The heavy dark oak door opened to reveal the pitch-black chamber that was hidden from the world, at least in the eye of the owner. The darkness was wanted and welcomed as the heavy dark oak door swung back with a distant bang of closing, the sound indicating easily that it had fully closed.

It was foolhardy to walk around the rooms in the darkness that was wanted. Although it was the home of the person, he did not know it well enough to navigate the turns of the couch and the coffee table without light. He bent down and turned on one scant light, giving enough light to the entire chamber for him to see by.

His mouth was parched as he walked to the kitchen; everything made in deep and dark oak. He ran his hands across the smooth wood surface as they slowly reached for a wineglass. He rolled his head back and around before pulling the glass with the tips of his fingers down into his palm. Slowly he turned and found more light as the refrigerator opened.

There were two wines sitting in there, chilling. Both not meant for him to have alone. He looked at the bottles, trying to select which one to use and which one hopefully to save. He always kept two bottles of wine chilled, always with plans and dreams what he would be doing with them. Most often, they were used as he was using now. Used to drink lightly because his mouth was parched and because his mind was stuck somewhere he half wanted it to be and half did not want it to be.

The wine was going to be smooth and delicious, just like the woman he wanted to share it with. In fact, he wanted to pour it over her smooth and delicate white skin, staining it enough so that he could lavish his tongue over the skin and pick up the essence of the wine and the taste of her body. He wanted to splash it across that rise of her breast in order for him to test at them in a way that would give her pleasure she never knew.

He shook his head back and forth, trying to force the image of her moaning out in pleasure out of his mind, knowing that he was only serving in torturing himself yet again. It wasn't that he could even call upon her this evening like he had been tempted for months of evenings that had passed. This time was almost too different as she was out.

Not out with another man. She was out, in dangerous territory. Out on a mission.

That alone wasn't unusual, but she was working with someone new. The entire team was new, people she never worked with before. Most importantly, it was that she was working without him. He couldn't protect her and his mind wouldn't allow her image to part, only driving the little sanity he did have almost to the edge of disappearing.

He still had not selected the wine to drink as he tried to pull his mind back to making the decision. Thinking about her this evening wouldn't make it pass any quicker. He knew this from experience. He did this last night, and the night before that. In fact, he couldn't remember a night that he didn't think about her as he found his loneliness and separation from her eating at his soul and being.

When did he get so needy?

Without looking, he pulled at the one bottle and welcomed back the darkness as the refrigerator closed, plunging him into near darkness again. He popped the cork and poured the deep mahogany wine out. He didn't bother to place the wine back in the refrigerator. It was going to be a long night as it was.

Slowly he made his way to the black leather couch that looked directly out to only windows in the chamber. Usually they caused and created more light in the night, but not this long night that had yet to begin.

There was no moon.

He settled down into the leather and stared out of the windows to the world that was out there. Still with the lack of the moon, it didn't create a dull sky to look at. If anything, the moon being distinguished for that one night allowed the other objects in the sky to shine brighter and to be noticed. In effect, it was their time for being in the spotlight.

The stars only seemed to be getting larger as he took that first slow and savored sip of the wine, barely registering the sweet taste, as if he would notice it, he would only think of her. He swallowed it down and tilted his head off to the side, still looking at one or two of the stars, finding them more impressive than the others. They seemed to shiver, to be changing colors.

He had been taught in school many years ago about the colors of stars. One had to look very hard, because at first, all the stars appear as is that vivid white speck thrown up on the tapestry of black satin. But closer examination would reveal a tint of something, of a color. He once knew what each color meant and what it represented. Some of the colors meant young stars while other colors meant younger stars. Yet, it never explained those few stars that shimmered, changing in color tint. That only easily reminded him of her. Always changing and never staying the same. Plus she was brighter than any of the stars in the skies. It caused him to sigh heavily.

He looked down to the heavy oak stand that sat next to the couch in a gesture that was so old it had become habit. It was times like this, when the darkness was his only friend that he often forgot that he stopped smoking years ago. It would make him feel better to have one of those sticks of tobacco, try to fog the sky from his sight and trying to fog the images of her away. Yet, he knew in his heart, that it would never work. He would never be able to rid his mind of her and never be able to forget her face.

Instead of picking up the cigarettes he didn't find on the stand, he placed the wineglass down. He used his hands to push back his hair before slumping in the couch. He looked up to the darkness of the ceiling and cursed his mind for not allowing him to be free from her. This night, it was harder than the others were. Usually it would fade and he could find some pleasure or comfort in just sitting there. Tonight was different, as he found no comfort and no will to stop thinking about her.

She drove him crazy.

Crazy for love.

He needed to say her name; a force was making that need to come to his very soul. He tried to swallow the name back, to tell himself if he said the name he would not sleep that night. He didn't want to worry about her this night; he needed to prove to himself and to her that he did trust her and her abilities.

What if something was wrong with the mission?

What if it was a set up?

What if she needed me and I wasn't there?

All the questions only made the urge more. He easily imagined her on a stretcher, calling out his name. She would never be one afraid to say his name. He shook his head, trying to clear the image once again, finding it burning into his sight.

"Nikita..." he softly slurred out of his mouth and he stopped as the accented word rang in his heart and in his ears. It was the most exotic and erotic word he could ever say. It brought more emotions to his heart and soul than any other word in the English or French languages. That one word, her name, was his world. If he lost a reason to say that name, he would lose his world.

"Oh Nikita..." he moaned out as he closed his eyes, trying to force the bad thoughts out of his minds. Usually it wasn't as hard as this night. He would think about watching her in the park, feeding the birds the crumbs of her sandwich. He would think of the joy she had of returning a lost child to their mother. Those images usually came back to his mind as they were programmed to do.

Not this night.

This night was different.

*

It took some time to nurse that first glass of wine, but after the mahogany liquid had disappeared from between his lips, the second glass was easily poured and was starting to disappear at a much quicker rate of speed than the first.

Yet, for some people, wine took the edge off of their emotions and feelings, but nothing was going to allow that to happen to Michael as he attempted to close his eyes softly on the couch. The only thing he was rewarded with was seeing Nikita in that image and in that darkness behind his eyelids. She was smiling at him and it made a shiver go down his spine, as she rarely ever smiled at him like that. It was a brilliant smile that Walter normally saw when the two friends were unmercifully flirting with each other in that non-harmful kind of manner.

Michael opened his eyes and took another sip of the wine and pondered why he was still thinking about Nikita. Usually by the second glass, her image faded away like all the other images. He would start out with a lot of images, Adam, Elena, Sasha, Peter, and Nikita. Nikita was always the last one to fade at the night and the first one on his mind in the morning. Ever since he met her he had given up control of his mind and thoughts like that one.

"Meow"

Michael turned his head and shook his head lightly, thinking of his imagination. That was until something crashed loudly inside of his bedroom. He sipped at the last drops of the wine and placed the glass down as he stood up and looked around in the dark.

"L'ici petit chat de kitty" Michael said as he moved out of the living room and towards the dark bedroom. He pressed at the door and raised his eyebrows. He knew had a pair of glasses of wine, but there was no reason for him to forget that he got rid of the little cat that Birkoff had given him after he lost Adam.

It had been a sweet gesture on Birkoff's part, and Michael found some peace and comfort for a few days with the cat licking the tears away from his face. It was a white little chat, left stray hairs of white all over his traditional black clothing, that he was surprised even matched during that period of time. The cat was always into something, causing something to fall or leaving little treats for Michael all over the apartment. Yet, he didn't get rid of the companion that Birkoff had offered him because of that. He got rid of it because he told Nikita to do that to hers. He couldn't have kept that cat any longer than he had, Nikita was guarding him at night and although he tried to hide it, he was sure that Nikita had heard the pitiful meowing as all it wanted was to lick at Michael's tears. To this day there was still cat hairs around the apartment and Michael was sure that they would never go away.

