Sitting on a bench in the employees' room, the young woman slipped off her shoes and rubbed aching feet with a grimace, long braid of blond hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned over. Another long day and all she could think of was going home and putting her feet to soak, maybe even a nice hot bubble bath. She wiggled her toes briefly before putting the shoes back on with a resigned sigh, thinking that she should at least be glad the diner allowed the waitresses to wear comfortable duty shoes rather than heels. Rising from the bench she examined herself in the mirror, plucking with a grimace at the skirt of her pink uniform and seeing the results of tonight's little mishap with another waitress, Shelly. She'd have to take it home and soak it right away, to get the spaghetti stains out, she only had three uniforms and she couldn't afford to buy another one right now.

Walking to her locker she pulled out her bag and unzipped it, removing jeans and a T-shirt. Slipped jeans on under the skirt of her uniform and then pulled it up over her head, placing it in the bag and donning the T-shirt. Her hair she decided to leave in its braid, flicking it back over her shoulder as she removed a pair of sunglasses from the bag and perched them on the top of her head.

"Hey, Nikki, natives are restless tonight, huh?"

Nikita looked to the door as Shelly came inside, a petite brunette with a permanent grin on her pixie-like face, unflappable in the face of disasters great and small. "I'm going to have bruises for sure." said Nikita with a rueful grin, rubbing her derriere. A lot of free hands out tonight at Sully's Diner and she had "accidentally" spilled a glass of water in the lap of one man that had pinched her butt especially hard, batting her eyelashes at him and playing it up, babbling that she was terribly sorry, seeing over the hapless man's shoulder Shelly trying hard not to burst out laughing.

"A bunch of us are going to the bowling alley, toss some balls and drink a lot of beer. Wanna come?"

"Not tonight, thanks. All I want to do is go home and soak in a nice hot bath."

"See you tomorrow then!" said Shelly cheerfully as Nikita left the employees' room and walked out of the diner. Standing out on the sidewalk, she slipped on her sunglasses and watched a taxi drive by, thinking longingly of hailing one and taking that home rather than the two buses needed to get her to her apartment. But tips had been a little thin lately and she needed to hang on to what she had, rent would take most of the next paycheck and groceries would have to be bought with what tips she got. Five days a week she was guaranteed of two meals and occasionally she worked an extra shift for the money but her finances were still lean.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder she walked the two blocks to the bus stop and sat down on the bench to wait.

* * *

Nearly an hour later and with a plastic grocery bag in hand, she arrived at her apartment building, a dingy-looking structure, and took the stairs up to the second floor and down the hallway. Standing at her door she dug in her pocket for her keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open and pausing to let her eyes scan the interior, listening for any sounds that might indicate someone was inside. It was a daily ritual with her and even though in the last three months she'd been here she'd never found anyone she still kept to the ritual.

Today was no different than any other and she stepped inside, pushing the door shut behind her and locking it, moving through the apartment to the tiny kitchenette and putting away what few groceries she'd purchased. The apartment was perhaps a third--or maybe even a fourth--of the size of her old apartment but this was all she could afford and it had taken a lot of wrangling to even get this, she had been extremely lucky that Shelly's brother was the manager of the building and he'd gotten her in with just a small security deposit and first month's rent. For most of the first month she'd lived here she'd stayed in various shelters, even after she'd gotten the job at Sully's, saving as much money as possible to get the apartment.

After three years of having all her expenses paid for--room and board and clothing--it had been hard to adjust to the mundane world, a world where she had watch to every penny and spend time pouring over the newspaper for coupons and sales. And before the Section she'd lived off the streets, spent her time panhandling and staying in shelters, no job, just another faceless individual. It had been hard at first and frightening too but there was an exhilaration in it as well, knowing that she was indeed free, that she had her whole life ahead of her now, a life that was hers. For the first time she was actually in control of her own destiny and it was a heady feeling.

Unlacing her shoes and tossing them to one side, she glanced around the living room with more than a little pride. It didn't have the furnishings of her old apartment and though most of it had been purchased from a second-hand store or donated to her by one of Shelly's vast array of friends, it was hers and she liked it, comfortable rather than attractive. Moving into the bedroom she dropped her bag on the floor and went to her dresser, opening the top drawer and shoving aside the jumble of panties and socks to withdrew a small black case.

Lifting it, she studied the screen of the PDA but it was blank, as it had been for the last four or so months now. Looking down at it, she remembered the warehouse and lifting it to stare down at it, heart pounding as she saw the message flashing across it--SUICIDE MISSION, YOU'RE FREE NOW, RUN, DON'T RETURN--and knowing in that one moment that Michael did indeed care, once again intervening to save her life and give her the freedom she had so long desired. Even with the wound she'd taken she had fled the warehouse and run, putting as many miles between herself and the Section as she could.

Other messages had flashed on the screen, Michael wanting an acknowledgment that she was alive, but she had never answered them, half afraid that it might be tracked back to her, even if he had assured her that as far as the Section was concerned, she was dead. In time the messages had trickled off, going days without one, and then finally stopping as Michael no doubt realized she would not answer. But still she kept the PDA, why, she wasn't exactly sure, maybe it was to keep the illusion of a link between them, or because someday she might actually answer him, when she felt safe again.

Trailing a finger down the screen, she replaced it in her drawer and started to strip, tossing clothes on the bed and going in bra and panties to the bathroom to draw water for her bath, pouring in a little bubble bath as well. Winding her braid up on top of her head, she pinned it and removed bra and panties, climbing into the bathtub and stretching out, leaning her head back with a sigh as the hot water loosened tight muscles.

First thing she had done, once she was sure there was no pursuit, was to settle in one place long enough to see about establishing an identity. The Internet was full of sites that showed you exactly how to go about doing it but she had settled for doing the simplest one, researching old obituaries and finding one for a baby close to her own age, one that had actually possessed a name close to hers--Nicolette--and sent off for a copy of the birth certificate. With that she obtained a social security card and also a photo ID, no money to buy a car and no need for a driver's license, and as Nicolette Bryant--or Nikki, as she had anyone call her, knowing that she would find it easier to respond to that one rather than Nicolette--she had gotten a job as Sully's and a mentor in Shelly, who had taken her under her wing.

As sweet as Shelly and the rest of the crew at Sully's were to her, she still found it difficult to get close to them, she'd spent so long learning to be wary of everyone around her that old habits were hard to die. In her occupation as waitress, she had found herself longing more than once to apply the self-defense moves that had been drilled into her, especially to the more obnoxious of her male customers, but had managed to restrain herself. It wasn't the greatest job but it would do for now, until she got some money together.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and put all the thoughts from her head, letting herself relax and enjoy the bath.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon and the lunch rush was over, Nikita sitting in the back and eating a sandwich, Shelly coming into the back to sit down beside her as she ate a salad. "Melanie had her baby, you want to go by after work and visit her? Had her third girl."

Nikita was about to formulate a polite refusal but then thought about it again, Melanie had been nearly as great a help to her as Shelly, getting her the bedroom furniture from her husband's work at a very discounted price and arranging as well for her to make payments on it. It was time, too, to start making an attempt to be friendly, to let herself trust again, and who better to start with than these two that had been so kind to a lost soul like herself. "Sure, why not?"

"Great!" Shelly beamed as she speared a piece of lettuce with her fork. "You can ride over with me. Gonna stop at the Pizza Connection first cause I promised Melanie I'd smuggle her in a couple of pieces, pizza sound okay for dinner? My treat." she added at Nikita's hesitant look, waving her fork at her as she started to object. "Hey, I know what it's like to live on one salary, now that I'm rolling in the dough I'm more than happy to share the wealth."

Nikita shook her head with a smile, knowing better than to try and argue with her. Not exactly rolling in the dough, her husband Tom worked at a paper processing plant that had recently been laying off employees and doing the odd week-long shut down when there was lack of work.

"Pizza sounds great."

"It's a date then." Shoving a last bit of lettuce in her mouth, Shelly went back out onto the floor.

* * *

Just past 5:00 and they were at the hospital, drifting through the front entrance and making a stop at the gift shop. Shelly got a teddy bear and Nikita a balloon, bright pink with the words IT'S A GIRL emblazoned on it, the two of them walking through the hallway, passing through the Emergency Room. As they walked, there was a crash of the doors behind them and Nikita turned to look, seeing two paramedics pushing a stretcher in and caught Shelly's arm, pulling her back as they pushed the stretcher past them.

Nikita couldn't help but look as the stretcher went past, seeing a man dressed in black lay on it, clothing torn and bloodied, an oxygen mask fitted over his face and obscuring features, the left side of his face covered with blood and marked with soot, brown hair clinging to the sides of his face. The paramedics stopped just before her, one going to consult with a doctor, and the man's head turned restlessly on the pillow, she found herself taking a step closer to study him, feeling the blood drain from her face as she saw him clearly.

