Nikita sat huddled in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around her knees and drawing them up to her chest, rocking as she sat. Her periods of lucidity were growing shorter and shorter, she knew somewhere deep in the back of her mind that she was ill, that there was a reason for her wildly diverging emotions, but that was lost in the tumult her mind had become. Thoughts of Michael sent her swinging from obsessive love to utter hate, she wanted to hold him and touch him, kiss him and do all the things to him that she had ever dreamed of, in her wilder imaginings, and she wanted to hurt him, to sink her hands into his flesh, to feel his blood on her hands, to see the pain in his eyes that would mirror the pain he’d brought to her—

She whimpered at the image those thoughts brought, Michael standing before her with his shoulder bleeding, staring at her in disbelief, and she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, the pain providing a brief distraction, a centre in the storm. Buried her head in folded arms and tried to find a focus, to apply the lessons of control she had learned from Michael, but all her efforts were for naught as a wave of desolation swept her, leaving her weeping.

She wanted Michael to be here with her, to hold her and kiss her, tell her that it would be all right...but he would never do that, he was too obsessed with controlling her, as well as himself, using her, manipulating her—a snarl twisted her mouth as the emotional pendulum swung the other way and she pushed herself up on her feet to pace the room, looking for something to smash, destroy, she could pretend it was Michael and it might make this terrible anger ease...

Turning she saw the door and the anger rose higher. It was hot in here, too hot, and she was suffocating, she needed to get out of the room, out of this place, before the walls closed in on her. And then she was flinging herself at the door, battering it, shouting obscenities.

The antibiotic eased the fever a little, enough so that he was no longer shaking as badly, and though he still felt terribly weak, Michael pulled himself up to a sitting position and sat for a moment on the edge of the cot, head down and breathing deeply, before standing, holding onto the cot with his right hand until he found his balance. Mulder took a single step towards him, as if he was going to stop him, and Michael merely looked at him, something in his eyes that must of made Mulder think twice for he moved aside, raising his hands. “Where are you going?” asked Mulder quietly.

“To find the medical reports.” With the lab as the last scene that had needed cleaning, they had brought all the medical and coroner reports here, including the blood sample he had retrieved from Scully’s room after depositing the two unconscious agents there.

“Need any help?”

His first impulse was to snap that no, he didn’t need any help, but he set aside the automatic reaction for practicality. “Yes.” he admitted grudgingly.

Mulder raised an eyebrow at his tone but let it go, walking to the door to open it and holding it open for Michael to exit. As they walked down the hallway, passing by the room Nikita was in, through the door came the faint sound of Nikita’s voice.

“Michael—“ At her call, Michael came to a halt and moved to the door, his right hand coming up to touch the glass as he stared back at Nikita, her own hands up on the door, blue eyes pleading and wet with tears. “What’s happening to me? I feel so...strange...” A sob and she slipped out of view, her voice carrying faintly. “Help me, Michael...”

“Door.” Mulder looked at him askance but there was something steely in Michael’s eyes that made him dig out the keys and unlock the door. Carefully Michael pushed open the door and entered the room, Mulder behind him, went to where Nikita sat huddled on the floor, shoulders shaking with sobs, and reached out a hand to touch her on the head, kneeling beside her. Uncurling Nikita caught the arm that touched her and shoved him down onto the floor, her other hand coming up, clenching a shard of glass, a little blood on her hand as she brought the tip of the of the glass to his throat, letting it trail from his chin down, a trickle of blood following it. “So many times you’ve hurt me, Michael—isn’t it fair that I give some of that back?” she said hoarsely, eyes sparkling with madness, and as Mulder moved forward she pressed the glass harder, not cutting but applying pressure. “I want out, Michael—tell him to let me out or I cut your throat.”

