The cobblestone sidewalk was unique to view. The stones didn't match and it gave a rustic feeling that was almost as odd as it was nice. The cobblestone ran down a few blocks, the entire stretch of the business section of the town, and ended. A few blocks past the business section of town, there was a nice set of houses, in a perfect four-block square. Many of the folks that lived in that area commuted into the big town and hour away each morning and escaped back to the quaint little town in the evening.

The building off to the right was a pretty gray brick restaurant. The large bay window in the front was trimmed a bright white that sparkled in the sunlight. On the top ledge of the window, an elegant silk rose garland was wrapped about. Off to the left, where the pole for the street light was, including a hanging planter. The fuchsia flowers were draping out of the white basket and adding an additional smile of sweetness to the air.

The bakery of the town was sending out the aroma of the fresh baked bread that instantly watered any passing mouth. That building was still down another block, but it kind of reminded people of what happens in Hershey, Pa. In Hershey, you can smell the chocolate from the factory all about. You walk down the street just to smell the chocolate. That is what the bakery does to this little town. You just want to walk to smell the bread, and in the night, when the bakery is closed, its not like the smell is lost either. It always is around, either in reality or if only in the mind.

Next to the little restaurant was a small hardware store. A flag hung out from the door, pronouncing welcome to all that walked and drove past. It flapped in the slight breeze during the summer day. The door to the store was opened and the doorway was filled with wind chimes that were happily chirping away in the breeze, making more noise than the occasional passing car down the main street. The store was packed from one end to the other, with supplies off all sorts, so that the residents of the town didn't have to drive the forty-five minutes to the Home Depot and the Busy Beaver that were competing against each other in the suburbs of the large city. If you needed it, more than likely you could get it at the hardware store or special order it in.

After the hardware store, on the corner of the block was the little police station and jail. It wasn't even a jail. It was a little room in the back that was rarely used, except for the rare resident that was fighting with their wife and got a bit to drunk and had no place to go home too. The door here was open also, as it was a small public building that seemed to be more of a meeting place to talk and gossip than it was to uphold law. Laws in this little town were easy, filled with common sense. Be nice and don't make anyone mad.

It was like that rush of the modern world didn't exist in this little town, as you could still buy things on credit at any of the stores, and the only reason one would need a credit card would be because they were going to shop in the big city. Everything was at their fingertips here, while not having the rush and hurriedness that seemed to plague every other part of the nation. Computers were at home and not seen anywhere else. The cash registers didn't scan and most often, the prices were negotiable.

At the corner, the fresh bread smell got stronger as the street to cross was only a small one, with no need to have a crosswalk. Cars were infrequent in the little town; everything could be easily walked to if one had the ability. To take the car to go down two blocks was seen as frivolous and lazy.

The door to the bakery was exactly on the corner, and was wide. The large windows showed the goodies that waited inside and the watering of the mouth almost intensified to a full out droll. The door here was also opened. It was bright in the shop and the shelves were filled with perfectly baked breads, ready to be bought, and if needed, just taken.

There was a warmth in the shop created by the ovens. It was not like the warmth from the sun outside that at points seemed to be too unbearable, but a warmth that wrapped one up in a feeling of piece, almost as if your own body was wrapped into a large piece of warm bread.

These breads did not need butter or jams. They melted into your mouth as you ate the fluffy and soft bread. Off in the corner was three loafs of French bread, that was not normally made in the store, but was sometimes offered. If you thought of the bread, they could make it on request.

No one was standing at the counter, as folks in this town didn't worry about shoplifters or anything. If anything, the food was needed or it was a kid who didn't want to steal into the cookie jar at home. The shop owners were the kindest folks in town, known for helping those who are just coming into the town to get use to it. They owned a few houses and always suggested that someone rented them before buying them. Some people couldn't leave the comforts of the large city and would leave quickly, saying they were escaping back to the real world, but in this little town, everything was perfect.

"Is someone out there? I'll be right out!" Mrs. Papappas said from the back room as the oven was shut loudly. She was baking cookies, knowing that in two hours the children would come running off the bus, that shipped them some twenty miles away from the town, and will want cookies. She kept them ready at all times, but the end of school was a special time. All the children loved Mrs. Papappas and she loved all the children.

Mrs. Papappas turned the corner, pulling the white apron off of her plump body. She ran a hand through her gray, permed hair and looked to the corner and gasped.

"Sweet lord! How did you get here and why are you all by yourself!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed, as she looked at the figure in front of her, amazed that one had the strength to stand, let alone walk. Mrs. Papappas had no children of her own, but she was the mother of the town, and now she had an addition to those to tend too, this one was going to need more than others do.

"I just got out of the hospital... and I had to come to where my things are." Nikita softly said as she struggled to keep her balance. She saw the horror on Mrs. Papappas face as she pushed a chair out from the back room and it loudly squeaked as she pushed it to the center of the shop. She looked to Nikita and didn't know how to help the young woman. She reached out for the arm that was not in the sling, but found that the hand was balancing Nikita by firmly leaning onto a long cane.

"Henry! Get out here and help me!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed as she looked to Nikita and shook her head.

"Oh sweet God... no one should be all alone... I'm going to take care of you, sweet Nikita... I swear it to God!" Mrs. Papappas promised as she stood waiting for her husband to show up and help her. Once Mrs. Papappas made a promise, she was going to keep it, but what Nikita didn't realize is that Mrs. Papappas had already started to tend to Nikita before she arrived in the store that day.

*

"HENRY! Hurry up... the sweet thing can't wait forever!" Mrs. Papappas cried out as she looked to the back room, where there was still more noise. Mr. Papappas was tinkering with the oldest oven and didn't even notice that his wife had wandered out from the backroom to the store. Usually their customers would yell and shout hellos when they entered, knowing that the Papappas always were doing eight things at a time.

Mr. Papappas heard Esther call for him again and pulled his own chubby body out of the oven, finding nothing wrong with it, as he had found in the past six months. He was a perfectionist, so anything less than perfect was not allowed and this stove was causing them. He slammed the oven shut and looked at the dirty that had collected on his work shirt. He was going to pull it off, but Esther sounded a bit more worried than usual.

"Are you late for the quilting group at the church again?" Mr. Papappas asked as he started to round the corner. He saw Esther standing next to the creature he knew to be Nikita, but not the Nikita he met two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, laughter filled the little bakery as Nikita entered with a fresh batch of energy. She was in the need to escape the looming city that she felt had crunched her creativeness. The Papappas had seen the type before, writers or artists feeling they needed to escape, but they both looked to Nikita and felt something different. She was a light soul and being.

Mr. and Mrs. Papappas did not hesitate on renting Nikita one of the many houses they had to offer. She was so delightful to be with, and for the first time in a long time Mrs. Papappas felt that this was how her daughter would have been if she ever had a child. Nikita was a like a ray of sunlight that needed to be allowed out for a day dance or two.

That was before the accident.

Nikita had made plans to come to the town last Friday, and the movers arrived on Saturday, knocking at the Papappas' house, with a full load of furniture and clothing, but no Nikita. They began to worry, since Nikita had told them about herself. They both felt connected to her, as she told them she had no one in her life. She was an orphan, and her adoptive parents had departed about four years ago when they were traveling in a foreign country. They had adopted her in her teens, so she had never connected with those parents. The Papappas saw that Nikita was a lone person in the world, trying to find what life was, and worried when there was not one word from her.

