Set during season 1. Inspired by my Agent Carter rewatch (I know, just bear with me).
"We gotta stop meeting like this," Nikita feigned bravado as she stared down the barrel of a gun. Her heart was racing and her breath came out in heavy huffs. It had been a night of close calls, and it wasn't getting any better. Michael eyed her over the pistol, trying to suppress the amusement her quip brought. A furious scowl was forced onto his features. He wasn't going to give in to her that time. Michael had Nikita dead to rights.
The mission was fairly standard before then. Alex debriefed Nikita over the details shortly after she had been. Division was going after some foreign dignitary, or something or ever, so it was up to the two women to save the day- just a typical Friday night. Nikita did her regular recon and mission prep, not expecting much more than usual. Her weapons packed and plans (and backup plans) made, she was ready to kick ass and take names. She arrived at the hotel with ease, and mere seconds ahead of the Division strike team. All she had to do was grab the dignitary, explain the situation, and bring her to safety before the team could roll out. It seemed like a simple operation.
Except, that was far from the truth. The dignitary was too smart for her own good, which is what you want in a leader, but not so much in a target. As Nikita was sneaking into the hotel suite, she overheard the bodyguards talking. Apparently the dignitary discovered their plot to have her killed, and she disappeared. Rolling her eyes and sighing in frustration, Nikita immediately went into search mode. She was at a disadvantage compared to Division. The black ops unit had their very own twenty-four/seven tech support. Whereas they could scour camera footage for their target, she had to play hide and seek. She could only hope that the dignitary hadn't left the hotel.
Voices from annoyed hotel guests the floor below told Nikita that Division was well aware of the situation. It was possible that they weren't having any luck with the security feed, and they were searching old school. The dignitary must have avoided being spotted. If she was clever enough to discover her assassination attempt, then maybe she was clever enough to dodge cameras. Despite being irritated with the hunt, Nikita admired the woman. When she found her, she wouldn't snap at her as harshly for running.
Nikita was better at discreetly searching the hotel than Division. Granted, they were more than likely masquerading as federal agents for better access. But for that plan to work, they had to be loud and brash. She was able to track their movements effortlessly. Her worry about being discovered by Division was pushed aside. She just had to focus on finding that damn dignitary. She searched through the typical hiding places first: laundry room, service elevators, supply closets. They were all dead ends. For a split second, Nikita thought the dignitary could have been a spy. It would have explained the hit placed on her head, and her Houdini act. If that were true, however, finding her was going to be a thousand times more difficult.
Debating about checking out the hotel gym, Nikita did a fast check down a hallway. She watched a maid leave her cart outside of a room, only grabbing what she needed to clean it. To Nikita's knowledge, the strike team was busy going door to door in other halls. She should be safe. Her feet were fast and light, carrying her quickly across the empty floor. She made it to the end of the hallway no problem. When she scanned the area again before heading towards another floor, the door to the stairwell creaked open. Nikita reached for the gun in the waistband of her jeans. Awaiting the fight, her body tensed.
The dignitary poked her head out of the doorway. She looked left to right, then escaped the safety of her temporary hiding spot. Nikita relaxed her grip on her weapon. One look at the woman and she knew she wasn't a spy. The dignitary was just that smart. Since there was no time to waste, Nikita hurried towards her, "Hi, Ms. Jordan. Big fan of your work. Now, come with me if you want to live."
"What?" The dignitary was frazzled enough. Nikita wasn't helping. But she didn't have time to explain who she was. Ominous heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs; Division was coming towards them. Nikita grabbed Ms. Jordan's bicep, yanking her down the hall. The woman wanted to fight against the rogue agent, yet her grip was ironclad. Luckily, the maid also left her all access key on her abandoned cart. Nikita grabbed it in a flash, and hurried into the closest room without a 'do not disturb' sign.
Right before Division swarmed the hallway, the door slammed shut. The hotel room was a mess, but it was empty. That was all Nikita could've hoped for. She scrambled over the sheets and towels thrown on the floor, wondering if the window would open. If so, then maybe they could climb out of it. Ms. Jordan wasn't having any of that, however. She glanced between the agent who grabbed her and the people thundering around outside, "What the actual hell is going on?"
"We're still trying to survive your assassination attempt. Remember?" Nikita gave up on the window, and looked around for some other way out.
"We? Oh no. How do I know you're not a part of this?" Ms. Jordan crossed her arms across her chest in defiance.
Sighing and rolling her eyes, Nikita deadpanned, "I'm too pretty to be with them."