Michael shook his head as he turned back to the couch, thinking about having the third glass of wine, which would be abnormal for him. He looked to the bottle and returned to the couch, compelled by a feeling he couldn't explain, he just knew that tonight was not the night for that extra glass. He returned his thoughts back to the little cat, he had donated it to a house that wasn't too far away from his apartment. It was a foster home and the four little girls ran to the little white kitten and instantly started to make plans of dressing it up in calico dresses they would make. It had gone to a home where it would have the attention it needed and wouldn't have to look after the master, when the master should be looking after it.

"Meow"

Michael turned his head and shook it, trying to push the noise off as his imagination. But as he already remembered, the little cat would meow pitifully when Nikita was in the room trying to drag him out of the depression that naturally had plagued him afterwards. He turned back and stared out the window, wondering how the mission was going with Nikita.

"Meow"

Michael stood up and looked up and around the floor. He had read stories about cats returning to the places that they felt were home. He was even sure they made a movie or two about animals returning to their owners, or at least finding them after long journeys over hundreds and hundreds of miles. Michael had been sure that the cat loved its new home and he had seen the girls just the other morning pushing it in a stroller. Maybe it had accidentally followed him home, which meant there were girls crying in a house right this moment.

"Flake? Mon petit flake de neige?" Michael called out as he moved to the bedroom again and blinked his eyes.

"Meow"

Michael turned and looked to the couch, certain that was were the sound was coming from. He blinked his eyes as he saw nothing and he leaned on the door. He ran his hands against the dark oak surface and tried to swallow, finding it difficult. There was a trembling of fear in his body, which only made Michael more anxious and nervous. He wasn't a man to get scared over hearing a cat meowing.

But there was no cat.

Michael sighed and walked back to the couch, assessing that he was hearing the noises from not have adequate sleep. He resigned himself to have some sleep and he kicked off his shoes. He heaved his feet up on the couch and yawned deeply and closed his eyes.

"Michael..."

Michael's eyes snapped open as he sat up, finding his body drenched with sweat. He looked around the hidden darkness and saw nothing that was out of the ordinary. Again, he told himself that it was part of the sleep deprivation that Madeline had so often lectured him about. He had the signs of losing the edge he had always prided himself in having. Michael wouldn't have anything like that happened.

He ordered himself to sleep.

Slowly the gray-green eyes closed again, each eye showing that that other one wasn't going to shut before the other. His body ached to keep vigilance up because of the sounds. He swallowed finally and shut both of the eyes and sighed at what he saw.

Nikita.

He wasn't going to get any rest on this night, his dreams were going to be haunted with Nikita, just for the simple fact he hadn't been able to watch her leave Section One and he was unsure of how the mission went. He couldn't find the trust to believe in her skills and talents. He logically knew she was able to protect herself, but suddenly there was this illogical side to his mind he never paid attention too that asserted itself.

"Meow."

"Michael..."

Michael was losing the battle. It would be illogical to open his eyes and look around again. There was nothing there. Yet, just like the need to know about Nikita, his body was turning against him. His heart was racing to the point that it would hurt to hold his eyes closed much longer.

The motion started out to be slow, but as the white image took form in front of him, Michael's entire body jumped backwards on the black leather couch as he stared. There was no moisture in his mouth as he stared at what shouldn't be there and what couldn't be there.

"Hello Michael...." Jurgen said and Michael couldn't move, for the first time in his entire life he was paralyzed with fear.

*

Michael couldn't move his eyes off of what appeared in front of him. There was suddenly light in the room, but not a warm light. It was cold and Michael shivered involuntarily. He caught a whiff of a strong musty odor as he tried to shake his head. Yet the muscles in his neck had contracted so tightly as part of the fight or flight response that he couldn't even control them.

"No." Michael finally strangled out as he stared at the features. He knew that man more than anyone else in Section One. That was natural for the recruit to learn their trainer so well, but this wasn't the same. It was Jurgen, but then it wasn't Jurgen. Michael fought his mind as it registered that Jurgen was dead, but Michael looked in front of him and saw Jurgen standing right there.

"Oh, Michael... Try some more words." Jurgen said with a smile crossing his face. He moved around and leapt into the air, causing Michael's mouth to drop to his chin. Jurgen was flying and Michael was sure that someone had poisoned his wine. Michael shook his head again and tried to close his eyes, but they didn't seem to be working either, as Jurgen landed and walked through the black leather recliner to stare at Michael.

"You are dead." Michael finally was about to strangle out of his throat and mouth as his head lurched forward. His hand started to reach for Jurgen, and when it sunk into the image it got extremely wet and he pulled away.

"Of course I'm dead. I was exploded into billions of little pieces other than your body!" Jurgen said as he shook his head. Michael tried to move but found it impossible as the image around him continued to move. Jurgen wasn't finding any of this amusing, as there was a reason he was there, but as long as Michael was in emotional lock down, he couldn't explain any of that.

"You are... you are..." Michael started to stutter, unable to say the word that he was looking for. Jurgen placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. This Michael was getting old fast and Jurgen wasn't exactly having fun standing here, watching his prized pupil act like some scared elementary kid in a haunted house for the first time.

"A fantôme.. As you would say in your language." Jurgen supplied quickly as he waved his hands around.

"A ghost." Michael said and Jurgen clapped his hands sarcastically together. Michael turned his head sharply to the side and swallowed. He looked and saw Jurgen, but now he was able to move and found the paralyzing fear being less than it had been. Michael moved around the couch, trying to distance himself from Jurgen, to decide what to do.

"A ghost.... Nice change in profession..." Michael said nervously as he looked at the body that stood in front of him. He had only seen him a few times since the time he exploded in that building. There were a few dreams while Nikita took her vacation, as he was sure that there was something more between those two that he hadn't been able to stop. The other time was on a small mission, in which the target had been a friend of Jurgen. It was always difficult to see old pictures of men you worked with hanging on the walls. The target believed his good friend to still be alive and Michael could only stand there, even though he knew the truth.

"You were the cat...." Michael finally said and Jurgen nodded his head as he pulled his glasses off and tried to wipe them off. There was something about his presence that was nagging Michael. Michael stopped and frowned and realized that the feeling that he was having wasn't about Jurgen. He turned around and looked at the apartment, feeling like he needed to be somewhere else.

"It set your mind up good for what I have to tell you." Jurgen said and Michael turned abruptly to stare at the ghost. His hands ran through his hair as Michael tried to figure out the riddle that Jurgen was talking about.

"You are going to tell me why you are here and how you got here." Michael said as he dropped his head and stared at Jurgen. It was beyond Michael to know all of that. He never had this particular apartment when Jurgen was alive. Nothing was making sense as he moved to his bedroom and stopped as that feeling, the one of needing to be somewhere else was growing.

"Where is Nikita?" Jurgen questioned and Michael lifted his head and sighed.

"You know she can't possibly be with me." Michael responded sharply as he closed his eyes as his head started to pound. Michael tried to rationalize it all of as the feeling being connected to Jurgen. Yet, Michael dropped his head and swallowed.

Jurgen was a ghost?

Michael didn't believe in ghosts.

"You are wasting time." Jurgen said as he appeared lying on Michael's bed that was covered with black satin sheets. Michael stepped backwards once he saw Jurgen sprawled out on the bed. He found it difficult to see what he was staring at as being real. Everything that Michael knew told him that there were no such things as ghosts, but his body looked at this image of Jurgen, so detailed that it was like staring at a picture and he believed in ghosts.

It was unbelievable.

Yet, Michael did believe.

"Wasting time? How? You haven't answered my questions." Michael said as he moved to his black dresser and slid his body up onto the surface to stare down at Jurgen. The ghost rolled his head to the side and looked around the room.

