Hey guys. Nikita is probably my favorite show of all time, I just know I'll never be able to do it justice, but I don't know how else to survive the week between episodes (this season it has become especially difficult. SO INTENSE) so hopefully this helps me some. I don't have the time or patience to commit to a full length story so I'll be doing oneshots, mostly with Nikita and Michael, but with all the other awesome characters too. Oneshots will be completely random, including the timeline. Also this will cover many genres, from cheesy to epic, cause I love everything when it comes to Nikita. All relationships will be canon, as Michael and Alex should never be together(among others)! Sorry to uncanon shippers but no! Reviews are very much appreciated, thanks. Enjoy!
This first one is kind of a reflective Nikita piece after the events of the last couple of episodes. Spoilers if you aren't up to date on the show. I.e. Michael needs to learn to shoot left handed if you know what I mean...if you don't then you have some catching up to do and you won't want to read this right now.
She was the one who always saw it coming, who could stay one step ahead of everyone else at all times. It was how she had kept herself alive for years, all alone in an empty loft, save for a computer and a gun…or a dozen. It was how most of the people she loved were still alive and standing next to her. She saw it coming…except for this, which made it that much more painful, like a knife in the gut that kept twisting and burying itself deeper beneath her skin. Maybe their confidence had gotten the better of them. Maybe they had walked away clean one too many times. Eventually someone always has to pay the price.
For the briefest of moments they had been happy, she had felt it, believed in it. She even had the ring to prove it, to bring back the memories of the smiles and the quiet mornings when they were able to forget everything and for just a moment feel like normal people with normal lives. Then, inevitably, her life had spun out of control and turned upside down as it always did when things were going well, pinning the smiles and normalcy and Michael's hand beneath it. It was the nature of the life, and it was just what Amanda wanted.
He had told her to leave him, that he wanted her to live, but she couldn't do it, she was dead without him, so she had made a choice in that moment, and he could hate her forever, but it was better than picking pieces of him up off the highway. She had hurt him, saved his life but still hurt him, and now he was hurting her back, pulling away, tearing them apart. After everything they had gotten through together the other side of her bed was empty again, and everything and everyone seemed colder and more distant, as though there was once again a barrier up between her and the rest of the world. Even when he looked at her or smiled it was different, sad, and she knew that it couldn't go back to what it was, that he would probably never look at her the way he used to, as though she was his whole world, the same way that she felt about him and the reason she had found the strength to raise the knife and bring it back down again.
A month ago they had staged a fight for Amanda's benefit, but now the fights were real and Amanda really was winning, without even knowing it, and all she felt was regret, remembering her noble little speech as she had stood over a woman she had once trusted, with a gun in her hand, and she had felt strong when she hadn't pulled the trigger even when she had every reason too; for Daniel, for Birkhoff and Alex and Michael, for herself and for every other life that division and Amanda had ruined. What did it mean now, wishing every moment that she had, just so her fiancé could have his other hand back and she could smile again when he made a joke, or kissed her, or wrapped his arms around her at the end of a long day, or folded his fingers through hers, real or fake?
For years she had felt strong, had drawn that strength from knowing that she was fighting back, until it really mattered. Now, she missed the numbness that drugs had once offered her against her imposing life. She missed being numb, but she missed Michael more, she just didn't know which one would be easier to get back.
Her heart was slowly breaking, and she didn't know how long she could hold it together before she fell apart completely. She didn't even know if it would matter, or if he would notice.