Of course the Papappas allowed the movers into the house that Nikita was renting. They weren't going to have her charged extra charges because they didn't have the time to unlock the house. It wasn't that they weren't in the area, and they had another renter moving in next door to Nikita's house. He told the Papappas he would watch the movers and he did a decent job of it. By the times the movers had completed, Mrs. Papappas had tracked down Nikita's location and heard of the terrible car accident that she had been in.

"Dear Nikita... You weren't suppose to be here until tomorrow!" Mr. Papappas said as he walked to the young woman, and used his strength to settle Nikita down into the chair. Both of them were taken back by her appearance and looked at each other before looking back to Nikita.

Nikita inhaled sharply, feeling pain radiating through her body. She wouldn't tell them that sitting was going to hurt her more, that her tailbone had been severely bruised, along with her entire back. Nikita fought to smell the bread, finding a way to concentrate on something else, as she knew what she needed to do. Nikita forced a smile out, thinking about the bread that she was sure that she could eat in time.

"I just wanted to get the keys.... And go rest on the couch." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas started to loudly protest Nikita's plan. She bent down and looked at Nikita, pleased to find that her face was not injured, although she had been told that Nikita had suffered a concussion.

"You can't take care of yourself. I will not have you going to a house that only has a couch and boxes. You need people to take care of you." Mrs. Papappas exclaimed and Henry looked to his wife and sighed. This was not a battle that Esther was going to win. He had seen Nikita's strong will when she had entered about the house, and he was sure that Nikita was use to being by herself.

"Really... I just need to get to my house... the bus was uncomfortable and I just need to rest." Nikita protested against Esther's demands. The woman shook her head as she stood up.

"BUS! Dear God!" Esther exclaimed out of disgust. Nikita had only been discharged from the hospital today and endured a bus right to the little down.

"Henry, tell her that she will stay with us!" Esther said and Mr. Papappas rolled his eyes and bent down to look at Nikita. She raised her blue eyes to look up at the older man and to make her wishes known.

"No, Esther, the child wants to go to her home... That's what she needs. You can help her, but let her go to her home." Henry forcefully said as he stood up to look at his wife with his own firm eyes. She sighed and threw her hands in the air.

"Fine! But we are driving her!" Esther said as she turned to the back room. Nikita shook her head as she struggled to stand up. She did not want the older woman's pity. Nikita knew how to take care of herself.

"I can walk... I need to walk." Nikita said as she heard the drawers in the backroom slamming about. Nikita looked to Mr. Papappas for an explanation of what his wife was doing. He helped Nikita up, as he realized the young woman was not going to stop her movement until she stood up to her high heights, even if she was bent over with the cane, she was still taller than both Papappas.

"She is getting you food. Your have none in your kitchen." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita rolled her eyes. She hadn't even thought about not having food when she finally arrived to the little house that she just wanted to curl up in and not immerge until she felt better. Nikita blinked her eyes and swallowed.

"Mrs. Papappas.... I'm not hungry... I don't need food." Nikita said firmly as she looked around, trying to deny what Mrs. Papappas was doing even as her stomach growled in protest. Mr. Papappas grinned softly and looked around.

"You like French Bread?" he questioned and Nikita nodded her head and he grabbed the bread and looked to the door. Unlike his wife, he was willing to let Nikita do some things by herself. She was a very capable woman, especially if she had managed to leave the hospital and promptly gotten on a bus to the small town that Nikita wanted to escape too.

"Esther.... You bring the supplies... I'm going to take the sweet Nikita to her home... get her on the couch... and check on her neighbor." Mr. Papappas said as he watched Nikita step out of the store. Nikita looked to him as he opened the door to the car as Mrs. Papappas ran out.

"You wait! Dear God, she shouldn't be alone at all!" Mrs. Papappas as Nikita reached to the car and on her good side, leaned against the hot metal. She felt the metal burning her skin but she did not have the strength to push off of it at that moment. She watched as a few residents walked into the airy bakery and Mr. Papappas pointed to the store.

"You have to stay, darling... and don't worry, Esther... Maybe God wanted me to take her home." Henry said and Mrs. Papappas sighed and walked back in the house. Nikita shook her head as Mr. Papappas opened the door.

"It is actually less painful for me to walk.... Please." Nikita softly said and Mr. Papappas nodded his head, knowing that Nikita was a much better judge on what she could and couldn't do. He wasn't going to argue with the young woman. She had enough problems and he did not want to add to them.

They started to walk down the street slowly. They past the old fashioned drug store, that still had the soda counter in it, with full service ice cream, with no mention of low-fat or lactose free. Mr. Papappas looked at Nikita as she seemed to rejoice the sun beating down on her face. Hospitals were never kind places and it was probably the first time since her accident that she got to be outside.

"I want you to realize that my wife has been doing things that I don't even know about..." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita forced a smile out, trying to force herself from the thoughts of the couch that was waiting for her.

"May I ask what you do know of?" Nikita questioned and he deeply laughed, the first time that Nikita had heard the laugh since she arrived on this day. He had laughed so heartily when she met them the first time that now she was glad to hear it again, making sure that he was the same man.

"Well... she made me... but the hardware store and her church club had whole house air conditioning put in, so you wouldn't have to walk back and forth to fans." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita let the tears roll out of her eyes, knowing that things that generous didn't come from evil people. It was a kind gesture from people who barely knew her for more than a few hours.

"And some other things... and don't expect that you'll be left alone much... she has a rotation of people to check on you every two hours..." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita sighed and looked up to the sky, wondering where were these people when she was young.

*

The first thing Nikita noticed as Mr. Papappas turned the corner towards the house that she was renting that someone had spent significant time in refurbishing the fence around the house. When she had looked at the house about two weeks ago, the wood was weathered and looked like one decent storm would tumble the entire fence down.

Now the fence was a perfect shining white picket fence about hip high. They were firmly standing in a perfect right angle to the ground, tightly pressed together, only leaving little gaps for little insects to squeeze through and nothing else. It ran the length of the yard, closing in the perfectly manicured front yard. Nikita smiled as she stepped and saw that the sidewalk had been redone.

There had been some minor chips out of the cement, but now, it appeared as if they entire sidewalk had been repaired leading up to the small porch that was level with her front yard. She expressed to Mrs. Papappas that she didn't want anything special done, and she had gone ahead and poured money into the house that Nikita knew she wouldn't be staying in long.

"I know, Nikita.... I told her to respect your wishes... but our new renter is a contractor with some spare time on his hands... He did the work at cost." Mr. Papappas informed Nikita as he turned and looked at her stunned face. Nikita looked up and saw that some white gauzy curtains were hanging over the front windows, bringing more light into the little two-story house. Nikita had no plans on leaving the first floor for many days.

"What happened to the blue curtains?" Nikita softly asked with a chuckle in her throat. Mr. Papappas turned around and smiled broadly.

"I haven't told Esther yet.... She doesn't know that I changed them.... Last night." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita smiled. They were bright blue curtains that Mrs. Papappas claimed made the house and she had joked with Mr. Papappas if there was one thing she objected about the entire house, it was the curtains.

"So you are going to blame me for this one?" Nikita questioned as she hobbled up to the porch. Mr. Papappas handed Nikita the keys, but saw that with her one arm steadying her shaky body on a thin cane and her other arm in a sling, she could not even open her own door. He turned and opened the door. He stepped in and held open the screen door for Nikita to enter.

"I wouldn't do that too you." Mr. Papappas said as he turned and smiled at Nikita. She nodded her head and looked around the small crowded living room they immediately had stepped into. The movers had just dumped everything in the living room and Nikita blinked her eyes, finding the scene unbelievable. The couch that she had been dreaming of for hours now, must have been the first thing the movers brought in and then piled everything between it and the door. There were even three rather large bags sitting on top of the couch.