"Has Nikita been in this room?" Jurgen questioned and Michael looked towards the door and blinked his eyes. Again, that feeling of needing to be elsewhere swarmed his body, almost overwhelming him with the need to run. To run back to Section. Michael shook his head, as he needed to deal with one annoying paranormal phenomena at a time.

"No. But she bought the bed for me." Michael stated and Jurgen nodded his head and dropped his head to the pillow. He closed his eyes and parted his lips as Michael stared at Jurgen.

"You are missing the message Michael. Don't you feel something?" Jurgen questioned as he jerked his head up and looked at Michael. Michael shrugged his shoulders, lost for words to tell Jurgen.

"I don't know what you are speaking about." Michael replied quickly. He did feel a lot of things, but if Jurgen seemed to know everything, he would allow the ghost to tell him.

"That feeling you are getting... Do you need me to explain it?" Jurgen queried as he cocked his head to the side as he used his hands to prop his body up off of the pillows he had found so comfortable. Ghosts rarely found things comfortable.

"The one of foreboding because you are here and ghosts aren't real?" Michael spat out and he blinked his eyes. The words he said were definitely not something he would say. Michael turned his head and moved to the living room, shaking his head.

Where was Nikita?

Michael closed his eyes as he told himself that Nikita was out on a mission. He knew of her talents and her skills. The mission was easy and should only take a few minutes once it was started. Nikita didn't even have a difficult part. She was a sniper in the bushes. What could go wrong in the bushes?

"Nikita..." Michael said as he dropped his head.

"Go with that feeling." Jurgen stated as the words caused a cold breeze hit the back of Michael's neck. He jumped around and saw Jurgen pointing towards the door.

"You are right with that feeling, Michael. Trust in that connection." Jurgen said as he stared into Michael's green eyes. They were always green when he was scared or frightened, and now, probably for the first time in a long while, Michael was both. He was almost paralyzed again, but Jurgen couldn't allow that to happen. That was why he was here.

"Connection?" Michael asked as he sought out more information, never a man to trust fully Jurgen or a ghost. It only compounded the problem that Jurgen was the ghost.

"With Nikita." Jurgen said and Michael paused for a second as the feeling rushed his system. Michael moved instantly and grabbed his jacket and phone.

"Something happened to Nikita." Michael said as he looked to Jurgen for confirmation. Jurgen sadly dropped his head.

"It wasn't an accident that the van hit her, Michael. No accident at all." Jurgen said and Michael opened the door and fled his apartment, driven by a force to get to Section One as quickly as possible.

Nikita was in trouble.

*

Section One at night was always ominous and cryptic. It wasn't too much unlike the day, but without as many operatives milling around the hallways. Yet, the feeling to Michael was different, so much so that he almost never felt this way before. There was a feeling of impending doom, one that was so much more real that watching operatives moving Nikita down to the white room or sending her down to face cancellation. All those times were almost real, but now, Michael's heart raced even as he tried to feign calmness.

In fact, from the looks of Section One as he started down the hallway from the van access area, nothing was wrong. It was like any other normal night. The lights were turned down low and there was a few cleaning men cleaning the metal grates that made the stairways and passageways. Michael stopped and waited, trying to see that now that he was inside of Section One if the fear had passed.

Nikita.

His mind was still screaming to see her, to be able to touch her. Nothing less than that was going to ease his mind. Plus, the image of Jurgen didn't leave him in the house. He was in the car with Michael, making the drive in the darkness, with two glasses of wine in his system more dangerous than it would have normally been.

It was when he turned the final bend that would lead to his office that everything took a look of a mild panic. Michael slowly moved down the hallway and stopped to observe. There was nothing to listen too. Whatever words were being said were said so softly that no one outside the tight circle could hear the words.

"She needs you." Jurgen said as he walked out from between the members of the group. Michael blinked his eyes and shifted his attention away from the ghost to Walter who pushed his way to the desk. It was too late at night for Walter to be up and that realization only caused Michael's heart to constrict even tighter than it had been for the entire drive as Jurgen pulled at what Michael saw in his eyes, trying to make the details more concise for this impending confrontation.

It didn't take long until the feeling drove Michael's body silently towards the huddled masses. It did not take force to pass the outer layer, until his hand touched the desk that Birkoff sat at, pounding at the computer with a coat of sweat covering his face and drenching his shirt.

"Where is Nikita?" Michael demanded as he looked at Birkoff. He lifted his head and swallowed. He shook his head back and forth as the young Birkoff knew his worse nightmare was coming true, finding Michael, Nikita's protector, standing in front of him.

"You are to be at home." Birkoff said in an extremely shaky voice and Walter nodded his head to the other operatives. They didn't need anymore indication to scatter quickly and to wait for more notice in other places than the one that Michael was standing in currently. If it was avoiding a scene, it didn't matter. Walter looked at Michael and saw that man in a way that was different, one that was acting on emotion.

"She is hurt. Injured." Michael stated as he looked at Birkoff with his piercing green eyes. Personally, Birkoff had never seen Michael's eyes green like this. Nikita had claimed a few times that his eyes would turn to the purest shade of emerald green, and it was then when Michael was the most dangerous and the most true to himself. Birkoff looked slightly towards Walter, hoping for guidance, but saw that Walter wasn't going to help him now.

"Yes. There was a mishap." Birkoff said slowly and Michael looked around and swallowed sharply, a fact that did not go past Walter and Birkoff.

"Who told you?" Walter questioned. He knew the strictest orders from Madeline and Operations not to notify Michael until they could get Nikita inside of Section One and assessed. Walter thought it was crude for both Michael and Nikita, as they showed in the past to deal with stressful situations and bodily traumas when the other was there for them.

"Don't question." Michael said as he turned and looked at Walter. Walter stopped and found him almost hypnotized by Michael's eyes. It wasn't until Birkoff slapped his hands down on the desk that both men turned to look at Birkoff, who had a stern face on his little baby chubby face.

"I have to know how you know, Michael. Madeline is investigating and if you had an unauthorized link with Nikita, I need to know." Birkoff said with short and stern words. Michael allowed his eyes to flutter as he thought about how he could explain this.

He couldn't.

Jurgen was a ghost.

No one would believe him.

"I just knew, Birkoff. Intuition." Michael said as he stepped away from the desk. Walter looked over his shoulder, keeping an eye on Michael, still finding it difficult that Michael had just said the word, intuition on front of two operatives inside of Section One. If anything, Michael believed in logical and didn't believe in intuition. Even when it seemed like he was acting out on intuition on a mission, he always showed positive proof for logical reasoning behind his moves and actions. Intuition and Michael didn't get along.

"Demand for her condition, Michael!" Jurgen said as he floated down from looking in the dark observation deck. The positioning of Jurgen only led to more questions for Michael. He was sure that Madeline and Operations knew that he was now inside of Section One. Michael blinked his eyes and started to move further away from desk where Birkoff and Walter were still studying him. It could have been caused because he didn't demand for Nikita's condition or for what happened.

"Michael... You feel it.... You saw it in your eyes. Demand the knowledge to know that you are correct!" Jurgen screamed as he took his hands and shook Michael. To Walter and Birkoff, it was like Michael was shaking in grief or something that did not compute, since he had no further information on Nikita.

"Tell me how she got hit by the van." Michael said as he turned around and saw both Birkoff and Walter staring at him. Michael looked to the side and stepped quickly to close the distance between himself and the two men that were going to tell him everything that he already knew.

It scared Michael.

Jurgen knew that it scared Michael and he knew that no matter what, Michael had to push through. Too many times in the past Michael had allowed his feelings to go away for the precious belief that logic was correct and should be the only thing followed. If he had to remind Michael and egg him for each and every move, Jurgen would see to it. He had the time.

He was a ghost.

"How did you know that?" Birkoff questioned as he sat down in his chair, finding talking with Michael was like talking to another man right now. Walter stepped back as Michael made his way to the desk and bent over it to stare into Birkoff's eyes. Gone was the calm and cool Michael. Yes, there were parts of that Michael still there, but there was something else running this man.

