Forgetting Josephine

Michael helps Nikita forget Josephine.

Set after Nikita's seduction mission under the alias of 'Josephine', back when she was still in Division.

Nikita:"Did you get what you wanted?"

Michael:"You will never have to be Josephine again."

If she had known that her promotion to agent status and her conditional freedom came paired with a never ending string of honey trap missions, Nikita would have opted to stay trapped in Division.

No number of scalding hot showers could remove the feel of another man's unwanted touch on her skin. Her sins couldn't be washed away like dirt: they clung to her, invisible and heavy, a burden she carried with her day in and day out. She could blame Division, that was easy to do. But she felt disgusted with herself, despite having no power over the terms of her prostitution.

The Division-issued apartment she was living in felt too large. The ceilings were too high, the rooms to empty, the floor too cold.

She sat on her couch, clutching her knees to her chest, trying to keep her mind blank. But it didn't work, and the tears threatened to return again.

On the side table next to her, a black object caught her eye. Michael's jacket. She still had it.

Looking around furtively, as if even here, in her own home, she had to hide form the omniscient Division eye, her arm shot out as she grabbed the coat and wrapped it around her, inhaling deeply.

Almost instantly, the tension, the insomnia, the shame- it all melted away as she breathed in the familiar, musky smell of his cologne. Michael was a man of routine, and she could identify his favorite cologne, mixed with his freshly pressed suits and impeccable appearance. In a world of uncertainty, he provided a feeling of comfort and inherent coziness that made her feel safe- or, as safe as a paranoid assassin could ever feel.

In a few short minutes, she drifted off to sleep, Michael's coat wrapped around her, and for the first time in a few days, she fell into a deep sleep.

…

Michael almost never opposed Division. But he wasn't going to let this happen to her, not again. Not this soon.

He stood in Amanda's minimalistic office, his eyes boring into hers.

"No," he growled, his voice low, lethal.

Amanda, casually perched on the arm of her white couch, looked up from her clipboard. "Excuse me?"

"You are not sending her on another seduction mission. She just got back from a long term assignment! You can't force her out into the field again."

Amanda's cold eyes leveled with his, her head tilting imperceptibly. "Why, Michael, you're expressing a lot of concern where none is needed. Nikita is an agent now. In order to be of use to Division, she needs to be ready at a moment's notice. There's no reason for you to object to her going on another mission, because she hasn't had much time to rest in the past. Unless... you object to the kind of mission I'm sending her on?"

Michael knew he had to proceed cautiously. Every conversation he had with Amanda regarding Nikita had to be carefully calculated so his words couldn't be misconstrued. Amanda's specialty was trapping people in their own lies, and hanging them with their own words.

"You know I don't approve of Division brokering the recruits as sex workers."

"Not even when they save lives, Michael? You know that each mission we do is for the common good. The few have to sacrifice for the good of the many. Why should Nikita be an exception?"

"I'm her handler, Amanda. My job is to make sure she doesn't get burnt out. And right now, she needs a break."

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Does she? Well, Division needs her. We've got a high profile op, and all of our previous agents have been unsuccessful in... attracting the attention of the target. We think Nikita is more his style."

Michael felt his blood run cold and had to fight to keep his face impassive.

"But you know what? You are her handler. That's why you'll be running this Op and briefing her about the specifics," Amanda said with a vicious smile, holding out a file to Michael.

In that instant, it took every shred of Michael's self control not to kill Amanda, right there. He didn't touch the file.

"What's wrong, Michael?" Amanda prodded, the corners of her lips curving up into a smirk. "She's just an agent. Isn't she?"

He had no choice. He ripped the file out of Amanda's hands, storming out of Amanda's office. Could he appeal to Percy about this? No, that would only arouse suspicion. Was there any way he could get someone else for this mission? With a sinking heart, he opened the file. The mission was going live tomorrow morning. That barely gave her enough time to prepare, let alone give him time to find a replacement.

With a feeling of dread washing over him, he headed over to Nikita's apartment.

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