Four Years Later
It was all she could do, curl on the couch and stare at her hands. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She didn't even think. Numbness washed over her. Her fingers traced the red smears on her palms and picked at the dried, caked red under her nails. Drops of red had trickled down her arms. A finger followed the path to the crook of her elbow, then back to her wrist. The red almost seemed to follow her vein. It appeared as though it wanted to flow into her heart. But she wouldn't let it. The red had to remain on the surface. Any deeper, she would die.
Nikita was lucky that she wasn't thinking. She blasted music so loud it drowned all emotion, and slipped her mask into place. She forced herself to check out. One too many times her emotions had gotten the better of her, and it took nearly everything she had to pull herself together. That time had to be different, mostly because she didn't think she could survive if she let it all go. It was too much. What she had done was too much to handle. She had let that thing out of her, and the resulting destruction damaged all she had left. If she allowed her thoughts to drift towards that fact, she would've crumbled with no hope of salvation.
Maybe she had reached that point already, however. Maybe Nikita could never be saved from her sins- return to the young woman she once was. She was a messed up girl, turned into a broken woman. What else explained the way she numbly traced the blood on her hands. A normal person would've scrubbed it off hours ago. Although she had tried to wash away the stain, it remained a seemingly permanent fixture on her bronze skin. She'd rather stare fixedly at it then move on past the tragedy. It was the only thing that kept her mask in place, after all.
That damn mask. God, did she hate the person that took over during Division operations. Amanda had dubbed her the 'other Nikita'- her protector. Yet Nikita only regarded her as a monster. Amanda was right about her being a protection mechanism. Nikita was aware enough to know that letting something else take over protected her mind and soul. What it did to her heart, however, she wouldn't dare put thought into it. It was better to stay distant. She had learned that time and time again. Her heart was held in a cage as her mask slipped into place. The last remaining real part of her was shoved deep inside while the evil escaped.
"I'll be honest. I had my doubts about you, about your commitments to the program. But you showed me something here I haven't seen before. Something evil. You have evil in you."
An innocent died because of that evil. She hadn't considered her actions to be that evil. She was attempting to be normal. However, Amanda reminded her how selfish she had been. Nikita had been taught how detrimental personal relationships were. Connecting with Michael and Birkhoff had ultimately hurt her, after all. Personal relationships only brought pain to Division and its agents. It also endangered innocents, who had no purpose in their affairs. Everything needed its distance. Distance helped save everyone. And wasn't that what she wanted, to be able to save people.
But Nikita hadn't been able to help herself. He was just so sweet, normal, and goofy. Daniel Monroe was the greatest man she had met. She couldn't help but fall in love with him. Or, at least think that she fell in love with him. Amanda claimed it had only been a deep attraction; she had simply fallen in love with the idea of him. That was probably true. It wasn't as though Nikita could actually imagine a life with Daniel. Their future only held fear of getting caught and constant danger. It was better that Division killed him instead of him having to live that life.
Daniel being happy during their brief time together was the only thing that helped Nikita through his death. She shouldn't have gotten involved with him in the first place. Their relationship jeopardized Division and her mission in Chicago. An innocent was killed because she just had to taste normalcy. Her own selfishness had hurt her once again. She had been weak. If only she had listened to Amanda's advice and kept her emotions in check. If only she had held that evilness inside her back. Then, an innocent would still be alive, and her heart wouldn't have another crack in it.
"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."
The only time her evilness should escape was on missions. Only villains and corrupt men would suffer, not innocents and loves like Daniel. Kill missions and seduction missions one after another and another and another solidified that fact for her. She'd brief with Percy and prep with Amanda, and she'd have enough strength to carry out her orders. Nikita was their best and brightest, as stated by Percy and as nurtured by Amanda. She could do anything, especially without the distraction of her friends or attempted boyfriend. As long as her priorities were straight, she would succeed.