"Specifically, a mission van.... Jumped the embankment and smashed into the bush that Nikita was waiting to take the shot in. A van that wasn't suppose to be moving." Michael said as he stared into Birkoff's eyes. Walter clapped his hand onto Michael's shoulder and pulled him away from Birkoff, seeing that the young man was having a hard time processing that Michael all the facts, but no one had told him.

"Who told you, Michael? Surely Madeline didn't call you?" Walter questioned as he held his grip on Michael's shoulder, wanting to know if he could feel a difference in the man's muscles to indicate what was going on. He wasn't about to admit it, but he was getting a feeling from Michael that only made the news of Nikita's accident and injuries more ominous.

How many times did an operative just know that another one was injured on a mission when he was supposed to be home?

"I swear to you, Walter. I didn't follow them. I had no units on Nikita and no one called me." Michael said solemnly in a manner that Walter knew to be true. Michael rolled his head up and looked at the office above, hoping that his every word was not being monitored and analyzed, as Nikita was going to need Michael by her side and not locked up with psychological operatives doing Madeline's fun and games.

"How do you know?" Walter questioned and he watched as Michael shrugged his shoulders and tried to move back towards looking at Birkoff. Birkoff, who had been listening, decided that suddenly, he would rather be talking to Madeline about his lack of a love life over dealing with this Michael. Michael usually scared Birkoff, but this Michael, who knew the details before he even attempted on dispersing them to Michael, was terrifying him.

"When are they going to be in here?" Michael questioned and Birkoff looked to the computer and frowned. The operatives have been asking that for the past half-hour, ever since they found out about what happened. It wasn't something that ever happened with Section One before. Nothing like this happened. Madeline had called it a freak accident and said that the powers that be had no hand in this mishap that they were as shocked as the operatives were. Maybe that was why Madeline was upstairs pacing with Operations.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

And Michael knew. He just simply knew with no explanation.

"They were only ten minutes away... but it has been a half hour... Traffic." Birkoff said as he dropped his head. He knew the way Michael had been behaving and was expecting a tongue lashing from the man, but nothing came. Michael only turned and stared off to the opposite wall, a wall that Birkoff had become accustomed to staring at. There was nothing there, but Michael was deep in thought.

"It wasn't an accident." Jurgen said as he walked towards Michael, shaking his head. Michael could smell the musty smell that was now associated with Jurgen and felt the coldness too, but the coldness threatened to spread through his body as he thought about Nikita. He didn't know what he would do without Nikita.

"I know that." Michael said softly as he picked his head up and leaned his head back, his hair tangling around the neck as Walter turned his head.

"Did you say something, Michael?" Walter questioned, but Michael didn't even more or showed any registering of the comments.

"What's going on, Walter?" Birkoff hushed out to Walter and he shook his head. Walter had been concerned about Nikita, but that fear was growing now. The van that was transporting her back was the one that ran her over. The communications had been damaged and very little was known of Nikita's condition. For all they knew, Nikita might not be alive.

"She is alive, Michael.... Don't despair, Michael... but this wasn't an accident." Jurgen said and Michael leveled his head and slammed his foot to the ground.

"I KNOW THIS WASN'T AN ACCIDENT!" Michael screamed and Walter shifted his eyes to the corner and looked to Birkoff. Birkoff dropped his head and immediately started to send all the information he had about the accident to Michael's computer. Michael walked forward and stood, facing the wall, seeming to wait for Nikita's arrival, as did many of the operatives that were hiding.

*

The one lone clock that wasn't run by a computer ticked slowly in front of Michael. He studied the harsh white background as the black hands barely moved. Each second was a minute and each minute was an hour. He tried to pull himself away from the clock, but it was better than looking anywhere else. Michael wasn't sure where the ghost of Jurgen had floated off to and anywhere else he looked, all he saw was Nikita.

"It's taking to long." Jurgen's voice drifted to Michael and he closed his eyes. He didn't need a ghost to tell him that. It was dangerous for vans to take this long and only indicated that there were probably more injuries to Nikita than they had expected. Michael tried to close his eyes, only to have them open again with the heavy ticking of the clock.

"Michael..." Birkoff called out from his desk. He was going to offer Michael a line to the van, to communicate for the one-minute window of time that they did have. Birkoff had been getting a feeling from Michael that Nikita was not as good as everyone hoped. He looked like he was ready to plant Nikita in the ground the way he was standing there.

"Leave him be." Walter said as he now moved to stand behind Birkoff to observe the younger man. Never before would Michael just stand there, waiting for no other reason than to wait. Simone had been injured severely in the past and even Nikita had been injured in the past, but Michael never, ever did this before, and it tugged at something deep within Walter that he couldn't identify.

Of course Walter was concerned about Nikita, he just couldn't imagine not having her around to flirt with in that innocent way. But that wasn't the important stuff between the two of them. He was worried that he would lose all the times that he arrived at her apartment to sit there for hours with her crying on his shoulders, most often, it was about Michael. He didn't want to lose that and that was why he stood there, waiting also, not knowing if he should trust that old adage that no news is good news.

"They aren't far... Birkoff doesn't have medical down waiting for them." Jurgen said as he physically started to push Michael backwards, which Walter and Birkoff saw as Michael almost stumbling away from something he didn't want to think about. Both men had been afraid of Michael in the past but now, couldn't have more compassion for what Michael was going through, yet knowing fully well that Michael was not acting like himself.

"Birkoff... where is medical waiting for Nikita?" Michael questioned as he turned and stared at Birkoff. The young computer expert glanced down at the computer screen and pushed with his fingers on the screen. Slowly he found the information and raised his head.

"In Medical. They aren't even close yet." Birkoff said and as the words escaped his mouth, Michael started to shake his head back and forth. Michael closed the distance and leaned down to look at Birkoff.

"Get them to van access now." Michael seethed as his eyes flared with a boiling anger that Birkoff knew to be scared off. Birkoff looked over his shoulder and swallowed as Walter just stood there.

"But they aren't here." Birkoff remarked and Michael pushed away from the desk with the loud thumping of his feet on the concrete floor that surrounded Birkoff. Michael pushed his hands through his hair and sighed loudly and then dropped his head as if in defeat.

"Michael... I know what I'm talking about. The sensors are down! That van is back!" Jurgen cried out as he leapt towards Michael. Michael shook his head back and forth, finding it impossible to believe in the ghost.

Why did he believe in the ghost?

And more importantly, why did he believe Jurgen's ghost?

"You are wrong." Michael stated out as he turned his head and looked down the hallway and into Jurgen's eyes. Birkoff stood up and leaned back to Walter as both men stared at Michael. He moved down the hallway, his lips muttering something that neither man could hear.

"Do you think he finally lost it?" Birkoff whispered and Walter shrugged his shoulders, as he couldn't tear his eyes off of Michael's movement, scared to his core even more over how Michael was acting over the fact that Nikita was injured.

"Have I been wrong yet?" Jurgen challenged and Michael dropped his head and looked to the floor. His heart was pounding so quickly he didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to see Nikita; he needed to be with Nikita. Waiting was no longer an option in his mind, and Jurgen was making sure that Michael didn't go back to the world of logic, but proving to be the instigator to keep Michael on his mental toes.

Michael turned around as he looked down the hallway to where van access was. He was going to meet Nikita there, and he knew if he ran, he would be there as the doors opened the van. That he wouldn't be late.

What if she needed immediate medical attention? Medical personnel were still back in the medical wing; waiting on their hands for a van they didn't know was back yet. Michael had it, and he was going to wield his power around and get what he wanted, and he started with the best tactic, fear and threats.

"Birkoff.... That van is here... You get medical down there or I will literally peal your skin off of your fingers so slowly that you will feel the pain for years... and that is only the beginning." Michael said as he lowered his eyes and allowed the anger pulse through them. The anger did not go unnoticed by Birkoff as he dropped his hands to the keyboard.

