La Femme Nikita. Adam Samuelle. 097. Writer’s Choice: Lies.
Title: "Fire and Roses"
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Michael/Nikita, Walter, Operations, and one canon character; Adam, Elena, Birkoff and one canon character referred to
Prompt: 097. Writers’ Choice: Lies.
Word count: 1484
Rating: PG
Summary: You always hurt the ones you love
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3. Part Two of Two based on “Not Was.”
"Fire and Roses"
“I need you to run something for me.”
Walter took the vial of blood from Nikita, curious. He had all the numbers from the bodies they’d found in Amsterdam on file. What else was she tracing?
“Sure, Sugar. What am I looking for?”
“Something that could interfere with memory. A psycho-tropic agent of some sort.” She sounded uncertain; and maybe a bit too casual.
“Whose blood do I have?”
Of course. He would need a baseline to isolate any anomalies. Nikita glanced over at Systems. Operations looked impatient; perturbed. Michael wouldn’t be able to answer his questions, and he didn’t know how to lie.
“Michael’s.” Walter’s eyes widened, also looking at Systems. If Operations even suspected Michael’s mind had been compromised, he was a dead man. Walter nodded. He’d have to run the tests off-book, but he would do it. For Nikita. Walter still held a grudge against Michael over Nikita’s Abeyance mission, but she seemed to have forgiven him. Nikita touched Walter’s arm, and he nodded again in understanding. They had to work quickly.
Nikita waited until Operations had left the area before taking the obviously lost Michael away to his office and securing the room.
“I can’t do this, Nikita. They’ll find out. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just do what I tell you.”
“For how long?” Telling one lie after another was unsettling to Michael. He was reticent to continue.
“Walter has the blood. He’s running tests now. As soon as he knows what we’re dealing with, we can fix it.”
“I can’t go through with this. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“You’ll never make it. They’ll find you.” Nikita would bet money Michael couldn’t find Systems again, let alone the elevator to freedom. He’d been with Operations long enough to make the older man suspicious. Michael had to lead this mission to maintain their charade. With her help, and Walter’s, they might be able to pull it off. And The Perch would be invaded by flying pork.
“You told me they were going to kill me anyway.” Michael responded, fatalistic. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“I do.” Nikita had told Michael the truth; she was fond of him, though some days she wondered why.
As much as she empathized with the Michael who was with her now; trusting her, it was unlikely that he’d even survive the mission. This man wasn’t a Cold Op. Even if he succeeded, Nikita couldn’t stay with him every waking moment to perpetuate the lie. Without his memory--his training, knowledge, and experience--Michael’s cause was hopeless. But if Nikita could keep him alive long enough for Walter to reverse what Perez had done, Michael would have his memory back. Hopefully before Operations found out. Michael was a brilliant strategist; he would know what to do next. If he remembered.
* * * * *
Michael thought he could do it. Shoot a gun. He’d done it before. But when Operations yelled at him to shoot the guards, he froze. It was one thing to defend himself or Nikita. But to shoot someone in cold blood…
Perez’s men had no such problem when issued a counter order.
“That’s him! Shoot him!”
Michael came to life then, instinct winning out over reserve. He was able to take out three of Perez’s men, but he was shot as well. The injury itself was not life-threatening, and Michael made it through surgery without incident. Would he make it through the rest of the day?
He was resting when Nikita stroked the side of his face. Michael opened his eyes and smiled at her. She wasn’t smiling back. What happened? He vaguely remembered firing his gun just before passing out. He’d been shot. Did he screw up the mission?
“How did we do?”
“We did great.”
Michael’s eyes searched Nikita’s face. She smiled now, but it could be a lie. He was figuring out how Section did things; lying; playing roles, keeping secrets. He couldn’t keep doing this.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess.” His ribs were sore, and he was exhausted. Maybe that was normal after being shot. He didn’t know.
Nikita smiled inwardly. “Okay” wasn’t exactly “fine,” but even without his memory Michael was stoic; not admitting he was in pain.