"Oh dear... that isn't going to work." Mr. Papappas said as he noticed Nikita's eyes filling with tears as she looked to the couch. He looked around and found one of the kitchen chairs and brought it to Nikita so she could at least temporarily sit down while he worked on making room for Nikita to reach the couch. He growled and groaned as he moved the boxes about.

"HENRY!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed as she walked into the house with three bags of supplies. She looked down to Nikita and placed the things down for moment as she saw her husband moving the boxes around. She was appalled to find out the movers had just dumped everything in the living room. She looked at the stacks of boxes and shook her head.

"Dear God... you can't stay here, Nikita. Nothing is ready for you!" Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita blinked her eyes and swallowed. She didn't want to continue to have the same argument with Mrs. Papappas for the next six or more hours.

"I only need the couch. I'm sure I'm going to go sleep immediately." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas sighed and moved to the grab the bags and moved to the kitchen. She set the bags down and then reclaimed the French bread that Mr. Papappas had carried all the way with him and looked to Nikita.

"First you are going to eat... I was going to cook Po-Boys for the nice renter Mike next door, but he isn't home. He is the one who loves the French bread..." Mrs. Papappas said as she turned and walked back to the kitchen. Nikita carefully smiled, finding her too sweet to hate.

"That's because he is French!" Henry called out as he lifted the last box off of the couch. He looked around and pulled a lamp out and placed it on a box next to the couch and plugging it in. He waved his hands to Nikita, displaying the couch for her.

"Thank you..." Nikita mouth as Mrs. Papappas reemerged from the kitchen, shaking the French bread in her hand.

"He is not French. He is a strong and strapping young man. Right out of the Heartland of America.... I bet you he was the star of his high school football team and was a three sport jock!" Mrs. Papappas said as Nikita struggled to stand up, finding her body revolting against the signals from her mind.

Nikita grunted and her good hand slipped off of the cane and it loudly snapped down against the wall. Nikita's body jumped away from the sound and she slowly opened her eyes, seeing the eyes firmly staring at her.

"Henry! For God's sake, HELP HER!" Esther yelled and Nikita closed her eyes and tried to reach for the cane. Henry Papappas walked around and reached for the cane. He handed it to Nikita, seeing that she could not have bent down for it.

"Why don't you accept my help this time... and next time I'll let you be?" Mr. Papappas questioned and Nikita smiled and nodded her head.

"I would appreciate it, Mr. Papappas." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas turned and continued to mutter about the damn insurance companies about releasing someone as hurt as Nikita out of the hospital. Nikita heard the steady stream of words from her, everything from suing the company and then suing the doctors for allowing it to happen.

"You get use her ranting... quickly." Mr. Papappas said as he used his arms to pull Nikita up from the seat. Nikita slowly steadied her body and leaned her arm against the older man and quickly made the way to the couch. She heavily flopped down, welcoming the soft padding of the couch.

"So this is going to be a long day, right?" Nikita questioned and Mr. Papappas grabbed the chair Nikita had been sitting on and brought it to the couch as Nikita carefully pulled her legs up onto the couch and moaned in pleasure for finding extreme comfort.

Nikita tried not to think about what had happened, but easily her mind drew the differences between the harsh beds in medical inside of Section One and the couch that she was carefully placed into now. This was a softness that could not be compared. The beds in medical were tough and hard, and isolated Nikita more than she would ever be in this little house. She wanted some peace and quiet, but having the Papappas around was a nice change.

"Yes.... And I better warn you about tomorrow." Mr. Papappas said and Nikita swallowed and looked at him. Each time he continued with the conversation, Nikita found herself deeper into some of Mrs. Papappas' elaborate plans.

"What about tomorrow?" Nikita questioned and Mrs. Papappas pocked her head out and looked to Nikita, with an apron tied around her waist.

"Henry.. Did you find her a pillow and a blanket? Did you check the air conditioning? OH... and sweet, Nikita... Do you like shrimp?" Mrs. Papappas questioned and Nikita blinked. The woman never slowed down for a second and Nikita felt her head swirling from the rapid fire from Mrs. Papappas that seemed to be faster than any machine gun she could fire.

"I like shrimp..." Nikita softly commented as Mr. Papappas stood up and started to read the labels on the boxes and bags around. Nikita blinked her eyes and swallowed. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn't now, she wasn't sure what she would dream of, and she did not want the Papappas being subjected to a nightmare of hers.

*

Nikita leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling from the couch that she had just returned too. It had been her luck that there was a small powder room tucked in the corner between the kitchen and the little back porch, and that she did not have to climb the stairs. She ached to pull her body out of the long sleeved shirt and the long pants and lay out on the couch, but would not do so.

Nikita knew that if Mrs. Papappas saw the injuries, saw the bruising that she would never leave Nikita alone that night. Nikita was trying to endure her sweetness, and it might have been easily done if she had not spent the last five years within Section One, never getting anything kind and only receiving more manipulations and torture. Sweetness should not be torture, but for Nikita, it was. It was stunningly ironic; that what Nikita wanted in the world could now be used to drive her to insanity.

"Is there something I can get you?" Mrs. Papappas asked as she stepped out of the kitchen again. She had been fluttering around the kitchen and living room all day, sort of like a hummingbird that drank someone's Mountain Dew. Her energy was endless when she was helping someone and she didn't take the hint from her husband or from Nikita, that Nikita ached to be alone for just a while.

"No, Mrs. Papappas... Go home, I'll be fine." Nikita stated as she tore her eyes away from the beautiful ceiling. It had the inlayed dark beams of wood crossing the ceiling, contrasting against the white plaster. It created a checkerboard pattern that Nikita had been using to amuse herself during the hours with Mrs. Papappas.

"How can you say that, my dear? You need tended too." Mrs. Papappas said as she sat down on the couch, missing the point that any movement in the couch inflicted more pain to Nikita. Yet, Nikita realized to show that pain would make her feel like she had to stay.

"Mrs. Papappas, I have told you... I have been alone most of my life... This isn't the first time I have been injured. I can handle this till the morning." Nikita said and the older woman shook her head and touched Nikita's bruised right leg with her hand. Nikita swallowed back the scream of pain and smiled at the woman as she protested Nikita's words.

"That is exactly why you need me!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed and Nikita looked to the wall and blinked her eyes a few times as Mrs. Papappas bounded up from the couch, again, causing pain to wash across her body in tidal waves.

"I can unpack a few things for you... Find you a nightgown...Get you some pain medication." Mrs. Papappas offered and Nikita smiled and dropped her head. Slowly her hair dropped in front of her face. The constant pressure from Mrs. Papappas to allow her to help was draining her. Nikita felt like she was battery being used over and over again until there was nothing left within her.

"You are coming back in the morning to help me, Mrs. Papappas. You need your own sleep." Nikita said as she quickly changed the subject. She would not have any luck achieving her goal of expelling Mrs. Papappas from her house if she allowed the older woman to focus on herself.

"Dear child... I know when I need sleep. I once stayed up 72 hours while the entire town was down with the flu and I still was able to go to the church and lit a candle for every single person who was sick!" Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita smiled and nodded her head.

Mrs. Esther Papappas was a highly religious person, which in ways complicated everything that Nikita was dealing with. It was hard listening to Mrs. Papappas pray before every little thing she ate and drank. She was constantly talking to God as if he was a real person. Nikita understood that for many people, not just Mrs. Papappas, that it was normal behavior, yet it grated on Nikita's nerves and she had no way to stop it.

