Although her brown eyes flashed in lividity, there was no fight left in Nikita's weary body. Her head pounded, her stomach rolled, and her shoulder continued to throb. She couldn't fight against Michael if she wanted to. And, God, did she want to. She tried to shove away from him as he closed the gap between them; however, his grip was so strong and her muscles were so weak. All she could do was curse and struggle as he easily picked her up and carried her to another room, "You fucking bastard! You stupid son of a bitch!"
The curse didn't have as much of a stinging effect anymore. Not that Michael was used to (or even okay with) Nikita yelling and kicking at him, he was simply too focused on other things. Namely, he couldn't believe how light she was. She had looked thinner than when he last saw her- sickly thinner- but the ease at which he could heft her over his shoulder was striking; she had even been that light as he carried her unconscious deadweight out of the alley. Her relapse wasn't, as he had believed, only about forgetting the horrid hell of Division. All she really wanted was to kill herself.
Another crack made its way across his already damaged heart; except, he couldn't let that overwhelm him. Nikita's pain wasn't about him. Michael could help her carry the burden, supply ways she could heal herself, yet ultimately it was all up to her. There were going to be times where he had to step back. Not right then, however. She needed to rest. His and Birkhoff's latest safehouse had enough extra rooms for her to crash in one of them, yet- for some reason- he carried her to his bedroom. He wasn't able to place her gently on the mattress with all of her thrashing. He did his best, but she ended up plopping down with an annoyed yelp regardless.
It took Nikita a moment to recover. Yet once she did, she attempted to scramble off of the bed. Michael shoved her back down immediately. Whether he intentionally applied pressure to her injured shoulder or not, was lost on her. She fell back against the pillows wincing. Her eyes shut closed to block out the pain and the rest of the hell her body was going through. That wasn't a good idea. The mattress and comforter were so soft, and the pillows smelled so much like Michael. She could melt into the comfort. Her body finally began to relax, even though her mind revolted against the idea. She shouldn't find any of that soothing. She should keep fighting.
"Just sleep, Nikita. Just rest," Softly, Michael urged. Nikita didn't want to follow his orders. She tried to sit up once more. Yet the pull of the bed was too great. Her head buried into one of the pillows, and she began to drift off. He sighed in relief. For a moment, he continued to watch her, ensuring she truly was falling asleep. He knew he should leave her alone, but he was afraid to. What if something were to happen as she slept. She was stronger than that, though. He had to remind himself that she had always been stronger than the shit thrown at her.
Eventually, Michael forced himself to leave Nikita's side. She had begun to shiver; she needed a blanket. She'd also need water and a change of clothes once she woke. A shower should also be in her future, yet they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. He wrapped her in the biggest and softest blankets he could find, placed several water bottles on the nightstand next to her, and set aside his old sweats (that would no doubt dwarf her small frame) for her to use. Thankfully, she slept through all the movements around her. She was well and truly out of it.
A small smile pulled at his lips against his will. He was just glad she could have some semblance of peace as she slept. Unable to help himself, Michael reached out to brush her wild, dirty, dark hair out of her face. Nikita hummed slightly at the feeling, but otherwise didn't stir. With her hair out of the way, he could see the angry, bloody mark on her neck left behind by the scissors. The cut would have to be cleaned and disinfected when she showered- if she was willing to take care of herself that much. He had no idea how he was going to convince her to. How could he make her believe she was worthy of living, when all she wanted to do was die.
Unfortunately, he couldn't spend the time thinking that over. Michael had to clear his head first, get his own raging emotions in check before he dealt with hers. His heart was still raw after he shared his family with Nikita. The way she had looked at him as he did so, full of sympathy and softness, only made it worse. How did she manage to grieve for his loss when she was experiencing her own pain and hell. She simply proved how much better than him she was. While he let Division destroy who he was, she kept fighting. She always kept fighting.
Maybe he could use that fact to help her see her worth. Yet, in the meantime, Michael had to allow himself to breathe. He also had to clean the mess that was left behind in the bathroom. Doing something active like that could give his frantic mind a chance to settle and relax. He could just think as he tossed the broken zip ties, straightened out the cabinets, put everything back in its place, and scrubbed at the blood that stained the scissors. His thoughts betrayed him then. They moved from simple to menacing in a second. Nikita had been right about the destructive force of Division. Going rogue hadn't been the fight for justice he believed it was.