"My God..." she whispered. Couldn't be Michael, not here of all places, impossible--he wouldn't of tracked her down, not if it meant that the Section might know where she was as well. She drifted closer, watching as his eyes fluttered open and knowing that it was him, stepped quickly back as the paramedics returned and pushed him down the hallway, watching as he was taken to one of the empty rooms.

"Nikki? You okay?"

Slowly Nikita turned, seeing the concern on Shelly's face, and nodded. "Thought he was someone I knew...that's all." She let herself be drawn on by Shelly but even as she made polite conversation with Melanie and cooed over the baby, she was thinking of Michael and what had happened to him, knowing that despite everything she was not going to be able to keep herself from going to see him. And hoped that it wouldn't mean her own death warrant...

* * *

That night, for the first time in months, Nikita dreamed about the Section, an odd dream in which she wandered the halls, looking for Michael, opening doors at random, seeing others that she knew from the Section--Walter, Birkhoff, Simon, and Gail--but no Michael, not even in his office. And then she came to one last door to find Michael seated in a chair, blindfolded, Madeline and Operations standing behind him, Operations with a gun in his hand and placed against the back of Michael's head. Operations' eyes lifted to meet hers, a cold smile curving thin lips. Even as she shouted a denial and tried to move to stop him, he pulled the trigger...

And with that boom of gunfire echoing in her ears she woke, heart pounding, soaked with sweat, pulling long blond hair back from her face with one shaking hand and burying her face against upraised knees. It was a dream she'd had before, borne of a single random thought, the thought that maybe the Section knew what he had done and punished him for it, the thought accompanied by a frantic paranoia. For weeks after that, she had slept with her gun under her pillow, starting awake at every little creak and shift of the old building, every time she had walked the street it had been to study every passerby with suspicion, looking for the one that had come from the Section to track her down and cancel her.

But of course no one had come and eventually it had been set aside, if not forgotten.

Pushing herself out of bed, she went to make coffee and had a cup and some toast before taking a shower and heading off to work. The day passed by slowly and she was distracted by thoughts of Michael, wondering what had happened to him and if he was all right, wanted to go on her lunch hour to see him but made herself wait till the end of her shift. Shelly and Patricia both noticed her distraction and tried to draw her out about it but she only gave them a smile and passed it off as not having slept well the night before.

And then it was finally 3:00 and she hurriedly changed clothes, going back to her apartment to find the gun hidden in the back of her drawer, the same drawer that held the PDA, and stuffing it into her bag before leaving the apartment again for the hospital. Almost 4:00 by the time she arrived but still within the visiting hours and the first place she stopped was the admissions desk, standing at the counter and watching an older woman--dark hair pulled into a severe bun and thick glasses--as she sat behind the desk, talking on the phone, not even looking at her.

Leaning her forearms against the counter, Nikita waited impatiently as the woman continued to talk and finally said, "Excuse me?" The woman's head shifted to glance at her briefly, shooting her a cold look, and then went back to the phone, laughing a little at something the other person said. Nikita slapped her hands down on the counter and said again, louder this time, "Excuse me!"

The woman glared at her but said into the phone, "I'll call you back." Hanging up the phone, she rose from her chair to give Nikita, eyes flicking up and down Nikita's form, taking in faded, worn jeans and T-shirt, lip curling, and in the time before the Section Nikita might of leaned over the counter and grabbed the woman but she had learned to control her temper.

Instead she smiled sweetly at the woman and said, "I'm trying to find a friend, he was brought into the ER last night."

"A lot of people brought into the ER last night." said the woman sarcastically but turned to the computer. "What's his name?"

"I don't know if he had any ID on him." Or what name he might be using, he had lots of them to cover all sorts of different situations. "He was brought in just after 5:00 last night--brown hair, gray eyes, late twenties, dressed in black..."

"Got three J.D.s from last night." said the woman aloud, scanning the computer screen. "One of them fits the description--no ID, brought in at 5:07 PM...he's in Intensive Care, up on the fourth floor. Room 407--" The woman turned from the computer to look at Nikita but it was only to see her back as she strode rapidly away, shook her head and went back to the phone.

* * *

Up on the fourth floor and Nikita moved down the hallway, looking for Room 407, avoiding eye contact with the staff that walked past her. Halfway down the hallway and she came to 407, glanced up and down the hallway before she pushed the door open and went inside, letting the door ease shut behind her. The beeping of monitors drew her to the bed against the left wall and she walked slowly up to it, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself as she looked down at Michael on the bed.

Thinner than he had been the last time she'd seen him and very pale, a bandage on his forehead, hair falling across it and down into closed eyes, and she brushed his hair back, letting her fingers trail down his cheek. Her eyes travelled down his body but any other injuries were hidden by hospital gown and blanket, it was enough to know that he had to be critical to be here, heart rate monitored by the EKG and tubes to help him breathe. Circles like dark bruises under his eyes, the slight rise and fall of his chest with each breath the only movement, no reaction at all when she had touched him...

"Are you a friend of his?"

Nikita jerked around at the sound of the voice, heart beating rapidly in her chest, appalled that she had been so focused on Michael she hadn't heard the door open, but it was a doctor that stood there, a little shorter than her, red hair and a round, pleasant face, wearing dark slacks and a white shirt under his lab coat.

"Uhh...yes." she said slowly, moving so that her back was to the bed.

"I'm Dr. O'Brien." He moved forward to extend his hand to her.

Nikita relaxed a little, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Nikki." She watched him as he moved to the other side of Michael's bed, glancing at the EKG and then down at the chart he held, making some kind of notation on it. "How is he?"

"Well, all things considered...he's lucky to be alive. No one else was pulled out of that building alive. Some kind of explosion, maybe a gas main or something--those old warehouses down at the waterfront are accidents waiting to happen." Dr. O'Brien looked down at the chart in his hands and scratched the back of his head. "Four broken ribs, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, concussion, minor cuts and abrasions, smoke inhalation--" He lifted his head and managed a contrite smile at seeing Nikita's stricken look. "Sorry, I'm still working on my bedside manner. It sounds bad, I know, but like I said, he was very lucky. His vitals have been showing some improvement but it'll be a few days before we upgrade his condition."

"What aren't you telling me?" asked Nikita quietly.

Dr. O'Brien let out a small sigh and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "He lost a significant amount of blood. We think we were able to stop the internal bleeding but we're monitoring him just in case." He glanced over at Michael on the bed. "Does he have any family we can contact?"

"No...I'm the only one he has." With a jolt she realized that was true, that she was the only person he had allowed to get close to him since Simone died. And thought of how he must of felt, not knowing whether she was dead or alive...

"The information we have on him is very sketchy. If you could give us some information on him, his name to start with, I can see to it that you have access to him."

Nikita smiled slightly, recognizing a bribe when she saw one, and a little obvious at that. "Michael--Michael Clark." She laid her hand over Michael's and turned her head to look at Dr. O'Brien. "I'd like to be here when he wakes up."

"Might not be for a while..." Dr. O'Brien trailed off as she gazed steadily back at him and then gave a slow nod, moving to the door. "I'll go get you a cot, you can use it to lay down on."

"Thanks." She watched him as he left the room and leaned over Michael, pressing her lips briefly to his forehead, laying her hand on his cheek. "I'm here, Michael. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Straightening she went to sit on the chair and wait.

* * *

True to his word, Dr. O'Brien brought her a cot to set up next to Michael's bed and had apparently talked to the nurses because her presence in the room went unquestioned; around six she took a brief break to run down to the cafeteria and get a sandwich and drink from the vending machine, taking it back up to the room with her. She sat at Michael's bedside, holding his hand, content to just sit there, occasionally feeling the need to talk, to tell him about her life since she'd "died" for the second time. She took brief naps, dragging herself off the cot to sit at his bedside again, one of the nurses on the graveyard shift was kind enough to bring her coffee and offer an encouraging word, saying that he was showing a small improvement.

Tired as she was, she still woke up around 4:30 AM, her body long used to this routine, and made use of the bathroom, tugging fingers through tangled hair before venturing out into the hallway to look for a phone. Once she found it, she patted her pockets and found to her chagrin that she had no change, drifted back to the nurses' station to ask the young nurse there, "Can I use your phone?"

"Sure--just dial 9 for an outside line." said the nurse cheerfully, gesturing for her to come around the side of the desk, going into the backroom to give her privacy.

Yawning and tucking hair back behind her ear, Nikita blinked rapidly to clear vision and dialed the number for Sully's Diner, four rings and then she got Dave Sully himself, sounding a little harried. "Sully's Diner. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Dave, it's Nikki. Sorry but I can't come in today, I know it's short notice--"

A heavy sigh from Dave and she could almost picture him, a big man with tattoos on bulging biceps--courtesy of 20 years with the Navy--and shaved head, running a hand over his head as he always did when he was stressed out. "This is a bad time, Nikki, Melanie's already out and one of the bus boys just walked on me."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I have a...friend--he's in the hospital, Intensive Care. He doesn't have anyone that can be here...except for me. And I really need to be here for him now." And as much as she needed this job she also had a debt to pay to Michael, he'd pulled her back from the brink and set her free, the least she could do was stay with him till he could contact someone from the Section to come get him. That was of course ignoring far more personal considerations, one of which was that she cared too much for him to just abandon him here, when he was alone and vulnerable.

