Set pre-series, throughout the series, and post-series; the timeline's flexible. Nikita finally gets the family she always wanted.
"So, Nikita, what is it that you want?"
The counselor asked Nikita, already seeming bored with the mandatory session. He didn't want to be there, and neither did Nikita. She knew that no matter what she said she would be marked as a problem- troubled- not worth anyone's time. The boxes had already been checked off before she had walked through the door. The counselor had read her file, saw how she had been written about by other careless and tired counselors who hadn't deemed her worthy of their time and patience, and copied the same words and concerns.
She was helpless- a lost cause. She should continue to be passed off- passed around- to be other people's problem- their burden.
No one had actually wanted to hear what Nikita had to say. They didn't care about her fears, her desires, her pain. Why should they? She was troubled. She was always going to be a problem. So why solve it? Why should they give a damn about her?
Nikita had learned quickly to not say anything. She wordlessly followed commands, silently shoved her clothes and scant belongings into trashbags, and didn't fight the new 'family' she would be staying with until they didn't want to handle her anymore. Speaking up was talking back, raising concerns was whining, disagreeing was more evidence that she was a problem child. Talking was pointless- about as pointless as her mandatory counseling sessions.
Even if she answered the counselor's question, she would never get what she wanted most. Her desires would be completely ignored- unimportant to those who simply didn't want her to be their problem anymore. All her words would fall upon deaf ears, like whenever she mentioned the pain that was inflicted on her. She was never believed, never taken seriously. So, why bother? Why should she speak up and speak out?
The counselor didn't care whether she talked or not. He lost patience with her quickly, and turned his attention towards other things. Nikita curled into her chair and directed her gaze out the window. She didn't bother to touch the toys in front of her. They were for younger kids anyway- kids who hadn't lost hope yet. Nikita had lost her hope a long time ago- maybe around her fifth foster home. But then again, who was really counting how many 'families' didn't think she was a good fit for them. They all sort of blurred together.
As did all the harsh words that had been yelled at her and the furious hands that had struck her.
Nikita curled her small body into a tight ball on the chair, trying to take up as little space as possible. It was always better that way. The less she was noticed, the less pain she would feel. She didn't want to feel pain anymore. Yet she had already learned that that was too much to ask for. That desire was a pipedream. Every 'family' brought more of it. Being hurt was as inevitable as being moved to the next house.
She didn't want to move to another house, however. She didn't want new 'parents' with their short-lived smiles and promises that were soon to be broken. She didn't want parents at all anymore. Not if they acted that careless and harsh- and they were always careless and harsh.
No, Nikita wanted more than parents. She wanted what the other kids had- the ones at school. They all had more family than she ever would. They had family that would stick by them no matter what. They had family that was so close it was impossible to separate from them (unless they were in foster care like her). They had instant best friends, partners, protectors. They had someone to lean on as they went through the hells of life together. They had someone who would always love them.
They had siblings.
Nikita really wanted a sibling. She knew of other foster kids who had been separated from their siblings as they were moved from 'home' to 'home'. And, sometimes, she thought she was one of those kids. She thought that one day she would be reunited with a long-lost sibling, and she would have someone by her side to always protect her and love her. She wouldn't be alone anymore. She would always have a friend as she was shoved into a new school, and she would always have someone to talk to when no one else would listen. Nikita just really wanted a sibling- she just really wanted to not be alone.
It didn't matter if she had an older or younger sibling- or even a long-lost twin. It also didn't matter if she had a sister or a brother. Nikita only wanted a family- a real family.
Though, if she got to pick, Nikita would love to have a sister. Who understood one another better than two (or more) sisters. She wanted sisters to play with, to swap clothes with, to try makeup with, to squeal about boys with, to dance around to the radio with- all the things sisters did in movies. But, most importantly, Nikita wanted sisters to laugh at nothing with, and to tell all her secrets to.
"What the fuck, Nikita?" Hovering the nail polish over her nail, Sonya nearly collapsed in laughter. The two had simply been talking and doing their nails together, enjoying a quiet afternoon before everyone went out that night, when Nikita said the wildest thing imaginable. To Sonya, it had come out of nowhere. It was a completely baseless comment that left her laughing in confusion, shock, and side-splitting humor.
"I'm dead serious. You think I'd joke about this?" Nikita fought her own laughter. If she was being honest, she hadn't truly thought about what she was saying before the words left her mouth. But since they were out there, she wouldn't take them back. She'd simply pile onto Sonya's laughter with more ridiculousness.