"They must have been grateful... as I am... but really, there is nothing for you to do but to watch me sleep." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas sighed and nodded her head as she bent down and stroked Nikita's head softly with both of her hands. Nikita closed her eyes and fought the images that she found in her own darkness and prepared herself for the lies that were soon going to be needed.

"But I will watch you sleep. That's what you need." Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita took her healthy left hand up and took Mrs. Papappas hand and slowly kissed it.

"You are too sweet." Nikita commented as she let the hand go. "But I can't sleep while people watch me... I never have been able too... my adoptive parents watched me for weeks once I arrived and I would stay up all hours, because I could feel them watching me."

"Oh... dear child... They loved you!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed and Nikita heavily sighed seeing that her approach, no matter how much Nikita thought it would work, was not working. The compassion and empathy that Mrs. Papappas was too much and Nikita tried not to laugh at the thought that she would find even something good in Operations and forgive him for what he has done.

"I know." Nikita commented as Mrs. Papappas walked back to the kitchen. Nikita turned her head back up to the ceiling. She started the game of checkers again. Of course there wasn't a full board, but she had nothing to do, and it was better than to think about what had been plaguing her thoughts while she was in medical inside of Section One and better than thinking about what lie won't work next.

Nikita dropped her head and watched the light in the kitchen finally flicker out. Nikita swallowed and shook her head. Suddenly something popped in her mind, a way to escape the smothering kindness from Mrs. Papappas, even if it was only for a few hours. Nikita was sure that by the crack of dawn the old woman would be checking on her current charity case.

"Mrs. Papappas, could you do me a favor?" Nikita questioned and the woman turned her blue eyes and looked to Nikita, happy to hear Nikita finally asking for something. The old woman nodded her head up and down and moved to Nikita quickly.

"I usually light candles for my adoptive parents every week... and I haven't been able too..." Nikita said as she lowered her chin softly and Mrs. Papappas walked over and lightly touched her chin as tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Of course my child.. I'll go now... What were their names?" Mrs. Papappas asked and Nikita swallowed and sighed, needing an instant lie.

"Madeline and Paul. They need lots of prayers..." Nikita commented and Mrs. Papappas reached out for her purse and looked around to Nikita. She pulled the sheet up over Nikita, even though Nikita was visibly sweating.

"I'll even light one for you... for your speedy recovery." Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita smiled and nodded her head, thankful for the gesture, hoping that she would hurry up with her recovery, knowing that if she didn't she would have to deal with the wrath of either Madeline or Operations. There was a mission here and Nikita had to remind herself that through all of this, her recovery was expected to happen along with the mission and anything less was not going to be tolerated. The mission had already been pushed back a week, which neither Madeline or Operations were pleased about.

"Thank you." Nikita said as Mrs. Papappas nodded her head, feeling that it was quite silly for Nikita to be thanking her. She had to remind herself that Nikita was from the city, were people just didn't do nice things out of the kindness of someone's own heart.

The older woman played with her purse and pulled out the set of rosary beads and smiled to Nikita. She turned her head down and opened her eyes wide as she looked at the watch.

"Listen.. Your next door neighbor is going to come to check on you in about forty-five minutes. He is a sweet young man, so don't be scared." Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita nodded her head and her blonde hair dropped in front of her face. Mrs. Papappas shook her head and pushed it tenderly back for Nikita, in a way that no one has ever done for her. Nikita turned her head away as she felt the tears on the edge of her eyes, but did not want to stop Mrs. Papappas from departing her house.

Nikita knew that she needed to face the demons that she had been pushing against all day, hiding against them by using her fake smile on the Papappas. Time was running out on Nikita's strength, as in the past she had not been able to make it more than four hours in medical without breaking down into tears. And Madeline knew that, as she had talked to Nikita about strategies to use in case she did break down while with the Papappas or anyone else in the little perfect town. Nikita knew she was going to be alone on this mission and she hated it, feeling that it should have been changed since she incurred injuries.

"I will be fine.... I should be asleep." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas zipped her purse up and headed towards the door. She looked around and smiled at Nikita. The young woman had part of her heart instantly, and now Mrs. Papappas just wanted to be the mother that she never got the chance to be. She closed the door and walked down the steps.

She lifted her hand and waved to the neighbor. He waved back as he sat on the front porch, reading a book or something. He was a sweet man, as she had told Nikita. He had given all of his spare time to help Mrs. Papappas with all the improvements to the house in the past week and he would not accept any more money from her. Mrs. Papappas walked down to her little car, sure that the neighbor would watch over Nikita as she was gone for the night.

Inside Nikita leaned her head back and did not fight the tears that she wanted to release for hours now. They ran down her face even as she stared into the light. She saw the images rushing back to her, even in the light that she forced herself to stare at. They were intense and did not stop, and now, even though her body needed to sleep, she couldn't even phantom closing her blue eyes, knowing that it would only make the images come alive.

*

It was so dark as Nikita moved through the warehouse. The lights had not been killed, but the few lights that were on were few and far between. The shadows extended down the hallways, and seemed to hold unknown fears and terrors. In any of them, a few good-sized men could be standing, watching Nikita as she moved.

Her body was pounding as she was finding it impossible to move to her position in time. Birkoff was barking at her, the team leader was barking at her, and her mental Michael was barking at her. She was letting everything go downhill with her need to make sure the shadows were clear before running down the hallway.

"Nikita... Stop!" Birkoff's voice had echoed into her ear, as she was about to turn into her position at the end of the warehouse. They were going to take done some designer chemicals and she was to be guarding the back entrance, so that none of the employees got away from her. It was planned that way, the less dangerous position, because Madeline and Operations had worked hard on establishing Nikita into a deep cover mission. They believe that it this small mission would run smoothly and they could move Nikita back to the small, rustic town just hours after her return.

All of that was gone when Nikita heard Birkoff's voice, and that voice echoed over and over again to her, wherever she has been since he said them. The tone of worry and anger in the voice, mixed with the pure terror still caused Nikita to shiver, be it in her dreams, her memories, or just looking to the wall.

The explosion happened no more than a few seconds later. The entire warehouse exploded into hot flames and Nikita was thrown against the wall. That wasn't when she was hurt, they were only minor bumps in comparison to what was going to happen to her.

"Nikita... get out of there..." Birkoff hissed and Nikita turned and started to run, but not quick enough, as balls of flames came out into the hallway, but it wasn't just fire. They were operatives.

"NO!" Nikita screamed out in her fitful sleep now as Michael opened the door and looked into the moonlight room. Nikita had turned off the light that Mr. Papappas has placed near the couch as soon as Mrs. Papappas had left. Now the full moon bright lit the room by shining through the gauzy white curtains, and highlighted Nikita's face in a way that would have been peaceful had she not be in the throws of a nightmare.

He stared at her for several minutes from the doorway, noticing how she did not even hear his purposely loud entrance and how she still seemed to be trapped with the images that were flickering through her mind painfully slow. Michael knew the movie reel syndrome too well. It was the way Walter described the events, where they played over and over again, slower and slower, and most of the time, only a few sounds being heard. It was like the old silent movies in ways, only it was real events.

>From where he stood, he couldn't see the injuries that he had been informed of officially by Madeline and Operations. They were quick to point out that she had no broken bones, but that did not seem to ease Michael's mind. It didn't matter if nothing broke; a three-story fall onto the right side of your body is a three-story fall onto the right side of your body. Madeline and Operations tried to shake off the seriousness of the injuries, and that was why Michael didn't even hesitate in checking the information and second, third, and forth time.