Another sigh from Dave but then he gave in. "Okay, I'll do what I can. Your friend--is it serious?" A note of concern in his voice, for all his gruffness he was very good to his staff and in some strange way he reminded her a little of Walter--only he'd never hit on her as Walter had.

"Right now it is." She raised a hand to wipe at the tear that slid down her cheek. "But the doctor thinks he's getting better."

"Well, let me know if you need some time, okay? I can get someone to cover your shifts."

"You're a sweetheart, Dave. Thanks a lot. Bye." Hanging up she let her shoulders slump, a small burden lifted, and then drew herself up, sticking her head in the back room to thank the nurse for letting her use the phone. With that done, she returned to the room, not sitting this time, just pacing the length of it, working the stiffness out of her legs, stretching arms and rolling her head to ease the tension in her neck.

The crinkling of blankets behind her and she moved quickly back to the bed, watching Michael as he stirred in his sleep, a frown creasing his forehead, muttering something. One hand came up to pluck at the blanket covering him, head moving restlessly on the pillow, under the blanket his legs moved as if trying to kick free of it, only to have it tangle around his legs. With that he started to struggle weakly against the confines of the blanket and half rose only to sink back, moaning, his breath coming quick and fast, fluttering eyelids showing only the white of pupil.

A quick glance at the EKG showed his heart rate going up and she leaned forward to catch his hand, holding it tightly in hers, her other hand going up to stroke his hair, a slow steady motion. "Shh, Michael, it's okay, you're safe. You're safe. Shh--" The sound of her voice and the touch of her hand seemed to soothe him for he gradually began to quiet, his breathing slowing, falling back into a more peaceful slumber. She stood at his bedside for a few minutes, still holding his hand, smoothing his hair back, and then reached behind her to pull the chair closer, sinking down into it with a sigh, reluctant to release his hand.

Nikita sat like that for a few hours, until she was too tired to keep her eyes open much longer, first folding her arms on the bed next to his side and then letting her chin sink down onto folded arms, eventually laying her head down and letting her eyes close. As she slept, she was unaware of a hand reaching to touch her on the head, palm resting briefly on her hair before sliding off to fall limply back down to his side.

* * *

At 8:00 AM she was shooed briefly out of the room by Dr. O'Brien while he did an exam, taking that time to get coffee and a donut from the cafeteria, eating it down there rather than go up to the room. She returned just as Dr. O'Brien was exiting the room and wiped her hands off on her jeans, a nervous flutter in her stomach eased only by the slight smile he gave her.

"He's doing better. Vitals are getting stronger and he seems like he's breathing easier. Not sure when he'll wake up but talking to him does help."

"Thank you." she said softly, a smile brightening her features, and Dr. O'Brien blinked, feeling himself return that smile with a goofy one of his own, thinking that his patient was a very lucky man to wake up and see that face over him. Shaking himself, he muttered something about rounds and went off.

From the lounge she brought magazines to read and paged through them, alternating between reading them and talking to the still unconscious Michael. Morning turned to afternoon with no sign of change and eventually she moved from the chair to stretch legs out on the cot as she read. At 4:01 the door opened slowly to the room and she looked up, one hand going automatically to the bag on the floor beside her cot, where her gun was hidden, but as the door opened farther a familiar brown head poked itself into the room, Shelly glancing tentatively around, a smile coming to her as she spotted Nikita, slipping into the room and motioning to someone behind her, her husband Tom coming in as well, carrying a white paper bag.

"What're you doing here?" asked Nikita curiously, tugging her hair back from her face.

"We brought you sustenance." said Shelly, taking the white bag from Tom and setting it down on the cot.

Nikita shook her head, blinking back tears, touched by the gesture. "You didn't have to go to the trouble--"

"No trouble!" said Shelly cheerfully as Nikita moved to take the bag and open it. "We were nowhere near here so we just decided to drop by."

Nikita's stomach growled as her nose caught the scent of Dave's magnificent vegetable beef soup and she pulled the container out, setting it on the table beside Michael's bed, withdrawing a still-warm hot pastrami sandwich and set it down as well. Shelly nudged Tom in the ribs and said, "Go get her something to drink."

"Yes, ma'am." said Tom with a mock salute and sauntered out of the room.

Shelly drifted up to Nikita's cot, glancing over at the bed. "Your friend--he's the one you saw in the ER, right?" Nikita nodded, her eyes going to Michael, and in that moment, looking into her eyes, Shelly saw that this was more than just a "friend" to Nikki. She never spoke of her life before she'd come to the diner and as far as Shelly knew, she had no friends outside of the diner's staff, always a little standoffish, but friendly enough. And here was someone apparently from the past... "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I'm hoping so." said Nikita softly, managing a small smile, making a visible attempt to cheer up. "Thanks for the food, it smells great."

"Call me if you need anything or you just want to talk." Shelly glanced at the door as Tom returned, a can of soda in one hand, tossing it to Nikita, who caught it easily. "Well, we better be going. Let us know when you're coming back, okay?"

"Thanks for everything." She watched as they left the room, Shelly pushing Tom ahead of her, and then turned to her meal, eating the soup first and saving the sandwich for later.

* * *

6:22 and she was ready to make a brief stroll of the halls, her butt sore from sitting so long, on her feet and half-turned away from the bed when she heard the bed creak, turned quickly back as Michael's eyes opened, blinking as he looked up at the ceiling and then slowly around the room, coming to rest on her. He frowned and closed his eyes briefly, opening them again to see her still standing there, smiling down at him, wincing as he shifted on the bed and one hand going up to touch her, shaking a little. She took his hand and brought it up to her cheek, letting his hand press against her cheek to show him that she was really there.

"Nikita?" he whispered hoarsely, still disbelieving.

"It's me." She lowered his hand down to his side and leaned over the bed to brush her fingers across his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Shouldn't...be here." He swallowed hard, eyes closing again, a little clearer when he looked at her again, dismay plain in his eyes, that and a sudden intense relief. "Not...safe...for you."

"Do they know you're here?" It was like if she didn't say it aloud, say the Section, they wouldn't find them, as if the very walls were bugged...

A small shake of his head, wincing at the movement. "Solo mission...only one inside..."

Questions she wanted to ask, a hundred of them, but his eyelids were already starting to flutter, signifying an imminent loss of consciousness, Michael making the struggle to stay awake but losing the battle. "Who are you up against?"

"Tired..." he muttered, eyes closing, but she wasn't going to let him go, knowing that if he was really trying, he would be able to hold on a little longer. Just didn't want to tell her...

She laid her hand on his cheek and he gave a heavy sigh, opening bleary eyes to focus on her. "Who, Michael?"

For a long moment he was silent, gray eyes staring into hers, and then he finally spoke, just a name. "Xavier."

Nikita pressed her free hand against her forehead with a muttered curse. "And you went in alone? What were you thinking?" A notorious arms dealer that dabbled in drugs as well and was high on the Section's wish list of targets, he had also proved to be incredibly hard to track down and had killed a half-dozen Section operatives that had tried to infiltrate his organization. And sending Michael in alone, as good as he was, was nothing more than suicide... "He has to know you're still alive."

"You can't...be...here when they come." said Michael clearly, raising himself a little off the bed.

"Section doesn't know you're here--he does. I'm not going to leave you here alone. That's the end of it, Michael. No more discussion." she responded flatly.

"Nikita--" He reached up a hand to touch her on the lips as she started to speak, managing a weak smile. "Glad...you're safe." Another sigh and he lowered his hand, letting his eyes close.

"Not going to let him hurt you again." said Nikita grimly, reaching down to pull her gun from the bag and set it down beside her as she returned to the cot.

* * *

Michael slept the rest of the evening and on through the night, Nikita keeping a vigil on the cot and allowing herself only short brief naps, her gun never far from her hand. Morning came and with it another exam by Dr. O'Brien, Michael conscious this time and able to answer questions, still awake when she came back into the room and a little more focused, his eyes following her as she came up to the bed.

"They'll find me...and they'll find you too." he said softly.

"So what do you want me to do, Michael? Just leave you here and hope that the Section reaches you before Xavier does?" she asked levelly, folding her arms over her chest, and gave a shake of her head. "I couldn't live with that--anymore than I could live with Stanley's death on my conscience." There had been a growing sense of dissatisfaction with the Section even before that mission and a building depression, heightened all the more by the order to cancel Stanley rather than leave him in the enemy's hands. She had come very close to pulling the trigger, to putting a bullet in the back of Stanley's head, and that had shaken her to her core, knowing that she had nearly become the thing she hated.

And she had come very close to turning her gun on herself, it had been the only way she could see to be free of the Section, but Michael's arrival had prevented her from it. Michael her protector, who had worked to keep her alive even at a time that she had ceased to care about her own survival and had in the end given her freedom, caring enough for her to send her away for the sake of her sanity.

