fic; cuts both ways - pg
Title: Cuts Both Ways 4/5
Fandom: Nikita
Characters: Michael, Nikita, Alex, Amanda, Percy, Birkhoff, Owen.
Rating: PG-13 for this part. May increase in future chapters.
Wordcount: 8800
Summary: "He leaves Division in the dead of night. He says no goodbyes, he lets no one know that anything might be amiss." -- Michael discovers the truth about his family's death first and goes rogue well before Nikita meets Daniel.
Author's note: The next part is ABSOLUTELY the last part. I split the last bit into two because it was getting super long and wouldn't fit into one single post on LJ. Expect part 5 in a day or so.
Disturbing silence darkens your sight, we’ll cast some light you’ll be alright
… … …
Nikita wakes up slowly, feeling warm and comfortable, though more than a little disoriented, and... hungry? She pushes herself up from the pillows and surveys the room, and as she does she remembers she is in Tashkent, and that this is Michael’s hotel room, and she remembers her breakdown the previous night. What she doesn’t remember is falling asleep. Or taking off her shoes and pants (though her underwear is still firmly in place). Despite all this, she doesn’t feel violated.
She feels safe.
Through the bathroom door she hears water flowing, a flushing toilet, then a few seconds later the pipes grind as the tap is turned on and off.
She slowly sits up in the bed, pushing against the pillows until she’s upright. Michael emerges from the bathroom seconds later. He notices her immediately.
“You’re awake.” He says, with a tiny smile, “You want breakfast?” and he gestures to the desk, where a room service platter is set out with coffee pots, fresh toast, jam, butter and fruit. Her tummy grumbles again, and she nods, and pushes the blankets away.
“No no!” Michael says, putting a hand up. “You stay there, I’ll get it for you.”
“Breakfast in bed?” She asks, and wipes her eyes with the balls of her hands, trying to freshen herself up. “This really is a 5 star establishment.”
Michael fills a mug with the freshly brewed coffee, and half a teaspoon of sugar. He slips two slices of toast onto a plate along with a dollop of jam and butter and he delivers it to her in bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid sitting on her. “We all deserve a little luxury every now and then.”
She takes a sip of the coffee, and it is good coffee, not bitter or burnt, and it warms her to the core. “Thank you, for last night.” She says, setting the coffee down on the bedside table. “I didn’t mean to...”
He cuts her off before she finishes her apology. “No, no, no, Nikki, no.” He says emphatically, and grasps her hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I never wanted you to go through that, to go through what I’ve gone through.”
And just like that, she remembers why they’re both here in the first place. “Kasim Tariq is here.” She says suddenly, and Michael sighs.
“I know.” He says, and shifts a little to the side. “I was going to start tracking him last night, but then we got sidetracked. The trail is probably cold now.”
“No.” Nikita says firmly, and pushes herself out of bed, handing the plate and untouched toast back to him. “We have to get him.”
Michael moves a little to the side and frowns. “We?”
She shoots a little glare over her shoulder, and retrieves her netbook from the table and holds it up for him to see. “We have Birkhoff to help us.”
“Birkhoff isn’t here.” Michael says, and Nikita ignores it.
“He’s been helping me find you.” Nikita reveals flatly, “And I would’ve never figured out your innocence if not for him either. Plus, I’m much friendlier than you and it comes with some rewards.” She sits back down next to Michael on the bed and opens the netbook. The Shadownet program takes a few minutes to launch, but the soon enough the interface is there and ready for them to use. She launches Kasim Tariq’s intelligence profile and immediately brings up his known Uzbek contacts, but Michael is tense beside her, still holding the toast in his hands. “Welcome to Shadownet 2.0, the portable version.”
“Nikita.” He says cautiously, fingering the keyboard with the edge of his nail. “I’m fine working with you, but Birkoff is still back in Division, and last I saw he was firmly under Percy’s thumb.”
Nikita quirks an eyebrow. “Well, he wasn’t very happy about your foray into dentistry, that’s for sure. But you don’t have to worry about him, I promise.”
“You trust him?”
She hesitates a moment, then decides to go with the truth. “I trust him with my life, Michael. I’m trusting him right now, he knows where I am and is hiding me from Percy.”
Nikita watches the way he tenses, though it’s almost imperceptible, and she knows that his wariness comes from years of necessary paranoia. She knows that if the positions were reversed, she’d have trouble trusting too. But then he says something that warms her better than the coffee ever could: “He’s not the only one anymore. I promise.”
She’s not sure what to say to that, how she should respond, and she knows that Michael understands that-- the blush on her cheeks probably gives it away. She wants to cherish this feeling though, that much she knows, because she knows it’s only a matter of time until this bubble they’re in is popped, and everything will go back to being the same brand of nasty and vicious she’s been coping with her entire life.
Instead, she decides to control where she goes from here, instead of letting her life control her. She is going to make decisions for herself from now on. And her first is this: She will help Michael kill Kasim.
She types a few simple commands into ShadowNet and Kasim’s list of known contacts is cross-referenced against the hotel records she’d hacked the night before, looking for any common pseudonyms and aliases. “Here.” She says, and pushes the computer into Michael’s hands. “This should make our lives easier.”
Sure enough, Shadownet has found the common denominator between the two, and spits out the name of their most likely target. Against all odds he’s even staying at the same hotel. Nikita can barely believe their luck, and if Michael’s eyebrows are any indication, he is also suitably impressed.
“We can work with this.” He says, and nods, and she pushes herself out of bed to help lay out their plan of attack.
It doesn’t take them long to decide what to do. It’s easier with two people, Nikita will play the honey trap angle, distracting the client for a while, and hopefully lifting his phone to copy the sim, while Michael sticks to good old fashioned espionage, sifting through the man’s hotel room to see if there is any worthwhile intel in there. They figure between the two they’ll be able to find the meeting place and time, hopefully with enough time to spare to scout out the final destination, or worst case scenario and they don’t find the info they need, they can plant a tracker in amongst the man’s things, and follow him at a discrete distance.
Their initial plan works as well as they could hope, with Nikita flirting her way through a casual lunch encounter. She distracts the man from his oysters and his vodka with her charming laugh and a low cut dress. Michael is able to get in and out of the man’s rather messy bedroom with more than enough detail about the meet for them to plan a mission around it, though they will be running rather short on time; the meet is scheduled for 4pm, and by the time Nikita gets away from the drunk Russian man it’s 1pm already.
They pile all the gear they’ll need into a hire car, and speed off as quickly as they can manage without attracting unwanted attention. On the drive there, while Nikita surveys the topographical maps for their best vantage spot, and Nikita marvels to herself just how seamlessly they have returned to working in unison, anticipating the other’s actions, speaking in shorthand-- it’s the quickest mission she’s planned in years, but she knows it’s probably one of the most flawless in its simplicity.
“I have a mole in Division.” Michael says bluntly, and it is surprising enough to distract Nikita from the map she has spread across the dash and her reflective thoughts of the tenacity of their working relationship.
She blinks at him, owlishly. “Huh?”
He looks a little sheepish and apologetic, but doesn’t hold back his explanation. “That’s how I’ve been keeping ahead of you these past few months. I have someone on the inside who feeds me info, and I use it to sabotage Division ops. Sometimes she helps too.”
“You turned a Division operative?” She asks, putting the map to the side to stare at him some more. How had she not noticed? Now he’s told her, of course it makes sense, his sudden reappearance. She puts herself in his shoes: if she had been on the run, it would be nigh impossible to anticipate Division’s next move unless you had insider info. She just can’t think who it could possibly be-- he’d never been that close to anyone within Division that she’d seen-- well, other than her, of course.
“No, I didn’t turn anyone.” Michael says, “I got one recruited.”
That is even more astounding to her, and she can’t believe he’d gone to such an enormous risk. “Who?” She asks.
“Alex.” Michael says. “I found her on the streets, I recognised her from an op from years ago, we killed her family. She was meant to have been killed as well, but the operative must’ve spared her.”
And then it hits her like a freight train, all the niggling little details, “Alex.” She mutters, testing the name out in her head, and then anger bubbles up in her, barely controllable. “I can’t believe you would let her do that! Do you know how close we’ve come to cancelling her? Do you know how much I risked to get her out that night?” She hits Michael hard in the arm, and he grimaces but he doesn’t retaliate.
“It wasn’t my original plan. When I found her, she was so spun out on drugs I was just focused on getting her clean, and by the time that happened she’d figured out a bit about my work, what I was trying to do. ” Michael says defensively. “She is so smart, Nikita. She knows the implications, but she’s doing it anyway.”
Nikita is not convinced, but it is an argument for another time, as they arrive at their destination and unpack their gear in silence. They still have quite a fair trek through the woods til they’ll be at the right vantage position. “I don’t think you understand how much Division has changed since you left.” She mutters as she hefts the sniper case out of the trunk of the car and hands it to Michael.
“It’s not just me and her anymore, Nikki.” He says, slipping his sig into the back of his pants, careful to make sure the safety is on. “We have Owen, one of the guardians on our side. And we have one of Percy’s black boxes.”
It’s not exactly new information to her, but she tries her best to consider how those two things improve the situation. From what she has learned of him through Division’s records, Owen is a formidable enough ally, but like Michael he hasn’t been within the fold of central Division in years, she doubts he has much to contribute in that way. And while having a black box is definitely leverage, there are still 5 others out there they’d need before they could do anything and without someone of Birkhoff’s calibre helping them they wouldn’t be able to get past the encryption to get any usable data.
“Well I’ll be sure to look out for her when I go back.” Nikita says firmly, and forcefully shuts the trunk of the car. Perhaps you could say she slams it. Either way it gets Michael’s attention.
He stops in his trek up the incline. “You can’t stay there in Division, it’s too poisonous.” He says to her bluntly.
Nikita takes a deep breath and holds off on rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness. “I’m better help to you in Division than I am out, Michael.” She begins ticking things off on her fingers one by one: “I have higher level access than Alex, I’m better trained, better equipped, I have better connections and allies and I’m much better at the politics. Most importantly we can cement my loyalty to Percy right now.”