“Nikita, don’t...” No strength in him to resist, he could only hope that she wasn’t so far gone that a plea couldn’t reach her, met her eyes and allowed some of the pain he was feeling to show. “Please...” She stared down at him, the pressure at his throat not easing, and for a moment he thought that it was too late, she was too caught up in the madness to hear him, but then the glass was lifted from his throat and her face crumpled, one hand going out to touch him briefly on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I can’t control it—“ Her trembling hand touched him on the head and he wanted to offer her some kind of comfort, some reassurance, but the exertion of the day and the loss of blood was too much, her voice fading as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Slowly Mulder moved forward, watching Nikita warily as she leaned over the unconscious Michael, stroking his hair, kneeled before her and said softly, “I need to take him out of here. Are you going to let me do it?” Nodding, Nikita slid back on the floor and away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched Mulder lift Michael’s slack form, slinging one arm over his shoulder and carrying him out through the door with only one quick backwards glance at Nikita, sitting on the floor, looking desolate.

Scully ran her tests, but they were inconclusive. Now she was frustrated, as much with herself as with Michael. He should have been lying down but, instead, he was pacing beside her. Scully couldn’t help but admire his will power and internal, as well as external strength. Michael was battling a fever yet he didn’t waver, nor show any signs of the pain she knew he was suffering. Michael felt Scully’s eyes upon him and turned to face her. “Try something else,” he whispered.

“Like what?” Scully shot back, glaring at him. Who did he think she was? A miracle worker?

“Find something,” Michael prompted. He felt anger flare up inside of him, but he held it in check. He knew that Scully was trying her best...but it wasn’t good enough. Time was running out for Nikita. For all of them.

Dana sighed as she watched him pace again, then she asked the one question she knew he would never answer. “Who are you, Michael?”

He stopped pacing again and turned to her, a slight smile curving his lips. “You don’t want to know,” he replied, honestly.

“It might help if I did know,” Scully challenged.

“It won’t,” Michael replied, shaking his head. Then his eyes grew colder as he moved to confront her. “Understand something, Dana. This isn’t just about saving Nikita’s life...”

Scully cut him off, having to share her thoughts. “You love her!” She interjected, and it was more of an accusation than a statement. Dana knew that she could never have a relationship with Michael, but that didn’t change her feelings for him. Not at this point, anyway. Maybe later, when all of this was over, she could exert the control of her logic over her emotions. But not now.

Michael didn’t deny her words, nor did he confirm them. But he did try to explain. He felt that Scully deserved that much. “Nikita and I share a.....bond. We live in a different world than you and Mulder do. But know this. If you don’t find a cure for the virus...and soon...you will be dead.”

“You’re not afraid to die, are you?” Scully questioned, seeing her answer in his beautiful, cold, eyes.

“I died a long time ago,” Michael whispered. That shook Scully.

“Michael...” she began.

He waved one hand to cut her off. “Don’t go there, Dana.” Michael locked eyes with her, his searching deep into her soul. He found strength, compassion and determination. She shared these traits with Nikita, and Michael admired her for it. But now he tried to reach the agent in her, and the scientist. “Find the cure. Do it now.”

“How?” Scully countered, feeling desperate.

“Focus.” Michael whispered the word as a sad smile curved his lips. He then turned and walked to the door of the room Nikita was locked in. Glancing in the window he saw her curled up in the corner, rocking herself. Tears filled Michael’s eyes. “Nikita...” he breathed, and then he turned and walked away.

Mulder was a little surprised when Michael came looking for him. “Something I can do for you?” he questioned, warily. There was something spooky about the young man. He should have been dead, yet he walked around like he was made of steel, not flesh and blood. Images of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator came to mind. Michael nodded. “Yes. I need a favour.”

“From me?” Mulder countered, not even trying to hide his surprise.

“Yes.” Michael almost smiled at the look on Mulder’s face. He held out a card with a hand written number on it. “If I don’t come back within the next twelve hours, I want you to call this number. Do as you’re told...no questions asked.”

Mulder took the card, but his eyes bored into Michael’s. “And just where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Michael blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “You don’t need to know that,” he whispered. Then his eyes shimmered as he stepped into Mulder’s face. “If I don’t come back and you don’t call...you’ll be dead. You...and Scully.”

“I see,” Mulder drawled, retreating a step to regain some of his personal space. He believed the other man.

“One more thing,” Michael said.

Mulder sighed. “Why not. What is it?”

Michael hesitated for a moment, but knew it had to be said. “Don’t let Nikita suffer.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Mulder countered, suspicion clouding his eyes. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“If she can’t be saved...shoot her.” Michael gave the order without a flicker of emotion betraying what he felt inside.