As if to emphasize her point, a strike team member banged on the door. Nikita shoved Ms. Jordan into the bathroom, ignoring her protests. She readied for a fight once more, and waited for the Division lackey to burst down the door. Whoever it was had a key, so they didn't really burst in. But, Nikita still pulled them into the room by the wrist, twisted their arm behind their back, and closed the door with their body. It all happened in a blink of the eye. A moment had to pass first before both Nikita and the lackey knew who each other were.
"Nikita?"
"Alex?"
Nikita let Alex go, relaxing at the sight of her friend. Alex calmed as well, and massaged her sore arm, "Was wondering when I'd run into you."
"Had to pick something up first," Nikita opened the door to the bathroom, and addressed the dignitary, "And before you say anything. She's too pretty to be with them too."
Alex shot Nikita a look while Ms. Jordan exited the bathroom, appearing defeated. She glanced between the two women with pleading eyes, "Please. I just want to survive the night, and go home."
"We will keep you safe. I promise," Smiling reassuringly, Alex rested a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. That seemed to do the trick, and Ms. Jordan nodded. Nikita stood on her tiptoes, peering outside through the peephole. Division hadn't finished the sweep of the area. They were stuck in the room.
While Nikita turned to share her concerns with Alex, the young woman held up a finger and tapped her ear. Someone was talking to her through the coms. After a moment, she shared what it was, "They wanna know why I haven't finished with the room yet."
The three had to think fast. Spotting Alex's pistol, Nikita thought the fastest. She grabbed the gun without a word, and marched back towards the window. She shot at the glass until it shattered. Alex and Ms. Jordan stared at her in bewilderment. Nikita only shrugged, tossing over the weapon and taking hold of Ms. Jordan, "Just tell 'em the truth."
She clambered out onto the ledge of the building, leading a hesitant dignitary. To her credit, she didn't shriek in fear at the height or at the small ledge. She and Nikita inched along the edge so that they were out of view of the window. The agent stopped them from going too far, and they could hear Division swarming into the room. Alex recovered herself, hiding her emotions as she faced the strike team, "Thank God you're here. Nikita has the target. I engaged, but they escaped out the window."
One of the team members stepped closer to the window to see the evidence for himself. Alex's voice stopped him, "Don't bother. Nikita had a grappling hook, and I saw them go up towards the roof."
A pause of uncertainty overcame the room. Yet Alex was quick to quell their suspicions, "What, you don't believe me? She can take out an entire room of Division agents, but she can't climb the side of a building? Seriously, why would I even lie for her? Do you know what she has done to me? If I ever get my hands on that bitch, she'd wish I took her to Percy."
Her harsh, bitter tone convinced the strike team, and they rushed out shouting commands. Nikita and Ms. Jordan managed to slip back into the room without much difficulty. Alex had left with the rest of Division, leaving the two to themselves. The rogue agent led the dignitary down, away from the threat. They ended up in the parking garage, which was full of many different cars to steal. Nikita picked the most nondescript one to break into and hotwire. Instead of hopping into the driver's seat, however, she held the door open for Ms. Jordan, "There's a police station around the corner. You go there. I'll distract them here."
After their experiences together, Ms. Jordan knew better than to question her methods. She got into the car, and sped off. She was able to slip past the front entrance to the garage, Division not paying much attention to a single passenger vehicle. Nikita ran out the back, with her gun in hand. The exit dumped out into an alleyway. She didn't bother checking the area before she sprinted down it. Getting caught would mean her diversion could work and Ms. Jordan was safe.
"Drop the gun and get down on the ground," Michael's smokey voice soon boomed after her.
Nikita didn't do any of those things. She whipped around to train her pistol on him, noticing his own was trained on her. She smirked, "We gotta stop meeting like this."
"Where is she, Nikita?" Always so serious, Michael took cautious steps towards her.
"We got separated. She's a smart cookie, that one. I see why Division wants her dead," Shrugging, Nikita moved to meet him halfway. He let out an annoyed huff, done with her opinions about the black ops unit. They stalked closer to the other, until they were barely five steps from one another. The two stared into each other's eyes, as if they could glean what they were about to do next. Apparently Nikita did, because she lowered her gun and grinned softly, "You're not gonna shoot me, Michael."
Michael gripped his gun tighter, attempting to prove her wrong. But it was of no use. He wouldn't shoot her. Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the alley, signalling the approaching cops. Ms. Jordan had made it to the police station. Both Michael and Nikita came to that conclusion while the sirens blared. Her grin turned smug, and he lowered his pistol in defeat. He silently watched her disappear into the shadows of the night yet again. But as she left, he could've sworn she blew him a kiss.