Michael frowns again, not following, and she grasps his hand firmly and tugs him up the hill. If they don’t keep moving they’ll never get Kasim. They begin walking in step together. “You can betray me here. Frame me for Kasim’s death. Leave me for dead, double cross me. I’ll go back to Percy hating you more than ever, with any doubts I had before eradicated for good. He’ll believe my trust and faith in him and his cause has grown.” She explains passionately, acutely aware of Michael’s reluctance. She pulls out the big guns.
“Alex hasn’t covered all her tracks, Michael. I think Amanda has suspected a mole for a while now, and in retrospect it makes a whole lot of things make sense. But if I’m in there too I can protect her. If I’m not, it’ll only be a matter of time before she slips up and is caught, and you can’t protect her from outside. If I’m there, I can.”
“But then you’ll both be in there, and I won’t be able to protect either of you.”
“I’ve dealt pretty well these past five years without your protection.” She says, and pointedly presses her free hand to the scar on her shoulder. He grimaces and reaches out to grasp her other hand. She squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be fine.”
… … …
Michael is still uncertain about Nikita's plan, but she is so adamant in wanting to help and even he can see that there is merit in it. Giving Alex a little bit more protection within Division certainly is appealing. He swings wildly between hating the idea and grudging acceptance of it, but he does his best to put it to the side while they go after Kasim at the mansion, figuring that they can argue more about it later, after their first mission is behind them.
But of course it doesn't work like that, and Kasim gets away, and Nikita is captured and dragged away by the man who ruined his life so many years ago.
It takes him hours to track her down, and it's only when he goes against his better judgement and uses Shadownet 2.0 to contact the only other person he thinks would be able to help.
Luckily it connects, and Birkhoff is at his computer. "Didn't expect you on the other end of the line," Is the first thing he says, and Michael can't help but notice the way his old friend has aged in the months since he last grabbed him; the suspicious look on the man’s face doesn’t help much.
"Kasim has Nikki." He says, cutting the small-talk off before it begins. "She told me you've been blocking her tracking signal. I need you to stop so I can find her."
"I don't know if that's a good idea." Birkhoff says, "Percy will see."
"Don't worry about that right now." He says. "We'll figure that out later."
Birkhoff still seems reluctant, but he still types a few commands and in the bottom corner of the netbook screen a little map appears, but no signal appears to be online in the area. "Looks like her tracker signal is out of range, she's probably underground."
“Dammit.” Michael kicks the side of the bed in frustration, and runs a hand through his hair. "Can we enhance it, anything?"
He watches Birkhoff frantically type, and then a little red dot appears on the map. Michael’s heart jumps, but Birkhoff is quick to clarify: "This is the last movements it recorded."
“If we find out where we lost the signal it’ll at least narrow it down.”
“Is she alright, Mikey?” Birkhoff asks quietly, as they both watch the progress of the signal travel through the heart of Tashkent, before cutting out in a nearby industrial area.
“I hope so.” He says, and starts collecting his things, his gun, his spare, a few extra rounds, a communicator-- his knife is still in his boot.
“Is there anything I can do?” The technician asks, and Michael returns his attention back to the computer.
“From what I hear you’ve already done a lot for me.” He says calmly. “I should thank you for that.”
“Go get her back, Mikey. That’s all I want.” Michael tries to think of a reply that conveys the gratitude he feels, but swallows his words. There is nothing he can say right now that could cover it, especially over a tenuous internet connection. So he nods quickly at his old friend, and maybe ally, and shuts the netbook computer.
Michael doesn’t waste another moment. With the GPS coordinates programmed into his phone, and a liberated Suzuki hatchback, he speeds as quickly as he can to the place Birkhoff indicated, and sure enough, parked just outside an old, decrepit warehouse is the car that Kasim and his men escaped in with Nikita unconscious in the back seat. He pulls up behind the car and the engine is barely off when he opens the door and jumps out.
A warehouse like this probably has a basement, which is probably where they’re holding Nikita. He doesn’t have time to plan the extraction too carefully, so instead of doing a full perimeter search like he would prefer, he decides to take a leap from Nikita’s audacious playbook and use the front door.
It’s unlocked, pushes easily open, and no one starts shooting at him. He opens it further and steps inside. It is an open-plan factory floor, and it is completely empty. From the old stains on the concrete and the air of long-dead things, he figures this used to be an abattoir of some description, and there are drains built into the floor in a fairly regular pattern that support that theory. Downstairs would’ve been the freezers, though they’re most-likely out of action at the moment, given there is no power running to the building-- the only light is ambient and comes streaming through the high-set windows. There is only one other door, directly across from him, and he heads straight towards it, moving as stealthily as possible and he presses an ear to the door once he gets there.
He hears someone breathing on the other side.
It’s now or never.
Michael flings the door open, and sure enough he sees one of Kasim’s bodyguards standing directly opposite. He fires a shot between the man’s eyes before he even has a chance to raise his own gun, but Michael doesn’t savour the moment. Anyone else in the building would’ve heard that shot, and he doesn’t have the element of surprise any longer. He has to move fast.
He strips the man of his gun-- an automatic hand-gun and turns it down the stairs, where he can hear the heavy footfalls of two people ascending. He takes cover behind a desk, and when the two men round the corner he fires off a volley of bullets, spraying the wall and the men equally. They slump to the floor, and Michael launches over the desk, past them and down the stairs.
He finds himself standing at the beginning of a long corridor, with a few doors leading off on either side, and at the end, a door with a large, unlit EXIT sign above. That door swings wildly on its hinges, as though someone had only recently kicked it open, and for a second Michael is torn. Kasim probably just left through that door, and Michael has an automatic weapon in his hands. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel, he’ll finally have his revenge.
But he’s here for Nikita.
He ducks into the closest open room, and she is there, tied to a plastic exam table, drenched from head to toe. She looks pale, her lip is split, and her left eye is swollen and bruised, but her chest steadily rises and falls, and she groans and twists her head to look at him. “Michael?”
Michael drops his gun, pulls his knife from his boot and begins hacking away at her restraints, first her feet, then her hands, and gently helps her sit up.
“He’s getting away.” She says with a cough. “We need to get him, Michael.” She insists, and points at the door.
But he shakes his head. “No,” and tries to get her to stop squirming so he can assess how bad the injury to her eye is.
“This is our opportunity.” She insists, and pushes his hand away. “He’s going to the airport. I can go after him and kill him there. The Uzbek police will catch me, Percy will have to extract me. I’ll blame it all on you, I’ll tell him you set me up, you lied to me. I thought you’d made a mistake with Daniel, but you only said that to get me on your side to feed me to the wolves. ”
Michael grimaces, every bone in his body screams this is a bad idea, that there are so many ways this plan could go wrong. All he wants right now is to get her back to the hotel room and clean her up, he wants to tuck her into bed, and shield her from harm, and all she wants to do is to throw herself directly in its path. “Nikki, I don’t need you to do that.” He insists. “You can get out now. It’s safer that way, for everyone.”
“I don’t want to be safe, Michael.” She hisses. “I want this to end. And if you let me work with you we can end this forever.”
She takes his hand in hers and uses it as leverage to stand. She wobbles a bit, and he immediately begins to worry about a concussion or something, but when she lets go of his hand, she seems as steady as ever, standing straight and tall and exuding the confidence he’d always admired so much.
He stands. “Alright.” He says. “Let’s go.”
… … …
Michael reluctantly drops her at the arrivals drop-off point, with his own jacket draped around her shoulders, and instead of torturously extending their goodbyes out, she takes his hand and drops a simple but heartfelt kiss between his knuckles. “I’ll do this for you” she says, “and all this will be over.”
He squeezes her hand and lingers, for a moment, between pulling her closer and letting her go. For a split second she wonders if he is going to kiss her, his eyes definitely dart to her lips and back, but all he says is “Good luck.” and once she’s out on the curb, he drives off without looking back.
Her plan to get Kasim in the airport works perfectly. She buys her ticket for Syria using Division’s credit card. Birkhoff won’t be able to hide that, but they don’t want him to. Declaring her subterfuge to Percy will mask the bigger one hiding beneath. She gets through immigration and security quickly, though the bruises and split lip get her some odd looks. She explains in intentionally broken Russian to one of the guards that she’d “had accident. car no see me,” and it’s enough to see her through.
She gets all the materials she needs from the Duty Free, a vodka bottle, a wide purple cashmere scarf to use as a makeshift hijab, and a ‘Welcome to Uzbekistan’ magnet she’ll give to Birkhoff later. The scarf she puts on in the bathroom, and when she’s alone in the woman’s bathroom, she smashes the bottle and sifts through the glass shards for the best one to use as a shiv.
Nikita pulls the sleeves of Michael’s jacket further down to cover her hands, and slips the best shard inside, careful not to cut her wrists. The rest she tosses away, or washes down the sink as best she can, and then heads towards the gate. If she’s calculated right they’ll be boarding any minute, and hopefully she’ll be able to use the element of surprise to her advantage.
Sure enough, she reaches the gate just as they open the gates. It mustn't be a packed flight, as when she gets to the end of the line, she is only three or four people behind Kasim, who hasn't noticed her yet. She hands her passport and ticket to the flight attendant who checks her in, and Nikita carelessly shoves the documents back into the pockets of Michael's jacket.
Now is her chance to make her move, while they exit the terminal and walk along the tarmac to the plane. She pushes past the other passengers, and slips the large shard of glass from her sleeve, gripping it tightly in her fist. He is just ahead of her, two people away, one.
She reaches out and when they are only a few meters from the adjustable stairs that lead to the jet, she grasps Kasim's shoulder firmly, and shoves the shard of glass hard between his ribs, burying it deep in his side.
Someone grabs her roughly and pulls her off, and Kasim lets out a sick gurgling noise, but she knows the damage is done. People around her are yelling in Uzbek and Russian and someone hits her hard in the side of the head and it all goes black.
The next day or so goes exactly how she anticipates. First there is the rough interrogation by the Uzbek officials. Then there is the solitary confinement in a squalid jail cell, complete with overflowing toilet and lice-ridden mattress. But predictably enough, within twenty four hours, the cell door opens, and perfectly polished Italian loafers step into the room.