Mulder stared at him in stunned disbelief. He knew that Michael was serious. “You’re one, cold bastard,” he muttered. Then he shot back, “I can’t do it.”

Michael smiled then, and it was genuine. “Yes...you can. And you will,” he said softly. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Cancer man lit up a cigarette as he walked to his car. It was parked at the side of the convenience store. He slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and then felt cold, metal pressing against his neck. Glancing up in the rear view mirror, he saw Michael’s face. “Don’t even blink,” Michael whispered, knowing that the other man was watching him. “I’ve wired the car and I’m holding the trigger.”

His lips twitched into a cold smile. “Seems to me like a very good day to die. Don’t you think so?” Cancer man dragged on his cigarette, expelled a puff of smoke then said, “What do you want?”

What do you want? Cancer man’s words echoed in Michael’s head and with them came the thought—freedom, a chance to start life over again—that he shook out of his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. “I want to know the cause of this virus. I want to know how to find a cure.”

“And you think I’ll tell you?” responded Cancer man calmly, raising his eyebrows. “If you don’t...I blow the car.” Cancer man gave a little shrug. “You’ll die too.” He sounded supremely unconcerned about the prospect of his own death.

“I’ve been dead for years.” said Michael flatly, pressing the muzzle of his gun harder into the back of the older man’s neck. “If you doubt my sincerity, test me.”

Cancer man’s eyes were almost amused as he looked at him in the rear-view mirror. “Oh, I don’t doubt your sincerity. I’ve been watching you for a long time, I’m quite aware of what exactly you’re capable of—and not.” He exhaled a stream of smoke. “Tell Agent Scully that this virus bears a close resemblance to a certain...incident she and Agent Mulder investigated a few years back. At a research station in the Icy Cape. And now, if you don’t mind...I have a meeting to attend.”

For a moment, Michael entertained the idea of simply pulling the trigger, blowing the other man’s head off, but it would be pointless. There was another one waiting in the wings just like him and a hundred behind that one... “Thank you for your assistance.” he said ironically and slipped out of the car.

Scully rubbed her eyes as she straightened, putting a hand to her back and grimacing as sore muscles protested the movement. She had been studying the blood sample for what seemed to be hours, with only a desk lamp to provide illumination, and as the sun started to show through the windows of the lab she was no closer to an answer than she had been before. Studying it under the microscope she could see some kind of anomaly in the blood but couldn’t isolate or identify it, further tests had proved to be inconclusive as well.

“Any luck?” said Mulder for about the third time in the last two hours.

Scully drew a deep breath and counted to ten. “Not since the last time you asked.” It was coming close to being twenty-four hours since she’d last slept and she was feeling testy. The facilities at the lab were somewhat lacking, most of the equipment had already been removed, and it took far longer to run the tests than she would of liked. If she could, she would go back to Washington, D.C., with the lab there she’d have an answer much quicker...but by the time she was done this would all be gone, including with it—no doubt—Michael’s partner Nikita.

Mulder looked at his watch, seeing it had been nearly three hours since Michael had departed, and patted the pocket with the card Michael had given him. Twelve hours, Michael had told him, if I’m not back, call this number. And he considered as well the other thing Michael had asked him, to shoot Nikita, a shiver going through him. One thing to shoot someone when your life was on the line, quite another to shoot a person in cold blood, even if it meant ending their suffering...

“Why don’t you go check on Nikita?” Seeing Michael with Nikita, Scully had known exactly where his heart lay and had been surprised at the level of disappointment she felt, not to mention a little jealousy. Even though she hardly knew him, she suspected that if something were to happen to Nikita, it would destroy him.

“Yes, ma’am.” said Mulder sarcastically and left the lab.

Sighing, Scully lowered her head to the microscope again as she put another slide in.

Stopping outside the door to Nikita’s room, Mulder looked through the window to see the blond woman pacing a circle, hands clenching and unclenching down at her sides. He had looked in on her from time to time and she seemed to be getting worse, pacing endlessly, even occasionally coming to throw herself at the door as he stood there watching her. Coming to a halt, she sank down to a sitting position and buried her head in her arms.