“They still don’t know?” He was anxious, and with good reason. If Operations had reviewed the mission tapes, and he surely had by now, he would realize that Michael wasn’t himself. Literally.
“No, but they will if we don’t do something.” Not a complete lie. If Walter’s serum worked, Operations couldn’t prove anything; regardless of the tapes. Nikita depressed the plunger into Michael’s IV and prayed for a miracle.
“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Nikita hadn’t wanted to dance with him; pulled away when he kissed her cheek. But Michael had to tell her. She needed to know.
“No, actually.”
She didn’t believe him. Why not? Had he lied to Nikita before? If only he could remember.
“I do,” Michael affirmed in a whisper.
Nikita didn’t answer. She kissed his hand before walking away.
* * * * *
When Michael awakened, Nikita was sitting at the foot of his bed. His head ached. And he’d been shot. In Amsterdam. No; Germany. He hadn’t been able to cancel the guards and Birkoff called for an abort.
He watched Nikita through veiled lashes. She had taken unbelievable risks for him. Saved his life, though she’d broken protocol to do it. That wouldn’t be in his report. Neither would their slow dancing to Mimi Goese. The kiss. His profession of love. Did he love Nikita? No.
Not “no,” he didn’t love her; but “no,” he wouldn’t go there again. He couldn’t, even in his head. He wasn’t free. He had Adam to consider. And Elena. Nikita had told him he had no family because she didn’t know. Didn’t know about his wife; about his son. She had no idea how duplicitous he’d been; still was. But Michael had lied to her so many times that she no longer trusted him.
No wonder Nikita hadn’t responded when he said her loved her. She didn’t believe him.
And she didn’t believe him because Michael never said it. It didn’t happen if he couldn’t remember doing it. Couldn’t remember anything. Nikita’s pride would never allow her to admit what she knew. What she thought she knew.
Nikita came to him now as Michael opened his eyes. He allowed himself to wince at the throbbing pain in his head. The bright light; the smallest movement hurt. Like the migraines his sister used to have. Maybe a side effect of whatever Walter had given him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine” was on his lips despite his head and aching ribs. But wouldn’t remember anything about the mission.
“Like I’ve been shot?” Michael guessed.
A light that had flickered in Nikita’s eyes died.
“You were shot, yesterday. In Lukenwalde.”
“Germany? No, we were in Amsterdam. Is Operations here? I need to debrief.” He winced again when his hand made contact with his head.
“Michael, you were grabbed in Amsterdam and taken to Perez. He did something to your memory. You haven’t been able to remember who you were for the last three days.”
“Do they know?” His face was impassive. Nikita had broken protocol, but so had he. But if he had debriefed before, as Nikita should have had him do, he would’ve been cancelled. It was his son, Adam, who was now the key to bringing Vacek out of hiding. Michael himself was expendable.
“No. I protected you.”
“Thank you.” Michael looked away and Nikita, knowing she had been dismissed, left him alone. She would return in a while; she still had to “brief” him on what he’d done in Lukenwalde so he could debrief with Operations. She could never know that he remembered every detail of those three days.
* * * * *
Nikita knelt by her stereo to remove the Mimi Goese CD. “Fire and Roses.” Their last dance.
Michael was lying. He’d seen her; known she was there, yet allowed himself to express pain. Twice. A headache. Michael would never admit he was hurting. Even without his memory he’d never mentioned any discomfort. The headache, whether real or fictitious, was Michael’s way of making Nikita leave. He needed her gone so he could think. Strategize his next move. Factor in the new memories with the old.
She would brief him before he saw Operations. Michael expected her to, so Nikita would play his game. Pretend that he didn’t remember telling her he loved her. Living a lie. One thing she and Michael did very well together.
If only she couldn’t remember.
“Soundlessly
I sail I float far way
A thousand clues and second thoughts
Lie deep in the belly of my heart
If I listen
So close
It’s all on fire
My life needs fire I want roses.”
