Five Years Earlier

Nikita wasn't exactly paying that much attention. Saying she was lost in thought would've been an understatement. She thought she could explore her new apartment building's gym, distract herself with the few perks Division provided. But that only led her to be alone with her thoughts as she exercised. The music blasting through her earbuds could very well have been on mute for how much she listened to it. Her mind was racing a lot faster than her feet on the inclined treadmill. It was all Ryan Fletcher's fault.

She had thought they were getting closer. He was her handler, but she could've sworn they were close friends. He had told her how he had been recruited by Division. His older brother was killed while on assignment for the Army. Ryan discovered it was some sort of conspiracy, and the only way he could figure it out was by joining forces with Division. She, Amanda, and Percy were the only ones to know that fact. That should've been proof enough that their friendship was serious. He trusted her more than anyone else. But Ryan recommended Nikita for deep cover in Chicago. He was pushing her away just as she was getting closer. She couldn't make any sense of it.

Ryan was the only person inside Division Nikita trusted completely. Sure, she trusted Nerd to hack a computer and make her laugh, and she trusted Kelly to somewhat have her back on missions. But she could confide in Ryan. He supported her and protected her. He was a great handler to her, and an even better friend. They had fun together, whether it was sparring, coming up with mission plans, or simply getting a coffee. Despite all of that, he pushed her away to Chicago. It was as though he was ending their friendship by forcing her to stay so far from him. He became just like any other Division goon. He believed attachments to be dangerous, so he severed theirs.

Feeling confused and hurt, Nikita thought running was the answer. Running and swimming always relaxed her body and mind. But she didn't know the city enough to find a pool, or to run around outside. Her apartment building's gym was the solution to that problem. There weren't that many residents taking up the equipment on a Sunday afternoon. She could run on the inclined treadmill without interruption- for about an hour, at least. Trying not to think about Ryan and focus on her music instead, Nikita didn't notice the man walking beside her with weights in his hands. She also didn't notice the weights slipping from his grip and falling on the back of her treadmill.

The belt buckled under the sudden weight, stuttering and sliding. Nikita's feet couldn't keep up with the change, and slipped as well. Her foot tripped on one of the weights, causing her to stumble. Surprised, she started to fall. Quick hands reached out to grab her before she hit the belt. They got her securely on the floor and on her feet. She immediately surveyed the scene around her to piece together what had happened. Spotting the spilled weights and a very apologetic man answered her question. She angrily turned off the treadmill and ripped out one of her earbuds. She wasn't in the mood for careless people at the gym, "What the hell was that?"

"I'm so sorry. The weights just slipped from my hands. Are you okay?" The man was sincere in his apology. His green eyes shone with general concern for her wellbeing. Nikita found her anger dissipating at the expression. She couldn't be upset when he was so remorseful. He had also helped her to her feet and not land face first on the treadmill.

"What, is it your first day with new hands?" Nikita decided on teasing the man in lieu of an acceptance. Taunting was always easier for her to deal with. A smug grin lifted much more effortlessly across her full lips than a sincere one. However, she didn't think or pause before she spoke. Ryan and Amanda consistently reminded her to not say the first thing on her mind. But as always, she never listened. She should've taken the advice then. Racking her brown eyes over the tall, muscular man, she noticed his right hand was prosthetic. Whereas her smugness crumbled into regret, he laughed at her remark.

"Second day with the new upgrade, actually," He flexed the prosthetic in demonstration. He appeared more amused by her comment than anything else; he even flashed her a smirk. Maybe because she didn't give him any pity. Nikita had seen her fair share of terrible wounds. If the wound was bad enough, however, Division would've canceled them. She had seen agents push past gruesome breaks and nasty cuts because of that threat. Most people could survive and live successfully with their injuries and illnesses. And considering the man was laughing it off, he was no exception. Nikita's smug grin returned as she crouched down to help him pick up the weights.

"Should've asked for a better one," When he squatted down to her level, she quipped. The man laughed once more, that time fuller and brighter. Her mischievous brown eyes connected with his smiling green, and she felt a spark explode between them. She wasn't sure what that meant or why she had butterflies in her stomach, but she was certain she wasn't a fan of that feeling. Hiding a blush that crept up on her olive cheeks, Nikita carried a weight to the benchpress the man indicated. It was right next to her treadmill. She decided to focus on the already weighted bar instead of that spark, "Especially if you're gonna lift without a spotter."

