Flashback of Nikita/Michael in recruit days.
I will do their initial meeting, run-ins with each other, and the "talk" Percy mentioned that Michael and Nikita had to get her to step into line and not have Percy cancel her.
I will do it from Nikita & Michaels point of view.
Chapter 1 -Nikita
It was a couple days after Nikita had arrived at Division. Shaky, she grabbed her pre-measured lunch from the cafeteria line and went to sit down. Her hands couldn't stop shaking. We was, what was it now? A week? A week and a half? clean". She managed to get some right before she came to Division, after hearing her death date was coming up close. She got desperate and had to do some nasty things to get it. But here she was. Not dead. Surrounded by all these strangers in stupid matching outfits.
"Nikita", a deep voice said, causing Nikita to jump a little bit. She was sick of all these people yelling at her.
"What. Do. You. Want?" she snarled. She whipped around on the bench. She gasped. It was that man, the one that brought her in. She hadn't seen him since that day, so seeing a face from that terrifying day was not a welcome surprise.
He slowly walked up to her, hands in his pockets, his black jacket pushed to the sides so she could see that he was armed. "Remember me? Michael?" he said to her, his eyes emotionless as steel. "Mind if I have a word?"
Nikita slowly got up. She snuck a plastic knife from her plate into her sleeve and followed him out of the cafeteria into an adjacent hallway. They stood about a foot away from each other. She cautiously looked up.
Surprisingly, she found kindness in his gaze. She was expecting a harsh word or punishment. She had purposefully been missing sparring and practices.
"Amada told me she found traces of drugs in your blood during your medical exam. She told me to find you and send you to detox, but I'm not going to do that," he said, shifting from one foot to the other. "I'm going to ask you this once, and once only- do you want to be clean?" His gaze pierced into hers. She could tell there was no bull shitting with this Michael, this guy.
She muttered, "Maybe. I mean. Yes. I don't know. I'm shaky." She rubbed her arms and shook her head. "I don't know what I want right now."
Michael sighed. He glanced up, with an exasperated look on his face. "You don't get it, do you? Do you want to be clean or not? Do you want to live or no?"
Nikita was trying to understand. Was he telling her… that she was in danger? That since they found drugs they were going to kill her? Frightened, she looked up at him. She felt powerless, the worst feeling she could think of. She would say anything, everything, just to stay alive. She had to get out of this place.
Quickly, she said, "Yes. I want to get clean. I don't ever want to do drugs again. Please don't kill me."
Michael stepped away. He half smirked, just for a second. "Good. See you at sparring tomorrow."
He walked away quickly down the hallway. Nikita let out a breath. What was that? What did that all mean?
She muttered, "Was that a test or something?"