~ "Fire and Roses" by Mimi Goese
My prompt table is here.
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Michael/Nikita, Walter, Operations, and one canon character; Adam, Elena, Birkoff and one canon character referred to
Prompt: 097. Writers’ Choice: Lies.
Word count: 1484
Rating: PG
Summary: You always hurt the ones you love
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3. Part Two of Two based on “Not Was.”
"Fire and Roses"
“I need you to run something for me.”
Walter took the vial of blood from Nikita, curious. He had all the numbers from the bodies they’d found in Amsterdam on file. What else was she tracing?
“Sure, Sugar. What am I looking for?”
“Something that could interfere with memory. A psycho-tropic agent of some sort.” She sounded uncertain; and maybe a bit too casual.
“Whose blood do I have?”
Of course. He would need a baseline to isolate any anomalies. Nikita glanced over at Systems. Operations looked impatient; perturbed. Michael wouldn’t be able to answer his questions, and he didn’t know how to lie.
“Michael’s.” Walter’s eyes widened, also looking at Systems. If Operations even suspected Michael’s mind had been compromised, he was a dead man. Walter nodded. He’d have to run the tests off-book, but he would do it. For Nikita. Walter still held a grudge against Michael over Nikita’s Abeyance mission, but she seemed to have forgiven him. Nikita touched Walter’s arm, and he nodded again in understanding. They had to work quickly.
Nikita waited until Operations had left the area before taking the obviously lost Michael away to his office and securing the room.
“I can’t do this, Nikita. They’ll find out. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just do what I tell you.”
“For how long?” Telling one lie after another was unsettling to Michael. He was reticent to continue.
“Walter has the blood. He’s running tests now. As soon as he knows what we’re dealing with, we can fix it.”
“I can’t go through with this. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“You’ll never make it. They’ll find you.” Nikita would bet money Michael couldn’t find Systems again, let alone the elevator to freedom. He’d been with Operations long enough to make the older man suspicious. Michael had to lead this mission to maintain their charade. With her help, and Walter’s, they might be able to pull it off. And The Perch would be invaded by flying pork.
“You told me they were going to kill me anyway.” Michael responded, fatalistic. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“I do.” Nikita had told Michael the truth; she was fond of him, though some days she wondered why.
As much as she empathized with the Michael who was with her now; trusting her, it was unlikely that he’d even survive the mission. This man wasn’t a Cold Op. Even if he succeeded, Nikita couldn’t stay with him every waking moment to perpetuate the lie. Without his memory--his training, knowledge, and experience--Michael’s cause was hopeless. But if Nikita could keep him alive long enough for Walter to reverse what Perez had done, Michael would have his memory back. Hopefully before Operations found out. Michael was a brilliant strategist; he would know what to do next. If he remembered.
* * * * *
Michael thought he could do it. Shoot a gun. He’d done it before. But when Operations yelled at him to shoot the guards, he froze. It was one thing to defend himself or Nikita. But to shoot someone in cold blood…
Perez’s men had no such problem when issued a counter order.
“That’s him! Shoot him!”
Michael came to life then, instinct winning out over reserve. He was able to take out three of Perez’s men, but he was shot as well. The injury itself was not life-threatening, and Michael made it through surgery without incident. Would he make it through the rest of the day?
He was resting when Nikita stroked the side of his face. Michael opened his eyes and smiled at her. She wasn’t smiling back. What happened? He vaguely remembered firing his gun just before passing out. He’d been shot. Did he screw up the mission?
“How did we do?”
“We did great.”
Michael’s eyes searched Nikita’s face. She smiled now, but it could be a lie. He was figuring out how Section did things; lying; playing roles, keeping secrets. He couldn’t keep doing this.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess.” His ribs were sore, and he was exhausted. Maybe that was normal after being shot. He didn’t know.
Nikita smiled inwardly. “Okay” wasn’t exactly “fine,” but even without his memory Michael was stoic; not admitting he was in pain.