Walter had been invaluable, as he seemed to be spending his entire time down there. Michael was sure that he held something back, but he told Michael that Nikita was black from her shoulder to her toe on her right side. He said that it was difficult to make Nikita comfortable as her entire back was almost black and there was a severe bruise of her tailbone. It was also from Walter that he learned of the other difficulties, that he learned of the private images that were haunting Nikita. No one knew what she saw, and Nikita had not said a word about it up until this moment.

Michael had read every single piece of medical jargon he could access from his computer and even got a few moments to view some x-rays. That was how he found out that between the medical experts in Section One that there was so dispute about possible hairlines, and that there were many that Michael could even spot, and he wasn't a trained professional.

"NO!" Nikita cried out as the tears escaped from her tightly closed eyelids and sparkled in the moonlight. Michael stepped forward and took stock of what the living room looked like. He noticed that Mrs. Papappas was there most of the day, and did virtually nothing. It had to be difficult to go to sleep on a couch with boxes surrounding you like a little fort towering around your body.

"Nikita..." Michael softly said as he reached down and turned the light on. Nikita jerked her body and groaned in pain. The instinct was to jump and the pain was afterwards, when the muscles pulled at the damage the fall had made.

Nikita opened her eyes and did not see Michael at first. Who she saw was one that was dead. His name had been Rhoades, a tall and young man who was strong as an ox. To describe what he looked like when Nikita saw him that last time, when he reached out and touched her face, was beyond words. He was alive, but he was melting before her eyes.

That was when Birkoff gave her the command to jump through the window, to do anything to get out of the building. Her face was stinging where he had touched her and she turned and looked to the window. She didn't know it was three stories down and she had gotten tripped up as her foot hooked the window, sending her down to the ground to land on her side.

"RHOADES!" Nikita screamed and closed her eyes as she used her good hand to cover her eyes. When she pulled it over, she saw the face that she knew so well and then didn't know. Questions ran through her mind, of how did Michael just appear.

"Nikita..." Michael said again, not wanting to sound alarmed with her screams. Given the advice from Walter and Birkoff, they suggested that if he tried to do something with Nikita, that sleep was most important. Nikita struggled to push her body up and Michael touched her head softly.

In the moonlight, since Nikita had stripped down to only her under garments, he saw the damage. To say that she was black was too nice. She had every said between purple to black and then to green. Michael waited and slid down onto the couch and placed her head down in his lap. He could see her pain and only wanted her to rest. He could give a damn about the mission; he cared about Nikita's health, physical and mental right now. It was as he sat down and looked to Nikita's head that he knew that Madeline and Operations had gone too quickly on this. There was no reason for Nikita to be out of medical at this moment, and probably everyone in Section One knew it.

"So you are the neighbor, Mike." Nikita softly said and Michael nodded his head as her blue eyes looked up at him, showing the etched need for sleep in their depths. He stroked her hair back and swallowed, as there seemed to be something different in her hairline. It was faint, but he could easily tell what it was and wondered how plastic surgery to her face was neglected to be in her medical files and missed by Walter.

The pieces didn't fall together for Michael and he was sure that they were further scattered for Nikita. It was a race to get her healthy, complete the mission, and to get back to Section One that Michael didn't feel was needed. They could have put another person in on this mission, but here he was with Nikita, instantly asleep in his lap, wondering if they felt this was the best way to help Nikita. Lingering was something that Nikita liked to do, but still, Michael had to wonder how Nikita was walking, let alone on a mission. It was only one of the numerous mysterious elements of the events around him that did not get explained. Yet it didn't matter, as all Michael wanted to do was to help Nikita sleep, and that he was achieving.

*

The morning was refreshing and warm as the birds decided to be much more quiet than normal. It wasn't really noticed, but it was something different for a change. It was like the birds sensed that some folks needed to sleep and that if they were going to carry on, they should do it elsewhere. It didn't detract from the morning; it only made it more bearable.

Mrs. Papappas pulled her car up to the curve of the sidewalk just after dawn. She stood up from her car and stretched her older arms, feeling the stiffness from the lack of sleep. She would have rolled away from the buzzing clock this morning, set earlier than what her husband gets up to go to the bakery to bake fresh bread, but she instantly thought of Nikita. That thought alone scurried Mrs. Papappas around her own house for a few supplies before she jumped in the car to head to Nikita's.

As she opened the trunk of her car, was when she noticed the birds. Nikita had mentioned it when she toured the house how loud they were, and now there was barely a chirp. Mrs. Papappas smiled and pulled the bags out and walked towards the house.

When Mrs. Papappas was determined, she didn't notice things that maybe she should have. It was like that often, that she was too busy to look up and see the beautiful sunrise, she missed a lot of things that way. It didn't make her a bad person; it just made her a preoccupied person. She missed the partially opened door as she pushed her way into the house. She didn't even look over to the couch, where Nikita had finally found a peaceful sleep a few hours ago, and Michael himself was asleep even as he stroked Nikita's hair.

"NIKITA!" Mrs. Papappas called cheerfully as she placed the bags down and finally turned to view the couch. Michael had jumped with the woman's voice and then immediately looked down to Nikita. His own thoughts that with his own presence would keep Nikita from bad dreams were a bad idea to have. He had been too high on himself, and so it crushed Michael that around two o'clock Nikita was thrown into another nightmare. She didn't even close her eyes again until around four. He looked to his watch and saw that Mrs. Papappas would probably give Birkoff a run for his money in bad timing, as it was just straining to be past six. Not enough proper sleep for Nikita.

Mrs. Papappas was stunned to see Michael holding Nikita on his lap. She had given him specific instructions that he was to call her if something was wrong. She shook her head as she walked over to the couch and touched Nikita's head. Michael pushed her hand politely off of Nikita's blonde hair and rubbed his other hand through his growing long hair.

"She really needs to sleep." Michael commented and Mrs. Papappas cocked her head to the side and stared at Michael. For a moment, it was like Michael was dangerous, and then Mrs. Papappas forced the thought out of her mind.

"She must have slept all night... We need to get her into a routine." Mrs. Papappas said as she stood up. She had read that in some magazine, that all people need routines. Of course, Mrs. Papappas didn't follow that herself, but if she had the chance, she helped others to get into a routine. Michael sighed and rubbed Nikita's hair as she began to stir.

"Her body needs to heal." Michael said as he saw the sheet was neatly covering the bruises that were covering Nikita's body. He knew that sooner or later Mrs. Papappas and probably other folks would see the damage, as Nikita couldn't stay in long sleeves and long pants during the summer without calling extreme attention to herself.

"She is feeling sorry for herself, Mike. She is hurting, but if she moves around she will be fine." Mrs. Papappas said as she turned and looked at Nikita. In a flash, Mrs. Papappas pulled the sheet back and then dropped it just below Nikita's waist.

"Some people don't show how hurt they are, Mrs. Papappas." Michael said as he extended his hand and covered Nikita's body again. He lifted his green eyes and intensely looked at Mrs. Papappas. She paced lightly back and forth, shaking her head. Michael knew that she would not mention or talk about what she just saw. The older woman finally patted her gray hair and turned back to the kitchen.

"NO..." Nikita moaned as her head turned to the other side, hitting Michael's stomach almost hard. Michael wished he knew what Nikita was trying to yell at, trying to hide from. During those two hours after that other nightmare, she didn't speak to him. It was because of what Michael had done in the past. He couldn't blame Nikita for not trusting him, but realized that it was only one more hurdle that needed to be leaped over before the real mission at hand could be started.