"I told you--I'm not leaving you."

Michael closed his eyes, looking very tired. "Don't want to argue..."

"Then just accept it." she said firmly, reaching out to brush the hair from his forehead and letting her hand trail down his cheek, leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Rest. I'll be watching." With a sigh, he did as she bid, allowing himself to fall back into sleep.

* * *

"So far, police have no theory as to what caused the explosion at Pier 12 that left six dead and one critically injured. The identity of the sole surviving victim is being withheld by the police and officials at County Hospital had refused to disclose any information as to his condition--"

With a push of his thumb, Xavier used the remote control to shut off the reporter in mid sentence, swinging his chair around to regard the two men standing before his desk, dark eyes hard, letting them squirm. A tall muscular man in his late thirties, his dark hair going gray at the temples, he resembled nothing so much as a professional man, either an upper management type or lawyer, with his tailored suits and carefully styled hair, the arrogance and self-importance of a corporate raider, fitting as easily in with the upper echelons of society as he did the dregs.

Swinging his chair idly from side to side, Xavier examined manicured nails as he spoke, voice deep and commanding. "I pride myself on my judgement of my people, on my ability to know who will be loyal to me and who will betray me. Very rarely have I made a mistake..." As he had with this man that had called himself Michael, who had come into his organization on the strength of a recommendation from a street dealer. Xavier had thought the dealer was too frightened of him to perform such a betrayal but apparently this Michael's people frightened him even more, so much that he had gotten Michael into Xavier's organization.

And he had seemed to be the perfect addition to his group, a man of unshakable calm and cool temperament, a rarity in this business, even more rare to discover that he was not a psychopath as well. Accepting anything that was thrown at him and performing flawlessly, too perfect, as it had turned out, taking explosives from Xavier's own personal supply to blow up several million dollars' worth of heroin and killing a very important supplier of Xavier's in the process.

He lifted his head to fix his eyes on the taller of the two and Pablo stood his ground, stiffening a little under his regard but managing to not show any of the fear he felt. Xavier allowed himself a small smile as he said silkily, "Your security measures were seriously lacking, Pablo. I find it very disturbing that this Michael used my own explosives to destroy a considerable investment."

"How can I atone for this?" asked Pablo steadily.

"Bring him to me. I want to know where he comes from, who I am to blame for this...fiasco. Do this and your place here is once again secure." Smoothly he rose and reached across the desk to grasp Pablo by his tie, yanking him across the desk so that his face was inches from Xavier's. "Fail me in this and every torment I wish to inflict on Michael you will suffer in his place." With a contemptuous shove, Xavier released Pablo and the other nodded rapidly, throat working as he swallowed hard, straightening his tie with fingers that trembled just a little.

Sinking back into his chair, Xavier waved a hand languidly at the two. "You may leave." He smiled in amusement at the sound of the two of them making a hasty retreat and allowed himself a sigh. A pity, he had great plans for Michael and now he would take him apart piece by piece for that betrayal.

* * *

It had been nearly three days since Michael had been brought to the hospital and if any attempt was to be made to reach him it would be soon. With that thought in mind, Nikita tried to keep vigilant but the stress of the last few days was taking its toll and she was only one person, able to stay awake only so long. She had taken to carrying her gun around with her even when she made a brief trip down to the cafeteria and once the majority of the hospital staff departed for the day she found it impossible to leave the room, knowing that this would be the best time for Xavier or his goons to come after Michael.

Six months had dulled her edge a little but it was surprising--and maybe a little dismaying--how quickly it came back to her, the automatic assessment of people she passed in the hall, looking for the one that seemed out of place or just a little nervous, senses attuned to the sound of footsteps passing outside the door. Michael slept most of the day, a healthy sleep rather than the comatose state of before and, as night approached, Nikita left the room briefly to go use the phone and call Dave, arrange for a few more days off. Eventually she knew she would have to tell him that she was quitting, that she had to leave town, but it could be put off for a little while...

With Dave's words of support still ringing in her ears, she walked back to the room and pushed the door open, halting when she saw a man standing at Michael's bedside, wearing the white uniform of an orderly, dark hair drawn back in a ponytail, moved a step closer and saw that he had a syringe in one hand, his other going to the IV to pull it closer.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" she asked coolly, her hand slipping under her jacket and behind her back to pull the gun out from her waistband, keeping the gun behind her.

The man turned a little to look at her, white teeth flashing in a false smile as he said, "Just giving him his medication."

"Meds were passed two hours ago." said Nikita evenly and brought the gun out to aim it at him, the man freezing at the sight of her gun. "Drop the syringe."

"Okay, okay--" The man dropped the syringe, lifting his hands and grinning at her as he moved forward, not stopping even when she worked the slide and chambered a round in the gun. "Not gonna shoot me for doing my job, are you, chica?" And as he said the last, he lunged at her.

Already anticipating his move, she sidestepped and brought the gun down hard on his shoulder as he went past her, kicking at the back of his knee and slamming the butt of the gun against the base of his skull as he folded with a howl. Struck him again on the head and he went down this time, slumping to the ground, unmoving as Nikita did a quick search of him, cursing as she saw he carried a small radio on him along with a gun. Setting the gun aside she disabled the radio and sat back on her heels, trying to decide what to do.

The radio indicated that he had backup, how many she could only guess, and eventually they would come looking for him. One she could take down and maybe even most of the backup but it would be damned noisy, gunfire in a hospital would not go undetected or unreported, adding another mess that she would like to avoid as much as Michael--and the Section--would. Only one possible alternative and she didn't like it one bit but she couldn't see what else to do...

Laying her gun down she stripped the man of his orderly's uniform, seeing that he wore other clothes underneath, and went to rouse Michael, shaking his shoulder until he opened his eyes to blink sleepily at her. "We have to go--here--" She pulled the shirt down over his head, the IV taped to his right hand tangling in the sleeve until she removed it, extracting it from his sleeve, and put her arm around his back to support him as he sat up, weaving a little and eyes closing as he swallowed hard.

Taking his hand and placing it on the railing, she managed to get the pants on his legs and pulled up around his waist, tying the drawstring closed, eased him back down and touched him briefly on the cheek, feeling a trickle of sweat coming down from his forehead. "I'm going to get a wheelchair, I'll be right back." Leaving the room, she all but ran to the nurses' station and took a quick glance around for the nurse before taking the wheelchair parked just behind the counter.

It took several precious minutes to get Michael off the bed and into the wheelchair, his legs refusing to bear his weight and she barely managing to catch him before he fell, at last getting him into the wheelchair. She placed the other man's gun in his lap and dragged the top blanket off the bed, hurriedly folding it to place it across Michael's lap and legs, grabbed her bag and slung it over one shoulder before she turned the wheelchair and pushed it towards the door, stopping to check the hallway before they left the room and headed for the elevator, taking it down to the lobby.

Down in the lobby two men were standing over by another elevator and Nikita kept her head down, a smile plastered on her face as she bent her head to speak to Michael, effectively blocking him from view. One of the men's eyes passed briefly over her and then away, shifting position to watch the elevator, and she forced herself to move at a sedate pace, taking Michael out of the hospital and onto the street, where it took another few minutes to hail a cab, leaving the wheelchair behind on the sidewalk.

* * *

Nikita had briefly considered taking Michael back to her apartment but knew that she would never be able to get him up two flights of stairs, not in the condition he was in. As soon as she'd gotten him into the taxi and told the driver to go, Michael had leaned against the door and was asleep again moments later. Sitting beside him and watching him anxiously, Nikita had thought about where exactly to go and eventually gave the driver Shelly's address.

As the driver pulled up to the curb, Nikita leaned over the front seat to say to the driver, "Hang on, I'll be right back."

"Your money." said the man with a shrug, glancing in the rear view mirror at Michael still sitting in the back.

Nikita ran up the sidewalk to the front door and knocked on the door, glancing at her watch to see it was 7:43 and then back over her shoulder to reassure herself that the taxi was still at the curb. As she turned back to the door, it opened and Shelly stood there, one hand on the door, smiling at her in greeting. "Nikki--" The smile faded as she saw the anxiety in Nikita's eyes and she asked quietly, "What's wrong? Is it your friend?"

"I need to ask a favor. We need a place to stay for a few nights--I know it's an imposition but I didn't want to take him back to my place--"

"You took him out of the hospital?" asked Shelly with a frown, looking over Nikita's shoulder and at the taxi. "Was that a good idea?"

Nikita drew in a deep breath. "It's a long story. I would taken him home with me but--"

Shelly turned away from the door and called into the house, "Tom? Can you give us a hand out here?" Easing the door open wider, she said to Nikita, "Couch folds out into a bed, should be plenty of room for both of you. I'll get it set up, get some blankets. Nikki needs some help," she said to Tom as he came into the doorway, smiling in greeting to Nikita.