"You're in quite a lot of trouble." Percy says, stopping in the middle of the room to look down upon her, where she is curled on the floor as far away from the toilet as possible
She lets out a deep breath and looks up at the man. It is not difficult for her to act convincingly; Tariq hadn’t been gentle with her and the Uzbek police were not exactly restrained in their methods of interrogation, and she knows she looks bad. She can’t see out of her left eye and the taste of blood has been in her mouth for several hours now.
"I'm sorry." She croaks. "I made a huge mistake, Percy. I'm sorry."
The man sighs, and leans down to pick her up from the ground. The cry of pain she lets out is genuine when she tries to put weight on her right knee. She grasps Percy’s forearm for support. Percy says, and he guides her forward a few steps towards the cell door. “This extraction wasn’t easy.”
“I know. He tricked me.” She says, and a tear rolls down her face. “I thought it was an accident. That he hadn’t known about Daniel, but... He knew. He’s crazy, he’s lost it.”
Percy nods. “And now Kasim Tariq is dead, Michael got what he wanted all along.”
She limps a few steps slowly forward, and he doesn’t rush her.
“Let’s get you home, Nikita.” He says.
… … …
When he arrives home to the penthouse, the first thing he finds is an email in his inbox confirming the death of Kasim Tariq. Then there are the redacted news reports about the woman the Uzbek officials captured in connection to the murder, and the destroyed official records detailing Nikita’s arrest and release.
The second thing is a series of messages from Alex, asking where he is, reporting Nikita’s walk of shame, the rumours about his double-crossing her, her injuries, the bounce in Percy’s step.
He shoots a quick message back to Alex, seeing she is still online: Am home. Mission didn’t go as planned.
She replies almost instantly: What happened with Nikita? They told us you did it to her. She looked horrible.
Michael is torn. He is not sure how much to tell her, on one hand he wants to keep Alex as in-the-loop as possible, the more she knows, the better she can protect herself, but on the other hand it is just another thing she’d have to lie about if she were caught and plausible deniability can go a long way, especially with Amanda and her lie-detectors. He decides to put his faith in Nikita. Alex will just have to understand. I did what I had to do to keep her safe. he sends, before quickly claiming jet-lag and logging off, not wanting to field any more questions for now. For now he needs to sleep.
Or at least he needs to try.
… … …
“I don’t want to talk about it, Nerd.” Nikita says, but there is no affection there, she is tired, and she is cranky, and she is in pain, and most of all, she can’t tell Birkhoff this secret, no matter how much she wants to.
Seymour unlocks her door for her and takes her bags inside. “I want the full story, Nikki.” He hisses as she maneuvers her crutches through the door, careful not to knock her busted knee against anything as she closes it behind her.
Nikita glares and brings a hand up to her lips in a Shhh gesture.
Birkhoff rolls his eyes, but takes her bags into her room. Nikita knows that he is on his last nerve with all this and his patience with her will not last much longer.
She sets that aside for now and surveys the apartment. It feels like she’s been gone for weeks, though in reality she was eating breakfast in her underwear here four days ago. It’s like her whole world has been tilted off its axis, and nothing quite feels normal anymore.
That being said, she doesn’t put it past Percy or Amanda or the like to have not visited during her short time away. She’s even going to consider telling Birkhoff so much as the quality of the airline food until she has pulled this place apart for bugs and cameras, and that won’t be happening ‘til the ligament in her knee starts pulling its weight again. She’s booked in for keyhole surgery later in the week anyway, so even if she could pull the place apart today, she’d have to do it again in another week or so.
Birkhoff comes back into the hall. “I’ve put a load of washing on, and I’ll get you some milk from the store in a bit so you won’t have to go out later and you can just rest up, and for god’s sake just tell me what happened.” He snaps, and she is taken aback. Nikita knows that Birkhoff has more sense than this.
Birkhoff pulls a black remote with a solid antenna from his pocket and points an angry finger at it. “Signal jammer made by a signals expert. Nothing is getting in or out of here.” He says fiercely, and Nikita has the good sense to feel a little guilty. She should’ve known he’d take precautions, and that he could protect them both from the sort of paranoia she’s been living with on a daily basis. She wishes she had asked for one earlier. “Now spill, Nikki. You’re not the only one taking heat about this.”
She limps over to stool on the other side of her kitchen bench and settles herself gingerly into it. She props the set of crutches against the bench and gestures for Birkhoff to take the one opposite. She is tired, and she figures this conversation is going to take a little while, and she honestly cannot keep standing much longer, not without some more of those painkillers the doctor gave her.
“I can’t tell you everything.” She says bluntly, “And it’s not because I don’t trust you, I do. I just want you to have plausible deniability if anything goes wrong.”
For a moment, Birkhoff looks like he wants to argue the point, and Nikita can see the internal struggle cross his face before he takes a seat on the stool and resentfully says: “Fine.”
“Firstly. You were right about him. He didn’t kill Daniel.” She says calmly. “I think we can safely assume we know who ordered that.”
“Percy.” Birkhoff supplies. Nikita nods.
“Or Amanda, but he knew either way. Michael and I have a plan. He didn’t double-cross me in Uzbekistan, or set me up. It was my idea to go in there, take Tariq out at the airport.”
Birkhoff flinches, and it is a strange comfort for her to believe that someone in her life values her well-being as much as he does. “What you did was practically suicide,” He says, and she shrugs. “It’s amazing they didn’t kill you on the spot.”
“I knew it was a gamble, but it worked.” She said. “It helped me cement my loyalty with Percy. I’ve told him I coerced you into covering for me, and then that Michael manipulated me into killing Kasim by convincing me he had nothing to do with Daniel’s death. He told me he had a way to kill Kasim but he needed my help, that he’d be covering my six the entire time, and that he’d extract me when the job was done, but when I killed him he left me there to take the fall with the Uzbek officials. I told Percy that he’d changed, that this fight has turned him, he’s gone mad.” Her lip quivers a bit, and her voice wavers as she gets caught up in the emotion of her fake excuse to Percy.
Birkhoff smirks a little, and Nikita blinks away the crocodile tears.
“The story fits with what Percy knows, and Michael is going to release some information from the Black Box in the next week or so. Old Michael wouldn’t put that info out there, it’s too dangerous and too many innocent people could get hurt, but it’ll sell the story we need: That he’s mad, that I’m more loyal than ever and completely on Percy’s side. Percy, meanwhile, thinks he’s got the upper-hand in the fight, when we hold all the cards.”
There is silence for a moment or two. Birkhoff nods, and seems to be taking the time to process all this, and Nikita is happy to let him. Better he thinks it through now, than second-guesses himself later. Then Birkhoff says something that surprises her: “You know, Nikki. I could decrypt that Black Box for you.”
“What?” She blinks, dumbly.
“After the first one was stolen, Percy had me upgrade the remaining hardware to remove a flaw in the system.” He swallows and avoids eye contact for a moment, and Nikita is sure that there is a part to the story he is not sharing. She doesn’t push the matter though. “And I know where the remaining six boxes are.”
There is a few moments of silence, as Nikita processes the enormity of just what Birkhoff is offering her. Them. “Are you sure?” She asks quietly. “This is such a precarious thing, Seymour. The last thing I want is for you to get caught up and get hurt.”
His eyes flick to her knee, in its brace, and the dark bruises that mottle her face. But to his credit, he looks her in the eye and says without hesitation: “I’m on your side, Nikki.” He says fiercely. “Whatever side you’re on, that’s my side.”
Nikita pulls him into a strong hug straight away and ignores her protesting knee. Friendship like this is worth the pain.
… … …
It doesn’t take much to convince Owen to release a file or two from the update drive. Michael barely suggests the plan to him and the Guardian arrives on his doorstep looking (and smelling) like someone who lost a fight with a dumpster. Before Michael has a chance to say hello, how’s things, he’s already whipping the thing out from a pocket (he was just carrying it around with him? Is he crazy?) and anonymously emailing incendiary evidence off to all the major news outlets.
“Should I ask what changed your mind?” Owen asks, and Michael isn’t sure what to make of the maniacal glint in the man’s eye. He certainly doesn’t find it comforting. The smell isn’t endearing either.
“I turned another Division operative.” Michael says. “We have a plan, that was part of sealing the cover story.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “Who, you mean Nikita?”
Michael flinches, and Owen rolls his eyes and pulls his thumb drive out of the USB slot and slips it back into his pocket. “Please, I’m not an idiot. I can connect the dots.”
Michael knows that Owen is baiting him, but he doesn’t really have the patience for mind games right now. If Owen saw through their subterfuge, maybe Percy will too-- Maybe Nikita isn’t as safe and as thorough as they thought. “What dots?” He demands.
Owen, to his credit, seems to sense the change in tone fairly easily and reacts accordingly, raising his hands to calm him. “Relax. I figured once I told you about Daniel and all it’d only be a matter of time until you flipped her.”
Tension still thrums beneath his skin, but the dull ache of dread that filled something low in his stomach fades a little. His heart is still thumping hard against his ribs though, and not for the first time Michael wonders were in hell Owen gets off scaring the shit out of him like this. “That’s it? Nothing else?”
“Not that I’ve seen, no.” Owen shakes his head and stands, hands buried deep in his pockets. “But I promise if I get wind of anything, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Michael nods, and forces himself to relax a little. There are other things he can focus on right now, things that will distract him from the panic attack he just narrowly avoided. Having all these new allies in his fight against Percy and Division should be making his life easier. Instead he feels like he now has a posse of people in his care and he can’t protect all of them. Something’s gonna give one day and he won’t be able to forgive himself if anything happens.
He takes a deep, calming breath and reminds himself that every one of his allies can protect themselves, in some capacity or another. They all volunteered to help him, they all knew the risks. He may feel responsible for them, but they can be responsible for themselves as well, and not one of them would just let him shoulder all this by himself.
“Hey,” Owen says loudly, cutting into his reverie. “Can I use your shower?”
