Set pre-season after Daniel's death but before Nikita split Division. Inspired by my thoughts on how much these characters have gone through.
Wrapping her fists, Nikita stepped in front of the battered punching bag. More times than anyone could count, she had squared herself in front of that bag, in those recruit sweats, and that sports bra. Her feet were bare, her wrists and fingers were wrapped for protection, and she would beat the inanimate object until her hair would completely fall from her ponytail hold- until she would forget. After all, that was why she was there. She had to forget. Her heartbeat and breathing were even and controlled as she began. There was usually enough noise to distract her from her thoughts. Sometimes there was a sparring partner that helped with forgetting. But the silence of the room drove Nikita to her thoughts. And as they battled her mind, she battled the punching bag.
She could barely remember the first time Gary had hit her. She couldn't remember why exactly either. But, with her foster dad there was never really a why. It was just hit after hit, and bruise after bruise. The pain used to be unbearable. Eventually, she learned to get used to it.
Nikita's breath became more labored.
She only did ketamine at first because another runaway offered it to her. They said it would dull the pain and the cold. The high she experienced wasn't like any other. She could feel her troubles lifting off of her shoulders. She would do anything to keep that feeling.
Her fists lost their steady rhythm.
"You're guilty of murdering a cop in cold blood," She couldn't remember it. She was too high to do anything, let alone remember her actions. But a small part of her knew it wasn't in cold blood. There had to have been a reason.
The punching bag's chain rattled from the excess force.
"Welcome to Division," The words were as cold and ominous as the room she had awakened in. She had to get out. They were offering her a second chance. Yet she knew it was all a lie.
She could hear her pounding heartbeat.
"Nobody gives a damn about trash," Spitting water into the trainer's face was instinct. Kicking him in the balls was fun.
"Scummy little orphan girl. Mommy and Daddy not around to teach you any manners," She wasn't sure what made her snap so violently. Maybe because she had been treated like that her whole life. And at that moment, she had the power to stop it.
A grunted scream escaped Nikita.
"Nikita, thank you. I don't know what we would do without you," He would've been alive if it weren't for her. His family wouldn't have been broken apart and burned, if they hadn't trusted her.
The bag flew in different directions, trying to survive Nikita's harsh blows.
The feel on her skin after sweetheart missions made her feel dirty. But she couldn't simply wash it off. Their predatory touches and overbearing sent assaulted her senses days after the mission was over. She was a tool for Division, for Percy. Her body was used against her will.
Her chest tightened, while her breathing grew erratic.
"But you showed me something here I haven't seen before. Something evil. You have evil in you. Relax, it's a good thing. There are monsters in this world. The only way to beat them is to get down there with them and fight fire with fire. That's why Division exists. There are monsters out there," The worst monster of them all was Percy. He was too proud and egotistical to see it himself, however.
That shout was louder.
Being with Daniel was bliss. He made her feel safe and sound. She could be normal around him. There was no Division, no missions. It was simply everyday life, with a man she loved so dearly. In all of her life, she had never seen a future for herself until he loved her and she loved him back.
Tears bit her brown eyes.
"Daniel!" He had arrived at his parents' cabin before her. He always talked about the lake up there, how beautiful and peaceful it was. She teased him with the idea of skinny dipping during the night, When she arrived and saw him in the water, however, she instantly knew something was wrong.
She could still see Daniel's lifeless body floating in the water.
Nikita snap kicked the punching bag with all her might. Tears slipped down her cheeks once the rage bubbled in her chest. Angrily, Nikita rubbed her swollen eyes. She was not going to break down, not there- not at Division. She would pack up, go home, force herself to eat, draw a hot bath, watch (despite the protection) the bruises form on her knuckles, and then…
It had only been a week. Nikita had been struggling for that long. Every day she had to force herself to eat, to sleep, to take care of herself. The punching bag was an idea to cope. Instead of helping Nikita forget, she could still see Daniel's body. A week later and she couldn't bear to take off her engagement ring. It weighed down her finger, but she would never dream of removing it. She wouldn't. If Amanda ever caught her wearing it, she'd have a field day.
Kicking the punching bag again, Nikita screamed in anguish, "You said we'd have a family."
She threw her fists, "You said it wasn't a dream."
The bag could barely sustain the beating, "You promised!"
Finally, the rusted chain snapped. Nikita stood over the punching bag breathing raggedly. Hot, angry tears rolled down her reddened cheeks once more.
"Nikita?" A soft voice called her attention. She turned to face Michael standing cautiously in the doorway.
"Michael, I'm…"
"Don't say you're fine. You're not and you know you're not," Michael interrupted her as he stepped further into the empty training room.
Nikita cast her eyes away, and decided not to argue with him. She exhaled heavily while her anger was replaced with a trembling body. Nikita tugged the rubber band off the two strands of hair it was left on, and unwrapped her wrists. Michael continued to move closer to her, but she was hidden by her sweaty, humidified, dark hair. She was shoving her things in her bag and grabbing her keys; he called again quietly, "Nikita."
"I'll be back to work on Monday," Her voice was almost silent.
"Nikita," Michael lightly held onto her arm as she walked past. She finally connected her stormy brown eyes to his gentle green. They held the gaze for a moment, before she ripped away and left.