“They still don’t know?” He was anxious, and with good reason. If Operations had reviewed the mission tapes, and he surely had by now, he would realize that Michael wasn’t himself. Literally.
“No, but they will if we don’t do something.” Not a complete lie. If Walter’s serum worked, Operations couldn’t prove anything; regardless of the tapes. Nikita depressed the plunger into Michael’s IV and prayed for a miracle.
“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Nikita hadn’t wanted to dance with him; pulled away when he kissed her cheek. But Michael had to tell her. She needed to know.
“No, actually.”
She didn’t believe him. Why not? Had he lied to Nikita before? If only he could remember.
“I do,” Michael affirmed in a whisper.
Nikita didn’t answer. She kissed his hand before walking away.
* * * * *
When Michael awakened, Nikita was sitting at the foot of his bed. His head ached. And he’d been shot. In Amsterdam. No; Germany. He hadn’t been able to cancel the guards and Birkoff called for an abort.
He watched Nikita through veiled lashes. She had taken unbelievable risks for him. Saved his life, though she’d broken protocol to do it. That wouldn’t be in his report. Neither would their slow dancing to Mimi Goese. The kiss. His profession of love. Did he love Nikita? No.
Not “no,” he didn’t love her; but “no,” he wouldn’t go there again. He couldn’t, even in his head. He wasn’t free. He had Adam to consider. And Elena. Nikita had told him he had no family because she didn’t know. Didn’t know about his wife; about his son. She had no idea how duplicitous he’d been; still was. But Michael had lied to her so many times that she no longer trusted him.
No wonder Nikita hadn’t responded when he said her loved her. She didn’t believe him.
And she didn’t believe him because Michael never said it. It didn’t happen if he couldn’t remember doing it. Couldn’t remember anything. Nikita’s pride would never allow her to admit what she knew. What she thought she knew.
Nikita came to him now as Michael opened his eyes. He allowed himself to wince at the throbbing pain in his head. The bright light; the smallest movement hurt. Like the migraines his sister used to have. Maybe a side effect of whatever Walter had given him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine” was on his lips despite his head and aching ribs. But wouldn’t remember anything about the mission.
“Like I’ve been shot?” Michael guessed.
A light that had flickered in Nikita’s eyes died.
“You were shot, yesterday. In Lukenwalde.”
“Germany? No, we were in Amsterdam. Is Operations here? I need to debrief.” He winced again when his hand made contact with his head.
“Michael, you were grabbed in Amsterdam and taken to Perez. He did something to your memory. You haven’t been able to remember who you were for the last three days.”
“Do they know?” His face was impassive. Nikita had broken protocol, but so had he. But if he had debriefed before, as Nikita should have had him do, he would’ve been cancelled. It was his son, Adam, who was now the key to bringing Vacek out of hiding. Michael himself was expendable.
“No. I protected you.”
“Thank you.” Michael looked away and Nikita, knowing she had been dismissed, left him alone. She would return in a while; she still had to “brief” him on what he’d done in Lukenwalde so he could debrief with Operations. She could never know that he remembered every detail of those three days.
* * * * *
Nikita knelt by her stereo to remove the Mimi Goese CD. “Fire and Roses.” Their last dance.
Michael was lying. He’d seen her; known she was there, yet allowed himself to express pain. Twice. A headache. Michael would never admit he was hurting. Even without his memory he’d never mentioned any discomfort. The headache, whether real or fictitious, was Michael’s way of making Nikita leave. He needed her gone so he could think. Strategize his next move. Factor in the new memories with the old.
She would brief him before he saw Operations. Michael expected her to, so Nikita would play his game. Pretend that he didn’t remember telling her he loved her. Living a lie. One thing she and Michael did very well together.
If only she couldn’t remember.
“Soundlessly
I sail I float far way
A thousand clues and second thoughts
Lie deep in the belly of my heart
If I listen
So close
It’s all on fire
My life needs fire I want roses.”
~ "Fire and Roses" by Mimi Goese
My prompt table is here.