"Sure." said Tom amiably and followed Nikita out to the taxi, going around to the opposite side with her and standing off to the side as she opened the door slowly, reaching out to steady Michael as he awoke. Tom cast her a worried look before taking Michael's arm and helping him out of the taxi; it was proof of how out of it Michael was that he didn't even resist, leaning heavily on Tom.

Digging into her bag for her wallet, Nikita glanced over at the meter and winced, counted out the appropriate bills and shoved them at the driver, ignoring his muttered comment about big tippers. Shutting the passenger door she went to Michael and took his other arm, helping Tom get him up the sidewalk and into their house. Shelly stood beside the folded-out couch, a blanket folded in her arms, watching with concern as they brought Michael into the living room and laid him out as gently as possible on the mattress and handing over the blanket to Nikita. Spreading it out over Michael, she tucked it in around him and touched him briefly on the cheek before straightening to regard Shelly and Tom.

"Kitchen." said Shelly firmly and with a sigh, Nikita followed her into the kitchen, Tom trailing behind, turned a chair backwards and let herself sink into it, arms folded across the back and chin resting on her arms. "What's going on?" asked Shelly as Tom came to sit down across from Nikita.

"My friend--Michael--he's in trouble. Someone was looking for him at the hospital and I had to get him out of there." She knew as soon as she said it the reaction she would get and had steeled herself for it but though the two of them cast each other a worried glance there was no anger in Shelly's eyes as she regarded Nikita.

"So you brought him here." said Shelly neutrally.

Nikita nodded. "I'm sorry but I didn't know anywhere else to go--just for a couple of nights, until I can think of what to do."

"How serious is this?" That from Tom, expression grave.

"I don't know." She hated herself for the lie but consoled herself with the thought that it would take days for Xavier's people to track them here, if they ever did, and by then they would be long gone.

"It's not trouble with the cops then." stated Tom and Nikita shook her head, watching the two of them as they exchanged a glance, communicating in that silent fashion of couples, nuances of expression serving as well as words. Tom gave a decisive nod and Shelly turned to Nikita, brown eyes very serious.

"Two nights. After that we can give you some money, help you get out of town if you need to."

"Thank you--thank you so much." said Nikita, blinking back tears, reaching out to catch Shelly's hand and give it a squeeze. Shelly managed a smile in return but there was a spark of unease in her eyes that made Nikita look away, throat tightening. Another friend to be lost, she saw, and for one selfish moment she resented Michael's intrusion into her life, that momentary anger fading as quickly as it had come. Not his fault, he hadn't come looking for her, and she'd made the choice to intervene...

"Well...are you hungry? We have leftovers." said Shelly, her innate cheerfulness returning as she went to the refrigerator.

"Starving." admitted Nikita, some of the tension leaving her, and straightened in the chair as Shelly bustled around the kitchen, putting a plate of food together for her and popping it into the microwave.

* * *

After Shelly and Tom had gone to bed, Nikita laid down on the mattress beside Michael and as she turned her head to look at him, she thought with a sigh that when she'd dreamed of sharing a bed with him, it hadn't exactly been like this. And lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle, turning on her side to look at him, touching his forehead experimentally and finding to her relief that it was cool, rather than warm. He shifted in his sleep and she drew back, laying on her back to stare up at the ceiling.

Two nights here and he should be strong enough to move. They'd have to leave town but for where she didn't know--there had to be a substation around here somewhere and she would work at him until he told her where, take him there and leave him. They were far enough away from the HQ that she felt her identity was safe and even if it wasn't, even if it meant she'd have to go on the run, she owed him this much to see him to a place of safety.

Sighing she closed her eyes and lay there for a long time before sleep finally came.

* * *

Nikita had been tired enough that she hadn't woken up when Tom and Shelly got up for work, sleeping until nearly 9:00. She woke to find Michael's head resting on her shoulder, having moved closer in his sleep, and she slid out from him, tugging the pillow under his head before slipping out of the bed. Leaning across the bed she pulled the blanket over him and stood for a moment looking down at him, trying to gauge his condition by his appearance; still very pale and worn looking but not much else to be seen, nothing more than was expected. She'd have to keep a very close eye on him because she knew from experience that he wouldn't acknowledge any weakness or discomfort, it would simply be shrugged off.

First thing she had to do was take a shower--it'd been a couple of days since her last one and just standing under the hot water for a few minutes would go a long ways to improving her frame of mind. Luckily she'd kept an spare set of clothing in her bag and so she took the bag with her to the bathroom, returning to the living room to set the gun--taken off the man at the hospital--down beside Michael, within reach, checked the locks on the door before going to use the shower.

For several minutes she just stood under the stream of water, letting its heat ease the stiffness of her muscles and soothe her tired body, and then shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body, rinsing off and grabbing a towel to wrap around herself as she got out of the shower. Brushing the tangles out of her hair she pulled it back in a pony tail and borrowed a sky-blue scrunchie of Shelly's, lying on the counter of the bathroom sink, dressing in jeans and another T-shirt, this one a bright red. Feeling refreshed, she walked out into the living room and was pleased to see Michael awake and sitting against the back of the couch, the gun placed in his lap.

"Where are we?" he asked as she came to sit down on the edge of the mattress.

"A friend's house. I didn't think I'd be able to get you up to my apartment. How are you feeling?" she added, watching him intently.

Michael was silent for a long moment, considering his answer, and then said finally, "I've been better." That got an upraised eyebrow from her and a sudden uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, for him to be so honest was rare. To cover her unease she slid off the bed and got to her feet.

"I'll make something for breakfast and then I want to take a look at you." He merely nodded in reply and Nikita went into the kitchen, assembling a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, coffee for her and orange juice for Michael--the volunteers at the blood bank had always given it out after taking blood, something she'd done quite a few times while on the streets, and after the blood he'd lost he could use the vitamins. Finding a tray tucked between the refrigerator and cupboard, she put two plates on it--scrambled eggs and toast on both--and her coffee and his juice, carrying it out to the living room and setting it down over Michael's lap.

"Here we go--eggs and toast and juice."

"Not hungry..." said Michael, giving a shake of his head.

"Just toast and juice then--two pieces of toast and I won't nag you about eating the eggs. Deal?" she said in a wheedling tone.

With a resigned sigh, he took a piece of toast and ate it slowly, the second piece of toast he set aside halfway done but drank all of the juice, sitting back as Nikita ate her breakfast , her appetite diminished by an increasing worry. Dumping the rest of the eggs in the garbage, she busied herself by washing the dishes before she returned to the living room, getting up on the bed and settling on her knees before Michael.

"Let's take a look."

He raised his arms as Nikita took the hem of the orderly's smock and pulled it up over his head, trying to be as careful as possible, tossed it aside to lift the hospital gown over his head as well. Sitting back on her heels she was relieved to see that he didn't look as bad as she'd thought he would, ribs had been bound and there was the odd bandage here and there to cover various cuts, one in particular on the top of his right shoulder was bloodied. Going into the bathroom, she found peroxide and a box of gauze pads along with medical tape, a little more rummaging revealed cotton balls as well; gathering her bounty she took it back out to the living room and set the items down on the mattress.

Carefully she peeled off the bandage on his shoulder and wiped at the thin stream of blood with a cotton ball, applying peroxide to another and daubing cautiously at the wound, feeling him stiffen under her hand but not try to draw away. The others she left as they were, for future inspection, and experimentally she touched his ribs, Michael flinching back with a ragged intake of breath.

"Sorry." she said contritely and he gave a slight nod, closing his eyes, fingers knotting briefly in the blanket before releasing. "I'll go see if I can get a shirt of Tom's." Carefully she got off the bed and went to the bedroom, looking through the closet for an old T-shirt, thinking, sure, just make yourself at home, help yourself to anything. At the back she found a stained white T-shirt and tugged it off the hanger, taking it back to the living room and helping Michael put it on; it was a little big on him but it would work until they could find something else.

"Okay..." She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders, girding herself for battle. "Where do we go from here?"

"We?" he echoed, lifting his head to look at her, expression blank.

"We." she repeated firmly. "I told you already--I'm not running out on you. I'm staying with you till you reach a place where you're safe. So--where is the nearest substation?"

His mouth tightened. "I'm not drawing you into this."

"Fine." said Nikita flatly. "Then I'll call the Section myself."

"You wouldn't do it." But there was no conviction in his voice.

"Michael...you gave me back my life. Do you think that I could so easily turn my back on you?" she asked quietly. After all he'd said, all he'd done, she could never forgive herself if she ran out on him...it just wasn't in her to do that.

For a long moment he just looked into her eyes and then his shoulders slumped a little, eyes lowering. "There's one in Northern California--about three days' drive from here. It's the safest one."

"Okay. We take a couple of days for you to rest and then we go." It would also give her time to wrap up some loose ends, say goodbye to her friends, and with that thought she started to go into the kitchen, stopping when Michael said her name, looking back at him curiously.