… … …
Her surgery goes well, apparently the damage to her ligament was not as extensive as the doctors thought, and within a few weeks she’s up and walking without a brace or crutches. It’s not steady enough to jog or run on yet, but she studiously keeps up her exercises and every day the limb feels stronger.
The bruises fade as well, and her wounds scar and fade under the guidance of specialist doctors and with the application of many topical creams and several helpful makeup tips from Amanda.
The rehabilitation time is not time idly spent though, and she finds herself thrust straight back into recruitment training, which is just where she’d prefer to be right now anyway. She looks forward to the day that she can actively interfere with Percy’s plans and bring the asshole to his knees, but for now she remains the perfect soldier, shaping the new generation to be just like her.
Not to mention the fact that it gives her a chance to keep a closer eye on her fellow mole. Now that she knows who has been the cause of Division’s worries of late, she knows what to look for, what to hide, and what to reveal, and when to come down hard on Alex to stop her from doing something hideously stupid. The girl is incredibly nosy, and while the other trainers and Amanda see it as a misguided form of ingenuity, Nikita sees it for what it is: sloppy, impulsive, unnecessary decisions, all made in service of Michael, one of the most careful, precise men Nikita has ever worked with. She can’t help but feel that if Michael was here on the inside, he’d probably have some concerns.
So she comes down hard on the girl, dishing out punishments for the slightest behavioural infractions and though she makes an effort to be equally as harsh to the other recruits, she knows her prejudice does not go unnoticed, though thankfully Amanda deems her motives to be a projection, fuelled by a deep-seated mix of rage and depression that was brought on by Michael’s betrayal. Nikita plays into the assumption by destroying one of Amanda’s china tea-sets and storming out of her office in a teary, violent tirade. She takes refuge in Birkhoff’s den.
“Don’t you think that was a bit over the top?” He asks, pushing a mug of steaming black coffee into her hands.
She glares at him, but takes the coffee, and the next day is business as usual.
Some of the older recruits make agent status, Thom, Robbie, and soon enough, despite Nikita’s campaign of punishment, Alex becomes a candidate for promotion. The mark has been picked, the hit planned and arranged. Amanda begins the task of grooming the girl, physically and psychologically, for the task at hand, but it is up to Nikita to give Alex the details.
She carries the mission brief in a simple manilla folder when she is called down to Amanda’s office to begin the briefing. She walks carefully, her knee is still a little unsteady, having only upgraded to a low heel the day before. Alex is twirling disinterestedly in a maroon dress, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, and the girl sends a glare in her direction when she steps in.
Amanda doesn’t miss a thing, but does not comment. “Nikita. What do we think?” She asks instead, and gestures to the ensemble, then the two alternate outfits that hang on a rack nearby.
Nikita turns a critical eye on Alex, then steps over to examine the other outfits. There is a very similar blue one on the rack that has pockets. “She looks fine in that, she’ll blend in well. But this one has pockets-- easier to conceal the weapon. And you won’t want this one strapped to your leg or hidden in your cleavage.”
“Weapon?” Alex asks, perking up.
“We haven’t discussed the mission yet, Nikita.” Amanda says lightly, and Nikita nods, since it is her job to officially turn these children into murderers, of course the honour is left to her.
“I imagine Alex is smart enough to have made the leap though,” Nikita replies, but keeps her gaze on Alex rather than Amanda. “She’s been here long enough to know how these things work.”
“I have to kill someone to become an agent.” Alex says, and there is something in her tone that rings of an oft-repeated mantra, something the girl says at night in order to come to terms with a difficult truth.
"Yes," Nikita says with a nod, and hands the manilla folder over to the recruit for her to peruse at her leisure. "The target's name is Zoman, head of one of the crime syndicates that sells weapons to terrorists."
She and Amanda give the girl a few moments to peruse the mission documents in silence, both women understanding how important it is for her to grasp the essential details, and to process what they're ordering her to do. But Nikita also sees the way that the recruit’s hands tremble ever so slightly, and the way that the blood drains from her face. It is not good.
But as much as she would like to, Nikita has her own role to play, and this is not the time to be nurturing. "This man is not a good man." She adds lightly, once Alex has finished reading.
"And of course, you'll have support on the ground."
Nikita nods, "I'll be there to monitor everything on the day, and we have Thom and a few other junior agents placed within the catering staff for support. All the details have been sorted, it's just up to you to carry it out for us."
"See, we don't just send you into these sorts of things alone, Alex." Amanda says warmly, and to see the way that she mothers this girl repulses Nikita a little. To her credit, Alex doesn’t seem much comforted either.
"Speaking of, I'll need you down in the training area later and we'll go through the finer details of what you'll need to do." Nikita says briskly, covering up her reaction with the same business-like detachment she has relied upon for so long. "Amanda, I trust you'll go through the finer details with her in the meantime?"
Amanda acquiesces with a smile, and Nikita leaves the room knowing two things. One: That Alex will not be able to kill that man and two: that she should not have to.
The problem is, of course, that if the girl doesn't do it, she'll either blow her cover or be cancelled before the day is out. Not for the first time, Nikita marvels that Michael let this girl volunteer for such an awful mission, one that would no doubt change her completely. You can't go back, once you've killed someone, and not everyone can cope with it. Division is remarkably pragmatic about that, cancellations are performed when the agent is no longer useful to the organisation and those agents who crack under the weight of their sins are just simply not useful.
She ponders the problem all the way back from Amanda’s office, cutting through the training area to return to her own office space on the opposite side of the complex, but before she gets there, two things get in her way.
“Hey Nikita, can I speak with you?” A recruit says to her, as she crosses the training room floor. It’s Jaden, the smart-ass recruit that Alex made an enemy of months ago, and Nikita is still the recruits’ first point of call with any issues they might be having.
“What is it, Jaden?’ She asks, but her tone makes it clear that she doesn’t appreciate the interruption. Jaden either doesn’t pick up on the nuance or doesn’t care.
“Somewhere private?” The girl insists, and Nikita is sure to keep her frustration bottled away inside. She nods politely, and with a commanding twitch of her fingers she gestures for the young girl to follow her back to her office.
The room allocated to her is not one that she spends a lot of time in, she’s generally more mobile than either Birkhoff or Amanda and so hasn’t seen fit to personalise the space much. She does have a closet in the corner with a spare change of clothes for pretty much every occasion (it is necessary, in her line of work) but she has no comfortable couches or love-seats, and her desk is utilitarian and clear of clutter. She takes a seat and gestures for Jaden to sit opposite.
“What’s the problem?” She asks, and she watches as Jaden’s eyes sparkle a little-- like she has achieved some sort of personal victory.
“I’ve found a mole in Division.” She says quickly, and Nikita’s heart begins to thump so hard in her chest she feels sure that everyone in the building can hear it.
“What?” She says, letting some irritation colour her tone so it comes off as concern mixed with something akin to anger.
Jaden leans to the side a little so she can pull something from the pocket of her blue sweatpants, then she places it on the desk between them. It makes a little clink against the clear pyrex surface. Nikita picks it up. It’s the casing from one of their standard issue reading lights, but it has been removed and there is a bit of sticky tape affixed to one side. She reaches over and switches on her own desk lamp to hold the thing up to the light. Sure enough, she sees a fingerprint trapped there. An ingenious little MacGuyvered fingerprint scanner.
“I found it in Alex’s room.” Jaden reveals, and Nikita glances up at the recruit. No wonder that little glint of victory had been there. Those two girls had never gotten along, their personality clashes had been one of her more persistent behaviour management issues over the past year. She should’ve seen this coming. Alex hadn’t hidden her tracks perfectly, and Nikita had told Michael that it was only a matter of time until someone figured it out. Granted, she figured it would be Amanda, but of course Jaden’s paranoia and persistence would come through in the end.
“How long have you had this?” Nikita demands.
“About a week or two.” Jaden says.
“Have you told anyone else about this?” She asks.
And to her great relief, Jaden shakes her head. “I figured you were the only one safe to tell.” She says. “You’re the only one she doesn’t have wrapped around her little fingers.”
Nikita nods slowly, then slips the plastic casing into one of the pockets in her jacket. She stands and circles around the desk, coming to a stop right next to Jaden’s chair. “Thank you for telling me.” She says quietly. “Leave this with me.”
“Are you gonna tell Percy?” Jaden asks looking up, and that sparkle in her eye is back again.
Nikita lashes out, grabbing the girl roughly by the throat, tightly enough to shock the girl out of her revenge fantasy and back into reality, but not so tight that she’ll do any visible damage. “Do not tell anyone else about this.” She commands, “This stays between you and me. Do not snoop into this any more, do not approach Alex, Percy, anyone. And above all, do not look into this any further. I’ll do it from now on. Do you understand?”
She shakes the girl a little, and with more than a little fear in her eyes, Jaden nods. “Yes.” She squeaks.
Nikita lets go of her throat and pointedly rests her hand on her hip. “This sort of thing is delicate, and if you’re not careful it could all come back down on you.” She says in a much softer, more calming voice. She points at the door. “Now go back to your room. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”
To give the girl credit, she does as she’s told without question, and she leaves the room quick smart.
Shit, she thinks to herself. She securely locks the door to give herself a few moments of privacy to collect her thoughts and to figure out some sort of plan to deal with this without raising any further suspicion. The most obvious answer is to frame Jaden for it all, it wouldn’t be hard from her position, and Birkhoff would help (he’s never liked the girl much) but it would mean killing an innocent girl (albeit a completely irritating one) to protect their lie. And that isn’t why she’s doing this. She’s doing this to protect those who can’t protect themselves, to get revenge for those people that Division has wronged and manipulated and hurt.
So no, she’ll need to figure out some other way to keep Jaden’s discovery from coming to light. Somehow, she’ll have to do it.
Later that afternoon, the second, and more pressing complication blindsides her. One of Birkhoff’s techies finds Alex’s shell program during a routine server clean up and takes it directly to Percy. Birkhoff and Nikita stand over Percy’s shoulder and watch stone-faced as he sends IM after IM through to Michael, who responds almost instantaneously, ignorant of the trap into which he’s falling.