Innocents still weren't completely saved, and the recruits he wanted to protect kept getting hurt. Nikita had been so destroyed by Percy and Amanda that she no longer thought well of herself. She wanted to kill the monster she believed she had become. Though, if Michael was being honest, it wasn't just her belief. He saw the person Division had made her months ago. He couldn't pretend he was the proponent of good becoming rogue was supposed to make him. He was as shitty as ever. After all, he still hadn't gotten vengeance for his family.
"You good?" Birkhoff suddenly appearing in the bathroom doorway startled Michael. He jumped, and almost dropped the scissors in his hands. The agent hadn't realized how long he had been standing there, staring at Nikita's blood, until the sudden movement made his joints pop. Cleaning hadn't been the catharsis he thought it would've been. The concerned glance the nerd shot his way expressed as much. He had been so wrapped up in his morose thoughts that nothing else appeared to matter. It was difficult to readjust his mindset to a more positive outlook.
"Jesus, Birkhoff. Don't sneak up on me," Although grateful for the interruption from the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Michael nearly shouted at the nerd. He forced his voice to stay low, however, ever conscious of Nikita sleeping in his bed down the hall. The last thing he needed was for her to wake and escape while Birkhoff was standing in the hall. It especially wouldn't have gone over well with his muddled headspace. Michael had desperately wanted Nikita to rest, but maybe he should too. The only surefire way to work through his shredded emotions was to stop everything and simply be; though, that was an arduous task to undertake.
"Alright then. Good talk," Grumbling and rolling his eyes, Birkhoff tapped on the doorway and left. He was only going to inform Michael of the new hardware and tech he had bought (and sort of stole). Yet, when he found him in the bathroom, he instantly became worried. The agent was definitely going through something as he held the scissors. Something terrible was on his mind, and the hacker wanted to know what it was. If Michael wasn't going to let him in, though, then Birkhoff wouldn't put in the effort.
"Wait. We do need to talk," After a moment, the agent threw the ruined scissors in the trash (he'd just have to buy another pair) and followed the nerd down the hall. It wasn't fair to shut him out. The two had grown incredibly close over the years they had been rogue together. They were a team. They were friends. They were brothers. Michael had to be honest with Birkhoff. Spilling his closely guarded secrets to Nikita had been freeing. Letting his friend know his reasons for everything would be even more so. His mind could finally be free of the damaging thoughts that plagued him.
Birkhoff took the news of Hayley and Elizabeth well. He needed a long moment to process the fact that Michael had had a wife and daughter who were killed by Division. Yet, he instantly understood the agent's aggressive need to protect people against Percy and the hellhole. The hacker had figured something had occurred in his friend's past to make him so determined to save and protect people. The tragic loss of his family wasn't a possibility that had crossed his mind, but the truth of the universe was always harsher than anyone's imagination.
Despite the support Birkhoff showed him for Hayley and Elizabeth, Michael chickened out on telling him about Nikita. He really should've told his friend about the woman sleeping off her withdrawal symptoms in his bed. But dumping the truth about his family was shocking enough. The agent didn't want to place more weight on the nerd's shoulders, especially when he didn't even know what to do with Nikita. Michael had to figure that out soon, however. None of them deserved to remain in limbo. There had to be something they could do to fix their current state. At least his head was starting to clear enough for him to set some plans in motion.
Amanda kept Nikita's escape under tight wraps. No one was to know the full truth of what happened, not even the agents and guards that had witnessed it. They were led to believe that Nikita had snapped and thought taking a recruit with her as she ran away would ensure her safety. Everyone was convinced that she had finally chased after Michael, his pull on her too great. Alex wasn't entirely certain who that man was or what that lie meant. But she did know that her true identity had to remain a secret. Only Amanda, Percy, and whatever Oversight was were to know who she was. She would stay safe that way.