Her priority was and always should be Division. Sure, she took crazy risks and changed plans on the fly in the field (as an annoyed Kelly complained about). Yet, it was always in service of Division. Nikita's quick thinking and fast action secured intel, killed adversaries, and saved the country. She might not have been a perfect agent, but she was remarkable and one of a kind. She was the black ops unit's most valuable agent, which was why she was handed the most valuable of missions.
Nicholas Brandt was a goddamn motherfucker. Nikita didn't think she had ever hated anyone as much as she hated him- and that included herself and Gary. He was a vicious arms dealer that had somehow gotten his hands on nuclear material. The CIA couldn't touch him, but Division could; specifically, Nikita could. Brandt had a weakness for women that were just as vile as he was. She could play that role perfectly. And once she had him under her spell, she could steal the plutonium and hand it to the authorities.
Of all the missions she had been a part of, Brandt's was the most righteous. Nikita was taking a terrible, horrible man out of the world. She would save millions with the act. It helped her rationalize her actions and gave her a drive to keep pushing forward. Her inner evil seeped out bit by bit as she dove deeper undercover. However, it was worth it. Brandt trusted her, relied on her. And soon enough, she would have the plutonium and kill him. God, was she looking forward to that moment. She couldn't wait to violently and efficiently end his horrific reign.
Unfortunately, he never told her about the plutonium. Nikita knew Brandt was going to use the nuclear material soon, but she had no idea where it was. So, she had to bring him into Division so the CIA could take over and torture him at a blacksite. At least the attack could be averted and he was still taken down. Yet he couldn't be killed. Anger simmered in Nikita over that fact. The hell she had endured with Brandt, the hell she had seen him inflict on others, had to be paid back. He should experience the same wrath he imposed on others. He should face hell a million times over.
Evilness grew so viciously inside Nikita that she lashed out. She had a moment alone with Brandt, and her vision blurred. All she was aware of was the blinding red and the deafening screams. She wasn't even certain she was the one to have caused it until she left the room. She was covered in blood, and Brandt was missing an eye. Fury had exploded out of her. She had made Brandt pay for the hands he had lain on her and on others. He needed to know what it was like to be the victim. Although the sight behind her was horrible, even making Percy flinch, she didn't regret her actions. She'd let the anger consume her again. She'd let the evil escape.
"That's why Division exists. There are monsters out there."
She knew to keep her emotions in balance. She knew when to be kind, when to be herself. And she knew when the monster could come out and play. Amanda commended Nikita on her growth. She had matured and grown into a powerful and beautiful young woman. Nikita had only Amanda to thank. Her mentor had shown her how to wear her mask and how to be perfect. She could destroy the most vicious of men and survive until the next day all because of her guidance. It was a debt she knew she had to repay.
Amanda never asked for it. She simply continued to care for Nikita and help her. However, the young agent wanted to show her gratitude. She followed her advice for missions, and went on the ops she ordered her to. Her mentor received less pushback and snark than Percy did; it was only fair. Percy praised the monster within Nikita, while Amanda helped her control it. That was far more beneficial for the difficult and heart-wrenching missions, the missions that left her questioning- like the one where she had to chase down Michael and Birkhoff.
Michael and Birkhoff continued to resurface here and there. The two rogues would manage to catch word of an op, spring into action, and ruin it. Percy had put a task force in place to stop them, but their efforts never worked. Nikita hadn't been allowed to join the hunt, her talents were better utilized elsewhere. Besides, the last time she had faced them, she had been so distraught she needed a week to recover before her next operation- and that was simply far too long. The latest round of failures changed Percy's mind, however. He needed his strongest and most capable agent to take care of the threat. He needed someone who couldn't fail.
As soon as Nikita was added to the task force, she decided Division should go on the offensive. Agents had only been attempting to stop the rogues when they ran into them on the occasional mission. But what if they were to meet Michael and Birkhoff first. They could know their moves and attack before the two even knew what hit them. Amanda praised her for the great idea, and told her to set a trap immediately. Finally, Division would be able to control their rogue elements and kill them.