"I hope you are right, Michael." Birkoff said towards Michael, but the statement stopped Michael from running down the hallway as he had planned. Birkoff raised his head, still surprised to find Michael standing there.

"I wish I was wrong Birkoff... You don't know how badly I wish I was wrong." Michael said with almost tears flopping out of his eyes and down his cheeks. Birkoff had never seen Michael change emotions so quickly and he pressed at the button as an automatic response.

A few seconds later, Michael's head jarred to the side and he sprinted down the hallway. Walter whistled lowly, not knowing what was going on. Michael appeared to have lost a few screws in the process of the night and Walter was sure that his behavior was not going unnoticed by Madeline and Operations as they waited above, acting like hawks looking down at the prey.

"Birkoff... WHERE IS MEDICAL?" Stanley hollered from van access and Birkoff looked to Walter and threw his hands up as his eyes opened widely.

"How did he know? How did he know, for God's sake, Walter? How did he know!" Birkoff said and Walter only barely shook his head from side to side, frozen stiff himself.

*

"Nikita!" Michael wailed out as he turned the corner and saw the operatives holding her on the small backboard that each and every van that was equipped with. He pulled to a halt, unable to move as he saw the bright red c-collar placed around her neck and her blonde hair, that had been looking to be closer to white of late, stained red with blood and then brown with dirt. There were still leaves in her hair as Michael shook his head from the distance.

"Michael... to her side." Jurgen said as he tried to budge Michael from the spot that he had stopped moving at. But the ghost didn't have the strength as the tears overran Michael's eyes and he trembled as he stared off in the distance. He couldn't even move as the full size gurney was pushed around him and the medical personal flooded the area.

"Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep..." a machine started to register as Michael stared with his mouth dropped to his chest. He didn't expect this as one of the medical technicians pulled back the gauze that had been placed on her head and then placed it back down as he turned his own head and eyes away from what he saw.

"Nikita..." Michael said again, this time above a scant whisper, as each word seemed to pain him more than a bullet impacting with his body. He reached for the wall and continued to stare, as the medical personnel needed to stabilize her there before moving her down the hallway.

"Have you had any response to a pin prick?" a doctor yelled as he looked into Nikita's eyes and stared at the operatives. They shook their heads, indicating that they had not had the time to go through the process.

"Oh my god." Michael whispered as Walter turned the corner and watched as the doctor reached for the pin. Michael shook his head back and forth with a great frequency that Walter swallowed and stopped, knowing that from the looks of it, Nikita was in some serious problems.

"Don't worry Michael.. Her neck is not broken." Jurgen said as he floated above Nikita, looking down over her body. Michael looked to the ceiling and felt his world spinning around him. He wanted to believe Jurgen, but the doctor reached for her foot and pressed the pin deeply into her skin and there was no response.

"No... It isn't broken!" Michael cried out in despair and Walter clapped a hand onto Michael's quivering shoulder. The doctor didn't even pay any attention to Michael as he looked around.

"I want a CT, an x-ray STAT... It may be a C4 or C5 injury...." The doctor ordered as the other personnel moved to strap the backboard down on the stretcher.

"Better assess for internal bleeding.. Do we have any indicators?" The doctor questioned, as he looked at the operatives that had brought her in. They again, bumbled to inform the doctor that they didn't have the proper supplies to start anything.

"Her pulse is dropping," One of the women announced as she looked over her shoulder towards the doctor who was trying to assess what was going on.

"This isn't happening! NIKITA!" Michael cried out, suddenly finding the strength of his voice. Walter shook his own head as he felt the pain himself. He wanted to cry out like Michael, to express his own anger and grief of seeing Nikita like this, laying like she was already doomed for no recovery.

"Michael... listen to me... she is going to be fine... We have to catch who did this too her..." Jurgen said as he stepped in front of Michael, but he saw that Michael's eyes were somewhere on Nikita, looking at the distance that separated him from Nikita. Jurgen stepped to the side and looked down the hallway. Right now it didn't matter what Michael felt and it didn't matter that Nikita might be in further trouble in the future because he wasn't listening to the persistent ghost. What mattered was Nikita.

"No... it can't be broken... No... She is going to be fine." Michael stated firmly and with as much bravery as he could muster out, even as a group was starting to form, crowding the area. It was in situations like this that Michael would walk away, to escape the group and go see Nikita afterwards, when she was settled in medical.

"Michael... go to her." Jurgen sighed out, as his own eyes couldn't take the look of torture and pain on Michael's eyes. His green eyes twitched as he stepped away from Walter's hand and towards the gurney.

"Oh, Nikita..." Michael rasped out as his voice showed every ounce of emotion that he was going through. He looked around and ached to touch her, but didn't know where he could. Literally, she was bruised from head to toe.

"Michael... we are moving her.... See us in a few hours." The doctor said as he slapped his hands together and started to pull on the gurney.

"I'm going with her." Michael firmly stated out and Walter tried to step towards Michael and pull him back. Michael shrugged off the first attempt, until Walter tried the second time. This time he yanked Michael away and Michael stared at the older man.

Maybe he was trying to do what was best for Nikita. Maybe he was doing what was best for Michael. None of that mattered as Michael felt that every inch that Nikita disappeared from his sight was tearing his chest open and pulling at his heart. He had a physical need to be with Nikita and it didn't matter how much Walter was doing this for the good of someone. Michael knew he had to be there with Nikita.

"Leave me alone! I love her!" Michael cried out as he stepped to the side and wrenched his hand free. Seeing that Walter wasn't going to willingly allow Michael to leave to follow the gurney, the medical personnel, and the rest of the team that saw what happened, Michael pulled his fist back and connected it firmly to Walter's jaw.

Several operatives helped Walter as Michael turned and stalked down the hallway, not caring about what he had done. Walter pressed a hand to his face and tasted the blood rolling into his mouth. He shook his head and leaned his head back as Madeline moved down the hallway.

"Don't take it personally, Walter." Madeline coolly settled with a voice that showed a little of emotion herself. Walter turned and looked at Madeline.

"It would do no good trying to separate him now." Madeline assessed as she looked into Walter's eyes. She pulled at a handkerchief that she had in her pocket and pressed it to Walter's nose. She turned and motioned to two operatives to take Walter to be cleaned up. She was going to have to follow behind and find the other causalities that tried to stop Michael.

"Michael... she is going to be fine!" Jurgen cried out as he tried to stop the stalking man. He didn't need Michael in Section One to be by Nikita's side. He needed Michael to search out the truth. But right now, the man who played it cold all the time was the most alive person as he slammed and forced is way into the room with Nikita.

"We need you to leave." The doctor said as he pointed to the door as he pulled the light away from Nikita's head. Michael looked at him and then down to Nikita. They had pulled away the gauze that covered the huge gash that was across her forehead and showed it dirty with the items of the ground that all of this occurred in.

"I stay." Michael announced as if it was a declaration from god, and in a way it was. The doctor looked to the personnel. They all knew Michael and they knew how deadly he could be. The doctor was sure that he would do nothing to hurt Nikita, it was his personnel that he was concerned about.

"Michael... Michael.. Michael... BOO!!!" Jurgen yelled as he waved his hands in front of his face. Sadly, the ghost moved away and looked at Nikita. He understood the thing between Michael and Nikita, but he never saw it like this. In fact, he never saw anything like this. It was like Michael transformed into another man and that changed everything that Jurgen had to do to get Michael to do the important stuff.

Although Nikita was out of the woods medical, the doctors and Michael and the rest of Section One would not know that for some time. There were some things that Jurgen knew of and if the doctors missed it, he would make Michael aware, but this was not Nikita's time. Yet, she wasn't out of the woods that Jurgen was trying to protect her from, and as Michael stood there next to Nikita, the leads were going cold, and quick.