"When you didn't reply, I was...worried." Said calmly, almost diffidently, but with a trace of pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I thought...I don't know what I thought. I was scared that they would find me through you..." she said lamely.

"You're free--I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that." he said evenly.

"I know." Nikita smiled and leaned across the bed to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Rest. We can talk more lately."

Michael nodded wearily, sliding carefully back down on the bed and pulling the blanket up around himself, and Nikita sat down beside him, listening to him breathe as he fell back into sleep. Eventually she too laid back and closed her eyes, letting herself sleep as well.

* * *

Nikita had slept for a few hours then woke up just past noon to sit in front of the TV and flip aimlessly through the channels, looking for something that wasn't a talk show or soap opera, finally settling on a game show. Michael slept most of the day, awaking for about an hour in the afternoon and then falling back to sleep after she'd managed to get him to eat and drink something, part of a sandwich and more juice.

At 3:30 the door opened and Shelly entered, one hand sweeping wisps of brown hair back from her face, casting a quick glance at Michael on the couch before she took Nikita's arm and led her into the kitchen, back to where the refrigerator was.

"What's wrong?" asked Nikita quietly, studying her friend. She had seen Shelly in a lot of different situations, seen her face down a drunk that was nearly twice her size using her with a cheerful aplomb, turn an angry customer into a happy one with just a few well-chosen words and a smile, but she had never seen her this disturbed, one hand toying with the strap of her purse, brown eyes wide and uneasy.

"Some people are passing around pictures of your friend...and a description of you. Offering a big reward to anyone that can tell them where you are."

"How big?"

"$10,000." said Shelly reluctantly and Nikita cursed, rubbing her forehead. "It's a lot of money for people around here, you know that. Someone is going to put the description with you and then you to Sully's and then..."

"Back here." Nikita finished for her.

"I'm sorry, Nikki." said Shelly miserably. "I can give you money, you can take a bus out of town...but you can't stay here."

"I understand, I do. I don't want either of you to get hurt because of this. Can we stay till it gets dark?" She hated to ask it, to impose more on Shelly--who had been more than kind to take them in to begin with--but if Michael could have a few more hours rest, she'd feel better about moving him.

"Sure." Shelly nodded rapidly, looking a little relieved and guilty at the same time. "I think I can also dig up some old clothes of Tom's for your friend to wear--might be a little big but not too bad. I...I'll go look." With a tentative smile she hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Nikita to lean against the counter and rub her eyes, shoulders slumping. Pursuit coming much quicker than she had anticipated and if they were lucky they'd be just one step ahead of Xavier and his people...

Pushing away from the counter she went back out into the living room.

* * *

Michael awoke around 6:00 and accepted her quick explanation, asking no questions, taking the clothes Shelly had scrounged up for him and going to the bathroom to dress. Steadier on his feet than she'd dared hope for and that was a burden lifted, that he was going to be strong enough to make it through their trip. Tom and Shelly drove them to the bus station, Shelly pressing an envelope on Nikita as she got out of the car and giving her a kiss on the cheek, telling her to be careful and to call her. And Nikita lied and told her that she would, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek as well, waving goodbye to her.

Linking her arm with Michael's she drew him into the bus station with her and sat him down on one of the benches while she went to get tickets; along with jeans and T-shirt and shoes, Shelly had provided him with a long coat, saying that it was too small for Tom, and in one of the pockets of the coat he had the second gun, his hands in the pockets as he sat on the bench, watching the people walk by. Nikita cast a quick glance at him as she stood in line but for the first time in days he looked actually alert and more like the Michael she knew, in full operational mode, eyes tracking everything and giving nothing in return.

Turning back she opened the envelope and stared down in dismay at the amount of money in there, counted $300 in all, more money than she could have hoped for and also more than she thought Shelly could have spared. She'd have to call Dave, tell him to give Shelly her paycheck, it would be full payment of this loan and the trouble of them staying at the house--shutting the envelope, she moved forward in line a little, standing just behind a heavy older woman in a flowered mumu and horn-rimmed glasses, leaned to the side to see how many people were ahead of her--eight, including the woman in front of her--and sighed, tapping her foot against the floor.

Someone bumped into her from behind and Nikita turned to give the person a glare, only to go still as her elbow was seized and something hard pushed into her side, halfway around, turned her head to see that the man behind her was the same one from the hospital room. He grinned, baring white teeth, black eyes hard and cruel, and pulled her out of the line, whispering, "Going somewhere, chica?"

As he yanked her along, another man came to join him and Nikita let her eyes roam the station, passing over the bench that Michael had been sitting on and seeing to her relief that he wasn't there. The man leaned in close to breathe into her ear, "Where is he?"

"Who?" she asked innocently and he dragged her around by the arm, hand going up to slap her hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, tears that she blinked back, facing him defiantly. He shoved her at the second man, who obligingly grabbed one arm, the first man taking her other arm as they hustled her out of the station, taking her out into the bay that held the buses and to a dark corner, where she was shoved against the wall.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't leave without you, now, would he? Pretty little thing like you..." drawled the first one, reaching out a hand to run his knuckles across the swell of one breast, blocking the swing of her arm at his head and holding her arm cruelly tight, giving it a twist but not getting a sound out of her. "You tell us where he is and you might get to keep that pretty face."

"Go...to...hell." she said through her teeth, smiling viciously at him, and he struck her, sending her back against the wall, hand going up to her split lip to wipe away blood. Fists clenched, Nikita waited for him to come closer, determined to give as much a fight as she could, and he grinned at her in turn, licking his lips.

"I am going to enjoy this, chica--" An explosion and he went down with a yell, clutching his leg, the other man turning and bringing up his gun only to fall back as he was shot twice in the chest, red blossoming on white shirt. Michael stepped out of the shadows and strode forward to stand over the first man as he rolled over onto his back, sweating and teeth clenched, blood coming through the fingers clamped over his thigh, staring up at Michael as he extended the gun and shot him in the head.

Shouts of alarm came from the bay and Nikita moved slowly forward as Michael shoved the gun back into a coat pocket, reaching out for her arm and pulling her with him, back inside the station, walking quickly to put distance between them and the two dead men.

* * *

Two hours later and they were on a bus, riding down the dark highway, going through the first leg of a three-hour ride to Denver; from there they would take another bus or find other transportation, maybe a train instead, at least something quicker than this. Sitting in the back, listening to the squall of a baby and the shouts of other children, Nikita remembered how much she had always disliked riding on the bus, especially Greyhound, and sank back with a sigh. Beside her she could feel Michael trying to keep himself upright, head nodding, and she slipped an arm around his shoulder, drawing him towards her.

For a moment, he resisted, stiff against her, then relaxed slowly, letting his head rest on her shoulder, a sigh escaping him, and she carefully put her other arm around him, feeling him trembling. Medication had worn off a long time ago and he had to be in pain but of course he hadn't made a sound or said a word and he wouldn't either, not even up until the time that he collapsed. Aspirin wouldn't do a damned thing for him and if worse came to worse, she had enough money that she could maybe get him something for the pain, morphine was accessible on the streets and that would help him to deal with the pain...supposing of course that she could get him to take it. Another thing to worry about...

She dozed intermittently on the three hour drive, both of them staying on the bus even through the stops to give driver and passengers a break. Once at Denver they got off the bus, the rest apparently giving Michael a renewed burst of energy as he had her keep an eye out while he checked cars in the parking lot, finding one unlocked and slipping behind the wheel to lean over and hot wire the car, sliding across the seat as Nikita got in. She glanced worriedly at him, seeing he had one arm pressed against his ribs, lips a thin line and face white, sweat on his forehead, and he shook his head at her unspoken question, saying simply, "Drive."

"Where to?"

"West. Want to put some miles between us...and here before we stop." He turned his head to look at her, blinking and lifting a hand to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "How long can you drive?"

"Three, maybe four hours." she said after a moment's consideration, thinking that if she made a few stops along the way for coffee she could drive longer.

"Take 70 west. We're going to want to find a decent-sized town to dump the car and get another." He leaned back against the door as she put the car into reverse and drove out of the parking lot, heading for the highway.

* * *

As she drove along, Nikita had the radio turned on, volume low so as not to disturb Michael. Sleeping again, sleeping too much, and the worry ate at her like a cancer, concerned that she wouldn't get him to the substation in time, that he might be dying and she would never know, until she tried to wake him up and he didn't respond. Dr. O'Brien had said there was internal bleeding and that it had been stopped but he hadn't gone into any particulars as to how serious it had been and she hadn't pressed him on it then. Now she wished that she had, even if it would of been just another burden she would of known how serious it was, how far to push him. All the activity could of conceivably strained his injuries enough that he was bleeding again and unlike the external wounds, she would never know...

Stop it, she told herself viciously. It's not going to help, beating yourself up about this, it's not helping Michael and it's not helping you. Tearing her eyes away from Michael she looked up into the rear view mirror and her heart surged up into her throat as she saw flashing lights behind her, foot poised over the brake as the red lights came closer and the outline of a state patrol car filled the mirror.