"RHOADES!" Nikita screamed loudly as her entire body shot up from the laying position she found herself in. She stared at the white gauzy curtains as they slightly swayed as the circulation of the air conditioner created a small breeze. Her eyes opened as Rhoades appeared there, in the same way he appeared to her the last time, only now without the fire.

"NO!" Nikita cried out as the tears rolled down her face and she shielded her eyes with her good arm from the image. She didn't want to see him again, it was too painful, and it was too disgusting. Nikita trembled as Michael placed a hand on her good shoulder, taking great care not to aggravate her only numerous injures.

"Nikita... What is it?" Michael softly questioned, hoping that for once that she would just answer him without realizing who he was. Nikita pulled the arm down as the voice penetrated her own living nightmare and took the image of Rhoades away.

"Sorry." Nikita whispered as she looked around and sighed as she saw the kitchen light was on and rolled her head back. "She is back?"

"Yes." Michael stated softly and Nikita closed her eyes, wondering why Mrs. Papappas was back so quickly. Nikita pulled the sheet up to her chin and swallowed as she lightly settled back on Michael's lap.

"I can't do this, Michael...," Nikita softly said and Michael pressed a finger to her dried lips and dropped his head. Nikita looked up and saw his growing hair framing his face. She closed here eyes as it reminded her of another time, that Michael was hers. She blinked and stayed quiet, which in a way, only echoed more problems to Michael.

"I am Mike." Michael stated and Nikita nodded her head and swallowed, knowing that her hands were full at the moment. She needed to make this all look like a car accident, as Mrs. Papappas was told and had told the entire town. She could not break down with the folks of the town in her house. There was a knock at her door and Nikita looked up at Michael.

Mrs. Papappas appeared from the kitchen and smiled as she saw Nikita's blue eyes, not noticing the fact that they were bloodshot and trimmed with an electric red. She stopped and rubbed her hands together.

"I see that you met Mike." Mrs. Papappas said and she didn't even wait for Nikita to nod her head as she moved to the door and threw it open.

"Oh... good! You brought the camera!" Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita looked to Michael and swallowed. She lifted her body up again, with a groan of pain with muscles that were trying to mend and only wanted to stay still.

"Can you help me to the bathroom?" Nikita questioned and Michael nodded his head. He wrapped the blanket around Nikita, so not to expose all of her bruises still. He steadied her up on her feet and placed a careful eye to the door, were Mrs. Papappas was still talking to someone he didn't know. They were planning the day for setting up Nikita's house. It was strange to find such nice people helping someone for no more of a reason that to help. Mrs. Papappas was nice when Michael met her, and since he knew of Nikita's injuries, he helped out. Now he saw that what they did might be seen as too much, but might not be enough.

*

Nikita was starting to feel self-conscious and claustrophobic as she looked up from the couch that she had carefully placed herself on. Michael had disappeared almost an hour ago, and people were entering her house and not saying a word to her. It was her house and Nikita wanted to say something, but they were to help her. What appeared to be from Nikita's view at the moment was a gossip session, and Mrs. Papappas was of course in the middle of it.

The boxes were too close to Nikita, the people were to close to Nikita, and now, with everyone else talking to each other, her memories were too close to Nikita. She held onto the couch with her good hand, digging her fingers nails into the plush and soft material as she found to keep the demons away, as there was no one here to help her explain them and to hide the real problems.

"Oh, Esther... Mr. Harris will be here soon. I saw him on his daily walk!" the youngest woman said who was standing near Nikita. She had short black hair and prior to calling out to Mrs. Papappas was speaking of her children, Beth and Seth. Nikita closed her eyes as she was stuck in a world that seemed to be like a movie. Everyone around her had a perfect life, the perfect family, and no problems. How did someone like Nikita get stuck in with the bunch like this?

Nikita ground her teeth together as her thoughts back to the person that just left her house and left her to the wolves. When she had seen Michael, as she was surprised, because when she was told of this mission, she was told that it was a solo mission, that she would be by herself and no contact with Section One. It didn't take long for Nikita to piece it together that Michael was placed here before her tragic mission that left her cripple and emotionally distraught. He was supposed to be here, and he saw how difficult it was for Nikita to contain her actions and her thoughts. Her anger was growing and she learned that she should only feel contempt for Michael, as he left her again.

"Nikita, darling...." Mrs. Papappas said as she pushed through the people and headed to the couch. She had another plate with more food on it. In the past three hours, she had seen so much food pushed to her that she was getting sick. Maybe it was the way that Mrs. Papappas thought would heal Nikita, but she was on the verge of losing it. She wasn't hungry, as she told Mrs. Papappas about ten minutes ago when she placed a streusel on the box next to Nikita. Nikita turned her head and looked to the plate that she had not touched and looked at Mrs. Papappas.

"I'm not hungry. I'm full." Nikita said and Mrs. Papappas shook her head as she muttered something, probably about God as she looked at Nikita. The rumble in the room was getting louder and louder, almost to a roar and Nikita closed her eyes and wishes she could be anywhere, even the white room if it got her way from this.

"You could use to gain some weight. You told me how much you did lose." Michael's voice boomed out to Nikita in her darkness. She opened her eyes to find them looking straight into the green pearls of Michael's eyes. He watched the muscles in Nikita's neck tense up and then smiled at her as he rubbed back her hair. He could see in the eyes that something more was going on and that maybe his departure should have been held off, but he could have waited.

Michael could not tell that he spent a good ten minutes on the telephone with Madeline, in a rare move on his part. The condition they allowed Nikita out of medical was despicable and the way they sent her out on a mission, without even warning him that she was coming a day early was irresponsible. Madeline had tried to pacify Michael, claiming that they felt it was best for Nikita, since she didn't want to face the demons to send her out. Michael wanted his opinion noted for the record that Section One had stooped even lower than he expected them too, and Madeline calmly stated, "Duly noted."

"Here..." Michael said as he extended his hand and took the plate from Mrs. Papappas and smiled at her. He placed it on the couch and looked at Nikita's eyes. In them, he could see the building headache behind the color, and he could tell the sharp uncomfortableness that surrounded Nikita. "I'll get her to eat. It will be my job."

"My, my, Mike... You are sweeter than sugar itself. God must have put you on this earth to make old women like me cry!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed as the tears rolled out of her eyes. She shook her head and placed a hand to her chin, trying to gain her composure. Michael blinked his eyes and touched Nikita's good leg and raised his eyebrows, but saw that Nikita was not going to help him out in this.

"Thank you, Mrs. Papappas... but may I suggest we get started in unpacking the boxes?" Michael questioned and she stepped back and gasped, as if she suddenly remembered the real purpose for what all the people were doing in the house. She started to run from person to person, assigning to tasks to them, and one person ran up the stairs with the camera.

Michael knelt on his knees and raised the plate to Nikita, allowing his eyes to beg her to just eat. Nikita used her injured arm to push it away and turned her head away. Michael nodded his head and placed the plate down on the couch. He looked around, over his shoulder quickly and took the little bakery piece and popped it into his mouth.

Michael rubbed the crumbs off of his mouth and placed the plate down on the box with the light and rubbed Nikita's hair softly, but she did not look up to him. It caused the pressure in Michael's chest multiplied, as he needed to reach Nikita on a level that he had been able to reach her before. Michael sighed and looked to the streusel that was sitting on the box.