But there was a ghost on their side.

*

There was a heavy piece of glass that separated Michael from Nikita and the fact that he was about five feet up on a balcony, looking down at Nikita. The doctors and nurses were still huddled around her, waiting to get her ready to go into the CAT Scan machine. Michael stared down below, not caring what was going on around him, as he had been for the past two hours as they stitched, x-rayed, poked, prodded, and drew blood from.

They ignored Michael as he stayed as close to Nikita as he could, hoping for her eyes to open just for a few seconds so he could tell her that he was watching over her. He needed her to know that he was protecting her and wouldn't leave her side this time. Everyone believed that it was guilt that was driving Michael to staying by her side, feeling guilty for not making himself placed on the mission team with Nikita. That wasn't the case.

He loved her.

Something that simple slipped out of everyone's minds as Michael sat up in that lone chair with his forehead pressed against the glass. The doctor said that once they were able to get her into the scan that he could go to her side and be with her. They knew that anything less than that would not be tolerated. He didn't care if there were possible bad effects for standing near the machine. He didn't want to leave Nikita alone.

"You should be worrying about who did this to her!" Jurgen said as he looked up from the floor that Nikita was on. Michael shook his head and sighed heavily.

"I can't.... It was an accident." Michael whispered out, knowing that was what Madeline told him an hour ago was the cause. Did he believe it? Maybe at first, but the ghost of Jurgen was wearing down his nerves and his beliefs quickly.

"You should get some sleep. This is going to take some time." Madeline said as she entered the little observation room that Michael had taken residence in as he was pushed away from Nikita's side. Michael shook his head from side to side, but never drew his green eyes off of Nikita.

"Michael... this is going to take a long while." Madeline said, trying to stress that she felt that Michael needed to sleep for the well being of Nikita. Michael wasn't going to listen to her, she knew that before she opened the door, but she had to at least try.

"It's going to take an hour and a half for this scan. Once they have her ready I am allowed to go and hold her hand." Michael replied, again, never moving his eyes off of the doctors that covered Nikita's body.

"But standing by her you don't learn of her condition." Madeline stated, hoping to draw his attention to the medical condition facts that she did have. She had just been updated as she moved towards this room, searching out Michael as the doctor had mentioned his presence as being overbearing.

"I will learn it sooner or later. You can tell you or me won't. It doesn't quite matter." Michael said as he lifted his head off of the glass and used his hands to roughly part his hair and to comb it backwards, making it into a bigger mess than it already was.

"I've never heard you so cryptic." Madeline stated and Michael looked down and shook his head slightly from side to side as he pressed his hands to the glass.

"I never felt so cryptic." Michael replied and Jurgen turned and stared at Michael and saw Madeline. Michael turned his head and watched the ghost appear in the room with them.

"What is it, Michael?" Madeline said as she watched Michael's head turn to the side and focused on some unseen thing.

"Just thinking." Michael said as he stared at the image of Jurgen as he shook his head, disappointed in Michael. He walked behind Madeline and studied her.

"I never thought of being a ghost like this.... This is cool!" Jurgen said as he forgot about what he was suppose to do. He poked at Madeline and watched her snap her arm away from the poke. Jurgen laughed and stepped backwards.

"Can you please get me some coffee?" Michael asked Madeline as his eyes looked up at hers. He had touched that one-ounce of compassion that Madeline had and she pressed her lips together. She couldn't allow Michael to think that she would do it instantly. Michael continued to stare at her as she slowly raised from the bent position she had taken and looked to the door.

"I don't do this for everyone, Michael." Madeline said and Michael dropped his head in awareness of the truthfulness of the statement.

"And for that, I thank you." Michael said as Madeline stepped carefully backwards in her high heels and closed the door, leaving Michael with the ghost yet again.

"PUSH HER!" Jurgen screamed at Michael and he turned his head and looked down at Nikita. He reached his hand to the glass and felt the tears falling from his eyes yet again. He cursed himself for doing this now, knowing that Nikita needed him to be strong.

"I need to know what Section found and what they didn't... Push for her condition, Michael." Jurgen said in a very superior voice that instantly rubbed Michael wrong. He cocked his head to the side as he turned towards the wall that Jurgen was using as his pulpit to preach at Michael.

"Remember who the ghost is. You won't know anything if you keep ordering me around!" Michael yelled as the door opened up and he was face to face with Madeline. She blinked her eyes and stepped forward, placing the cup of coffee between herself and Michael. Michael grabbed the cup and turned back to stare down at Nikita.

"May I ask what you were doing, Michael? Yelling at the wall?" Madeline questioned with a hesitative voice as she studied the tense muscles that lined his back and neck.

"Her neck isn't broken.. There was so trauma to the C4 vertebrae.. But she is fine and isn't paralyzed." Madeline confirmed as she looked out to the glass and to the figure of Nikita that Michael stared at as if it was all that was in his world. Madeline dropped her head and scolded herself, as she knew that Nikita was Michael's world and she could not and must not forget that.

"So the concern is her head injury." Michael stated coldly back as he moved closer to the glass, almost pressing his head towards it again. He slowly sipped at the coffee and allowed the extreme heat of it burn his aching throat and to open his eyes wider with the caffeine that he was sure he was going to need.

"I've been spending a lot of time with the doctors.. There is some pressure in her brain right now.. They may need to drill a hole to relieve it if there isn't some improvement." Madeline said and Michael closed his eyes and swallowed, this time without coffee in his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be spending your time finding out who did this to her, Madeline?" Michael said with words that cut her thick skin. She blinked her eyes a few times and leaned forward and touched Michael's shoulder.

"It was an accident." Madeline declared and Michael pressed his coffee to the floor and turned and stared at Madeline.

"It wasn't an accident. Someone did this to her, Madeline. She was targeted. There were too many bushes... and they ran over her... It wasn't an accident." Michael said firmly and Jurgen smiled and nodded his head. Michael though, stopped and turned towards Nikita. He felt something and dropped his own green eyes briefly.

"Internal bleeding." Michael stated and blinked his own eyes, feeling like he was coming out of a trance.

"There is none." Madeline stated quickly.

"None of what?" Michael questioned and Madeline leaned back on her heels and swallowed, trying to realize that Michael was dealing with a lot of stress and guilt as he stayed in the room.

"Michael... Don't listen to her.. She is! She is!" Jurgen cried out and before Michael could get Madeline's words, the doctor's were waving him down to the room to be at Nikita's side. He brushed past Madeline without a word or a look of his face to her face. She heard him running down the stairs and then down to Nikita's side. She moved to the window and pressed the button to hear what he was saying.

"I'm here, Nikita... I'm not leaving..." Michael whispered as he grabbed and cupped Nikita's hand in both of his as they placed the machine around Nikita's head and started the scan.

"I hope she can hear you, Michael." Madeline said as she dropped her head and closed her eyes. She felt the strain coming to her own eyes and felt her own tears. She forgot everything else that Michael had said and stepped out of the room, knowing that if Michael was determined to stay by her side that no one was going to stop him.

*

Birkoff tried to be quiet as he set up the computer on the small table that the doctor permitted in the room with Michael and Nikita. He looked at the computer, turned it on and was pleased with seeing the computer booting up. Michael turned his head from Nikita to the computer.

"Thank you, Birkoff." Michael replied in a humble voice and Birkoff blinked his eyes as he lightly brushed at Nikita's hand and then looked at Michael as he flipped through the screens.

"You did load all the information from the mission in here, correct?" Michael questioned as he turned his head and looked up at Birkoff. It had been two hours since they placed Nikita into this medical room to monitor her. Michael had been there every second and only left her side to request the computer and to go to the bathroom.

"Yes... but two of the cameras were malfunctioning." Birkoff revealed and Michael folded his hands and pulled away from the table and looked to Birkoff without worrying that something terrible was going to occur to Nikita in that very second.