"Yes. You constantly say the stupidest things," Fighting to control her laughter, Sonya taunted Nikita. She had believed that would get her friend to start laughing uproariously too. But she had been wrong. Instead, Nikita was more riled up than ever to be a nonsensical idiot.
"Well, buckle up, bitch, cause I've got a million more things to say, and each of them is worse than the last," Nikita attempted to threaten Sonya, but her laughter ruined her menacing tone. The two friends collapsed in their giggles, unable to continue painting their nails or speak. Eventually, one of them laughed so hard they accidentally snorted. Sonya and Nikita laughed even harder, nearly falling out of their chairs in the squeals of joy.
Watching movies was a standard relaxation technique in the safehouse. If the rogues picked the right movie, they could forget about their troubles and stressors for nearly two hours. Unfortunately, that day, Nikita and Alex didn't pick the right movie. Well, at least for Nikita. As she watched the action unfold on the screen, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about one of their latest missions. She tried not to be lost in those thoughts and emotions. Yet all her efforts failed. They soon overwhelmed her, waiting to explode. She didn't know how to stop them. So, she let herself crumble, "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone before?"
"Mhmm," Eyes still focused on the television, Alex replied. Although she pretended that Nikita's question wasn't a big deal, Nikita knew that Alex was excited to hear whatever secret she had to share. It wasn't often that the rogue let people know everything about her; she hardly ever bared her soul. Yet she had her reasons for that. The things she kept locked inside wouldn't just harm her; they would harm everybody. They couldn't be spoken about. They had to remain buried so far down that Nikita could hopefully one day forget about them.
The cat was already out of the bag for that secret, however. Nikita couldn't protect herself and others from it any longer. She probably shouldn't anyway. What she had to say was something that needed to be talked about. Letting those thoughts and feelings fester would only make them worse. They had to be shared, especially with someone who was already familiar with the somber idea, "Sometimes… on missions… when a gun is shoved in my face… I don't want to fight back."
Alex went still on the couch beside Nikita. Although the rogue had spoken quietly and haltingly, the young woman absolutely understood what she was talking about. Some days, it was easier not to fight. After running and struggling for so long, it was easier to just give up. Who could blame them if they ever did? The pain and exhaustion seeped into their bones and made it so hard to continue- to get up and fight. Sometimes, the thought of not doing that was so much more appealing. After all, there would be no more pain. Maybe there could be happiness and bliss if they finally let go, "Yeah… I know what you mean."
In all reality, that conversation was best to have with a therapist. Alex and Nikita could mention their shared thoughts and feelings on the matter, but they shouldn't delve into them. They should save that for the mental health professionals they'd have to visit once the war with Division was over.
What the two women could do in the meantime, though, was comfort one another. Nikita pulled Alex into her arms and squeezed her tightly. The young woman returned the gesture, burying into her best friend's side. Instinctively, Nikita kissed the top of Alex's crown and said with all sincerity, "I'm glad you do fight back."
"I'm glad you do too," Alex squeezed Nikita even tighter. The two fell into silence after that, eyes glued to the movie in an attempt to forget about what had been mentioned. Though, absentmindedly playing with each other's hair as they laid together on the couch worked as a better salve for the friends. They were comforted by each other's presence- by the knowledge that they were both there, fighting and surviving.
Eventually, Nikita decided that she should lighten the mood. She should probably also change the movie since that wasn't helping to clear her thoughts. But that could happen after she made Alex smile and laugh again, "Can I tell you another secret?"
"Yeah," Alex sighed. Again, she pretended to not be excited about the idea. Although the last secret had been dark and haunting, she still wanted to know more about her best friend. She had so many questions, specifically about the rogue's past, and she knew those secrets would dissolve them. She could finally start getting answers after all those years.
"I had a crush on Michael when I was a recruit," Nikita shared the worst kept secret in the whole world. Even people who had only heard stories about Michael and Nikita's shared time in Division knew that they had massive crushes on each other- they themselves had known about it. Their feelings had alway been difficult to hide. They had always been so powerful that they had to be expressed.
"That's not a secret, dumbass," Alex huffed and tried to escape her best friend's hold. Nikita held tight, however. And when Alex tried harder to break free, Nikita tickled her side. The young woman's immediate squeals of laughter made the rogue laugh as well. Soon, the movie and their dark thoughts were completely forgotten. The two friend's only focus was on making each other scream with laughter.
Nikita was used to never getting what she wished for. So, if she couldn't have a sister, then she could easily settle for a brother. It wouldn't actually be settling. She would love a brother as well. She had seen how they acted on TV and at school. Brothers were always gross and easy to pick on. Nikita could have fun messing with a brother (or more). She had also seen brothers be caring and protective; they took the hits so their siblings didn't have to.