"Did she make you eat a lot?" Michael questioned and Nikita nodded her head up and down and finally moved her eyes to look at him. He had pulled her from the images again, he could tell by the eyes, how they seemed ready to flood with tears and the fear in them. He wanted to know what she was seeing, but was not going to push it now as the house was filled with people they did not really know.

"Enough... and my medicine makes my stomach... queasy." Nikita stated and Michael nodded his head as he smiled. He looked down and popped the streusel into his mouth and opened his eyes wide to Nikita. She lightly smiled at the gesture and turned her head away, trying not to give into Michael's apparent charm.

"MIKE! MIKE! Look at this cool kitchen table!" a man, yelled out and Michael turned his head to look at the piece of glass that he was holding up. Michael nodded his head and looked down to Nikita.

"Madeline picked the furniture out." Nikita softly stated and Michael smiled and leaned his head back. It explained a lot. He felt more people pushing towards the couch and Nikita looked almost scared as the mother of Beth and Seth threw some pictures at Nikita.

"Ok... I took pictures of the rooms... with this Polaroid... Isn't it the greatest?" the woman asked and Nikita nodded her head. It was kind of odd seeing someone praising the practical uses of a Polaroid when Nikita had her hands on technical equipment that would make their heads spin. She looked at the pictures and saw that the room was the bedroom.

"Yes." Nikita finally stated in her own almost raw voice. She flipped through the pictures and looked up to the woman's eyes as Michael had magically disappeared again. Nikita blinked her eyes feeling like she was some sort of puppet again.

"Well.. We are going to take the furniture up there and place it about. We'll take more pictures and see if you like it." The woman said and before Nikita could tell them just to put the furniture up was enough, she was gone. Nikita shook her head and swallowed. She tensely rubbed her hair back and then shook her head violently.

She wanted out of the room. She wanted out of the couch. She wanted to disappear. Nikita felt like she was sinking in thick quicksand and that everyone had abandoned her, again. She leaned her head against the couch and the tears started to roll again. Closing her eyes did not make them slow, only made them go faster and larger. Her body started to tremble again and she felt even more alone, that here she was in all this emotional pain, with people standing all about her to help her, and they didn't even notice.

"Nikita..." Michael softly said as he sat down on the end of the couch, as if he just popped out of thin air. Nikita lifted her head and wiped the tears away, but knew that Michael had seen them. He placed a small bag on her lap and waited for her to gain her composure. Normally Michael would have impatiently stared at her to check her emotions out, but this time; he just waited, showing that it was almost all right to cry.

"What is this, Mike?" Nikita questioned and Michael smiled, almost liking the tone of Mike in Nikita's voice. Although she was in emotional pain, the name seemed to bring her voice playfulness in knowing that the pet name was not one that Michael would have chosen.

"It is something that you will need for your gift." Michael said and Nikita raised her eyebrows and stared at Michael. She didn't need any surprises right now, but Michael was sitting there calmly, and it instantly reassured her that this was ok.

"Gift?" Nikita questioned and Michael laughed loudly and Mrs. Papappas circled around some women that were unpacking Nikita's clothing from boxes. She smiled and pressed her hands together.

"Like I tried to tell you dear Nikita... Mike here was sent from God.... He helped me get you something that should make your body feel better." Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita looked to Michael before she turned to the bag. She lifted the package and pulled out the piece of clothing.

"A bathing suit?" Nikita questioned as she stared at Mrs. Papappas, knowing that she would almost turn red if she looked at Michael in that moment. Mrs. Papappas proudly nodded her head and bounced up and down.

"When you get better you won't need it... but since it is so painful for you to walk... someone is going to need to help you in and out of the whirlpool." Mrs. Papappas announced and Nikita smiled broadly, finding it amazing that someone would do something so kind and generous.

"A whirlpool?" Nikita questioned as she turned her head and looked at Michael. He smiled broadly towards Mrs. Papappas.

"I think you genuinely surprised her, Mrs. Papappas..." Michael commented and Mrs. Papappas laughed and extended her hands out to Nikita.

"Here... let me help you change... and you can get in it." Mrs. Papappas said and Nikita carefully stood, still feeling like the puppet in a movie, but finding out that the movie wasn't as awful as it seemed a few moments ago.

*

Nikita would have been fine if she had not stood up from the toilet, pulling on the bathing suit, and turned to see her image in the full-length mirror that hung on the door. The movement that she was in, froze as she allowed the straps of the one-piece bathing suit, modestly cut, and snapped down to her shoulders with a stinging that she did not even register.

Her blue eyes were focused on the image that she was. It wasn't like one entire part of her body was black and the other side was her fair and light skin. Maybe it would have been better if that was how she looked, because what she saw as she looked into the mirror was a vial creature, a monster of sorts, not unlike Rhoades when she jumped out of the window.

She stared for moments at the image and cringed again, as she noticed the large patches of this yellowish green that was across her chest and on the inside of her right thigh. Nikita had seen it on her stomach also, but until she looked at the mirror, she had been able to play off the discoloring. In a way, it wasn't until her face was attached to the whole body that she became the person with shades of blues, blacks, purples, and greens on their body. But once that face was there, and she looked at the blurry image, time stood still.

"Nikita... are you all right?" Mrs. Papappas called out as she knocked at the door. It caused the mirror to bounce and wiggle and Nikita stepped back, towards the small window and the little sink. Her bad right hand was sore, as was the arm, but she grabbed on for support as Nikita was trying to escape the image in the mirror.

She closed her eyes and the tears started to trickle out of her eyes. Yet, she had some concept of composure, knowing that this was not normal behavior for one that was in a car accident. Nikita knew to allow Mrs. Papappas to see her like that would make her question Nikita even further. Nikita wasn't sure if she could hold the car crash scenario in a believable piece.

"Nikita?" Mrs. Papappas called out again and Nikita dropped her head lightly and swallowed. She hated this, but she couldn't stop crying.

"Mike... I don't think she is all right." Mrs. Papappas said as she turned from the door. Michael blinked his eyes and looked to the wall. He couldn't react as his heart told him to react.

"Maybe she is still dressing. It must be slow." Michael commented and Mrs. Papappas pressed her lips together. She touched her hand to the door and shook her head painfully. Michael fidgeted a little bit as he watched Mrs. Papappas.

"No... It's more." Mrs. Papappas said as she leaned her head against the door, pressing her ear to the surface, listening to what was occurring inside. She pushed her hands against the frame, waiting and hoping that Nikita would open the door and she would almost fall in. She heard the muffle sniffle and she pulled out and placed a hand to her chest.

"How come she suffers so much, Mike? She is crying again and I don't know what I can do for her!" Mrs. Papappas cried out with tears coming to her face. Michael dropped his head and placed his hands on the older woman's shoulders, knowing that he needed to comfort her now.

"We don't know... but if she is in the bathroom... I think you should respect her privacy." Michael said with raised eyebrows. Mrs. Papappas immediately started to protest, as Michael knew she would. She couldn't leave anyone to his or her privacy. Michael sighed and leaned his head back.

"Why don't you go see if you can fill the whirlpool up... I'll stay here with Nikita..." Michael said and Mrs. Papappas gasped and stepped back from Michael.

"Why would she want you? She would want a woman!" Mrs. Papappas loudly protested and Michael pressed his lips together. She did pose a very good argument, but one that Michael wouldn't think twice about. It would have been a lot easier if it was only Michael here with Nikita, but now he had to contend with Mrs. Papappas who had a belief that her way was the best and the only way to do things.

"I am more her age..." Michael commented and Mrs. Papappas squinted her eyes and shook her head.