As they moved forward, Alex's safety was the most important thing on Division's mind. She had to stay alive if they were going to finally take what Sergei Semak owed them. The young woman didn't necessarily care about that, though. She needed to keep living so she could kill Semak. What happened to Zetrov after that didn't matter. Percy, Amanda, and Oversight could have her father's old business. Her revenge was the only important thing to her. Her so-called uncle needed to pay for what he did to her family. He betrayed their trust and their love. Since he was too corrupt to be taken down by the law, she was going to be the one to do it.
Nevermind that she had never killed someone before. It couldn't be that hard. All Alex had to do was pull the trigger. She was filled with enough rage that she could handle that without any problem. The fact that Division was going to train her to become an efficient spy and assassin and give her the resources she needed to have her revenge was simply an added bonus. She should probably keep in mind that the organization was the weapon that killed her family, and Nikita had tried to save her from them twice. Yet she had her goal in mind, and a means to achieve it. After that, who cared what happened to Division or anyone else.
Alex still had to train with everybody else, however. In order for her identity to remain a secret and for the mission to kill Semak be under control, she had to act like a normal recruit. She did have special breaks where she and Amanda would discuss her mission. But otherwise, she had to follow the same rules, go through the same program, and adhere to the same schedule. After the adventure she had already been through with Nikita and discovering the full truth about Operation Pale Fire, that just seemed tedious. It got to the point that she was almost excited when another recruit approached her table, "You're gonna die in here. You know that?"
Annoyance quickly replaced Alex's almost excitement. She glared at the other young woman, not interested in the mind games. The recruit didn't let up, however. It was as though she wanted to assert herself as the bully in the underground bunker. She wanted to put the newbie in her place, despite not knowing anything about her. Alex couldn't take it. Maybe it was the stress of the last few days, or maybe her anger really had reached new heights, but she snapped at the recruit. Her lunch tray went flying and she brandished her plastic fork like it was a weapon.
Before the recruit could do anything, a young man grabbed her and pulled her down in the seat. He ordered Alex to sit as well, warning that the guards would have to take action if she didn't. Although she doubted any harm would come to her, she did as she was told. The recruits introduced themselves and explained the situation, but Alex wasn't listening. She didn't intend to make friends. She was only going to be in and out of Division. She didn't want to care for the people inside, even if the man, Thom, tried to make her, "Look, we're recruits just like you. I've been in almost a year. They brought Jaden in two months ago. None of us are volunteers."
"Meaning, whatever they got on you, whatever your big bad past is, it's nothing we haven't heard before," Jaden built off of Thom's statement, still attempting to intimidate the newbie. Alex only smirked. She nearly blurted that they had no idea, yet she bit her tongue back. Just because she was treated as more special, didn't mean she could flaunt it in front of the others. That could expose her identity; it could also ruin her chance to get revenge. She had to play it cool, despite the fact that wiping the smug grin off of Jaden's face would be so satisfying.
"Meaning, we need to stick together if we want to make it through training. Now, you can start by telling us your name," Thom revised, actually extending a welcoming hand to Alex. For a second, she thought about accepting it. She had been brash with the other recruits out of self-preservation or whatever, but maybe she didn't have to. She had to make it through training in order to kill Semak. If Thom and Jaden were her way to do so, then she should rely on them. She was using Division for her own means, why not its recruits as well.
"Alex, Amanda's ready to see you," Just as Alex was about to respond, she was called away by a guard. Her blue eyes rolled, but- again- she followed the order. Jaden's glare was like a dagger in her back, except she only giggled. The other recruit couldn't stand that she was the new and interesting person in Division. Messing with her was going to be fun, especially as she spent more and more time in special meetings with Amanda. Everyone grew to suspect that Alex wasn't a regular recruit (the rumor that she was the one Nikita tried to escape with helped) and that fact urged her to one up them all in training.
Over the months, her talent and stardom rose. Alex could feel herself closer to avenging her family. Semak would be dead within the year- she just knew it. However, her exceptionalism came at a price. Not only did Jaden (and, for some reason, the agent Kelly) have a target on her back, Percy wanted her on other missions to test her faithfulness and diligence. All of a sudden, she was reminded that she was still Division's pawn to use; she didn't have full autonomy. Alex had made a deal that was way over her head. What exactly had she gotten herself into.