Things just got messy.
… … …
Fandom: Nikita
Characters: Michael, Nikita, Alex, Amanda, Percy, Birkhoff, Owen.
Rating: PG-13 for this part. May increase in future chapters.
Wordcount: 8800
Summary: "He leaves Division in the dead of night. He says no goodbyes, he lets no one know that anything might be amiss." -- Michael discovers the truth about his family's death first and goes rogue well before Nikita meets Daniel.
Author's note: The next part is ABSOLUTELY the last part. I split the last bit into two because it was getting super long and wouldn't fit into one single post on LJ. Expect part 5 in a day or so.
Disturbing silence darkens your sight, we’ll cast some light you’ll be alright
… … …
Nikita wakes up slowly, feeling warm and comfortable, though more than a little disoriented, and... hungry? She pushes herself up from the pillows and surveys the room, and as she does she remembers she is in Tashkent, and that this is Michael’s hotel room, and she remembers her breakdown the previous night. What she doesn’t remember is falling asleep. Or taking off her shoes and pants (though her underwear is still firmly in place). Despite all this, she doesn’t feel violated.
She feels safe.
Through the bathroom door she hears water flowing, a flushing toilet, then a few seconds later the pipes grind as the tap is turned on and off.
She slowly sits up in the bed, pushing against the pillows until she’s upright. Michael emerges from the bathroom seconds later. He notices her immediately.
“You’re awake.” He says, with a tiny smile, “You want breakfast?” and he gestures to the desk, where a room service platter is set out with coffee pots, fresh toast, jam, butter and fruit. Her tummy grumbles again, and she nods, and pushes the blankets away.
“No no!” Michael says, putting a hand up. “You stay there, I’ll get it for you.”
“Breakfast in bed?” She asks, and wipes her eyes with the balls of her hands, trying to freshen herself up. “This really is a 5 star establishment.”
Michael fills a mug with the freshly brewed coffee, and half a teaspoon of sugar. He slips two slices of toast onto a plate along with a dollop of jam and butter and he delivers it to her in bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid sitting on her. “We all deserve a little luxury every now and then.”
She takes a sip of the coffee, and it is good coffee, not bitter or burnt, and it warms her to the core. “Thank you, for last night.” She says, setting the coffee down on the bedside table. “I didn’t mean to...”
He cuts her off before she finishes her apology. “No, no, no, Nikki, no.” He says emphatically, and grasps her hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I never wanted you to go through that, to go through what I’ve gone through.”
And just like that, she remembers why they’re both here in the first place. “Kasim Tariq is here.” She says suddenly, and Michael sighs.
“I know.” He says, and shifts a little to the side. “I was going to start tracking him last night, but then we got sidetracked. The trail is probably cold now.”
“No.” Nikita says firmly, and pushes herself out of bed, handing the plate and untouched toast back to him. “We have to get him.”
Michael moves a little to the side and frowns. “We?”
She shoots a little glare over her shoulder, and retrieves her netbook from the table and holds it up for him to see. “We have Birkhoff to help us.”
“Birkhoff isn’t here.” Michael says, and Nikita ignores it.
“He’s been helping me find you.” Nikita reveals flatly, “And I would’ve never figured out your innocence if not for him either. Plus, I’m much friendlier than you and it comes with some rewards.” She sits back down next to Michael on the bed and opens the netbook. The Shadownet program takes a few minutes to launch, but the soon enough the interface is there and ready for them to use. She launches Kasim Tariq’s intelligence profile and immediately brings up his known Uzbek contacts, but Michael is tense beside her, still holding the toast in his hands. “Welcome to Shadownet 2.0, the portable version.”
“Nikita.” He says cautiously, fingering the keyboard with the edge of his nail. “I’m fine working with you, but Birkoff is still back in Division, and last I saw he was firmly under Percy’s thumb.”
Nikita quirks an eyebrow. “Well, he wasn’t very happy about your foray into dentistry, that’s for sure. But you don’t have to worry about him, I promise.”
“You trust him?”
She hesitates a moment, then decides to go with the truth. “I trust him with my life, Michael. I’m trusting him right now, he knows where I am and is hiding me from Percy.”
Nikita watches the way he tenses, though it’s almost imperceptible, and she knows that his wariness comes from years of necessary paranoia. She knows that if the positions were reversed, she’d have trouble trusting too. But then he says something that warms her better than the coffee ever could: “He’s not the only one anymore. I promise.”
She’s not sure what to say to that, how she should respond, and she knows that Michael understands that-- the blush on her cheeks probably gives it away. She wants to cherish this feeling though, that much she knows, because she knows it’s only a matter of time until this bubble they’re in is popped, and everything will go back to being the same brand of nasty and vicious she’s been coping with her entire life.
Instead, she decides to control where she goes from here, instead of letting her life control her. She is going to make decisions for herself from now on. And her first is this: She will help Michael kill Kasim.
She types a few simple commands into ShadowNet and Kasim’s list of known contacts is cross-referenced against the hotel records she’d hacked the night before, looking for any common pseudonyms and aliases. “Here.” She says, and pushes the computer into Michael’s hands. “This should make our lives easier.”
Sure enough, Shadownet has found the common denominator between the two, and spits out the name of their most likely target. Against all odds he’s even staying at the same hotel. Nikita can barely believe their luck, and if Michael’s eyebrows are any indication, he is also suitably impressed.
“We can work with this.” He says, and nods, and she pushes herself out of bed to help lay out their plan of attack.
It doesn’t take them long to decide what to do. It’s easier with two people, Nikita will play the honey trap angle, distracting the client for a while, and hopefully lifting his phone to copy the sim, while Michael sticks to good old fashioned espionage, sifting through the man’s hotel room to see if there is any worthwhile intel in there. They figure between the two they’ll be able to find the meeting place and time, hopefully with enough time to spare to scout out the final destination, or worst case scenario and they don’t find the info they need, they can plant a tracker in amongst the man’s things, and follow him at a discrete distance.
Their initial plan works as well as they could hope, with Nikita flirting her way through a casual lunch encounter. She distracts the man from his oysters and his vodka with her charming laugh and a low cut dress. Michael is able to get in and out of the man’s rather messy bedroom with more than enough detail about the meet for them to plan a mission around it, though they will be running rather short on time; the meet is scheduled for 4pm, and by the time Nikita gets away from the drunk Russian man it’s 1pm already.
They pile all the gear they’ll need into a hire car, and speed off as quickly as they can manage without attracting unwanted attention. On the drive there, while Nikita surveys the topographical maps for their best vantage spot, and Nikita marvels to herself just how seamlessly they have returned to working in unison, anticipating the other’s actions, speaking in shorthand-- it’s the quickest mission she’s planned in years, but she knows it’s probably one of the most flawless in its simplicity.
“I have a mole in Division.” Michael says bluntly, and it is surprising enough to distract Nikita from the map she has spread across the dash and her reflective thoughts of the tenacity of their working relationship.
She blinks at him, owlishly. “Huh?”
He looks a little sheepish and apologetic, but doesn’t hold back his explanation. “That’s how I’ve been keeping ahead of you these past few months. I have someone on the inside who feeds me info, and I use it to sabotage Division ops. Sometimes she helps too.”
“You turned a Division operative?” She asks, putting the map to the side to stare at him some more. How had she not noticed? Now he’s told her, of course it makes sense, his sudden reappearance. She puts herself in his shoes: if she had been on the run, it would be nigh impossible to anticipate Division’s next move unless you had insider info. She just can’t think who it could possibly be-- he’d never been that close to anyone within Division that she’d seen-- well, other than her, of course.
“No, I didn’t turn anyone.” Michael says, “I got one recruited.”
That is even more astounding to her, and she can’t believe he’d gone to such an enormous risk. “Who?” She asks.
“Alex.” Michael says. “I found her on the streets, I recognised her from an op from years ago, we killed her family. She was meant to have been killed as well, but the operative must’ve spared her.”
And then it hits her like a freight train, all the niggling little details, “Alex.” She mutters, testing the name out in her head, and then anger bubbles up in her, barely controllable. “I can’t believe you would let her do that! Do you know how close we’ve come to cancelling her? Do you know how much I risked to get her out that night?” She hits Michael hard in the arm, and he grimaces but he doesn’t retaliate.
“It wasn’t my original plan. When I found her, she was so spun out on drugs I was just focused on getting her clean, and by the time that happened she’d figured out a bit about my work, what I was trying to do. ” Michael says defensively. “She is so smart, Nikita. She knows the implications, but she’s doing it anyway.”
Nikita is not convinced, but it is an argument for another time, as they arrive at their destination and unpack their gear in silence. They still have quite a fair trek through the woods til they’ll be at the right vantage position. “I don’t think you understand how much Division has changed since you left.” She mutters as she hefts the sniper case out of the trunk of the car and hands it to Michael.
“It’s not just me and her anymore, Nikki.” He says, slipping his sig into the back of his pants, careful to make sure the safety is on. “We have Owen, one of the guardians on our side. And we have one of Percy’s black boxes.”
It’s not exactly new information to her, but she tries her best to consider how those two things improve the situation. From what she has learned of him through Division’s records, Owen is a formidable enough ally, but like Michael he hasn’t been within the fold of central Division in years, she doubts he has much to contribute in that way. And while having a black box is definitely leverage, there are still 5 others out there they’d need before they could do anything and without someone of Birkhoff’s calibre helping them they wouldn’t be able to get past the encryption to get any usable data.
“Well I’ll be sure to look out for her when I go back.” Nikita says firmly, and forcefully shuts the trunk of the car. Perhaps you could say she slams it. Either way it gets Michael’s attention.
He stops in his trek up the incline. “You can’t stay there in Division, it’s too poisonous.” He says to her bluntly.
Nikita takes a deep breath and holds off on rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness. “I’m better help to you in Division than I am out, Michael.” She begins ticking things off on her fingers one by one: “I have higher level access than Alex, I’m better trained, better equipped, I have better connections and allies and I’m much better at the politics. Most importantly we can cement my loyalty to Percy right now.”