And then it shifted to the left, drawing alongside her, and her hands tightened on the steering wheel, an effort to not look at the patrol car because she knew the guilt would be all over her face. Last thing they needed was to be stopped for stealing a car and get tossed in jail--Michael could get out of it by using his connections with the Section but she would be stuck.

The patrol car accelerated and sped past her and she sagged as it gave a burst of speed and soon disappeared into the darkness, passing outside the range of her headlights. Second one she had seen, the first had just passed her by, no lights or anything, but it had still given her a nasty start to see it behind her. She let her speed drop a little below the limit and wiped first one sweaty palm against her pant leg and then another, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself.

"Car might have been reported stolen by now." Nikita gave a start as Michael spoke and glanced at him sideways as he sat up, lifting a hand to pull hair back from his face. "We need to find a truck stop or a restaurant where we can ditch the car. Can get there another way..."

Nikita nodded, thinking that she'd also watch for a Greyhound sign, better to get back on the bus again than to try to steal a car in a more rural area where its disappearance would be noticed all the more quicker. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." he said in a monotone.

She looked at him again but his head was turned away from her and she could read nothing in his body posture to indicate that he might be lying to her, other than the fact that he wouldn't look at her. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the road and watched the roadside signs as she drove, seeing two different sets advertising a gas station and restaurant but passing them by, still looking for the one that would have the Greyhound logo. Half an hour of driving later and there was finally that familar sign and she took the exit, pulling into the parking lot.

Michael caught her arm as she was about to park the car. "Park it as far away from the restaurant as you can--less chance of us being tied to it if a cop comes by."

"I forget--you're an expert at this. Probably lifting cars from the moment you could walk." said Nikita dryly as she continued through the lane and wove around to the back of the restaurant and parked the car.

"Part of my misspent youth." responded Michael with a ghost of a smile as he opened the door and got out of the car; as she got out of the car, she didn't see him cling to the door frame for a long moment, a shudder running through him as he leaned briefly against it. Straightening he forced his fingers to release the door and managed to walk into the restaurant beside Nikita, her arm winding through his, allowing himself to lean a little against her.

The restaurant reminded Nikita of Sully's Diner and she experienced a sudden pang of home-sickness, even though she hadn't been there that long, it had started to feel like home and standing here, looking into a place that so resembled Sully's she wondered bitterly if she would ever be able to stay in one place long enough to find that same feeling of belonging. Michael's hand squeezed hers and she looked at him, seeing compassion and understanding in his gray eyes, squeezed his hand in turn and drew him with her as a waitress came to take them to a booth.

At 1:47 in the morning there weren't that many people in the restaurant, mostly truck drivers and fellow travelers, and they sat behind a burly truck driver--complete with Skoal baseball cap and denim overalls, long black beard and wiry black hair--Nikita ordering coffee for both of them and looking over the menu, lifting her head to look at Michael across from her. "What do you think, breakfast or dinner?"

"You decide. I need to use the bathroom." Sliding out of the booth, he held onto the back of the booth as he got up and made his way slowly to the bathroom. Nikita followed his progress and then turned her attention resolutely to the menu, scanning the items and then glancing at the kitchen, gauging the quality of the food by the cleanliness of staff and counters and finding herself pleased by the results. Definitely a good place to eat--she studied the menu again and was ready by the time the waitress came by, ordering a salad for herself and vegetable beef soup for Michael.

The food arrived just a few minutes later but Michael was still in the bathroom and she glanced over her shoulder and in that direction as she took a bite of her salad. Maybe he was just cleaning up, it'd been a while since he'd taken a bath as well...she turned back to her salad, forcing herself to eat, took a sip of her coffee and then added more sugar to it.

A tap on her shoulder and she lifted her head, swallowing coffee, to see the truck driver standing beside her, expression uneasy. "Hon--I think your boyfriend's passed out in the bathroom."

Without a word Nikita slid out of the booth and hurried to the bathroom, the truck driver following behind her, didn't even hesitate to push open the door and go inside, looking around the bathroom. "In there." said the truck driver, pointing at the first stall and its closed door, and Nikita ducked down to see Michael's jean clad legs stretched out on the floor.

"Michael, can you open the door?" Not a sound from the other side and she looked down at the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, trying to decide whether or not she could wriggle under it.

"Hang on, I can get it..." said the truck driver and Nikita moved out of his way, watching as he placed one hand against the side of the stall and reached for the top of it with the other, pushing with one and pulling at the same time with the other. A grunt of effort and the door came open, the lock hanging off it, and the truck driver shrugged at the look of gratitude she gave him. "Buddies of mine always passing out in the john--not as hard to do as it looks, locks are flimsy."

Nikita nodded, touching him briefly on the arm, and then moved into the stall, freezing for a moment as she saw Michael slumped between toilet bowl and wall, head resting on one arm stretched across the bowl, the other clutched to his stomach, his rapid breath stirring the hair that had fallen forward to cover his face. Kneeling beside him, Nikita drew his head up and her heart skipped a beat as she saw the blood on his chin, some of it still staining his lips, glanced at the toilet bowl to see blood in it as well. She stroked the hair back from his face, finding his skin to be clammy and if possible paler than before, and reached over to tear a strip of toilet paper off from the roll.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, swallowing hard against another surge of nausea, his hand fumbling for hers as another spasm went through him, and she pulled him up, guiding him over the bowl and holding his shoulders as he started to cough and then to retch, the spasms shaking his frame. She steadied him until the spasms stopped and once done, he slumped back against her, drawing in breath in painful-sounding gasps as she wiped the blood from his mouth and chin, putting her arms around him and letting her cheek rest against his head. She wanted more than anything to give in to the tears that burned in her eyes, tears of anger and frustration and grief, but it wouldn't do her any more good than it would do Michael and he needed her to be strong...

"Want me to call someone?" She had forgotten that the truck driver was there and she slowly shook her head in response to his question.

"I can drive him to the hospital." And it would have to be the nearest one, if he was vomiting blood then he had to be bleeding internally and she didn't know how long it had been going on, if he had been able to keep it from her until now. Damned stubborn idiot that he was...

"Here, let me help." Nikita moved back as the truck driver reached down to take one of Michael's arms and pulled him up, Nikita rising to help steady him from the other side, between the two of them they got him out of the bathroom and into the restaurant, the waitress stopping to stare at them as they took him outside and to the car. The truck driver held Michael upright while she got the door open and then slid him inside, Michael slumping back against the seat. Digging a hand in her wallet, Nikita started to withdraw money, to go back and pay her bill, but the truck driver shook his head.

"You take your boyfriend to the hospital, I'll cover it--just do the same for someone else along the way. Good luck."

"Thank you."

The truck driver nodded and shut the door, walking back to the restaurant; once he had done, Nikita turned on her seat and put her hands one either side of Michael's head, turning him so that he faced her. His eyes fluttered open at her touch and she said slowly, "There has to be somewhere closer that we can go. You're not going to make it all the way."

He gave a small nod, eyes closing. "Get back on highway, ten miles down there's an exit...Brent-wood. Follow road...house on the right, blue, cow mailbox...Magda..." With that he slumped against the door, unresponsive to the shake she gave his shoulder, and Nikita faced forward, reaching down under the dashboard to touch wires together and start the car, peeling out of the lot.

* * *

Nearly thirty minutes later and she was driving slowly down a dark road, looking for the cow mailbox, was about to accelerate to go to the next driveway when she finally saw it, slamming on the brakes and throwing the car into reverse so that she could pull into the driveway. A big house from what she could see in the dark and she parked behind another car, leaving Michael in the car as she ran up to the door and started to pound on it.

And then finally the porch light came on and she could hear locks being done on the other side of the door, the door opening just wide enough for a face to peer out, that of an older woman, fine wrinkles etched into her face, dark eyes regarding her suspiciously as she said, "Yes?"

"I have someone that needs your help--his name is Michael--"

The woman stared at her for a long moment then shut the door firmly. Nikita stared at the closed door in utter disbelief and had started to move forward to pound on it again when it opened fully, the woman emerging, wearing a long flowered robe over a white nightdress, tying the robe closed, long graying dark hair pulled back in a braid. A small woman, barely coming up to Nikita's shoulder, but there was an air of command about her that made Nikita step automatically aside as she came through the doorway, slipper clad feet marching briskly across the porch and down the steps to the car.

Nikita trailed in her wake as she strode to the passenger door and opened it, leaning inside to examine Michael, one hand grasping his wrist as the other peeled back an eyelid; his head moved at the touch, eyes opening halfway and a small smile touching his lips as he whispered, "Hello, Magda."

"Idiot." said the woman called Magda crossly, shaking her head as she released his wrist, turning her head to regard Nikita with scathing dark eyes. "You--stay here. I will have someone come out and help him into the house. Shouldn't be dragging him around like a bag of wet laundry..." With a last glare at the both of them, she stalked off back to the house.

Nikita took Michael's hand, glancing after the woman and then back to him. "She's your help?"

