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bantha_foddertitle: short stop
author: bantha_fodder
fandom: la femme nikita
i do not own these characters. these events did not occur.
a short ficlet for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
voleuse (from here). briefer than i anticipated, for which i apologise.
It was the twenty-seventh day of her training when Michael brought her a cup of coffee. No explanation, not even a smile. Just a cup of coffee, exactly the way she liked it.
She stared up at him. "What's this for?" she asked, as he placed it on the table beside her bed.
He blinked at her, and let the silence between them lengthen.
Nikita shook her head. "I'm not drinking it," she said, and pushed the mug away. "It's probably poisoned."
"We will be late if you do not hurry," said Michael softly.
"Why the coffee?" Nikita asked again. She flexed her toes, and Michael focussed on her face, conscious of the arch of her feet and the length of her hair.
"Nikita," he said, "we must begin training."
Nikita breathed heavily, and lifted her head to meet Michael's eyes with her own. "I don't have time for your games, Michael," she said, her anger clear. Michael read the emotions as they flashed upon her face, and did not look away.
"We do not play games," he said, and she grinned at him. The grin was hollow, and she winked. Slowly, she tipped the mug over. Nikita stood.
"I'll be ready in five," she drawled. "Did you want to turn your back? Or did you want to keep watching? I'm sure it's the only fun you'll have all year."
He watched the coffee drip to the floor. If he had been someone else, he would have frowned, but because he was Michael, and because he was Section, he watched the cooling coffee and planned retribution as she dressed.
It was just the way she liked it, and Michael knew she was still not ready for Section.
"You will not be poisoned," Michael breathed, and Nikita paused. She looked over her shoulder.
"Excuse me?"
"When you are cancelled, you will not be poisoned," he said, and it was the next lesson.
"The learning never stops," she said idly, as she pulled the shirt over her head.
He settled the mug upright.
"No," he said, "and when it does, you will be dead."
He held the door open.
Nikita walked through, and there was no emotion on her face.
It made him sick to think of it, and the door swung shut.
END
author: bantha_fodder
fandom: la femme nikita
i do not own these characters. these events did not occur.
a short ficlet for
voleuse (from here). briefer than i anticipated, for which i apologise.It was the twenty-seventh day of her training when Michael brought her a cup of coffee. No explanation, not even a smile. Just a cup of coffee, exactly the way she liked it.
She stared up at him. "What's this for?" she asked, as he placed it on the table beside her bed.
He blinked at her, and let the silence between them lengthen.
Nikita shook her head. "I'm not drinking it," she said, and pushed the mug away. "It's probably poisoned."
"We will be late if you do not hurry," said Michael softly.
"Why the coffee?" Nikita asked again. She flexed her toes, and Michael focussed on her face, conscious of the arch of her feet and the length of her hair.
"Nikita," he said, "we must begin training."
Nikita breathed heavily, and lifted her head to meet Michael's eyes with her own. "I don't have time for your games, Michael," she said, her anger clear. Michael read the emotions as they flashed upon her face, and did not look away.
"We do not play games," he said, and she grinned at him. The grin was hollow, and she winked. Slowly, she tipped the mug over. Nikita stood.
"I'll be ready in five," she drawled. "Did you want to turn your back? Or did you want to keep watching? I'm sure it's the only fun you'll have all year."
He watched the coffee drip to the floor. If he had been someone else, he would have frowned, but because he was Michael, and because he was Section, he watched the cooling coffee and planned retribution as she dressed.
It was just the way she liked it, and Michael knew she was still not ready for Section.
"You will not be poisoned," Michael breathed, and Nikita paused. She looked over her shoulder.
"Excuse me?"
"When you are cancelled, you will not be poisoned," he said, and it was the next lesson.
"The learning never stops," she said idly, as she pulled the shirt over her head.
He settled the mug upright.
"No," he said, "and when it does, you will be dead."
He held the door open.
Nikita walked through, and there was no emotion on her face.
It made him sick to think of it, and the door swung shut.
END
