La Femme Nikita. Adam Samuelle. 033. Too much.
Title: Woman’s Best Friend
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Michael, Elena; Adam, Nikita, Madeline and three canon characters mentioned
Prompt: 033. Too much.
Word count: 1094
Rating: PGish for language
Summary: Enough is enough is enough
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3. For sk56 as promised
Woman’s Best Friend
Michael ascended the stairs slowly. The bullet had hit the vest, but it had also been a direct shot to the right kidney, and the bruised organ was hampering his movements.
“When you attack someone from behind, go for the kidneys. It disables and they can’t fight back.”
Ironic that has own words to a newly recruited Nikita had come back to haunt him. At least he could sleep well tonight, knowing she had made the right decision about having Karyn cancelled. Sleep better; Michael could never truly drop his guard while he was in the suburbs with his family. He knew he was prone to nightmares, so he generally dozed more than slept whenever he lay next to Elena.
Michael would be spending several nights with Elena. MedLab had released him; but Madeline knew he wouldn’t be fully fit for duty for a day or so. Nikita had been temporarily assigned to a different team until Section had enough intel to move against Kessler; until then Michael could spend some quality time with his wife and two-year old son.
He walked through the hallway in the dark, first checking on Adam, then opening the door to the master bedroom. Michael stopped short. Elena wasn’t alone. He knew the lump where his own body should be wasn’t Adam. He was sleeping peacefully in his own racecar-shaped youth bed. Michael’s weapon was downstairs, locked safely away in his briefcase, but he counted on Section-honed reflexes and the element of surprise as he grabbed the bed linens and quickly yanked them to the foot of the bed.
“Michael?” Elena’s voice was husky with sleep. She hadn’t expected him back this evening or she would have waited up. The “intruder” didn’t give Michael’s presence more than a cursory yawn before he stood, turned in a tight circle, and flopped back down on the bed. Michael’s bed.
“Chien. Down.” Michael’s command was stern and authoritative, but he could have saved his breath. The dog had claimed this spot on Elena’s bed four nights ago, and he had no intention of giving it up.
“Michael, you have to speak nicely to him. The book says he doesn’t respond to harsh words.”
Michael wondered idly how the dog would ‘respond’ to being thrown out the window, but then he wouldn’t get his deposit back. He turned on the lamp on his side of the bed so the stubborn lump of fur could see that he meant business.
A hypo-allergenic dog had been Elena’s idea. She still missed Watson, and she wanted Adam to grow up with a dog, so she had brought home a Bichon Havanais for a two-week trial. Michael warned her not to get too attached. Adam, having named his dog “Dog,” wanted nothing more to do with him. It was Michael who had rechristened the beast “Chien”; at least he could improve Elena’s sparse French vocabulary by one word.
But unlike Watson, who was sociable to a fault, Chien had determined that Elena was the Alpha dog in his pack and the only one worth his association. Obviously, this Michael person did not get the rules, and Chien snapped at him when Michael tried to physically hoist the dog off the bed by grabbing his collar.
“That’s it. The damned dog just tried to bite me, and he’s in *my* bed. He could do some serious damage to Adam. I want him gone.”
Elena watched as Chien went for Michael in stunned disbelief, but she wasn’t giving up so easily.
“I can train him, Michael. They’re really very easy to get along with. If I just had some more time, I know-“
“It’s been 10 days, Elena; that’s long enough. It would take too much time and too much effort to make him the dog you want him to be. I know you meant well, but a dog is just too much work. Adam was still a baby when we had Watson. He’s two now, and you know he’s into everything. You can’t waste any more time and trouble on a dog that doesn’t appear to get along with our son. And he hates me,” Michael added, though it was an unnecessary statement.
Elena was trying not to be emotional, though she knew everything Michael said was true. Chien was not blending well with their little family, and despite the kennel’s claims, the expensive Bichon still made Adam cough. A little. Elena neglected to share that information with Michael, hoping it was just her imagination.
“Chien. Vers le bas. Maintenant."
The dog raised his head to gaze speculatively at Michael, who was finally speaking words he understood. ‘Down’. ‘Now’. He knew those, and, sensing he was losing an ally in Elena, did as he was told. But not before peeing on Michael’s pillow.
“Oh, this is just too much!”
Elena stared, mute, her eyes turning guiltily to Michael’s. He could tell by her face this wasn’t the first time Chien had pulled a similar stunt.
Michael grabbed the dog as he was jumping down from the bed and held firmly to his collar; his hands out of range of Chien’s teeth.
“I’m locking him outside tonight, and he goes back first thing in the morning. First thing, Elena. I’ll stay with Adam, but I want this monster out of my house and back at the store the moment it opens. A return; not a trade-in. Understood?”
“Yes, Michael.”
Something in her tone, a flicker of the eyes, stopped him in his tracks. Nikita got that same look and tone when she agreed to follow orders but was considering a contingency to get around them. Like the time he told her to get rid of the cat Chandler had given her. If Nikita hadn’t realized what scum Chandler was, she might have found a way to keep the cat, even if just to defy Michael.
“I said okay,” Elena answered his questioning brow. Now she just sounded annoyed. She wasn’t a child, and it was her house, too. But she couldn’t fault Michael’s logic when it came to Chien and Adam. The small boy was afraid of the dog, and that situation wouldn’t get any better for some time. Too much time.
Michael left the room and headed downstairs; the wriggling mass of hair in his arms snarling at the indignity of his situation.
What was it about women and animals? Elena and her dog. Nikita and her cat. Three days downtime, not a single mission on the pad and, some days, it was still too much.
