I started this a while back, but just got around to the proofreading. This is set in the season one finale, just after Birkhoff confronts Michael.
Gahh, I ship Balex so much.
No rights to Nikita.
Alex made sure the scowl on her face remained there through all of Amanda's gloating and icy glares. Yes, she was Alexandra Udinov. Yes, she was Nikita's partner. Yes, she had been exposed. But her careful scowl made sure that Amanda knew how small of a matter it was. Yeah, I'm Alexandra. What's it to you? Yeah, I'm Nikita's partner. She makes good veggie shakes. So? Unshakable confidence in the face of death. Letting these people know they hadn't gotten to her. That seemed her plan.
But Amanda, the psychologist of doom, wouldn't have that. Staring Alex down, strapped to the electric chair, she wanted to see her squirm. She didn't just want the satisfaction of finding her out; she wanted the satisfaction of knowing she cared about it.
And she knew just how to push her buttons.
She'd made the call about five minutes ago, and right on schedule, Birkhoff sauntered into the office.
"What's the deal?" he asked wearily, as if he'd just had a very taxing conversation.
"Birkhoff," Amanda grinned, deceptively charming. "You know Alex, don't you?"
Birkhoff gave her a look. Of course he did.
"Or should I say," she continued, letting her words drip off her tongue slowly, wanting the reaction from Birkhoff that she hadn't gotten from Percy when she told him, "Alexandra Udinov."
Birkhoff knew about Alexandra Udinov. The heir to a Russian Empire assassinated by Division year ago.
"There's a fly in the logic there, Mandy," Birkhoff pointed out.
"You would think," Amanda said patiently, accustomed to Birkhoff's way with words. "Divison sent a strike team to the Udinov household years back with orders to kill the entire Udinov family. You remember Nikita, don't you?" She didn't pause for an answer. She knew he did. "Nikita was on the strike team. She swept little Alex from the inferno and carried her to safety."
Alex scoffed. Sex trafficker possession wasn't really her idea of safety.
"Since Alex has been with us," Amanda continued, "she has been working as Nikita's aid, her eyes on the inside. A spy, if you'll ignore the irony in that."
Birkhoff seemed agitated. "Her, too?"
"Too?" Alex echoed.
"Are you and Michael a dream team now? The forces for good? Do you two and Niki have your own comic strip?"
The corners of Amanda's lips quirked. "Why don't I leave you two alone for a moment?" She placed the remote controlling the electric chair on the desk, making sure Birkhoff saw her do it, and then slinked out of the room.
Once she was gone, Birkhoff and Alex met gazes, warring emotions present in the both of them.
"Unbelievable," Birkhoff spat.
"I know the feeling," Alex murmured.
"It's insane," he threw his hands in the air. "Honestly, is there no one I can trust anymore?"
"Well, when you keep the company of Amanda and Percy . . ." Alex trailed off with a shrug.
"This isn't funny, Alex," Birkhoff bellowed. "I just got done screaming at Michael for being an idiot and helping Niki in her insane war, and then I found out you've been part of it this whole time. Am I the only sane one around here?"
"Not by a long shot," Alex droned, unfazed by his escalating volume.
Birkhoff shook his head at her. "Here I thought that we tolerated each other. Which may not sound like much, but with my social skills, it's a lot. And Mikey? I was full-blown friends with him before this fiasco. Now what am I supposed to think?"
"Oh, Birkhoff," Alex smirked. "You mean that? You really tolerated with me?"
"Makes sense that your funny, smart-mouthed side comes out when I'm mad at you."
"Without good reason," Alex added.
Birkhoff scoffed. "I've got plenty of reason."
Alex shrugged doubtfully. "Hey, think what you want, man. But can you honestly tell me that the work Division has you doing—has all of us doing—is honorable?"
"That's not the point!" Birkhoff exclaimed.
"Then what is?" Alex prompted.
"Going against them turns you into a corpse," he explained rather loudly.
"So you're mad at Michael and me because you're worried about our well-being?" Alex deduced. "That's sweet of you, but I could get the message without all of your yelling."
"No, the point is I thought I could trust you! Both of you!" he yelled.
"Whoops. We did the right thing behind your back. My apologies."
Birkhoff ignored the quip. "And apparently, betrayal is something you do pretty regularly. As I recall, you shot Nikita."
Alex's jaw tightened at the memory. Clearly, Birkhoff didn't know it was a hoax yet.
"If you're here because of moral issues, you might want to take a look at yourself."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Birkhoff prompted.
Alex shifted in her chair uncomfortably, her wrists braced in metal. "You sit behind that computer of yours and bark information at Percy that guides him on who, what, and when to kill."
"That's kind of the point of this place, honey."
"Oh, gee, I wonder why I'm not a part of them," she jeered.
"Look, Alex, this isn't about me right now," Birkhoff said.
"Did I hit a nerve?" she continued. "Sorry. I guess all this killing-people has set up some land mines in your conscience."
"Shut up, Alex," he snapped.
"Don't come in here and act all high-and-mighty over me when, taking stabs at my morality, because your jabs are kind of laced with hypocrisy."
"I said shut up!" he shouted fiercely, grabbing at the remote to the electric chair without really thinking about it.
Alex didn't even flinch at the gesture. She made sure she had Birkhoff's eye contact when she spoke again.
"Go ahead," she urged, her voice high, whispering, light as a breeze, but poignant. "What's one more dead body, right?"
Birkhoff gave her a cold, furious look. Her threw the remote back onto the desk, where it banged and clattered to the floor. He ignored it, storming out the door without so much as a glance back at Alex.
He stormed right to his computer desk, and after learning Alex's chair wasn't electrically linked to anything connected to the computer system, he released Michael from his cell.
Alex would get out.