank mode, making Walter grin. "God only knows how she puts up with you." Walter smiled giving her arm one last pat before turning to leave. "Keep me informed will you?" he asked not looking back and letting the curtain fall.

Michael pulled the stool back to her bedside and sat once more, his hand holding hers. Rubbing his temple, he knew he was getting tired, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes and rest. He kept his senses alert for any changes in her breathing patterns. He looked at her pale face, his mind taking him back to the day he first saw her. She was one of the most striking women he had the good fortune to meet up with. Her training had been and still was a constant source of consternation to him. Having feelings for her had opened up a side of him he had locked hidden away for so long he had forgotten what it was like to feel anything. Unlike many Operatives in Section, she still had her humanity and soul intact.

Suppressing a yawn he stretched his legs out tightening and loosening the muscles to ease the stiffness in them when the doctor pushed open the curtain. He looked up over his small glasses and frowned slightly. "Oh, I didn’t know you were here," he said almost disapprovingly, clicking his pen and pushing it into his overcoat pocket. Leaning over her, he pulled open one of her eyes, shining a small light into it, checking the reactions.

"Hmm, Nikita. Can you hear me?" he asked picking up her other hand in his and squeezing it. "Squeeze my hand if you can," he instructed her glancing up at the heart monitor above his head.

Michael stood up and moved back when the nurse appeared with another IV bag. She smiled warmly, her hand touched his elbow as she brushed by him, moving to Nikita's side.

"Give her 50 of Demerol in 20 minutes," the Doctor said straightening up when he got no response from Nikita's sleeping form.

The nurse nodded and finished hooking up the new bag and then left again.

Michael tucked his hair behind his ear watching the Doctor write down a few things on her chart. "How long have you been with her?" he asked not bothering to look up when he addressed Michael.

"About 2 hours now." His hands went down to his sides and slid around to clasp the other at the base of his back.

The doctor glanced up at him and snapped his pen shut again. "Well ,you have another 10 minutes with her and then I am ordering you out of here. Is that understood?" he asked tucking the chart under his arm and pulling the edge of her bandage up, peering under it carefully.

When Michael didn’t immediately give an answer, he peered up over his glasses once again making a slight face at him.

"Of course," Michael said quickly bringing his attention back to the doctor.

The next day, Michael strode into Section with one person in mind…Nikita. Birkoff had called him 30 minutes earlier with the news she was awake and asking for him. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. He knew Operations was staring down at him from his lofty perch, a disapproving look on his face, but frankly, he didn’t really care. The glass doors slid open for him and he headed for her bed right away. Pulling his gloves off, he tucked his hair behind his ear and pulled open the curtain.

Nikita lay quietly, her hand resting on her bandaged stomach, snoring lightly. Her face was rosier and the oxygen mask was replaced with a smaller nose apparatus instead.

Michael came up to her side, his fingers touching hers lightly.

Nikita moved her head back over so it was facing him and her eyes fluttered open. "Michael." Her voice was raspy, very weak and she gave him a small grin.

"Hi," he said leaving his hand on hers, thankful he had the chance to see the incredible blue of her eyes smile on him once again. "How do you feel?" he asked pushing his gloves into the pocket of his long black coat.

Nikita swallowed, trying to clear her sore throat. "Like I was almost killed." She closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back up at him. He had an amused look on his face at her comment, making her chuckle a bit. "Owww,, don’t make me laugh,, it hurts too much." She gasped, her hand rubbed her bandaged stomach trying to quell the pains.

Michael stared down at her, her hand still enfolded firmly in his.

Nikita gave a small cough, groaning at the pain it caused. "God," she gasped frowning as she bent her knee under the covers trying to find a comfortable position. It was then she noticed his expression and the fact he still held her hand within his. "Ummm are you okay?" she asked him glancing from his face to their hands and back again. It wasn’t like him to show emotions or affection like this and she found it disturbing, yet thrilling.

Michael inclined his head ever so slightly, his eyes darted away for a second then back to her. "You need to be more careful Nikita. You nearly died," he said in his usual calm neutral voice.

Nikita pulled her hand from his, lifting the covers up higher on her waist. "Tell me something I don’t know Michael," she said dryly making a face at him. Looking back at him, she saw the still strange expression on his face. "What? You’re looking at me funny. What do you know that I don’t?" she asked pushing the nose tubes aside so she could scratch.

Michael pulled a stool over and sat down, his long coat trailed on the floor. He looked down at her hand and then reached for it. Not looking at her, he began. "When we were on the mission, I saw you get shot. I died inside Nikita. I felt like my world fell apart into a million pieces. I thought you were dead when you didn’t move. When I got to your side, there was so much blood and you were so pale, in so much pain…" his voice trailed off for a moment, but Nikita kept quiet. She instead, lay there, her mouth open in shock at his speech. He kept his eyes averted and began again. "There was so much gunfire, I wasn’t sure if I could get you to a safe retreat point and not get you shot again or me shot. Inside, I was terrified. On the way to Section, you lay in my arms literally bleeding to death and I couldn’t do anything to help except hold you and pray you’d be all right. They worked on you for hours. I never left from the doorway. I prayed to what ever power there is to give you strength, to live another day, to stay with me." He lifted his face and looked up at her. His hand brought hers to his mouth, kissing it gently, his eyes never leaving hers. Nikita caught her breath, forgetting the pain she was feeling and instead, listened on every word she had waited for so long for him to utter. "Nikita...I have lied for far too long. To you and myself. No more. In Section, we have to fight for any happiness we can get like caged animals. I tried to forget that side of myself. Instead, I opted to try being the perfect Operative. To bury that side of me, the man that I really am. But after yesterday, after holding you in my arms unable to do anything to help, I decided I had wasted enough time." He paused, kissed her hand again, leaving a warm wet spot on her palm as he looked down at her hand. His dark green eyes looked back up at her as he spoke again. "I am in love with you, Nikita. I am sorry I waited this long to say so. I hope you can forgive me." His voice was whisper quiet as he stared up at her, his face fully open, the love shining from his eyes for the first time for her to see.

Nikita swallowed, feeling a small tear form in the corner of her eye. "Michael…" that was all she could get out because he got up off the stool and took her face in his hands, leaned down and covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. Nikita raised her hand up, letting her fingers slide into his silky soft hair, and kissed him back with all she had. When they finally pulled apart, she smiled up at him letting her head fall back with exhaustion.

"Well Michael...it's about damn time….."