My prompt table is here.
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Michael, Elena; Adam, Nikita, Madeline and three canon characters mentioned
Prompt: 033. Too much.
Word count: 1094
Rating: PGish for language
Summary: Enough is enough is enough
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3. For sk56 as promised
Woman’s Best Friend
Michael ascended the stairs slowly. The bullet had hit the vest, but it had also been a direct shot to the right kidney, and the bruised organ was hampering his movements.
“When you attack someone from behind, go for the kidneys. It disables and they can’t fight back.”
Ironic that has own words to a newly recruited Nikita had come back to haunt him. At least he could sleep well tonight, knowing she had made the right decision about having Karyn cancelled. Sleep better; Michael could never truly drop his guard while he was in the suburbs with his family. He knew he was prone to nightmares, so he generally dozed more than slept whenever he lay next to Elena.
Michael would be spending several nights with Elena. MedLab had released him; but Madeline knew he wouldn’t be fully fit for duty for a day or so. Nikita had been temporarily assigned to a different team until Section had enough intel to move against Kessler; until then Michael could spend some quality time with his wife and two-year old son.
He walked through the hallway in the dark, first checking on Adam, then opening the door to the master bedroom. Michael stopped short. Elena wasn’t alone. He knew the lump where his own body should be wasn’t Adam. He was sleeping peacefully in his own racecar-shaped youth bed. Michael’s weapon was downstairs, locked safely away in his briefcase, but he counted on Section-honed reflexes and the element of surprise as he grabbed the bed linens and quickly yanked them to the foot of the bed.
“Michael?” Elena’s voice was husky with sleep. She hadn’t expected him back this evening or she would have waited up. The “intruder” didn’t give Michael’s presence more than a cursory yawn before he stood, turned in a tight circle, and flopped back down on the bed. Michael’s bed.
“Chien. Down.” Michael’s command was stern and authoritative, but he could have saved his breath. The dog had claimed this spot on Elena’s bed four nights ago, and he had no intention of giving it up.
“Michael, you have to speak nicely to him. The book says he doesn’t respond to harsh words.”
Michael wondered idly how the dog would ‘respond’ to being thrown out the window, but then he wouldn’t get his deposit back. He turned on the lamp on his side of the bed so the stubborn lump of fur could see that he meant business.
A hypo-allergenic dog had been Elena’s idea. She still missed Watson, and she wanted Adam to grow up with a dog, so she had brought home a Bichon Havanais for a two-week trial. Michael warned her not to get too attached. Adam, having named his dog “Dog,” wanted nothing more to do with him. It was Michael who had rechristened the beast “Chien”; at least he could improve Elena’s sparse French vocabulary by one word.
But unlike Watson, who was sociable to a fault, Chien had determined that Elena was the Alpha dog in his pack and the only one worth his association. Obviously, this Michael person did not get the rules, and Chien snapped at him when Michael tried to physically hoist the dog off the bed by grabbing his collar.
“That’s it. The damned dog just tried to bite me, and he’s in *my* bed. He could do some serious damage to Adam. I want him gone.”
Elena watched as Chien went for Michael in stunned disbelief, but she wasn’t giving up so easily.
“I can train him, Michael. They’re really very easy to get along with. If I just had some more time, I know-“
“It’s been 10 days, Elena; that’s long enough. It would take too much time and too much effort to make him the dog you want him to be. I know you meant well, but a dog is just too much work. Adam was still a baby when we had Watson. He’s two now, and you know he’s into everything. You can’t waste any more time and trouble on a dog that doesn’t appear to get along with our son. And he hates me,” Michael added, though it was an unnecessary statement.
Elena was trying not to be emotional, though she knew everything Michael said was true. Chien was not blending well with their little family, and despite the kennel’s claims, the expensive Bichon still made Adam cough. A little. Elena neglected to share that information with Michael, hoping it was just her imagination.
“Chien. Vers le bas. Maintenant."
The dog raised his head to gaze speculatively at Michael, who was finally speaking words he understood. ‘Down’. ‘Now’. He knew those, and, sensing he was losing an ally in Elena, did as he was told. But not before peeing on Michael’s pillow.
“Oh, this is just too much!”
Elena stared, mute, her eyes turning guiltily to Michael’s. He could tell by her face this wasn’t the first time Chien had pulled a similar stunt.
Michael grabbed the dog as he was jumping down from the bed and held firmly to his collar; his hands out of range of Chien’s teeth.
“I’m locking him outside tonight, and he goes back first thing in the morning. First thing, Elena. I’ll stay with Adam, but I want this monster out of my house and back at the store the moment it opens. A return; not a trade-in. Understood?”
“Yes, Michael.”
Something in her tone, a flicker of the eyes, stopped him in his tracks. Nikita got that same look and tone when she agreed to follow orders but was considering a contingency to get around them. Like the time he told her to get rid of the cat Chandler had given her. If Nikita hadn’t realized what scum Chandler was, she might have found a way to keep the cat, even if just to defy Michael.
“I said okay,” Elena answered his questioning brow. Now she just sounded annoyed. She wasn’t a child, and it was her house, too. But she couldn’t fault Michael’s logic when it came to Chien and Adam. The small boy was afraid of the dog, and that situation wouldn’t get any better for some time. Too much time.
Michael left the room and headed downstairs; the wriggling mass of hair in his arms snarling at the indignity of his situation.
What was it about women and animals? Elena and her dog. Nikita and her cat. Three days downtime, not a single mission on the pad and, some days, it was still too much.
My prompt table is here.