A/N: This story inspired me to write another long (not oneshot) story about the first two years in Nikita's training. So if you like this story, stay tuned. I'll be putting up the first chapter of that story in a few days.
Disclaimer: I do not own lfn.
Walking down the hallway, I barely take notice of those who immediately go silent. They turn away, but they look over their shoulders. They all try to secretly catch a glimpse of the angel of death.
It's been like this for a while. A year to the day, in fact.
I've learned to like the peace. The quiet. No one bothers me unless ordered to under the penalty of death. I'm not the most popular of Section.
I now prefer it that way.
They've always called me ruthless. Cold. Unfeeling. I'm the man that has no heart.
And they're right.
I perform any duty Section can offer me. I don't mind even the worst of things. They don't bother me anymore. Valentines. Cold. Target Capture. All missions are the same. Each are equally sinful.
Every person to me is just an object in my way. I've been told that I want to stay alive. So I do just that. I kill those objects that may prevent me from living.
That's not why I have no heart.
Too many deaths close to me. Too many things I've seen. They can't really expect me to stay social and civil after that. I'll do anything this place asks. But that's just too much. It's impossible.
My parents are dead. My innocent sister thinks I'm dead. I fathered a child until Section decided the time wasn't right. Simone was taken. Tortured. Killed. I was forced to marry a woman that I don't love. She carries a child within her. Mine.
I'm not a real person. No, I'm more of a phantom. A shell of a body with nothing inside. But it's not my fault. The fate that lingered around me forced me in to this...what ever I am now.
The other operatives that work around me don't see the other side. They don't know anything of what I've been through. I'm a very private person. My pain is my own.
I've learned to cherish the ways of the others. The way they pretend to ignore me. How they talk behind my back instead of to me. How they're too afraid of me, the ruthless murderer, to bother me.
Honestly, I rather it this way.
There's a new recruit that came here last week. I hear she's rebellious. She never listens to anyone. Emotional. Violent mood swings. Every trainer scorns her.
She comes to me. I can't understand it for the life of me, but she's always sneaking in to my office to look at me. To talk. Her blue eyes are always wide, trying to take in all her new surroundings. She tells me she hates this place. But she likes it in here, in my office. Her head tilts to the side whenever I speak. Like she's trying to take in everything I say. To grasp each word.
I heard rumors that the higher powers may give her to me to work with. They think she has potential here. God, I hope not. She seems to gentle to fit in here. She seems to fragile in heart to learn to like it here. This place is horrid. Cold. Traitorous. No soul like hers should be allowed here.
But if she's given to me, I'll make her in to the perfect operative. Because that's my job. I don't get emotionally attached to anything. Or anyone.
I wonder why she keeps coming to me. To the one person who hates talking to anyone.
I don't hate talking to her. Truthfully, I almost look forward to my invasion of privacy each day, when her tangled fair blonde hair with big blue eyes peeking out comes to tell me what she's heard today. Whether these things are true or not.
She'll soon learn who I am. She'll hear the tales. And I'll confirm each one. She'll learn to act like all the others. Distant. Afraid. Just like she should. I'm no one to hold conversations with.
I'm a murderer of the worst kind. Section's favorite.
She'll learn that I'll never care if she's cancelled. Or killed in mission. And then she'll leave me alone.
Everything will go back to being how they've been since Simone died, one year ago today. When I lost all meaning to life. And then I'll learn to become that person again.
Instead of this stranger who just smiled to see her peek her head in my doorway.