"Doctor. Can't reach Section...we come to her. Good..." His eyes closed again and she moved back as she saw a man approaching the car, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with the muscular build of a weight lifter, coming to take Michael out of the car and lift him effortlessly in his arms, carrying him to the house, Nikita following in his wake.

* * * The man carried Michael through the house and to the kitchen, through an open door leading down to the basement, Nikita following behind him and shutting the door at his request, going down the stairs and trailing behind him as he moved through a door off to the left of the staircase, closing that door as well. Turning, she came to a halt as she saw the corridor before her, blinking in surprise at seeing the white walls, moved slowly down the hallway, seeing not the typical basement but rather something that looked like a clinic. Halfway down the hallway and there was an open door to the right, Nikita stepping through just behind the man and Michael, seeing an examining room that could of been taken out of the Section's own medlab.

An examining table just directly in front of her and beside it an IV stand, other machines set on the other side of it, a metal tray containing instruments and other supplies beside it. As the man went to lay Michael down on the table, Magda was moving around, rolling the sleeves of her robe up and pulling on disposable gloves, a pair of scissors in hand as she approached Michael. The coat was taken off and set aside, Magda using the scissors to cut the white T-shirt open and up, pulling it away from Michael's torso.

"Start an IV." she instructed her assistant as she went to get a blood pressure cuff from the tray. Her eyes flicked briefly over to Nikita, nothing at all in her expression, and she said brusquely, "You can wait out in the hall."

It was not quite a command so Nikita didn't take it as one, just folded her arms and gave a shake of her head as she came up to stand beside the table, Magda ignoring her as she started her examination. Blood pressure taken first, Magda giving a disapproving shake of her head at the results, turning to examine the bandages and wrappings about his ribs.

"Broken?" she asked Michael and he gave a slight nod, swallowing as she laid a hand on the bindings. "How many?"

"Four, the doctor said. And a punctured lung." said Nikita softly.

Magda's eyes flicked to her. "And internal bleeding as well, yes? Hmpph..." she said at Nikita's nod, frowning, gloved hands sliding down to Michael's abdomen and pressing experimentally, watching his face and noting the grimace as she encountered a sensitive area, noted as well how the young woman went to take his hand and hold it. A bond between the two of them, something she had not thought Michael to be capable of forming after Simone's death--Magda hid a smile as she observed the two of them, the young woman giving his hand a squeeze and he trying to smile despite the pain he felt. And then Magda did not have to force the scowl as she continued her examination, low blood pressure, accelerated pulse, bleeding internally again would be her guess...

"Xrays first, Tobias, and then the standard tests. This time you will have to wait in the hall." said Magda firmly.

Nikita nodded and leaned forward to press her lips to Michael's forehead, running the back of her hand down his cheek before she moved away from the table and went out into the hallway. Michael's eyes followed her and then turned to Magda, who had been silently watching them, her eyebrows upraised inquiringly. "You never saw her here." he said, half order, half plea.

Magda shrugged. "I don't even know her name, how could I say who she is? Or if she was ever here?" Though she provided medical services to Section operatives in the field that couldn't reach a substation, she had no strong ties to the Section and no need to report any more than she had to. "Now--we will do some tests, to explore how serious this is. I will make phone calls and arrange for a surgical staff, surgery will be done later on this morning, at a more sane hour. Until then, so that you do not need to resist the impulse to be up and dashing about, we will keep you sedated. And as far as the Section is concerned, you showed up on my doorstep all by yourself."

"Deal." he said with a slight smile, closing his eyes as Tobias administered the sedative.

* * *

Hours later and Nikita was in the small office across from the examining room, stretched out on the brown leather couch, having been escorted from the hallway to there by Magda, telling her that it would be hours yet before anything could be done and that she might as well be comfortable while she waited. From the older woman she could read nothing, no indication of how serious Michael's condition was, only that Michael was in good hands with her, she would take care of him. So she slept a little and paced some and sat with head in hands, waiting for word.

By 11:00 she was about ready to go down the hallway and start pounding on doors until someone answered her but Magda finally returned to the office, the nightdress and robe replaced by navy slacks and a light blue shirt worn under a white lab coat, hair in a bun. "How is he?" asked Nikita anxiously.

"Better." The bleeding had been far more extensive than she had thought, the young fool had nearly killed himself this time by all the moving around, and she would see to it that he had at least three days of rest before the Section was even aware of where he was. "The bleeding has been stopped, damage repaired--he's lucky that I always keep a few extra pints of O negative, on the chance that he might drop in for a visit. Sleeping now, he should wake up in a few hours."

Nikita let out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging. "I thought--" Thought he was going to die, that she had killed him by taking him out of the hospital...

"He is too stubborn to die so easily." said Magda firmly. "If he were to die, then, well, he couldn't suffer any more, could he? And he is good at that..." Not said so much in bitterness as in regret and a touch of pity, that someone capable of such great love and devotion found it necessary to cut himself off from others. "So--you will stay here long enough to see him when he wakes, say goodbye before you leave?"

"What did he tell you?" asked Nikita quietly.

"Tell me? Nothing. But I do have eyes and a brain." replied Magda dryly. "Even in the condition he is, he thinks of nothing but protecting you, no thoughts for himself. And so I know that you will have to go before his...people come to get him and that it would be good for you to have a few days' head start."

Nikita smiled slightly, finding that she liked this woman, as brusque as she was. She reminded her a little of her grandmother, who had been as equally no-nonsense and at the same time the only person that had shown her any love in her troubled childhood. If her grandmother had lived longer then things might of turned out differently for Nikita...she shook the thought from her head and nodded. "I wasn't planning on leaving without a goodbye...this time."

"Good!" Magda said briskly, reaching out to take her arm and pull her out of the office. "Now, you are to go upstairs and eat something--there are all sorts of things in the refrigerator, you will have to cook for yourself but anything that you want...I will come get you when he wakes up. Go..." she added, giving Nikita a swat, and Nikita went as ordered.

* * *

It was 2:12 in the afternoon by the time Tobias came to get her; she had eaten breakfast--fried eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee--and laid down for a few hours, actually managing to sleep again once the burden of concern had been lifted, took a shower and found clothes laid out for her once she exited the bathroom, a huge towel wrapped around her and another towel wrapped around her head. Clean and fed and approaching something like content, she went to the living room to wait for the summons and eventually followed Tobias back down to the basement, him leading her to the room Michael had been placed in.

Still pale but looking much better than he had over the last few days, the bed raised a little so that he was facing her as she came into the room, and sheer relief made her giddy, a smile curving her lips as she went to his bedside. "She's going to keep you chained to this bed for the next few days, you know."

Michael smiled slightly. "I promised to behave and she said she would forego the restraints."

Gently Nikita brushed hair back from his face, pressing her hand against his cheek. "I wish...I wish we could stay here forever."

"Knowing that you're safe and alive, that you're free...it's enough." he said, one hand coming up to take hers and pressing a kiss against it. Blinking against the threat of tears, she leaned forward to give him a careful hug and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes as his fingers traced the lines of her face, as if he were trying to memorize it.

"Why don't you come with me?" It was a question that she had wanted to ask for days now, one she had been afraid to voice.

"I wish I could. But it's not that simple..." Responsibilities he had to the Section, atonement to make for long ago sins, and buried beneath that a deeper, darker concern, that he wouldn't know how to live in the outside world again after so many years with the Section.

"Never will be with us, will it?" She smiled to take the sting out of her words and drew back. "Well, I'd better get going--I hate goodbyes."

"Wait--" She stopped in mid-turn and looked at him questioningly, eyes going to his extended hand and the white card held in it, took it from him and examined it, seeing just a phone number printed on it. "Line's secure--leave a message on it...if you want. And if you need anything..."

"I can take care of myself." said Nikita firmly but pocketed the card all the same, forcing herself to step back and away from the bed. "Goodbye, Michael." Flashing him a cheery smile she didn't feel, she went to the door and left the room.

"Goodbye..." he whispered and lifted a hand to brush impatiently at the tears in his eyes.

* * *

Once upstairs again she was met by Magda, who gave her an envelope and a set of keys. "There is a car out front, take it to the bus station in Grand Junction. Leave the car there, put the keys in the glove compartment, Tobias will pick it up. There is money in there--" she pointed at the envelope, "--to get you where you are going and help you start again. Not my idea--" she said as Nikita gave her an impulsive hug, a little stiff with the embrace but allowing herself to pat the younger woman on the back. "Michael's and you know how to thank him."

"I will." Putting her sunglasses on, bag slung over her shoulder, she hesitated at the door, one hand on the knob as she turned back to Magda. "He will be all right?"

"Yes." said Magda firmly and made a shooing gesture. "Off with you, drive carefully, it is my favorite car and I will be angry with you if you hurt it."

"Thank you." Opening the door, Nikita went out onto the porch and to the car, not looking back once, even if there was an ache in her heart as she drove off, looking once again for a place she could call home and wishing that she could share it with him...

End

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