A touch to his shoulder and Mulder whirled, automatically bringing his gun to bear, but a hand caught his and shoved the gun aside. He relaxed as he saw it was Michael and in turn Michael took a step back, turning his head to look briefly into the room and at Nikita. “I think I have an answer.” said Michael, pulling himself with a visible reluctance away from the door to walk down the hall and to the room Scully was in, Mulder trailing behind him. “How?” was all Mulder asked.

Michael flicked a sideways glance at him. “How do you think?” Cancer man...Mulder ground his teeth and forced himself to relax, to let it go, as Scully had told him. Some day he would actually catch up to that man...but today wasn’t the day. He followed Michael down the hall and into the lab,

Scully turning from her microscope, a relief in her eyes as she saw Michael and then as suddenly disappearing as she became all business. “What do you have?”

Drawing up a chair, Michael let himself sink down into it before he answered, voice hoarse. “He said that it was similar to something that you...encountered once in the Icy Cape.” More than anything he wanted to just lie down and close his eyes, let someone else deal with this, but he knew that despite how good these two agents were, they were not equipped to deal with this kind of situation, this kind of subterfuge. And there was Nikita as well...

Scully frowned and gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t see how...” She trailed off and turned back to the microscope, something tickling at the back of her mind, some idea. “Worm...” It had been found in a core sample taken from the ice and had proceeded to infect the research station staff, driving them into a homicidal frenzy until they killed each other. And when she and Mulder had appeared with three others to investigate, it had infected the pilot and one of the doctors—only the use of another worm had made it possible to kill the host worm. “But it’s not a worm, it’s some kind of...organism.” she muttered aloud, rubbing her forehead. “Not the same thing...did he say how?”

“I didn’t have the time to chat with him.” But of course he could guess... “A mutation, perhaps. It was supposed to be an experiment.” He shut his mouth against the flow of words, appalled that he had actually given out the information, proof of how tired he was... Mutation...again Scully turned her attention to the microscope, to examine the blood again. Only another worm could kill the host worm, stop the process that killed the host...so it stood to reason that only the blood of another person infected would provide a cure. And all the other victims were dead...

Time was running out, for all of them, but especially for Nikita. Scully used the information that Michael gave her, and she had some ideas, but neither the time, the means, nor the staffing to implement them. She blinked back tears of frustration and sadness, as she entered the room where Nikita lay. Michael was with her, holding the beautiful blond in his arms. She was docile now, her breathing shallow, and bruising shadowed her pale skin. Four hours left. Scully looked at Michael and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t save her.”

He looked at Dana with green eyes that shimmered with his own tears. Michael was too tired to fight them anymore, yet he was not willing to give up. Not for any of them, but especially not for Nikita. “There has to be something you can do,” he insisted.

“There isn’t,” Scully replied, her voice dull. She felt other eyes upon her and turned to see that Mulder was sitting in the corner. Dana smiled to herself as she realized that he had been keeping watch over Michael and Nikita. Now she turned back to Michael, to give him her findings. “The only chance would be to blood transfusion from someone else who was infected, and there’s no guarantee that it would work. I’m just guessing. And even if I’m right, all the others who were infected are dead.”

“Not all,” Michael whispered.

Scully blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

Michael let her see the answer in his eyes. But he voiced it as well. “I’m infected.” He had known for several hours now.

“But...how?” Scully looked at him, hard, and realized that all the signs were there, she just hadn’t looked for them. Or hadn’t wanted to see them. Still, she didn’t understand how.

Mulder did, and he answered the question. But his eyes were on Michael as he spoke. “When Nikita attacked you with the glass. She was bleeding. It got on your face. I wiped it off..” Mulder’s voice faded to a whisper as true realization dawned. Michael nodded.

“You’re infected as well, Mulder,” he confirmed. Then he smiled at Scully. “Do the transfusion, Dana,” he told her. “There’s no time left.”

She stared at him with horror in her eyes. Michael and Mulder were both infected with the virus. Both men would die and she couldn’t stop it. That was the only thought going through her head. “I can’t..” she whispered.

“You can, and you will!” Michael spat. “Do it!”