Michael frowns again, not following, and she grasps his hand firmly and tugs him up the hill. If they don’t keep moving they’ll never get Kasim. They begin walking in step together. “You can betray me here. Frame me for Kasim’s death. Leave me for dead, double cross me. I’ll go back to Percy hating you more than ever, with any doubts I had before eradicated for good. He’ll believe my trust and faith in him and his cause has grown.” She explains passionately, acutely aware of Michael’s reluctance. She pulls out the big guns.
“Alex hasn’t covered all her tracks, Michael. I think Amanda has suspected a mole for a while now, and in retrospect it makes a whole lot of things make sense. But if I’m in there too I can protect her. If I’m not, it’ll only be a matter of time before she slips up and is caught, and you can’t protect her from outside. If I’m there, I can.”
“But then you’ll both be in there, and I won’t be able to protect either of you.”
“I’ve dealt pretty well these past five years without your protection.” She says, and pointedly presses her free hand to the scar on her shoulder. He grimaces and reaches out to grasp her other hand. She squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be fine.”
… … …
Michael is still uncertain about Nikita's plan, but she is so adamant in wanting to help and even he can see that there is merit in it. Giving Alex a little bit more protection within Division certainly is appealing. He swings wildly between hating the idea and grudging acceptance of it, but he does his best to put it to the side while they go after Kasim at the mansion, figuring that they can argue more about it later, after their first mission is behind them.
But of course it doesn't work like that, and Kasim gets away, and Nikita is captured and dragged away by the man who ruined his life so many years ago.
It takes him hours to track her down, and it's only when he goes against his better judgement and uses Shadownet 2.0 to contact the only other person he thinks would be able to help.
Luckily it connects, and Birkhoff is at his computer. "Didn't expect you on the other end of the line," Is the first thing he says, and Michael can't help but notice the way his old friend has aged in the months since he last grabbed him; the suspicious look on the man’s face doesn’t help much.
"Kasim has Nikki." He says, cutting the small-talk off before it begins. "She told me you've been blocking her tracking signal. I need you to stop so I can find her."
"I don't know if that's a good idea." Birkhoff says, "Percy will see."
"Don't worry about that right now." He says. "We'll figure that out later."
Birkhoff still seems reluctant, but he still types a few commands and in the bottom corner of the netbook screen a little map appears, but no signal appears to be online in the area. "Looks like her tracker signal is out of range, she's probably underground."
“Dammit.” Michael kicks the side of the bed in frustration, and runs a hand through his hair. "Can we enhance it, anything?"
He watches Birkhoff frantically type, and then a little red dot appears on the map. Michael’s heart jumps, but Birkhoff is quick to clarify: "This is the last movements it recorded."
“If we find out where we lost the signal it’ll at least narrow it down.”
“Is she alright, Mikey?” Birkhoff asks quietly, as they both watch the progress of the signal travel through the heart of Tashkent, before cutting out in a nearby industrial area.
“I hope so.” He says, and starts collecting his things, his gun, his spare, a few extra rounds, a communicator-- his knife is still in his boot.
“Is there anything I can do?” The technician asks, and Michael returns his attention back to the computer.
“From what I hear you’ve already done a lot for me.” He says calmly. “I should thank you for that.”
“Go get her back, Mikey. That’s all I want.” Michael tries to think of a reply that conveys the gratitude he feels, but swallows his words. There is nothing he can say right now that could cover it, especially over a tenuous internet connection. So he nods quickly at his old friend, and maybe ally, and shuts the netbook computer.
Michael doesn’t waste another moment. With the GPS coordinates programmed into his phone, and a liberated Suzuki hatchback, he speeds as quickly as he can to the place Birkhoff indicated, and sure enough, parked just outside an old, decrepit warehouse is the car that Kasim and his men escaped in with Nikita unconscious in the back seat. He pulls up behind the car and the engine is barely off when he opens the door and jumps out.
A warehouse like this probably has a basement, which is probably where they’re holding Nikita. He doesn’t have time to plan the extraction too carefully, so instead of doing a full perimeter search like he would prefer, he decides to take a leap from Nikita’s audacious playbook and use the front door.
It’s unlocked, pushes easily open, and no one starts shooting at him. He opens it further and steps inside. It is an open-plan factory floor, and it is completely empty. From the old stains on the concrete and the air of long-dead things, he figures this used to be an abattoir of some description, and there are drains built into the floor in a fairly regular pattern that support that theory. Downstairs would’ve been the freezers, though they’re most-likely out of action at the moment, given there is no power running to the building-- the only light is ambient and comes streaming through the high-set windows. There is only one other door, directly across from him, and he heads straight towards it, moving as stealthily as possible and he presses an ear to the door once he gets there.
He hears someone breathing on the other side.
It’s now or never.
Michael flings the door open, and sure enough he sees one of Kasim’s bodyguards standing directly opposite. He fires a shot between the man’s eyes before he even has a chance to raise his own gun, but Michael doesn’t savour the moment. Anyone else in the building would’ve heard that shot, and he doesn’t have the element of surprise any longer. He has to move fast.
He strips the man of his gun-- an automatic hand-gun and turns it down the stairs, where he can hear the heavy footfalls of two people ascending. He takes cover behind a desk, and when the two men round the corner he fires off a volley of bullets, spraying the wall and the men equally. They slump to the floor, and Michael launches over the desk, past them and down the stairs.
He finds himself standing at the beginning of a long corridor, with a few doors leading off on either side, and at the end, a door with a large, unlit EXIT sign above. That door swings wildly on its hinges, as though someone had only recently kicked it open, and for a second Michael is torn. Kasim probably just left through that door, and Michael has an automatic weapon in his hands. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel, he’ll finally have his revenge.
But he’s here for Nikita.
He ducks into the closest open room, and she is there, tied to a plastic exam table, drenched from head to toe. She looks pale, her lip is split, and her left eye is swollen and bruised, but her chest steadily rises and falls, and she groans and twists her head to look at him. “Michael?”
Michael drops his gun, pulls his knife from his boot and begins hacking away at her restraints, first her feet, then her hands, and gently helps her sit up.
“He’s getting away.” She says with a cough. “We need to get him, Michael.” She insists, and points at the door.
But he shakes his head. “No,” and tries to get her to stop squirming so he can assess how bad the injury to her eye is.
“This is our opportunity.” She insists, and pushes his hand away. “He’s going to the airport. I can go after him and kill him there. The Uzbek police will catch me, Percy will have to extract me. I’ll blame it all on you, I’ll tell him you set me up, you lied to me. I thought you’d made a mistake with Daniel, but you only said that to get me on your side to feed me to the wolves. ”
Michael grimaces, every bone in his body screams this is a bad idea, that there are so many ways this plan could go wrong. All he wants right now is to get her back to the hotel room and clean her up, he wants to tuck her into bed, and shield her from harm, and all she wants to do is to throw herself directly in its path. “Nikki, I don’t need you to do that.” He insists. “You can get out now. It’s safer that way, for everyone.”
“I don’t want to be safe, Michael.” She hisses. “I want this to end. And if you let me work with you we can end this forever.”
She takes his hand in hers and uses it as leverage to stand. She wobbles a bit, and he immediately begins to worry about a concussion or something, but when she lets go of his hand, she seems as steady as ever, standing straight and tall and exuding the confidence he’d always admired so much.
He stands. “Alright.” He says. “Let’s go.”
… … …
Michael reluctantly drops her at the arrivals drop-off point, with his own jacket draped around her shoulders, and instead of torturously extending their goodbyes out, she takes his hand and drops a simple but heartfelt kiss between his knuckles. “I’ll do this for you” she says, “and all this will be over.”
He squeezes her hand and lingers, for a moment, between pulling her closer and letting her go. For a split second she wonders if he is going to kiss her, his eyes definitely dart to her lips and back, but all he says is “Good luck.” and once she’s out on the curb, he drives off without looking back.
Her plan to get Kasim in the airport works perfectly. She buys her ticket for Syria using Division’s credit card. Birkhoff won’t be able to hide that, but they don’t want him to. Declaring her subterfuge to Percy will mask the bigger one hiding beneath. She gets through immigration and security quickly, though the bruises and split lip get her some odd looks. She explains in intentionally broken Russian to one of the guards that she’d “had accident. car no see me,” and it’s enough to see her through.
She gets all the materials she needs from the Duty Free, a vodka bottle, a wide purple cashmere scarf to use as a makeshift hijab, and a ‘Welcome to Uzbekistan’ magnet she’ll give to Birkhoff later. The scarf she puts on in the bathroom, and when she’s alone in the woman’s bathroom, she smashes the bottle and sifts through the glass shards for the best one to use as a shiv.
Nikita pulls the sleeves of Michael’s jacket further down to cover her hands, and slips the best shard inside, careful not to cut her wrists. The rest she tosses away, or washes down the sink as best she can, and then heads towards the gate. If she’s calculated right they’ll be boarding any minute, and hopefully she’ll be able to use the element of surprise to her advantage.
Sure enough, she reaches the gate just as they open the gates. It mustn't be a packed flight, as when she gets to the end of the line, she is only three or four people behind Kasim, who hasn't noticed her yet. She hands her passport and ticket to the flight attendant who checks her in, and Nikita carelessly shoves the documents back into the pockets of Michael's jacket.
Now is her chance to make her move, while they exit the terminal and walk along the tarmac to the plane. She pushes past the other passengers, and slips the large shard of glass from her sleeve, gripping it tightly in her fist. He is just ahead of her, two people away, one.
She reaches out and when they are only a few meters from the adjustable stairs that lead to the jet, she grasps Kasim's shoulder firmly, and shoves the shard of glass hard between his ribs, burying it deep in his side.
Someone grabs her roughly and pulls her off, and Kasim lets out a sick gurgling noise, but she knows the damage is done. People around her are yelling in Uzbek and Russian and someone hits her hard in the side of the head and it all goes black.
The next day or so goes exactly how she anticipates. First there is the rough interrogation by the Uzbek officials. Then there is the solitary confinement in a squalid jail cell, complete with overflowing toilet and lice-ridden mattress. But predictably enough, within twenty four hours, the cell door opens, and perfectly polished Italian loafers step into the room.
