Set during 2x09 "Fair Trade" before Nikita's and Birkhoff's talk at the end. Nikita's broken finger is explained.
"Did I ever tell you 'I'm sorry'?" Nikita somewhat startled Birkhoff in the kitchen. She didn't mean to. They were just both stuck in their own heads, wrapped in complicated thoughts of what they had gone through. His hand was on the mend after a visit from the discreet doctor Nikita had in pocket, yet their emotions continued to be broken and frayed.
"You don't have to. It wasn't your fault," Waving her off, Birkhoff resumed his search for ice. It wasn't for his battered hand, he just needed a very strong drink. Some sort of blended margarita sounded perfect. He could forget about being tortured by Amanda and maybe sleep that night. The hacker doubted either of those could happen. They were too close on that mission- too close to losing it all.
"No. Not for that. Though, I am sorry," Nikita helped Birkhoff grab a large bowl from one of the cabinets. She might not have been the one responsible for destroying the bones in his hand, but she blamed herself for how it came to be. If she hadn't been so hellbent and narrowly focused on Oversight, her nerd wouldn't have gotten hurt. He wouldn't have been tortured, and she wouldn't have lost a black box. Though, she didn't care about that. It was all about Birkhoff. After all, she had hurt him enough, "I meant. Did I say I was sorry for the things I did when you were still Division? Because that was fucked up, and I shouldn't have…"
"Hey, no. I get it. I did some awful things to you too," Pushing his quest for ice aside for a second, Birkhoff focused on Nikita. Neither of them needed to apologize; they were in a war, and they were on opposite sides. But they were alright then. Well, almost alright. The two were teammates and friends. They helped and saved each other. The past didn't matter regarding them.
Nikita only nodded. Her guilt wasn't going to disappear that quickly. She knew she had fucked up. She accidently led Birkhoff to Amanda. Someone she cared about was hurt because of her rash and stupid actions again. Guilt, anxiety, and despair rose in her chest like bile. Forcibly, she swallowed it back down. She couldn't lose herself in front of Birkhoff. It wouldn't have been fair. So she cracked a small grin instead, "Yeah. I'm glad we're on the same side now. Then we don't have to be so sorry."
"Just extra annoying," Birkhoff huffed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. A breath of laughter escaped Nikita; he definitely had a point there. Proud of himself for lightening the mood, the hacker resumed his ice mission. He figured the best way to fill the bowl was to use the ice dispenser from the fridge. It'd be slow and loud, but it'd get the job done. As he began filling the bowl, however, Nikita opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of ice.
"I don't know. You've mellowed out since I was a recruit," Smirking, Nikita helped him open and empty the bag. At first, she thought Birkhoff wanted something to dip his injured hand in, easing the throbbing pain. But once she noticed the bottles of alcohol nearby, she caught onto his intentions. She might join him when her anxiety settled a bit more. The last thing she should do then was use alcohol to numb her emotions.
"You haven't. Duct taping me to a rocking horse. You couldn't have left me anywhere else?" Although that incident occurred so long ago and so many things had happened since, Birkhoff could not let it go. Of all the places to leave him tied up after she kidnapped him, Nikita just had to tape him to a children's toy. It was so out of pocket for a dangerous assassin and furious rogue. Yet even just the memory of it left her laughing.
She could barely get a word out as she giggled uncontrollably. Birkhoff wanted to be annoyed, but her joy made him smile despite himself. The two definitely needed brighter moments after the stress and hell they'd been through recently. Nikita needed time to relax after what her heart had been thrown through, "Absolutely not. That was hilarious."
"Whatever. You know your boy laughed at that for far too long. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in months," Birkhoff accidentally dumped too much ice into the bowl. He might as well just empty the whole bag and place the dish in the freezer instead when he was done. Nikita, however, didn't notice his struggle. His words caused her to slump against the counter and become lost in thought. They hadn't talked about Michael since he left. The nerd wasn't even sure if the couple had talked since London. They should've, though, "He used to smile at a lot of the things you did to fuck with us. I don't think Michael ever stopped loving you."
Silence filled the kitchen for a long while. Birkhoff started to regret mentioning Michael, even if it was in a positive light. Nikita was certainly going through something in regards to her relationship with him, not that she'd ever tell her friend that. She'd simply keep her emotions close to her chest, ignoring it all for her mission. It was only going to catch up with her sooner or later. But when had she ever learned that lesson, "I never stopped loving him either."
Grabbing the alcohol, limes, and a glass, Nikita moved to the couch. Birkhoff followed with his bowl. He had set up his computer on the coffee table, downloading some speech to text software he could utilize with his hand out of commission. Hopefully, she was helping him finish the set-up rather than taking the alcohol all for herself. That wouldn't go well for either of them, "He still loves you. He'll be back. Mikey just can't stay away from you."
"I know. That's what makes it so hard," Nikita sighed. She placed the items for Birkhoff, before collapsing on the couch far from them. The nerd sighed as well, plopping down next to her. Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, more torturous thoughts bombarding her mind. She needed a distraction in order to relax. She really didn't want to think about recent events or how terribly she had been handling them. She had to have a break- a chance to breathe. Mindlessly talking to her friend had helped in the past. She silently begged that it would work again.
