Hitman is property of its respective owners
Nika woke slowly, blinking against the early morning sunshine filtering in through the drape-covered window beside the bed. She drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a contented sigh as she rolled onto her back, feeling more rested in that moment than she had ever felt before and wanting nothing more than to lay in the bed just a little bit longer, to relish in the quiet surrounding her.
In all of her time with Belicoff, she had very rarely ever been afforded a calm, peaceful morning. Belicoff had always been overly fond of the night life and had constantly dragged her from one shitty disco to another, often times until the pre-dawn hours, and so she had always tried to take advantage of the mornings he was passed-out drunk to sleep in, though she was never really able to, not with the constant fucking influx of people, security guards, body doubles, crooked politicians, wandering noisily through every damn apartment they had ever stayed in.
And so she savored the quiet, lying still for a moment, before turning onto her right side and propping herself up on her elbow. She smiled when she saw 47 bundled under the blankets a short distance from her, his bald head and barcode tattoo barely visible under the thick comforter. Her smile turned into a full grin when she heard him snoring softly. The fact that he was actually sleeping under the covers, combined with the fact that she was awake before him tickled her in an indescribable way; she counted it as a small victory, that he was finally comfortable enough with her that he was able to sleep beside her, under the blankets, and, from a quick peek under the sheets, only partially clothed.
She suppressed a pleased giggle and scooted her way off of the bed as soundlessly as possible. He must have been up much later than her last night if he was tired enough to be still asleep, as she knew him to be an unfailingly early riser.
She decided to let him rest, and quietly made her way to the washroom. She found her black dress and underclothes to be dry and dressed quickly, trying her best to smooth her hair into some semblance of normal, before stepping back into the room, her feet still bare. She was instantly drawn to the wonderful scent of brewing coffee drifting into the room from downstairs.
After a quick glance to the bed to confirm that 47 was still asleep, Nika slipped quietly through the door and followed her nose to Olga's kitchen. She found the moderately sized room quietly empty and awash in a pleasant 7 am morning light. A basket of muffins sat beside a bowl full of assorted fruits on top of a round breakfast table situated in the middle of the kitchen. A coffee pot percolating happily on one of the counters quickly grabbed her attention and she made her way across the room, finding a cluster of mugs beside the pot, along with a handwritten note stating "Кример и молока может быть найден в холодильнике" Creamer and milk can be found in the refrigerator. She picked a mug that held the picture of a kitten tangled in yarn with a thought-cloud over its head, remarking "I hate Mondays!" simply for the fact that looking at it made her smile.
She grasped the coffee pot and poured the still-steaming brew into her cup and leaned against the counter for a moment, holding the mug close to her nose, breathing in the delicious aroma of a perfect dark roast. She took a few tentative sips and glanced about the room, noticing a door in the corner of the kitchen that led outside, propped open to allow the refreshingly cool air, washed clean by last night's rain storm, to breeze in. She padded to the doorway, her mug grasped warmly in her hands, and peeked out.
Olga sat at a little wrought-iron table in a small, cobblestone courtyard, sipping from a mug and looking over a newspaper. She glanced up and smiled at Nika, putting her paper down on the table and motioning Nika over.
"Good morning, dear!" she exclaimed.
Nika walked over the smooth stones and sat across from Olga at the small table. "Good morning," she replied. "Thanks for the coffee." She took a generous sip of the slightly cooled liquid.
Olga smiled brightly. "It's what I'm here for." She glanced down to Nika's bare feet and frowned. "You really should be wearing shoes, dear."
Nika smiled at Olga's well-meaning mothering. "They're not quite dry yet."
The housekeeper nodded slightly, taking a drink from her mug. She slowly set it back on the table and brought her eyes to Nika's, apprehension suddenly evident on her face. "Can I ask why you were out in the rain last night? I normally don't pry –my patron's business is their own, but I am concerned, with the men that were here, that you and Timothy might be in some kind of trouble."
