Ficlet - La Femme Nikita - "Whisper" - Nikita/Michael (teen)
Entry 2 of 6 for Round 12 of rounds_of_kink. Angst was requested, angst was given. Posted here for archival purposes.
~~~~ ~ ~~~~
Title: Whisper
Author: tres_mechante
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Pairing/character: Michael Samuelle/Nikita
Rating: FRT (Teen)
Disclaimer: So not mine. The characters were kidnapped by my muse for nefarious but ultimately enjoyable - or at least consensual - purposes. No infringement intended. No profit made. No point in legal action. The characters are free to return if they so desire.
Word count: 890 approx.
Prompt: Nikita keeps those memories close. Requested by silentflux
Kink: angst
Notes/Warnings: Not quite sure it follows the prompt, but this is where the muse led, so this is where the story went. Setting - not specific, but possibly season 2-ish.
~~~ ~ ~~~
“Hey Walter,” Nikita greeted her friend with a smile.
“Good morning, Beautiful.” Walter smiled fondly at her. “To what do I owe the honour of your company at this hour? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Nikita held up a small electronic device. “I got word that these are being recalled.”
Walter sighed. “Yeah, back to the drawing board.” He took the device and tossed it into a basket on his work table.
“Why? It worked just fine.”
“Then, you’re lucky. The whole system crapped out on Murphy’s team. They’re lucky they didn’t lose anyone.”
“That’s me. Full of luck,” said Nikita, although her voice said something different.
Walter frowned suddenly, staring out into the main control room.
“What are you looking at,” asked Nikita, trying to follow Walter’s gaze.
“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.” He pursed his lips for a moment and then grinned at Nikita. “Hey, would you mind doing an old man a favour?”
Nikita returned his grin. “If you know an old man needing a favour I might be persuaded,” she said.
“Flatterer.” He quickly wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “Those components are in the back, unit D, or maybe J, the boxes are clearly labelled. Would you mind...?”
Nikita gave Walter a quick peck on the cheek and wandered off on her errand. Almost 15 minutes later, Nikita was hopelessly confused. She looked at the paper again and finally decided that she was misreading Walter’s messy scrawl.
Just before rounding the corner, Nikita realized Walter was not alone. It only took her a moment to identify Birkoff’s voice.
“Seriously, what’s up with Michael?”
Nikita paused, just out of sight.
“Keep your voice down,” said Walter.
“It’s not like no one else is thinking the same thing. He’s been hanging all over Yvonne,” said Birkoff. “Look at that - it’s not right.”
Nikita peeked around the corner.
Across the outer room, Michael stood beneath the catwalk talking with Yvonne, a newly transferred operative. He stood closer than was strictly professional, his attention apparently focused on the curvy redhead.
Nikita felt a slight flutter in the region of her heart. She could almost feel Michael’s body heat pressing in around her. Her breath quickened. Michael always seemed to generation a lot of body heat, even when his demeanour was cold -- especially when his demeanour was cold.
Michael handed Yvonne something small, placing it in the palm of her hand. Nikita felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand straight up when Michael’s fingers lightly brushed against the redhead’s hand. Nikita could actually feel the touch, so strong was the sense memory. She could easily recall every time he gave her that covert caress, a gesture meant for her alone, a symbol of their connection.
Yvonne smiled at Michael. She said something to him and he tilted his head closer to her and murmured something near her ear, causing the bitch to blush oh so prettily.
Nikita quickly ducked back around the corner and braced herself against the wall, fighting back tears. Trust me, Nikita. That is what he always whispered to her. Trust me. While she struggled to pulled herself back together, a kaleidoscope of images flew through her mind; every touch, every whisper, every stolen moment when they could be together, not as operatives, but as Michael and Nikita.
Trust me, Nikita. Trust me
Another voice from the front area brought Nikita back to the present. Michael.
“Birkoff. Is there a problem?”
It was Walter who answered. “He’s going to backtrack the frequency problem on the homing beacon that crapped out on Murphy.”
“I see. You need to do that here?” said Michael silkily.
“No. I just need the device so I can pull the chip,” was Birkoff’s reply. “Thanks, Walter. Michael.”
She could hear her young friend walk away. Nikita took a steadying breath, pulling her emotions under control once more. She stepped around the corner in time to hear Michael question Walter.
“Have you seen Nikita?”
“I’m right here, Michael.” She turned to Walter and handed him the slip of paper. “I couldn’t find it. Either I’m losing my touch or your handwriting is getting worse.”
Walter looked between Michael and Nikita and then down at the paper. “Don’t worry about it. The new guy must have moved it. Thanks for looking, anyway, sweetheart.”
Nikita turned to Michael, noting with satisfaction the way his eyes narrowed when Walter called her ‘sweetheart’. “Was there something you needed, Michael?”
“I want to go over the Stuttgart operation. There is new intel on Varden’s entourage that may impact your cover,” he said smoothly.
Nikita turned to smile at Walter. “See you later.”
“Anytime, gorgeous.”
Michael moved deftly into her personal space as they walked away. A voice from the catwalk halted their progress.
Madeline leaned on the railing. “Nikita? A moment, please.”
“Of course,” acquiesced Nikita. “Michael, I’ll catch up with you later?”
Michael’s gazed flicked between Nikita and Madeline. Trust me. “Of course. This can wait,” he said, stepping away from her.
With a nod, he went to one of the alcoves while Nikita began climbing the stairs. A casual look down, revealed Michael leaning over Yvonne where she worked at one of the computers.