“It will kill you, Michael,” Dana countered, locking eyes with him.

“I’d have to flood Nikita’s veins with a transfusion since she’s in the late stages of the infection. You can’t afford to lose that much blood. You’ve lost too much already.”

Mulder stood up. “Use my blood,” he volunteered. “For both of them.”

Michael appreciated the offer, and said as much, but shook his head. “Do as I say,” he told Scully. And let her see, by the look in his eyes, that she had no choice. He watched her nod, then leave the room to get what she would need. Michael then looked up at Mulder. “I need your phone.”

“What for?” Mulder asked, even as he handed it over. Not that it mattered anymore. He was fairly well resigned to the fact that he was going to die.

“I’m going to call for back up,” Michael said, a smile curving his lips. He punched in a number and spoke one word, “Scarlett.” Then he handed Mulder the phone back.

Frowning, Mulder countered, “That’s it?” Michael closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s it. Now we wait.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around Nikita and whispered, “Mes couer et ame.” My heart and soul.

Michael opened his eyes and saw pale golden light. Then he focused upon familiar white walls, and he knew that he was in Section One Medlab. But he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be dead. As he moved to sit up, a strong hand pressed against his chest.

“Rest, Michael,” Nikita told him, her eyes shining.

“Nikita..” Michael whispered her name, even as she stared up at her beautiful face. “You’re all right?”

She smiled at him, one hand reaching out to smooth a lock of hair off his forehead. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Thanks to you.”

Michael didn’t know what to think. But he remembered something. “Scully?”

“She and Mulder are fine,” Nikita said, answering Michael’s unasked question. “She saved both our lives, Michael. You nearly died, should have died, giving me the transfusion. But Scully was determined that you would live. We all were. And while you were clinging to life, she was working on a cure for the infection, using your blood....no less. She’s a very smart woman. And I will be eternally grateful to her.” Tears made Nikita’s voice hoarse as she bent to brush a kiss to Michael’s temple.

“How long have I been here?” Michael asked. He was unwilling to face the emotions that showed so clearly on Nikita’s face. Now was not the time, nor the place.

Nikita pulled herself together, following Michael’s lead. Too many eyes were watching them now, and emotions were running high. She was just so damn glad that he was alive. And deeply touched by the realization that Michael had been willing to die for her. “You’ve been here for six days,” she told him, smiling at his start of surprise. “You were unconscious for two days, delirious for two more, and Doctor White had you sedated for the past two.” Nikita grinned as she lightly punched his shoulder. “She knows you very well, Michael. And she didn’t want you walking out of here. In fact, I’m under orders to call security if you so much as even look like you want to get out of bed.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. For once, he was willing to give in to his weariness; all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Rest,” Nikita told him, one hand reaching for his and holding on tight. “I’ll watch over you.” She saw Michael’s eyes close and knew that he had drifted into sleep. Nikita pulled up a chair and sat down. A promise was a promise. She wouldn’t leave him. She owed him that, for he had never left her...and Nikita knew that he never would.

Scully opened the door to her office and stopped dead. She stumbled, however, when Mulder bumped into her. He had been walking behind her. “What the...” Scully whispered, as she took in the sight of the six dozen red roses that filled the room.

“Whoa...” Mulder said, pushing in beside her. “Very nice. Who are they from?”

“I have no idea,” Scully muttered, moving forward to inhale the fragrance of one perfect bloom.

Mulder plucked a card from one of the bouquets and held it out to Scully. “Read it,” he prompted. He watched her for a moment then said, “Well?”

Scully shrugged. “All is says is ‘thank you’.”

“That’s it?” Mulder moved to stand by her shoulder and glanced at the card. “That’s it,” he confirmed.

“Odd.”

“Hmmm..” Scully murmured. She had a sudden flash of silver-green eyes, but no image of a face. Just the eyes and the sense of a memory that was forever out of reach.

Cancer man was in his car. His cell phone was to his ear as he puffed on a cigarette. His lips twitched into a smile as he listened, then he put down the phone. “Nice job, Michael,” he drawled. “I look forward to working with you again.” Cancer man exhaled a cloud of smoke then headed west.

THE END.