The man rolled his eyes. He placed a weight on one side of the bar while Nikita did the other. They worked well together for strangers; their actions were simultaneous. When all the weights were secured, the man moved to sit on the bench. He silently asked that since she mentioned it, she should spot him. Somehow understanding, she sighed. He began to lift, "Gotta get used to my hand somehow. Besides. I'm not gonna take gym safety advice from the woman sprinting at the top speed."

"I like to live on the edge," Crossing her arms, Nikita shrugged. He chuckled on the exhale of his lift. His hand seemed to be handling the bar better than the weights, though it did twitch every now and again. As she spotted for him, she was able to get a better look at the man. He was definitely well defined and muscled. He must've regularly exercised and lifted weights. His pale skin was also slicked with sweat; she guessed the benchpress was not his first station at the gym. His dark brown hair flopped in his face, adding to the scruffiness his beard provided. Her fingers itched to move his hair off of his forehead for some reason. Instead, she crossed her arms even tighter. She didn't have a shirt to cling to so her fingers could keep busy (she had opted to wear only a sports bra and shorts), so she balled her hands into fists.

Again, Nikita wasn't paying that much attention, which led to the man surprising her once more. He finished his rep and got to his feet. She snapped back to reality at his movements. He almost extended his right hand out to her, but hesitated. Considering the new prosthetic and how it continued to twitch, he chose to shake with his left hand, "I'm Michael Bishop."

Nikita smiled. Finally she had a name to go with his smirk. She extended her own hand, and shook his. She knew the fake identity Ryan and Birkhoff had provided her for her deep cover, yet it didn't seem right to lie to Michael. She bit that feeling down as far as she could. She didn't understand it, she didn't appreciate it, and she didn't want to deal with it. Her confusion over Ryan must have screwed with her emotions more than she had thought. That was probably why Michael had such an affect on her. She swallowed, "Nikita King."

"Nice to almost injure you," Michael let go of her hand, yet drifted closer to her while they laughed. His eyes roamed over her, and for a second Nikita wanted to put her guard on red alert. However, he wasn't regarding her in a predatory way. She may have been glistening with sweat, barely clothed, and had a mussed ponytail, but he wasn't focused on that. He was just looking at her- at Nikita. After so many sweetheart missions, it was refreshing to have a man acknowledge that she was more than just a body. She drifted closer to him as well. He smiled brilliantly, "I haven't seen you around here before. You just move in?"

"Very astute. I just moved from New York," At least Nikita could be honest with Michael there. Although she could've simply told him she just moved into the building, she wanted to tell him the truth. It would've made all the other lies easier, if she was also as truthful as possible. The best lies were rooted in truth. And to keep herself and others safe from Division and everyone else, the best lies were her best friends.

"So you need someone to show you around Chicago," That smirk of Michael's was back. Some might have thought it was annoying, but Nikita found it endearing. The grin lightened his green eyes and highlighted a fun side of him. She liked fun. It was far better than the drab seriousness her job forced their agents into.

"Are you offering?" Nikita meant it as a dare. She would've enjoyed having Michael show her around the city. The agent side of her knew a local giving her a tour of the city was a spectacular tactic. She'd receive the preferred directions and information. The human side of her, however, simply wanted to spend more time with Michael. If her experience with Ryan taught her anything, it was that she needed a friend to keep her steady.

"Are you accepting?" Michael appeared all too excited by the idea of spending more time with her. His eyes were alight and his smile was wide. But he attempted to keep his feelings underwraps. He didn't want to seem too eager. Nikita thought it was cute.

Instead of actually accepting his offer, though, she teased him. Nikita pretended to think things over, and began to walk away. Michael helplessly followed after. She bit her lip so she wouldn't giggle, "I don't know. You seem too cocky for me."

"I'm really just trying to make up for my stumble earlier," Sheepishly, Michael admitted. He did appear to continue to be apologetic for almost making her fall. It made Nikita stop in her tracks. She turned back to him, smiling softly. He drifted towards her, returning the affection. She felt butterflies in her stomach again, and wondered for a brief moment if that really was a brilliant idea. At another glance of his sparkling green eyes, she risked it all.

"Well in that case, sure. You can be my official tour guide."