Nikita was always the one to step in front and take the blame. She always took the hit so the others wouldn't have to. But if she had a brother, he would take the hit for her. Maybe he would even be brave enough to hit back. No one would ever hurt her ever again if she had a brother. No one would pick on her anymore either.
Except for her brother. She, of course, would pick on him in return. He would be such an easy target- as his sister, she would know all the right buttons to press. They would endlessly torture each other just to make the other laugh. Nikita wanted brothers to mess with- just as much as she wanted brothers to help take care of her, to protect her.
It was so easy to rile Sean Pierce up. All Nikita had to do was occasionally throw a paperclip at him when he wasn't looking. Everytime one made contact, he whirled around, attempting to figure out what had suddenly hit him. When he couldn't find the source of the random torment, he became frustrated. That went on for a while- before Nikita got cocky. She thought she could throw several at him at once without him noticing. She was dead wrong. As Sean was pelted with paperclips, he whirled around to face Nikita. She attempted to smile as he glared, "What are you looking at?"
"An idiot," Sean finally launched a paperclip back at Nikita. When it found its target, she glared at him. After growing up with sisters and hanging around Alex for so long, Sean had thought he had grown immune to death glares. But the one Nikita shot him was another level of terrifying. Maybe because he had heard so many horror stories about the rogue from Division and Oversight. Regardless, Sean didn't want to discover what kind of threat was hidden behind that glare. He quickly turned around and walked out of the room.
"Yeah, you better run," Nikita rolled her eyes and tried not to chuckle. She wouldn't chase after Sean; her paperclip torment had been enough. Eventually, though, she would continue to tease the Seal. And if he kept retaliating, then it'd become so much more fun.
Seeing Birkhoff asleep at his computer, Nikita's first thought was to fuck with him. She stealthily grabbed a permanent marker off his desk and poised to draw on his face. However, after a second thought, she decided against it. Birkhoff had been working really hard lately. She shouldn't punish him for falling asleep on the job. She should at least wait until he was awake before she pranked him.
"You're lucky this time, Nerd," Barely above a whisper, Nikita remarked. She grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and used the permanent marker to write 'drink me' on the label. She also grabbed some ibuprofen and slapped a sticky note with the words 'eat me' written across it on the lid.
Before she completely left Birkhoff alone, Nikita grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders. She was certain that if she woke him, he wouldn't go to bed; he would keep working. To prevent that, she just had to ensure he was comfortable as he slept in his chair. The warm blanket and provisions for when he woke should've been sufficient. The nerd would be fine.
"Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don't let the viruses bite," Gently, Nikita kissed the side of Birkhoff's head. She turned off his computer and desk lamp. Then, she went to bed herself.
Nikita woke with a start. She heard rustling beside her and instantly panicked. Frantically, she shot up on the small corner of the hospital bed she had fallen asleep on and glanced around the medical room for any signs of danger. Her arms instinctively flew over Michael, who remained asleep, needing to protect him. She couldn't lose him, not after everything she had done to keep him in her life. That wasn't how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to be happy, not steeped in more horror.
There was nothing to be scared of at that moment, however. As Nikita's panicked senses settled, she realized that she and Michael were safe in a Medical room. Also, the noise that she had heard didn't originate from something that was coming to hurt her fiancé, it was only Ryan standing by the bed, "It's alright. He's okay."
Needing to confirm that statement for herself, Nikita glanced at the heart monitor next to Michael. It was steady. She then looked at her fiancé who continued to sleep too much. She knew it was so his body could recover from the great shock he had received; the deathly pallor of his skin was slowly fading as blood was bumped into his veins. But she didn't like how close to death he was. Especially since she had caused that. She had saved him from the burning vehicle, yet she had also endangered him. She had made him bleed so much. She had made him scream.
Before anxiety could completely overwhelm Nikita, Ryan tightened the warm, heavy blanket he had brought her around her shoulders. He also squeezed her biceps and rubbed them soothingly. There was no need for her to panic. The worst was over. She had saved Michael. He was safe, and he was going to pull through. It would be alright. There was nothing for Nikita to worry about, "He's okay. He's gonna wake up soon. You can go back to sleep. I've got everything taken care of."
Instinct made Nikita want to argue with Ryan. However, exhaustion let him win without her being able to say a word. He gently pushed her back down on the cot next to her fiancé and helped her settle comfortably under the blanket. He then kissed her forehead, squeezed hers and Michael's hands, and left the Medical room.