"I want you two together... I just didn't imagine this." Mrs. Papappas said and Michael's eyes lit up with laughter from Mrs. Papappas' comment.

"Together?" Michael sputtered out in-between his light laughter that seemed to stop everyone in the house, so they could listen to the laughter like it was a special music.

"Yes.... You two would make the perfect couple!" Mrs. Papappas said and Michael continued to laugh as he shook his head. He saw this from a mile away, when he didn't know that the woman that Section One was placing in the little town was Nikita, because of the way Mrs. Papappas had whispered to her husband.

"Well... We can't be the perfect couple if she stays in the bathroom.... Maybe if she hears the water in the whirlpool we can coax her out." Michael said and Mrs. Papappas narrowed her eyes, knowing that Michael was playing her, but knowing that it was a good idea. Mrs. Papappas sighed and moved to the little room, off of the kitchen that used to be the laundry room, to start to fill the tub. Michael watched and then leaned into the door.

"Nikita... I'm alone." Michael softly whispered out and he heard the sniffling continue, but it sounded as if Nikita was trying to contain her emotional reaction. Unfortunately, as Nikita turned to look at the door that Michael was speaking through, she saw her bruised image coming back to her. She dropped her chin as it quivered like gelatin and covered her face.

"Go away!" Nikita moaned out from between her spread fingers, trying to hide from all that were outside of that room. It was Nikita's moan that brought Michael's hand down to the handle and noticed that Nikita had no locked herself into the bathroom. He slowly turned the handle and slipped into the opening he created.

"Are you feeling ok?" Michael questioned, worrying first about her physical state. It was possible that she had twisted an ankle or one of the many hairline fractures had splintered further with the pressure of her body weight. Nikita shook her head back and forth and she slowly peaked out from between her fingers. Michael saw the thin sections of her blue eyes from between her fingers and swallowed. He sat down on the edge of the tub that ran up to the edge of the toilet and lightly touched her arm.

"Tell me, Nikita." Michael questioned. She looked up at Michael and then down to her own body. It was in that instance that she realized that Michael could see everything that she was ashamed off. She tried to hide the biggest of the bruises, the ugliest of the lot, but there was no way she could hide her entire body. It was like being hit with a bullet as Michael watched her, knowing instantly what was occurring.

"Don't be ashamed, Nikita." Michael said and she turned her head, now more embarrassed by her behavior than her appearance. Michael sighed and stood up; knowing that to talk about this was not going to make things better.

"Mike... Are you ok in there? She did let you in, right?" Mrs. Papappas noisily knocked at the door and Nikita leaned her head back and swallowed.

"Yes... I asked for him." Nikita sounded out and Michael turned to look at Nikita. He slowly pushed her hair back and sighed, proud of Nikita and yet concerned.

"Mrs. Papappas... can you find me Nikita's robe?" Michael questioned before he even moved towards the door. Nikita reached her hand out and lightly touched Michael's hand, stopping his movement. He looked into her eyes as she opened them and stared at Michael. She couldn't verbalize the words yet, even though she had said thank you to Michael so many times before this time. This time, he wasn't saving her life as the sights of a gun were lined with her and he wasn't pulling her out of an explosion. This time he was saving her soul in a way, protecting Nikita from what she saw as more embarrassment. Michael only nodded his head at Nikita's gesture before lifting her hand to his lips. He placed a brushing kiss against the surface and moved towards the door.

"I NEED A ROBE!" Mrs. Papappas was yelling to all of the occupants that were helping to make Nikita's house a home in their eyes. Michael peaked his head out of the bathroom as the terry cloth pink robe was being tossed from person to person until Michael stepped forward and grabbed it before it landed in Mrs. Papappas' hands.

"MIKE!" Mrs. Papappas yelled as she jumped up in fright, as Michael leaned back and looked at the robe, noticing that this wasn't a new item that Madeline bought. This was the real one, from Nikita's apartment, the same one he had the pleasure of being comforted in himself.

"Sorry..." Michael stated as he turned back to the bathroom and Mrs. Papappas laughed.

"Why be sorry! I'd be sorry if God didn't send you to me! I don't know what I would be doing!" Mrs. Papappas said and Michael blushed lightly.

"Not to disagree with you Mrs. Papappas, but I think God sent me for Nikita's sake." Michael whispered before he turned his back to the older woman and went back to tend Nikita. Mrs. Papappas placed her hand over her heart and turned to find her husband walking towards her.

"What is going on?" Mr. Papappas questioned and Mrs. Papappas wiped the tears from her face and smiled.

"I don't think that my Nikita is going to alone for long." Mrs. Papappas said and Mr. Papappas raised his large and rather fuzzy eyebrow. She reached out and touched them and then looked around.

"I must go... and pray that I am right!" Mrs. Papappas exclaimed as she pulled at her purse, instantly forgetting that Nikita was crying in the bathroom. Mr. Papappas swallowed and dangled the keys out for her to grab out of his hands before she ran off to the church.

*

"It isn't going to cover it all, Nikita." Michael softly stated as Nikita allowed the robe to fall open again and she pulled the terry cloth robe tighter around her body, stretching the material and then wrapping the belt around her not once, but twice, as if trying to tie in the pain that she had been expressing. Yet, the pain was still there in her eyes as she lifted her head and then turned the blonde hair away from Michael.

Michael blinked as he thought about the entire week that he had basically spent in the house, working for Mrs. Papappas. He didn't complain about it, because he knew it was for Nikita, but while he was working on it, he wasn't thinking about Nikita. He felt somewhat guilty for that now, as her pain was so much bigger than he had expected. He found a simple pleasure in fixing the picket fence and painting it a brilliant white. He found a pleasure in using the harsh paint remover to rid his arms and cheeks of the flecks of white paint that had splattered across him. Michael looked at Nikita and began to wonder if she would every regain the ability to have some simple pleasures.

It wasn't that the entire week he didn't think about Nikita, because that was contrary to what occurred. His mind, when not working, when he was suppose to be resting, sleeping, and eating, was focused on Nikita. That was when he bothered Walter the most, and Michael didn't feel guilty for pulling the older man away from Nikita's bed, because he wanted to know everything. Michael couldn't do anything away from Nikita's house that didn't bring her up to thoughts. His mind was thinking of the little town that surrounded the two houses that they were only going to occupy for a short time and how much the little town would have been perfect for him and Nikita if given another time and another world.

"How far is it? It isn't upstairs, is it? I can't walk stairs." Nikita said out as she dropped her head. Michael knew that she was doing so to avoid looking into the mirrors again. He wanted to take them down, but Mrs. Papappas thought that Michael was overreacting. He wasn't sure if Mrs. Papappas still felt that way, but he was relieved to find out that Mrs. Papappas had run off to the church, even if it did leave him with the entire rest of the town in Nikita's house.

"It's right across the kitchen... in the large laundry room we converted." Michael said as he reached for the door and opened it. He gently placed his hands on her waist, making it look like he was helping her to walk, which was partially the truth. Yet that subtle touch was so much more to Nikita, and Michael fully understood that and wanted it to be known. It was helping her to move, to show that in a way Michael understood the tortures her mind was throwing to her and that, at least in that moment as she walked, he was there to help her.

"MIKE! Nikita!" the mother of Beth and Seth yelled as she dashed into the kitchen. Nikita's body, still injured, reacted in the way it had been trained. It jumped back against Michael's firm body and tensed, ready to fight if needed. Michael smiled at the young mother and looked at the pictures she thrust at Nikita, not even commenting on the appearance of Nikita.