A small wave of guilt washed over Nika and she sat back in her chair, focusing her gaze on the mug in her hands. She and her hitman had brought Olga into their mess simply by being under the same roof and she wondered bitterly if there would ever be a time where they wouldn't put others in danger just by being around them.
She puffed out a pent up breath and brought her eyes up to Olga's. "I'm sorry we dragged you into this. We should be moving on sometime this afternoon." She cast her eyes down again.
Olga reached her arm out and laid a warm hand on Nika's where it rested on the table. Nika cast her a questioning glance. The older woman's brows were knit together, a small worry line wrinkling between them. "I'm not worried about me, dear. I haven't made it this long by cowering at the first sign of a threat. I'm concerned for you. Those men last night meant business, and not the kind of business you want to be tangled in."
Nika suddenly felt tears begin to well in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time someone had really cared about her well-being, well anyone but 47, and his way of caring could be somewhat methodical, robotic, even if his heart was quite adorably in the right place. Nika never had a mother-figure to look up to as a girl; it had been just her and her father up until about the age of thirteen, and after he had passed away, she didn't have anyone to look up to, didn't have anyone around that gave a shit whether she lived or died. And now, here was this woman who had known her for less than twenty-four fucking hours and still legitimately cared for her.
"All I've ever wanted was a normal fucking life," she whispered hoarsely, embarrassed to feel tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.
Olga squeezed her hand gently. "There, there, dear," she said softly. "No one said you and Timothy had to leave today. Why don't just stay here? Luga is a wonderful place to settle down in, to start over in. You would blend in just fine, you would be safe here."
Nika smiled weakly at Olga's slight misunderstanding of her tearful wish. "That's the thing though, Olga. My normal life is just within reach –land of my own, a safe place to call home," she sat forward, grasping both of Olga's hands in her own, "It's just the 'getting there' that is proving to be difficult."
Olga smiled sweetly in understanding and gently patted her hands. "I'm sure with a nice strong man like Timothy at your side, you'll get there just fine." She sat back in her chair, grasping her coffee mug once again, just as Nika dried her eyes and did the same. "Do you two have protection?"
Nika nearly choked on the coffee was swallowing. "I, uh… Protection… We haven't really…" she fumbled every type of sentence she tried forming.
Olga chuckled lightly, her eyes shining with mirth over the edge of her mug as she took a sip. "Yes, protection. Guns, weapons?"
Nika laughed outright at her own misinterpretation. "Fort- uh, Timothy has two guns that I know of. He was actually going to teach me how to use them today, once he wakes up I guess."
Olga nodded, taking another sip from her cup. "I have a small pistol that my husband left after he passed. It would be the perfect size for you; you're free to have it."
Nika sat in stunned silence for a moment at Olga's unrelenting kindness. "You really don't have to do that," she said softly.
Olga only smiled. "It's what I'm here for dear."
Nika was about to respond with her thanks, when the rapid thud of someone coming down the stairs at full-tilt sounded from within the house. She turned just in time to see 47 charging through the back door, wearing only his black drawstring pants, his panic stricken face quickly turning into a frightening mixture of barely concealed rage and euphoric relief when his eyes locked on hers.
She stood as he strode purposefully across the small courtyard to her, her heart suddenly beginning to thud heavily in her chest. "Forty-seven, what's wro-" Her words were abruptly cut off by his lips crushing against hers as he wrapped his arms tightly about her.
He suddenly held her back at arm's length. She tried miserably to catch her breath. "Please don't ever leave again without telling me where you're going," he said roughly. "I didn't know," he paused to take a deep breath, swallowing visibly, "I didn't know where you went."
Her heart dropped through her stomach. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I only wanted to let you sleep in. I didn't mean to…"
He huffed out a shaky breath and pulled her in to his chest tightly, locking her arms down to her sides as he embraced her. She could feel his heart thumping wildly under her cheek, feel the slight slick of light perspiration on his skin. "Please don't ever leave, Nika. Please don't," he choked out desperately.
And in that moment, she knew, with more certainty than she'd ever felt, that she needed him just as much as he needed her- that they needed each other, that they would always need each other.