"You're in quite a lot of trouble." Percy says, stopping in the middle of the room to look down upon her, where she is curled on the floor as far away from the toilet as possible
She lets out a deep breath and looks up at the man. It is not difficult for her to act convincingly; Tariq hadn’t been gentle with her and the Uzbek police were not exactly restrained in their methods of interrogation, and she knows she looks bad. She can’t see out of her left eye and the taste of blood has been in her mouth for several hours now.
"I'm sorry." She croaks. "I made a huge mistake, Percy. I'm sorry."
The man sighs, and leans down to pick her up from the ground. The cry of pain she lets out is genuine when she tries to put weight on her right knee. She grasps Percy’s forearm for support. Percy says, and he guides her forward a few steps towards the cell door. “This extraction wasn’t easy.”
“I know. He tricked me.” She says, and a tear rolls down her face. “I thought it was an accident. That he hadn’t known about Daniel, but... He knew. He’s crazy, he’s lost it.”
Percy nods. “And now Kasim Tariq is dead, Michael got what he wanted all along.”
She limps a few steps slowly forward, and he doesn’t rush her.
“Let’s get you home, Nikita.” He says.
… … …
When he arrives home to the penthouse, the first thing he finds is an email in his inbox confirming the death of Kasim Tariq. Then there are the redacted news reports about the woman the Uzbek officials captured in connection to the murder, and the destroyed official records detailing Nikita’s arrest and release.
The second thing is a series of messages from Alex, asking where he is, reporting Nikita’s walk of shame, the rumours about his double-crossing her, her injuries, the bounce in Percy’s step.
He shoots a quick message back to Alex, seeing she is still online: Am home. Mission didn’t go as planned.
She replies almost instantly: What happened with Nikita? They told us you did it to her. She looked horrible.
Michael is torn. He is not sure how much to tell her, on one hand he wants to keep Alex as in-the-loop as possible, the more she knows, the better she can protect herself, but on the other hand it is just another thing she’d have to lie about if she were caught and plausible deniability can go a long way, especially with Amanda and her lie-detectors. He decides to put his faith in Nikita. Alex will just have to understand. I did what I had to do to keep her safe. he sends, before quickly claiming jet-lag and logging off, not wanting to field any more questions for now. For now he needs to sleep.
Or at least he needs to try.
… … …
“I don’t want to talk about it, Nerd.” Nikita says, but there is no affection there, she is tired, and she is cranky, and she is in pain, and most of all, she can’t tell Birkhoff this secret, no matter how much she wants to.
Seymour unlocks her door for her and takes her bags inside. “I want the full story, Nikki.” He hisses as she maneuvers her crutches through the door, careful not to knock her busted knee against anything as she closes it behind her.
Nikita glares and brings a hand up to her lips in a Shhh gesture.
Birkhoff rolls his eyes, but takes her bags into her room. Nikita knows that he is on his last nerve with all this and his patience with her will not last much longer.
She sets that aside for now and surveys the apartment. It feels like she’s been gone for weeks, though in reality she was eating breakfast in her underwear here four days ago. It’s like her whole world has been tilted off its axis, and nothing quite feels normal anymore.
That being said, she doesn’t put it past Percy or Amanda or the like to have not visited during her short time away. She’s even going to consider telling Birkhoff so much as the quality of the airline food until she has pulled this place apart for bugs and cameras, and that won’t be happening ‘til the ligament in her knee starts pulling its weight again. She’s booked in for keyhole surgery later in the week anyway, so even if she could pull the place apart today, she’d have to do it again in another week or so.
Birkhoff comes back into the hall. “I’ve put a load of washing on, and I’ll get you some milk from the store in a bit so you won’t have to go out later and you can just rest up, and for god’s sake just tell me what happened.” He snaps, and she is taken aback. Nikita knows that Birkhoff has more sense than this.
Birkhoff pulls a black remote with a solid antenna from his pocket and points an angry finger at it. “Signal jammer made by a signals expert. Nothing is getting in or out of here.” He says fiercely, and Nikita has the good sense to feel a little guilty. She should’ve known he’d take precautions, and that he could protect them both from the sort of paranoia she’s been living with on a daily basis. She wishes she had asked for one earlier. “Now spill, Nikki. You’re not the only one taking heat about this.”
She limps over to stool on the other side of her kitchen bench and settles herself gingerly into it. She props the set of crutches against the bench and gestures for Birkhoff to take the one opposite. She is tired, and she figures this conversation is going to take a little while, and she honestly cannot keep standing much longer, not without some more of those painkillers the doctor gave her.
“I can’t tell you everything.” She says bluntly, “And it’s not because I don’t trust you, I do. I just want you to have plausible deniability if anything goes wrong.”
For a moment, Birkhoff looks like he wants to argue the point, and Nikita can see the internal struggle cross his face before he takes a seat on the stool and resentfully says: “Fine.”
“Firstly. You were right about him. He didn’t kill Daniel.” She says calmly. “I think we can safely assume we know who ordered that.”
“Percy.” Birkhoff supplies. Nikita nods.
“Or Amanda, but he knew either way. Michael and I have a plan. He didn’t double-cross me in Uzbekistan, or set me up. It was my idea to go in there, take Tariq out at the airport.”
Birkhoff flinches, and it is a strange comfort for her to believe that someone in her life values her well-being as much as he does. “What you did was practically suicide,” He says, and she shrugs. “It’s amazing they didn’t kill you on the spot.”
“I knew it was a gamble, but it worked.” She said. “It helped me cement my loyalty with Percy. I’ve told him I coerced you into covering for me, and then that Michael manipulated me into killing Kasim by convincing me he had nothing to do with Daniel’s death. He told me he had a way to kill Kasim but he needed my help, that he’d be covering my six the entire time, and that he’d extract me when the job was done, but when I killed him he left me there to take the fall with the Uzbek officials. I told Percy that he’d changed, that this fight has turned him, he’s gone mad.” Her lip quivers a bit, and her voice wavers as she gets caught up in the emotion of her fake excuse to Percy.
Birkhoff smirks a little, and Nikita blinks away the crocodile tears.
“The story fits with what Percy knows, and Michael is going to release some information from the Black Box in the next week or so. Old Michael wouldn’t put that info out there, it’s too dangerous and too many innocent people could get hurt, but it’ll sell the story we need: That he’s mad, that I’m more loyal than ever and completely on Percy’s side. Percy, meanwhile, thinks he’s got the upper-hand in the fight, when we hold all the cards.”
There is silence for a moment or two. Birkhoff nods, and seems to be taking the time to process all this, and Nikita is happy to let him. Better he thinks it through now, than second-guesses himself later. Then Birkhoff says something that surprises her: “You know, Nikki. I could decrypt that Black Box for you.”
“What?” She blinks, dumbly.
“After the first one was stolen, Percy had me upgrade the remaining hardware to remove a flaw in the system.” He swallows and avoids eye contact for a moment, and Nikita is sure that there is a part to the story he is not sharing. She doesn’t push the matter though. “And I know where the remaining six boxes are.”
There is a few moments of silence, as Nikita processes the enormity of just what Birkhoff is offering her. Them. “Are you sure?” She asks quietly. “This is such a precarious thing, Seymour. The last thing I want is for you to get caught up and get hurt.”
His eyes flick to her knee, in its brace, and the dark bruises that mottle her face. But to his credit, he looks her in the eye and says without hesitation: “I’m on your side, Nikki.” He says fiercely. “Whatever side you’re on, that’s my side.”
Nikita pulls him into a strong hug straight away and ignores her protesting knee. Friendship like this is worth the pain.
… … …
It doesn’t take much to convince Owen to release a file or two from the update drive. Michael barely suggests the plan to him and the Guardian arrives on his doorstep looking (and smelling) like someone who lost a fight with a dumpster. Before Michael has a chance to say hello, how’s things, he’s already whipping the thing out from a pocket (he was just carrying it around with him? Is he crazy?) and anonymously emailing incendiary evidence off to all the major news outlets.
“Should I ask what changed your mind?” Owen asks, and Michael isn’t sure what to make of the maniacal glint in the man’s eye. He certainly doesn’t find it comforting. The smell isn’t endearing either.
“I turned another Division operative.” Michael says. “We have a plan, that was part of sealing the cover story.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “Who, you mean Nikita?”
Michael flinches, and Owen rolls his eyes and pulls his thumb drive out of the USB slot and slips it back into his pocket. “Please, I’m not an idiot. I can connect the dots.”
Michael knows that Owen is baiting him, but he doesn’t really have the patience for mind games right now. If Owen saw through their subterfuge, maybe Percy will too-- Maybe Nikita isn’t as safe and as thorough as they thought. “What dots?” He demands.
Owen, to his credit, seems to sense the change in tone fairly easily and reacts accordingly, raising his hands to calm him. “Relax. I figured once I told you about Daniel and all it’d only be a matter of time until you flipped her.”
Tension still thrums beneath his skin, but the dull ache of dread that filled something low in his stomach fades a little. His heart is still thumping hard against his ribs though, and not for the first time Michael wonders were in hell Owen gets off scaring the shit out of him like this. “That’s it? Nothing else?”
“Not that I’ve seen, no.” Owen shakes his head and stands, hands buried deep in his pockets. “But I promise if I get wind of anything, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Michael nods, and forces himself to relax a little. There are other things he can focus on right now, things that will distract him from the panic attack he just narrowly avoided. Having all these new allies in his fight against Percy and Division should be making his life easier. Instead he feels like he now has a posse of people in his care and he can’t protect all of them. Something’s gonna give one day and he won’t be able to forgive himself if anything happens.
He takes a deep, calming breath and reminds himself that every one of his allies can protect themselves, in some capacity or another. They all volunteered to help him, they all knew the risks. He may feel responsible for them, but they can be responsible for themselves as well, and not one of them would just let him shoulder all this by himself.
“Hey,” Owen says loudly, cutting into his reverie. “Can I use your shower?”