"Which two?" Michael demanded and Birkoff looked around the room. It only indicated that Birkoff was no suppose to tell him this information and Michael knew that it must be information that Madeline knew would inflame his emotions during this time. He narrowed his eyes and focused on Birkoff.

"The one mounted next to the drive and the side door camera. We have no actual footage of Nikita getting hit." Birkoff supplied in a soft whispering voice. Michael blinked his eyes and looked to Nikita's head, as she lay there, non-responsive still. Her head was wrapped with new gauze and luckily so far, they had not needed to chop away at her hair.

"Is there anything else that I should know about that Madeline told you not to tell me?" Michael questioned as he turned his head again. His hands gripped the edge of the table with the fear of not having the footage still coursing through his mind. If anything, it indicated that something was wrong with this entire situation and not that it was an accident.

"We had personnel changing from the conception of the mission profile. I think the only person who was an original person called for it was Nikita." Birkoff responded quickly, knowing that to play around with Michael was not worth it. Birkoff blinked off to the door and knew he should leave; yet he moved even closer to Nikita.

"How is she doing?" Birkoff whispered softly as he reached out and touched her leg. Michael sighed and looked at Nikita's face, finding it hard seeing Nikita there, underneath all of the bruises and bandages.

"The swelling in her brain has stopped... but it hasn't gone down.. They are going to wait and see." Michael whispered and Birkoff dropped his head and solemnly swallowed. No one in Section One as ready to send Nikita get well balloons as they were sure that it would be a miracle that she would pull out of this.

"She wasn't paralyzed, right?" Birkoff questioned and Michael shook his head back and forth and touched her hand softly with his index finger. He used his other hand to rub at the tense muscles in his neck before closing his eyes.

"She is a fighter, Birkoff... She has a lot of people looking out after her." Michael returned in even a softer voice than Birkoff was using. It was like Michael was afraid to say that others cared and loved Nikita, as did Michael.

"I have to go.. If you find anything... Let me know." Birkoff said nervously as he turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Michael lightly touching her medical gown and then turning to the computer. He didn't want to touch the computer, but something wasn't right, as Jurgen had been implicating for some time now with what happened to Nikita.

"Check the van driver... he should be interesting." Jurgen said stiffly as he looked over Nikita from the other side of the bed. Michael lifted his head and stared at Jurgen, realizing the look on his face. Michael stopped typing and felt his heart stop. Jurgen had really cared about Nikita, he probably loved her and he would have been able to tell Nikita that, without her being seriously injured and near death.

"Michael... don't think that... She never wanted to be a part of my heart.. She wanted you... and I respect love... You should learn that." Jurgen said in a warning tone that caused Michael to drop his head in shame. Lightly he turned his head to the side and punched in commands for brief histories of all the operatives that were on the mission and if they had any connection to Nikita in the past, or connection to significant people in Nikita' past too, including Michael, Birkoff, Walter, and a few other big names.

"Something is not right." Michael proclaimed as he pushed his hair back again, pulling it tightly against his hands, causing a pain from the tugging of the roots from his heart shaped head. It didn't serve any good, but in a way it helped ease some of the pain his heart was going through, but it did not last for long.

"With what?" Jurgen questioned as he batted his eyes down and pulled his glasses off. He placed them on his shirt and studied Michael with his ruff features grazing Michael's entirely worn and ragged body.

"The mission... with... with.." Michael said as he turned his eyes to look at Nikita and stopped. Michael was afraid to say what he was thinking, as he didn't want to be right. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to be extremely wrong.

"Say it, Michael." Jurgen ordered as he looked down at Nikita and then looked to the corner of his eyes to stare at Michael, in a way challenging Michael to say what he wished not to say. Jurgen would even venture to say that Michael was praying that he didn't have to say what Jurgen wanted him too.

"Something else is wrong with Nikita... I know it." Michael said with tears crystallizing beneath his eyelids and threatening to fall yet again across his cheeks that never had so many tears fall across their surface.

"Hold her hand." Jurgen stated and Michael shook his head slowly back and forth as he looked at Nikita. Right now, he was almost afraid to hold her too long. It wasn't that her medical condition had changed any, but now that Michael had verbalized those words, that something else was wrong, he was afraid that he would cause more damage.

"You will know... if you hold her hand... Her body will tell you." Jurgen said and Michael moved away slightly and the pushed down the computer screen. He moved to the metal railing and held onto Nikita's hand softly.

Michael closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of all other things. He pushed past the anger he had at Madeline for closing the investigation into this incident. He pushed past the fear of ghost and more importantly Jurgen. It was like Nikita's body was telling Michael to listen and to trust Jurgen, that the dead couldn't hurt you more, they could only help you.

"She is bleeding." Michael whispered as his eyes snapped open. He looked at Nikita's face and brushed a hand to her cheek as his other hand rang for a doctor without any hesitation. Michael felt cold to the bone as he looked at Nikita. He couldn't explain it. He just knew that Nikita was having internal bleeding. He just knew.

"What is it, Michael?" the doctor questioned and Michael looked at him and then to Nikita.

"She is bleeding." Michael said and the doctor looked at Nikita and raised an eyebrow, sure that Michael needed to get some sleep now.

"Nikita is fine, Michael." The doctor responded and Michael grabbed his arm before he tried to leave. Michael wrenched him back around to look at Nikita and more importantly to look at his own face.

"She is bleeding inside of her." Michael responded and Jurgen nodded his head, waiting to see what happened. The doctor sighed and looked at the monitors and rubbed his hands together.

"Her vitals are strong Michael.. We checked her three times.. She isn't bleeding internally." The doctor responded as he tried to be the patient and kind doctor that he rarely was. He knew he had to be with Michael or he would be cancelled in a heartbeat. He also realized that if Nikita didn't come out of this, he would die too.

"She is bleeding... I swear to you." Michael declared as his jaw muscles gripped together and rippled at each word that he had said. The doctor blinked his eyes and looked over Nikita's body.

"Tell him where, Michael...."

"Michael... listen to her body.. She is telling you where..."

"TELL HIM MICHAEL!"

"MAKE HIM BELIEVE YOU, MICHAEL!"

"SAVE NIKITA, MICHAEL! SAVE HER, MICHAEL. SAVE NIKITA."

"STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!" Michael screamed as he covered his ears and looked up at Jurgen with fuming eyes. Jurgen dropped his head as the doctor reached for Michael. Michael dropped his hands and pulled away from the doctor.

Again, Michael stroked Nikita's cheek and looked down her chest and stopped.

"Her spleen... She is bleeding there." Michael informed the doctor and he sighed and signaled for his nurse to arrive.

It didn't take long to confirm and the doctor was eating his own words as he rushed a medical team into the surgery room and pulled Nikita's bed out of the room and then stopped to look at Michael.

"You might as well come too... Who knows what else you know!" The doctor said sternly and Michael followed behind, still surprised that he was correct, yet sad at that it only meant more pain for Nikita.

*

Michael pressed his palms deeply into the sockets of his eyes, trying to push the pounding stress headache away as he sat next to Nikita's bedside. He could hear her breathing and that alone brought what little comfort that Michael had found. The operation was a success, they had removed the spleen, but it wasn't all good news.

"How is she?" Walter questioned as he walked into the room and looked at the dejected man, already wallowing in the self-pity and guilt for what happened. The doctors had sworn to Madeline that Michael knew that Nikita was bleeding that he had individually saved Nikita's life because she would have bleed out before they even knew.

"They had to take her spleen." Michael commented as he pulled his hands away from his eyes and blinked a few times, the light too bright for the green eyes, as they were tired, bloodshot, and wet. He turned his head briefly to look at Walter and then back to Nikita.

"It isn't a vital organ. A lot of folks around Section One don't have spleens... I don't." Walter commented, trying to cheer Michael up, thinking that if Michael was thinking positive that Nikita might feed off of that vibe.