"You never told me what happened to your finger," It didn't take Birkhoff long to come up with a new subject. The rogue's injury had to be a less sore topic to discuss. She usually made jokes about some stupid way she hurt herself. Though, that had mostly happened in Division when they had Medical at hand. Injuries were far more severe as rogues.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just needed a splint," Immediately, Nikita dismissed his worry. Her finger was nothing compared to his hand. She was certain she could heal the broken bone on her own. Birkhoff needed a doctor and anti-inflammatories and so many other things that were difficult for illegal agents to obtain. All the focus should be on his healing. She would be fine. She was always just fine.
"You broke a bone and you didn't say anything? Do you need pain pills? I got tons," Birkhoff wouldn't let her dismiss her own pain, however. Just because Nikita was great at taking care of others, didn't mean she knew how to take care of herself. Somebody had to teach her that. And with Michael gone, that fell on Birkhoff.
"No! No. I'm fine. I dislocated it while running away from Sean Pierce. Then I fucked it up even more by popping it back into the socket wrong. In hindsight, I shouldn't have done it while sprinting," Hurriedly stopping the nerd from grabbing his medication, Nikita explained. Her finger really wasn't a big deal. She didn't need pain pills for it. She didn't think any of her injuries would be pain pill worthy. No matter what, she wouldn't medicate herself like that. If drinking alcohol while she was upset scared her, then narcotics definitely did.
"How'd you dislocate it? Did you fall or something?" Not quite satisfied with the explanation, Birkhoff wondered. Nikita didn't tell him much about her side of the op once things turned to shit. All she had said was that the man who had traded him was a member of Oversight's son, and that she was glad her nerd was safe. He had a feeling she was holding back something, however.
There was a lot she wasn't sharing with him. But those could be saved for later conversations when they weren't feeling so shitty. How she broke her finger, though, Nikita knew that would make Birkhoff's day. It was beyond embarrassing, which would make it perfect for him, "No… I hit a basketball wrong…"
"You broke a finger on a basketball?" Birkhoff couldn't help but shriek. He instantly dissolved into laughter, bringing Nikita along with him. That story was about as ridiculous as the rocking horse. Apparently, amidst their neverending drama and trauma, there was just absurdity. At least that helped them take their minds off things.
"I know. It's so stupid," Shaking her head and laughing, Nikita slumped against the couch cushions. The worst part was that she couldn't even claim that was her dumbest injury. A couple falls off her bike as a kid and an ill-advised stunt in Division were far worse. Her body could withstand bullets and knives, but not her own lack of thought. That seemed about right for her life, though.
"That is fucking hilarious. Nikita the assassin's only weakness is balls," Birkhoff was certain he was going to tease her for a long time. However, he couldn't form the right words while under the influence of his medication. The taunt came out way dirtier than he wanted, especially since it made Nikita glance at him with a shiteating grin. He already regretted everything he had ever said. She was going to make him pay for that, "Wait. Don't."
"Only one set of balls really," Ignoring the dark pull in the back of her mind whenever she thought of Michael, Nikita nudged Birkhoff. His look of disgust helped her chuckle and settle into joy once more.
"Ah, gross! God, why'd I have to say it like that? I'm gonna need bleach," Birkhoff was overreacting. He knew that. He also knew that he had said worse things. But that didn't mean he couldn't demand to wash the image away from his mind. Nikita just kept laughing at him. Her eyes rolled and she kicked at him gently with her foot, yet she was smiling brightly.
Forget pain pills, alcohol, sleep, and anti-inflammatories, joking with friends was the best medicine. Although it was cliché to admit, it was undoubtedly true. There was a reason Birkhoff, Nikita, and Michael gravitated towards each other in Division. Well, there were many reasons. But being able to help each other relax and breathe in that hellhole was a huge benefit to their friendship. They doubted they would've been able to survive that place without each other. Nikita knew she wouldn't have been able to survive her war much longer without her team, "That's what you get, Nerd."
"Are you trying to start another prank war? Cause if so, I'm gonna kick your ass again," Gently tossing a pillow at her, Birkhoff playfully threatened. Nikita's laughter was condescending that time. She never believed he could kick her ass. And though she might be right about that, he could hold his own in pranks and mind games. They used to mess with each other all the time in Division, and they were usually evenly tied. The nerd had a chance to take the rogue down.
"You've only won once," Nikita scoffed and threw back the pillow. She remained the reigning champ in their official prank wars- their unofficial, that was fair game. She wasn't going to ever lose it all to Birkhoff. There was no way.
"So have you. That second one became a draw once you brought Michael into it," Sitting up in excitement, Birkhoff negated. Michael largely stayed out of the two's antics inside Division, believing it would give him plausible deniability. But Nikita could make him break a rule sometimes. She had a way to draw him out of his shell.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," The rogue knew the nerd was right, except she wouldn't admit to it. That was good enough for Birkhoff. He smirked proudly and opened his mouth to brag. Nikita was about to kick him just a bit harder to preemptively make him shut up, but then her phone buzzed. She checked the ID, and her attention instantly became diverted, "Hey, it's Owen. I should take this. Talk later, okay? Then we can set up the rules for the prank war."
"You're on," Birkhoff agreed. Nikita nudged him as she sprang off the couch, but he chuckled that time. He felt a lot more grounded after their brief conversation. Another talk once she returned could be what helped them finally move on. In the meantime, the nerd could set-up the speech to text software and make his drink. The night just might be manageable after all.