Normally, Nikita wouldn't have been able to fall back asleep. She would've kept her eyes wide open, keeping a vigilant watch on her injured fiancé. However, knowing Ryan (and quite possibly the rest of the team) was keeping watch for her, helped her relax. She wrapped Michael in her arms, careful of his heavily bandaged right arm, and nuzzled into his uninjured left side. It didn't take long for exhaustion to drag her back into sleep. Yet she didn't wake up terrified again, not with Ryan nearby taking care of everything.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Nikita heard Owen's enraged shout before she even perceived the threat approaching her.
As she turned to investigate what that was about, she witnessed Owen tackle a gunman to the ground. The assailant had had his weapon trained on Nikita, but not after her partner had him pinned against the pavement. Owen then pummeled the gunmen to a bleeding pulp.
Honestly, Nikita should've pulled the former Guardian off him sooner, yet she was in shock. It had been so long since anyone had had her back like that in the field. Usually, she was all on her own- fending off every single attack by herself. But not anymore. She had a partner. And he was going to protect her even at the risk of his own life.
Thinking realistically, Nikita knew that she didn't have a long-lost sibling. Despite how much she wanted one, there would be none coming to her rescue. She hadn't been separated from anyone when she had been placed in foster care. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and she had been left all alone. She had no family to claim her. She had no one to love her. She was all alone- troubled and destined to bounce from one place to the next.
But, that couldn't have been right. Nikita couldn't just have nobody. Her mother was dead, but that didn't mean her father was too. He could be out there. So could an aunt, or an uncle, or a cousin, or a grandparent. There had to have been someone out there that wanted her. Nikita had to have family that wanted her in their home, that loved her- really loved her.
Was that too much to ask for? Was it really that hard to get someone to love her? Why wouldn't anyone love her?
More than anything, Nikita wanted someone to love her. More than she wanted for the yelling and hitting to stop, more than she wanted a sibling, more than she wanted a family, Nikita wanted someone to love her- really love her- love her more than the entire world.
"Do you have to touch me while I'm sleeping?" Nikita muttered as she slowly peeled open her bleary eyes. She had been sleeping peacefully- no nightmares, for once- when she suddenly woke to the feeling of Michael's hand caressing her cheek. She didn't exactly mind the fact that he was touching her so tenderly, but she could've done without the interruption of her sleep. They were going to spend their whole lives together. Michael had a million other opportunities to touch her. He definitely didn't need to do it then.
"Sorry. It's just the only time you're still enough for me to look at you. Well, for the most part," Michael chuckled softly, continuing to caress Nikita's cheek. He had been so enamored by her, that he couldn't not stare at her as she slept. And when he realized that it was one of the rare nights that she wasn't tossing and turning, he couldn't not touch her. She was his everything, and he had to revel in that as much as possible.
Staring back at Michael, Nikita thought over what he had said. Earlier, he had held her in front of the mirror and had told her that he wished she saw herself how he saw her. But how did he see her? Maybe he had told her once before. But Nikita couldn't think of it then. She continued to think of herself as she always had. Though, Michael had once claimed that he'd help her change that- help her love herself. So why not continue those lessons then, "What do you see when you look at me?"
Smiling softly, Michael gazed at Nikita with the most love stricken green eyes she had ever seen. She was taken aback by them. Yet Michael continued to answer her question with all the seriousness he always had when it came to his feelings for her, "I see Nikita Mears: the most amazing, stubborn, passionate, badass, loving, goofy, beautiful woman in the entire world. I see the love of my life- the woman I want to spend forever with. I see you."
Nikita wanted nothing more than to crash her lips against Michael's and spend the rest of the night expressing her love for him between the sheets. But her damn self-consciousness held her back. Her gaze dropped to his right hand- his advanced prosthetic that had nearly killed him- and she reached to touch the faint scar that ran all the way around his wrist. It was a permanent reminder of all the horrible things she could do- of all the pain she could cause. How could anyone love her when she was capable of that much destruction- when she was nothing more than a monster, "Even after everything I've done?"
Michael propped himself up onto his elbow and kept his ever-so-serious and ever-so-loving gaze on Nikita. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, there was no mistaking the intensity. He still loved her with all of his heart. It had never changed before, and it never would, "Love is not conditional, Nikita. I love all of you, not just a part, all of you."