So wrapped in the constant praise and admiration she was given, Nikita almost missed the part where she had to kill Birkhoff and Michael. Almost. Even after years of being told how awful they were for endangering those they claimed to protect and care for, and after years of feeling like more loved ones had abandoned her, she didn't think she could kill the two. Her heart couldn't do it. The monster might. Except, her heart was stronger than that. It had to have been. After all, she saved Alexandra Udinov, and she didn't kill Ari Tasorov in front of his son (she claimed her gun had jammed when Amanda asked, and there were no further inquiries).
Those incidents were years ago, however. Things had changed; she had changed. She had let the monster and her evil out more and more. Something else almost always took charge on a mission, especially when she was in danger. Nikita had to protect herself above all else. Even if it was at the expense of an old friend. She wished she would've been able to stop herself. Yet once the trap set for Michael and Birkhoff was sprung, Division was on the attack. She had to follow orders. And she had to protect herself from the bullets the rogues fired in return.
While the Alpha team cornered Michael, Nikita caught up to Birkhoff. She had him right where she wanted. She could pull the trigger and it would all be over. However, the nerd had been training with his roguish partner. He was able to disarm the young agent and they wrestled to the ground. She continued to have the upperhand with far more experience in the field. She had him subdued quickly, pinning him to the ground. But he wouldn't go quietly. He squirmed under her, reaching for a gun. She had to stop him.
They were outside, and there was a rock. Nikita knew how to stop Birkhoff's fighting, and end his hacking for a long while. She picked up the heavy rock and slammed it against the hand reaching for the gun several times. Howls of pain ripped through the air. At first, she didn't know that she was the cause of that sound. The young agent was just so focused on saving herself and the mission. Raging emotions blinded her once again. Then, her eyes refocused on Birkhoff. He was crying, beaten and bloody. And he stared at his old friend with pleading eyes.
Trapped by his gaze, Nikita didn't notice Michael slipping past the Alpha team and sprinting towards her direction. He tackled her off of Birkhoff, and her mind snapped back to the moment. She fought and wrestled against her old mentor, snarling in an attempt to match his strength. Hatred coursed through her; though, she wasn't certain if it was directed at Michael for always hurting her, or directed at herself for what she did to her nerd. It didn't matter which was true. Lividity filled her every vein and fueled her attack. The rogues would pay, just like Brandt and all her other victims.
"Stop it! This isn't you!" Michael had Nikita pinned to the ground. He didn't make a move to kill her or hurt her. He just shouted in her face, trying to snap her out of whatever he thought was controlling her. She yelled a string of curses in response. He blinked at her, hold loosening as his expression shifted into something unreadable. The young agent didn't want to spend the time figuring it out. She simply reached for the knife she knew he kept hidden in his boot and slashed at his wrist.
He crumbled against her with a yelp of pain. Nikita shoved Michael aside and scurried for her gun. She hadn't killed either rogue yet, only maimed them. Maybe that was proof that she really couldn't kill them. But her monster rationalized she just incapacitated them so killing them would be easier. She reached for her gun and aimed it at Michael's heart. As she pulled the trigger, he recovered just enough to kick her legs out from under her. The bullet caught him in the shoulder while she fell. He screamed again. She couldn't relish in it, however. Her head slammed against a rock when she hit the ground.
"Kill her, Mikey. She'll keep coming after us until we're dead. Kill her," Between harsh pants, Birkhoff frantically ordered Michael. Nikita's eyes were barely held open. She fought unconsciousness and the feel of blood trickling out of her head. Her fingers inched towards her gun once more, but stopped at the sight of Michael ditching his own weapons. He could hardly stand, bleeding out and suffering, but he still made an effort to throw aside the things that could kill her and end the threat on his life. Turning his back to her, he helped Birkhoff to his feet and the two stumbled out of there. Nikita stared after them once more, the world soon turning black.
After returning to the bunker, visiting Medical, and debriefing with Amanda, Nikita went home. She was ordered to stay in Division so her concussion could be monitored, yet she snuck out to return to her apartment. She knew Amanda would cover for her anyway. She could take a second to herself, reflect on the blood that marred her skin. All she could see was red, however. And all she could feel was the numbing ache her monster left behind.