Head high and eyes forward, Nikita greeted Madeline with a polite smile and followed her to Madeline’s inner sanctum.
Trust me.
---END---
~~~~ ~ ~~~~
Title: Whisper
Author: tres_mechante
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Pairing/character: Michael Samuelle/Nikita
Rating: FRT (Teen)
Disclaimer: So not mine. The characters were kidnapped by my muse for nefarious but ultimately enjoyable - or at least consensual - purposes. No infringement intended. No profit made. No point in legal action. The characters are free to return if they so desire.
Word count: 890 approx.
Prompt: Nikita keeps those memories close. Requested by silentflux
Kink: angst
Notes/Warnings: Not quite sure it follows the prompt, but this is where the muse led, so this is where the story went. Setting - not specific, but possibly season 2-ish.
~~~ ~ ~~~
“Hey Walter,” Nikita greeted her friend with a smile.
“Good morning, Beautiful.” Walter smiled fondly at her. “To what do I owe the honour of your company at this hour? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Nikita held up a small electronic device. “I got word that these are being recalled.”
Walter sighed. “Yeah, back to the drawing board.” He took the device and tossed it into a basket on his work table.
“Why? It worked just fine.”
“Then, you’re lucky. The whole system crapped out on Murphy’s team. They’re lucky they didn’t lose anyone.”
“That’s me. Full of luck,” said Nikita, although her voice said something different.
Walter frowned suddenly, staring out into the main control room.
“What are you looking at,” asked Nikita, trying to follow Walter’s gaze.
“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.” He pursed his lips for a moment and then grinned at Nikita. “Hey, would you mind doing an old man a favour?”
Nikita returned his grin. “If you know an old man needing a favour I might be persuaded,” she said.
“Flatterer.” He quickly wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “Those components are in the back, unit D, or maybe J, the boxes are clearly labelled. Would you mind...?”
Nikita gave Walter a quick peck on the cheek and wandered off on her errand. Almost 15 minutes later, Nikita was hopelessly confused. She looked at the paper again and finally decided that she was misreading Walter’s messy scrawl.
Just before rounding the corner, Nikita realized Walter was not alone. It only took her a moment to identify Birkoff’s voice.
“Seriously, what’s up with Michael?”
Nikita paused, just out of sight.
“Keep your voice down,” said Walter.
“It’s not like no one else is thinking the same thing. He’s been hanging all over Yvonne,” said Birkoff. “Look at that - it’s not right.”
Nikita peeked around the corner.
Across the outer room, Michael stood beneath the catwalk talking with Yvonne, a newly transferred operative. He stood closer than was strictly professional, his attention apparently focused on the curvy redhead.
Nikita felt a slight flutter in the region of her heart. She could almost feel Michael’s body heat pressing in around her. Her breath quickened. Michael always seemed to generation a lot of body heat, even when his demeanour was cold -- especially when his demeanour was cold.
Michael handed Yvonne something small, placing it in the palm of her hand. Nikita felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand straight up when Michael’s fingers lightly brushed against the redhead’s hand. Nikita could actually feel the touch, so strong was the sense memory. She could easily recall every time he gave her that covert caress, a gesture meant for her alone, a symbol of their connection.
Yvonne smiled at Michael. She said something to him and he tilted his head closer to her and murmured something near her ear, causing the bitch to blush oh so prettily.
Nikita quickly ducked back around the corner and braced herself against the wall, fighting back tears. Trust me, Nikita. That is what he always whispered to her. Trust me. While she struggled to pulled herself back together, a kaleidoscope of images flew through her mind; every touch, every whisper, every stolen moment when they could be together, not as operatives, but as Michael and Nikita.
Trust me, Nikita. Trust me
Another voice from the front area brought Nikita back to the present. Michael.
“Birkoff. Is there a problem?”
It was Walter who answered. “He’s going to backtrack the frequency problem on the homing beacon that crapped out on Murphy.”
“I see. You need to do that here?” said Michael silkily.
“No. I just need the device so I can pull the chip,” was Birkoff’s reply. “Thanks, Walter. Michael.”
She could hear her young friend walk away. Nikita took a steadying breath, pulling her emotions under control once more. She stepped around the corner in time to hear Michael question Walter.
“Have you seen Nikita?”
“I’m right here, Michael.” She turned to Walter and handed him the slip of paper. “I couldn’t find it. Either I’m losing my touch or your handwriting is getting worse.”
Walter looked between Michael and Nikita and then down at the paper. “Don’t worry about it. The new guy must have moved it. Thanks for looking, anyway, sweetheart.”
Nikita turned to Michael, noting with satisfaction the way his eyes narrowed when Walter called her ‘sweetheart’. “Was there something you needed, Michael?”
“I want to go over the Stuttgart operation. There is new intel on Varden’s entourage that may impact your cover,” he said smoothly.
Nikita turned to smile at Walter. “See you later.”
“Anytime, gorgeous.”
Michael moved deftly into her personal space as they walked away. A voice from the catwalk halted their progress.
Madeline leaned on the railing. “Nikita? A moment, please.”
“Of course,” acquiesced Nikita. “Michael, I’ll catch up with you later?”
Michael’s gazed flicked between Nikita and Madeline. Trust me. “Of course. This can wait,” he said, stepping away from her.
With a nod, he went to one of the alcoves while Nikita began climbing the stairs. A casual look down, revealed Michael leaning over Yvonne where she worked at one of the computers.
Head high and eyes forward, Nikita greeted Madeline with a polite smile and followed her to Madeline’s inner sanctum.
Trust me.
---END---