He had said those words to her before- in a basement full of evil, torture, pain, and fear. Michael had told Nikita how much he loved her- every single inch of her- and how he could never feel differently. He had poured his heart out to her then, just as he was doing now. She had no reason not to believe him. When it came to his love for her, he never held back- not since he had kissed her all those years ago in her loft. No matter what she did or who she was, Michael Bishop would always love her.
And Nikita would always love him too, "I love all of you too."
"I know. Otherwise, you would've killed me for interrupting your precious sleep," Michael couldn't stop himself from teasing. As he flashed his crooked grin, Nikita pushed him onto his back. His laugh was quickly cut short by her kiss.
The couple pulled one another into their arms and continued to kiss lovingly. They didn't fall back to sleep for a long time- much more enjoying the feel of each other's love- but both of them were perfectly alright with losing sleep for the other. They'd do anything for those laughs, those smiles, those kisses, those touches. It showed how much they loved each other and how dedicated they were to the new and bright future ahead of them.
Burying her head in her knees, Nikita refused to cry. Not that the counselor would do anything if he saw her crying. He would simply make another note about how troubled she was. Her situation wasn't worth crying over. The tears wouldn't fix anything, after all- nothing would. No amount of wanting, wishing, begging, praying would change things.
She was going to a new house soon: the Mears's. Nothing would be any different while she was there. She hadn't met her new foster parents yet, but she knew. She knew the smiles and excitement wouldn't last long. She knew that she wouldn't be what they wanted- she wouldn't be the perfect daughter. She knew more yelling and pain would come. And she knew when she finally left there, she'd be placed somewhere else that was exactly the same. Nothing ever changed. It was the same 'home'- same 'family'- over and over again.
Because no one cared about her. No one thought not to cast her aside.
Nikita would never have what the other kids had- the kids that weren't labeled troubled or a problem. She wouldn't have a happy, loving family. She wouldn't have bright smiles and silly laughter. She wouldn't have a moment without pain.
That life wasn't meant for her. So she should stop wanting it. A real family would never be hers. Nikita's future could never be that bright.
It was a rare night- almost a miracle- all of them together. Nikita, Alex, Owen, Ryan, Michael, Birkhoff, Sean, and Sonya had managed to go to dinner together after a long day of paperwork and intel gathering in Division. It had taken a while to agree on a restaurant and when to arrive and how long they should be. But they had made it work, like they always did.
Dinner, of course, was loud and wild. Everyone just had to say something, making their opinions known or making the others laugh. No one could sit still either. They had to taunt one another and continue messing around even in their supposed quiet moments. The team- the friends- were simply so excited to have a moment like that. It seemed so surreal after everything they had faced. Yet they deserved the sense of normalcy. They deserved to smile and laugh and be crazy without consequences.
"Wait, everyone, shut up!" Suddenly, Nikita called out to her team. She was instantly met with strange looks and sarcastic quips, yet she ignored them as she fished for her cellphone in her purse. As soon as she had it, she wiped it out, opened the camera, and held the device out for a group picture. Nikita didn't know what had inspired her to take a photo of all of them together, but she knew she had to act on that impulse. The friends would need a memory of the good times as they continued to clean up Division.
After some rearranging, everyone was ready for the picture. Nikita flashed a peace sign as she beamed. Alex smiled dazzlingly and a bit goofily. Owen was a bit confused by the rushed need for a picture, but he grinned anyway. Ryan smiled softly, attempting to keep the exhaustion out of his gaze. Michael and his longer arms now held the phone, and he kept it steady as he ensured everyone was in the shot and as he smiled crookedly. Birkhoff tried to make himself look cool with finger guns and a suave smirk- it only somewhat worked. Sean was too distracted by Alex to look at the camera as he grinned. And Sonya got caught laughing at Birkhoff's antics.
The picture was sent to a file so that it would never be lost even if Nikita's phone got damaged. The team- the family- would always be immortalized smiling like idiots while surrounding a chaotic table. But that was how it should've been. No matter what hells they went through, the family was always there to pull each other out of the flames. They could always be surrounded by smiles, laughter and love. Even the worst days couldn't take that away. The lonely, broken agents had found each other- they had been found by Nikita. And they were going to stay together, surrounded by their love, for as long as they could.
Thank you so very much for reading all of these one-shots! I know my posting schedule was insane at times, but thank you so much for sticking with this. I may be done with this collection, but more stories will be on their way. I have a few ideas for some stories that are longer than one-shots, but shorter than massive multi-chapters. And I will be continuing to update the M-rated one-shots "Don't Spoil the Moment"- just need to carve out time to actually sit and write. Again, thank you for enjoying! I couldn't write without my readers!