"The pressure in her brain went up during surgery. They are going to drill holes in an hour." Michael said with slow words. He dropped his head and looked at the computer.

If anything, that compounded the anger Michael was having. The ghost had disappeared during the surgery, telling Michael that all the facts about this was on the computer and that he needed to find it. Michael had searched everything he could find and still had no more answers. If Jurgen knew, why didn't he just tell Michael where to look and what it was?

"It could save her life, Michael." Walter said with concern on every syllable. Yes, it could save her life, but Walter had started to think about the side effects and all of those other worries associated with serious injuries. In the normal world, if Nikita didn't recover all the way, she could almost have a normal life, but in Section One, things were different. They would only wait so long for Nikita to recover.

"Walter... talking about this isn't helping." Michael said as he shook his head back, now finally admitting what everyone had been thinking. Yes you could see the toll on Michael and he didn't even try to fight the tears, but he was verbalizing a fear that only started the process of allowing Michael to speak what his mind and heart felt.

"I can't believe I allowed this to happen!" Michael gasped out as he turned and saw Nikita's pale face. He wanted to touch her cheek and see her eyes open widely at him, shining that blue color that was uniquely Nikita's and no one else's. He wanted to see her strain a smile over that bruised face, as she would be happy to see Michael by her side and no one else.

"Michael.. It was an accident." Walter stated out and the words echoed in the room as Michael turned abruptly away from Nikita to stare at Walter. He shifted his weight and stood up as he moved towards Walter, backing Walter towards the wall.

"It wasn't an accident." Michael growled out from his chest and Walter nodded his head and pressed his hands against the wall. Walter flickered his eyes around the room, trying to figure and plan a way to escape Michael's tyrant, as he stood there, pinned to the wall with the massive man standing in front of him.

"Do you have proof?" Walter questioned and Michael stormed away from Walter, as those were the same exact words that Madeline had used to question him after the surgery.

"I just know." Michael said and Walter held his ground, unable to move.

Had Michael not just known that Nikita was hurt without any telling him and had he not known the exact specifics of what happened to cause Nikita's injuries, Walter would have shrugged off the statement. He had literally looked into Michael's eyes when he declared that he had no way of knowing that Nikita was hurt, that he had just known. Compound that with the fact that Michael caught the bleeding from Nikita's spleen, by just a feeling, Walter knew that Michael was telling the truth.

Maybe that was all Michael needed right now was one person to support him. He was hanging on a ledge that he was very unfamiliar with. Michael wasn't a man to believe in supernatural connections and had been a man to spit on the connection between identical twins. He never believed in those sorts of things. Yet, if he was so positive now that Nikita was targeted, without any proof, Michael was standing on new ground, and in a way, it was about time.

"Tapes?" Walter questioned as he leaned away from the wall and looked at Michael as he settled in front of the computer and rubbed Nikita's hand lightly. It was way to motivate Michael to work without sleep or rest. He hadn't had anything more than coffee to drink and nothing to eat. Michael was only able to barely function now, as Nikita was the reason why. Seeing her, in that bed, caused him to work, to find the answer and hopefully in time, exact revenge.

"Cameras were down." Michael stated and Walter blinked his eyes and ran his hands together. Madeline had consulted on him about the van. It was in pretty bad damage from hitting Nikita, but then it ran into a tree. The driver had jumped out before it hit the tree. Although it was damaged, Walter knew that it hadn't been tampered with, so there was still a question why the van did such things.

"The van was fine... nothing technically wrong with it." Walter established as he looked to the door and swallowed.

"Who was the driver?" Jurgen asked as he walked through Walter's body to stare down at Michael. Michael dropped his head and started to type, and Walter, knew not of what he was doing.

"Giles was the driver." Michael stated and Walter shrugged his shoulders as if nothing of that was important. He bent down and looked at Michael's eyes and saw that he wasn't looking at him. Again, it seemed as if Michael was in a trance, somewhere else but where he was in the room.

"Giles, Michael? Are you stupid?" Jurgen questioned as he attempted to slap Michael's head. Michael pulled away and closed his eyes, feeling his mind clicking quickly. Some people thought that Michael was just brilliant, but at times, Michael didn't understand what his own mind was doing and allowed it to work almost independently as it always seemed to have the answers.

"NO!" Michael responded, it was said as a response to Jurgen but also to a response to what Michael had produced into his mind. He turned back to the computer and started to hack away at the keys, pounding them harshly, trying to get the computer to work as quickly as possible and still then, it wasn't quick enough.

"Giles was on only one mission with Nikita before... It was one of the few missions that Nikita and Jurgen did together... But it was the Quberick mission." Michael said and Walter nodded his head as he leaned against the wall and watched the long muscles in Michael's forearm, pull and release as his fingers typed quickly.

"Is that the mission where Nikita and Jurgen had the entire team against them?" Walter questioned and Michael nodded his head as he looked at the file as it popped up on the screen. It didn't matter now, all the facts Michael had instantly recalled. He stepped away from the computer and allowed Walter to sit down in front of it. He moved to Nikita's head and looked at the bandage, silently praying that the swelling in her head would go down.

"Four members of that team were disciplined... and it held all four of them back from promotion.... Giles was one of them." Michael said as he moved to the sheet and pulled it to Nikita's chin. He lightly ran his finger up the underneath of her chin before placing a kiss on her nose gently.

"Why would he wait this long to exact revenge?" Walter questioned and Michael swallowed and looked around. He could pull out the file, but that would just take too long. Plus, his hand had just taken Nikita's hand and he didn't want to allow it to slip from his touch. He was just hoping that his presence would heal Nikita.

"Operations about ten days ago, did some rearranging and took the disciplinary acts out on some people... Now.. I don't think Giles is smart enough to do this by himself.. But if the other three were allowed out on Operations sloppy move in order to boost critical mass, then this isn't going to stop with this if she survives." Michael said slowly as he studied each word before uttering it. He wanted to be positive, but Jurgen nodded his head as he pulled Nikita's sheet back down.

"He wouldn't do that." Walter said as Michael's fingers curled around the sheet and pulled it definitely back up. He shot his eyes a warning to the ghost as he moved away from the bed. Michael was not surprised to glance over and find the sheet back down.

"He wouldn't know.... See.. I think Giles is the scapegoat.... Or that he is being set up..." Michael said and Walter frowned and looked down at the list. What Michael was suggesting was something that shouldn't happen in Section One, but it did happen more often than anyone wanted to admit.

"You think that Stacy, Fricks, and Josh are using Giles to through everyone off of their real attempts?" Walter questioned and Michael nodded his head up and down as he looked around the room.

"And they were going to be hard to catch..." Michael whispered as Jurgen looked at Michael and then dropped his head. He knew that Michael was dead right, and hoped that he would be able to protect the wounded and injured Nikita long enough.

*

The metal was being placed around Nikita's head as Madeline stopped at the doorway and looked at Michael who was perched next to her bed. The doctors were working around the body that sat in the middle, hampering their movement. It was a bad situation that Madeline was going to have to remedy for all involved.

"Michael..." Madeline said and the man lifted his eyes off of Nikita's eyes and then looking over at Madeline. His heart was in his eyes and there was no doubt where his loyalty was currently. Madeline wasn't sure if it was correct for what she was going to do. Yet, she needed to go to Michael and do anything to get him removed from the room. They needed a sterile field at least, and with Michael around that wasn't going to be achieved.

"I'm not leaving." Michael asserted even before Madeline stepped towards him. All the doctors stopped and stared at Madeline. Michael was not beyond thought and he saw the looks and the glances. They wanted him to leave.

"Michael... She is going to be fine." Madeline said as she reached out and touched his arm, but only for a brief second before Michael snarled his arm away as if Madeline had burned him with a steaming coal. He rubbed his arm and continued to stare at Madeline.