… … …
Her surgery goes well, apparently the damage to her ligament was not as extensive as the doctors thought, and within a few weeks she’s up and walking without a brace or crutches. It’s not steady enough to jog or run on yet, but she studiously keeps up her exercises and every day the limb feels stronger.
The bruises fade as well, and her wounds scar and fade under the guidance of specialist doctors and with the application of many topical creams and several helpful makeup tips from Amanda.
The rehabilitation time is not time idly spent though, and she finds herself thrust straight back into recruitment training, which is just where she’d prefer to be right now anyway. She looks forward to the day that she can actively interfere with Percy’s plans and bring the asshole to his knees, but for now she remains the perfect soldier, shaping the new generation to be just like her.
Not to mention the fact that it gives her a chance to keep a closer eye on her fellow mole. Now that she knows who has been the cause of Division’s worries of late, she knows what to look for, what to hide, and what to reveal, and when to come down hard on Alex to stop her from doing something hideously stupid. The girl is incredibly nosy, and while the other trainers and Amanda see it as a misguided form of ingenuity, Nikita sees it for what it is: sloppy, impulsive, unnecessary decisions, all made in service of Michael, one of the most careful, precise men Nikita has ever worked with. She can’t help but feel that if Michael was here on the inside, he’d probably have some concerns.
So she comes down hard on the girl, dishing out punishments for the slightest behavioural infractions and though she makes an effort to be equally as harsh to the other recruits, she knows her prejudice does not go unnoticed, though thankfully Amanda deems her motives to be a projection, fuelled by a deep-seated mix of rage and depression that was brought on by Michael’s betrayal. Nikita plays into the assumption by destroying one of Amanda’s china tea-sets and storming out of her office in a teary, violent tirade. She takes refuge in Birkhoff’s den.
“Don’t you think that was a bit over the top?” He asks, pushing a mug of steaming black coffee into her hands.
She glares at him, but takes the coffee, and the next day is business as usual.
Some of the older recruits make agent status, Thom, Robbie, and soon enough, despite Nikita’s campaign of punishment, Alex becomes a candidate for promotion. The mark has been picked, the hit planned and arranged. Amanda begins the task of grooming the girl, physically and psychologically, for the task at hand, but it is up to Nikita to give Alex the details.
She carries the mission brief in a simple manilla folder when she is called down to Amanda’s office to begin the briefing. She walks carefully, her knee is still a little unsteady, having only upgraded to a low heel the day before. Alex is twirling disinterestedly in a maroon dress, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, and the girl sends a glare in her direction when she steps in.
Amanda doesn’t miss a thing, but does not comment. “Nikita. What do we think?” She asks instead, and gestures to the ensemble, then the two alternate outfits that hang on a rack nearby.
Nikita turns a critical eye on Alex, then steps over to examine the other outfits. There is a very similar blue one on the rack that has pockets. “She looks fine in that, she’ll blend in well. But this one has pockets-- easier to conceal the weapon. And you won’t want this one strapped to your leg or hidden in your cleavage.”
“Weapon?” Alex asks, perking up.
“We haven’t discussed the mission yet, Nikita.” Amanda says lightly, and Nikita nods, since it is her job to officially turn these children into murderers, of course the honour is left to her.
“I imagine Alex is smart enough to have made the leap though,” Nikita replies, but keeps her gaze on Alex rather than Amanda. “She’s been here long enough to know how these things work.”
“I have to kill someone to become an agent.” Alex says, and there is something in her tone that rings of an oft-repeated mantra, something the girl says at night in order to come to terms with a difficult truth.
"Yes," Nikita says with a nod, and hands the manilla folder over to the recruit for her to peruse at her leisure. "The target's name is Zoman, head of one of the crime syndicates that sells weapons to terrorists."
She and Amanda give the girl a few moments to peruse the mission documents in silence, both women understanding how important it is for her to grasp the essential details, and to process what they're ordering her to do. But Nikita also sees the way that the recruit’s hands tremble ever so slightly, and the way that the blood drains from her face. It is not good.
But as much as she would like to, Nikita has her own role to play, and this is not the time to be nurturing. "This man is not a good man." She adds lightly, once Alex has finished reading.
"And of course, you'll have support on the ground."
Nikita nods, "I'll be there to monitor everything on the day, and we have Thom and a few other junior agents placed within the catering staff for support. All the details have been sorted, it's just up to you to carry it out for us."
"See, we don't just send you into these sorts of things alone, Alex." Amanda says warmly, and to see the way that she mothers this girl repulses Nikita a little. To her credit, Alex doesn’t seem much comforted either.
"Speaking of, I'll need you down in the training area later and we'll go through the finer details of what you'll need to do." Nikita says briskly, covering up her reaction with the same business-like detachment she has relied upon for so long. "Amanda, I trust you'll go through the finer details with her in the meantime?"
Amanda acquiesces with a smile, and Nikita leaves the room knowing two things. One: That Alex will not be able to kill that man and two: that she should not have to.
The problem is, of course, that if the girl doesn't do it, she'll either blow her cover or be cancelled before the day is out. Not for the first time, Nikita marvels that Michael let this girl volunteer for such an awful mission, one that would no doubt change her completely. You can't go back, once you've killed someone, and not everyone can cope with it. Division is remarkably pragmatic about that, cancellations are performed when the agent is no longer useful to the organisation and those agents who crack under the weight of their sins are just simply not useful.
She ponders the problem all the way back from Amanda’s office, cutting through the training area to return to her own office space on the opposite side of the complex, but before she gets there, two things get in her way.
“Hey Nikita, can I speak with you?” A recruit says to her, as she crosses the training room floor. It’s Jaden, the smart-ass recruit that Alex made an enemy of months ago, and Nikita is still the recruits’ first point of call with any issues they might be having.
“What is it, Jaden?’ She asks, but her tone makes it clear that she doesn’t appreciate the interruption. Jaden either doesn’t pick up on the nuance or doesn’t care.
“Somewhere private?” The girl insists, and Nikita is sure to keep her frustration bottled away inside. She nods politely, and with a commanding twitch of her fingers she gestures for the young girl to follow her back to her office.
The room allocated to her is not one that she spends a lot of time in, she’s generally more mobile than either Birkhoff or Amanda and so hasn’t seen fit to personalise the space much. She does have a closet in the corner with a spare change of clothes for pretty much every occasion (it is necessary, in her line of work) but she has no comfortable couches or love-seats, and her desk is utilitarian and clear of clutter. She takes a seat and gestures for Jaden to sit opposite.
“What’s the problem?” She asks, and she watches as Jaden’s eyes sparkle a little-- like she has achieved some sort of personal victory.
“I’ve found a mole in Division.” She says quickly, and Nikita’s heart begins to thump so hard in her chest she feels sure that everyone in the building can hear it.
“What?” She says, letting some irritation colour her tone so it comes off as concern mixed with something akin to anger.
Jaden leans to the side a little so she can pull something from the pocket of her blue sweatpants, then she places it on the desk between them. It makes a little clink against the clear pyrex surface. Nikita picks it up. It’s the casing from one of their standard issue reading lights, but it has been removed and there is a bit of sticky tape affixed to one side. She reaches over and switches on her own desk lamp to hold the thing up to the light. Sure enough, she sees a fingerprint trapped there. An ingenious little MacGuyvered fingerprint scanner.
“I found it in Alex’s room.” Jaden reveals, and Nikita glances up at the recruit. No wonder that little glint of victory had been there. Those two girls had never gotten along, their personality clashes had been one of her more persistent behaviour management issues over the past year. She should’ve seen this coming. Alex hadn’t hidden her tracks perfectly, and Nikita had told Michael that it was only a matter of time until someone figured it out. Granted, she figured it would be Amanda, but of course Jaden’s paranoia and persistence would come through in the end.
“How long have you had this?” Nikita demands.
“About a week or two.” Jaden says.
“Have you told anyone else about this?” She asks.
And to her great relief, Jaden shakes her head. “I figured you were the only one safe to tell.” She says. “You’re the only one she doesn’t have wrapped around her little fingers.”
Nikita nods slowly, then slips the plastic casing into one of the pockets in her jacket. She stands and circles around the desk, coming to a stop right next to Jaden’s chair. “Thank you for telling me.” She says quietly. “Leave this with me.”
“Are you gonna tell Percy?” Jaden asks looking up, and that sparkle in her eye is back again.
Nikita lashes out, grabbing the girl roughly by the throat, tightly enough to shock the girl out of her revenge fantasy and back into reality, but not so tight that she’ll do any visible damage. “Do not tell anyone else about this.” She commands, “This stays between you and me. Do not snoop into this any more, do not approach Alex, Percy, anyone. And above all, do not look into this any further. I’ll do it from now on. Do you understand?”
She shakes the girl a little, and with more than a little fear in her eyes, Jaden nods. “Yes.” She squeaks.
Nikita lets go of her throat and pointedly rests her hand on her hip. “This sort of thing is delicate, and if you’re not careful it could all come back down on you.” She says in a much softer, more calming voice. She points at the door. “Now go back to your room. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”
To give the girl credit, she does as she’s told without question, and she leaves the room quick smart.
Shit, she thinks to herself. She securely locks the door to give herself a few moments of privacy to collect her thoughts and to figure out some sort of plan to deal with this without raising any further suspicion. The most obvious answer is to frame Jaden for it all, it wouldn’t be hard from her position, and Birkhoff would help (he’s never liked the girl much) but it would mean killing an innocent girl (albeit a completely irritating one) to protect their lie. And that isn’t why she’s doing this. She’s doing this to protect those who can’t protect themselves, to get revenge for those people that Division has wronged and manipulated and hurt.
So no, she’ll need to figure out some other way to keep Jaden’s discovery from coming to light. Somehow, she’ll have to do it.
Later that afternoon, the second, and more pressing complication blindsides her. One of Birkhoff’s techies finds Alex’s shell program during a routine server clean up and takes it directly to Percy. Birkhoff and Nikita stand over Percy’s shoulder and watch stone-faced as he sends IM after IM through to Michael, who responds almost instantaneously, ignorant of the trap into which he’s falling.
Things just got messy.
… … …