Night brings our troubles to the light, rather than banishes them. ~ Seneca

The papers were finally starting to be sorted and finding their right places. It was easy work to be done, simple filing, but after months and months of not being completed; even the simplest of tasks was difficult.

In fact, the papers had been there for well over a year. It had been a difficult year and the piles of paper were only one symptom of the illness that had crept into the world for Michael.

Michael Samuelle, lead therapist for Section One, an inner city shelter in the middle of probably one of the biggest sin cities around, Paris.

The title didn't mean a thing to Michael for the past year. He had lost everything. He lost his wife and the child that she was carrying, which was already named Adam. That pain didn't go away and Michael pushed himself away from the shelter that Elena had never liked. She always thought that Michael could have done better.

He had attempted to come back to work after a mere two weeks. He spent enough time in the office to take down the pictures of Elena and any other reminders of the son he would never have. He threw books away that were given to him from the Director of the Homeless Program at Section One, Madeline Delorme and sprayed air freshener around the office to get rid of the scent of Elena's perfume.

And then he ran. Some say that he was just going through the grieving process. Michael knew deep down in his heart, that he couldn't take on anyone else's worries and crisis when he couldn't even sleep the night through, thinking about how he wasn't there when everything went wrong for Elena.

But also to deal with the guilt. The guilt of not giving his entire heart and devotion to Elena. Maybe if he had just moved onto one of the bigger practices and not working with runaways, Michael would have been at that appointment and could have held her hand as they rushed her to surgery. But instead, Michael found a girl overdosed on some street based drugs and decided that it was best to stay at Section One.

He didn't find out till hours afterwards, when Elena wasn't home when he arrived there. Michael knew that this first step, coming back to the office and clearing off his desk was just another symbolic move for him. He had already sold the house that he had shared with Elena and had painted the nursery a pale yellow. Now, Michael lived closer to Section One, knowing that he was going to plunge back into the work that had long been his passion only in order to escape from the memories that seemed to be ready to haunt him forever.

"I heard rumors that you were back. It is good to see you," Madeline Delorme spoke as she entered the office and closed the door. Michael looked at her and then shuffled at a few papers, knowing that Madeline was here for other reasons.

She had offered her expertise while Michael was struggling through the past year, whenever he would call in to make sure that all was fine and to let them know that he was still alive. Michael didn't care if her boss Paul Wolfe felt that the clinic had lost some of its creditability because Michael was on hiatus. But it was clear that Madeline's gesture of help and therapy was for that reason.

To get Michael back sooner.

"I thought that it would be a good thing to come back. I've heard of the staffing problems," Michael commented as he tilted his head to the side to look back at Madeline. He was going to keep this strictly on the business at hand.

"Yes. We have lost a few valuable staff members in the past month. And one of our major funders seems to be pulling back. It will be good to have you back," Madeline pleasantly smiled out as she looked at the pile of folders that were on Michael's desk.

"I had Seymour run the list of clients that I had. I see that you transferred them all on to someone else," Michael stated as he pulled out the list and looked at the blank sheet of paper.

"Well... Seymour would like to be called Birkoff for now on... and I couldn't let the clients just hand without a main therapist..." Madeline defended her actions. Michael blinked his eyes slowly and then dropped the paper down.

"Ah, Birkoff... He stated that most of these clients didn't transfer... Did they leave? Over 56% of those clients I was assigned to are not currently receiving any sort of services from Section One," Michael challenged Madeline. She leaned her head back and demurely fluttered her eyes. "You have been doing your homework."

Madeline stood up to take in the office. It used to have a personality. Michael had done a good job in hiding anything that would have shown him as a whole man. It was scary to have such a cold office for a man who was going to be helping those who wondered on the streets of Paris day and night.

"I want you to have a clean start, Michael. Most of those you used to serve have moved on. Accept it and move on," Madeline declared as she turned and clenched her hands on the back of the chair that she had settled down into earlier.

"That seems to be a theme..." Michael shot back. Madeline raised an eyebrow, but Michael had already turned his head away. She felt nervous about having Michael back. Section One did need him, but Section One needed him working fully.

"Michael... Can I be quite frank?" Madeline questioned as she circled back around the chair and sat down. She was leaning in towards the desk as his head slowly turned to face him. A cold smile crossed his face. "I don't see me having much choice. You are going to give it to me whether I want it or not."

"Michael..." Madeline stated in a sharp staccato word. She looked around and sighed. "I want you to start off slow. Take the easy cases. Those who need a place to sleep for the night and some resources for money."

"That isn't my expertise," Michael replied sharply and Madeline leaned in closer. "Do yourself this favor. Take it slow."

Michael mulled over Madeline's words as she stood up and looked around. There was nothing more that she could do now until Michael did something wrong. "Good luck, Michael. I'll be out of the office for rest of the afternoon. I expect you to get out into the clinic this afternoon."

Michael watched as Madeline moved away. He dropped his head and swallowed. Michael didn't like the way that she was treating him. She was placing the pressure on him, noting that they were about to lose some major funding, implying it was partly his fault, and then limited what he could do today.

Michael would see about that.

~~

Michael looked at the file cabinet as he pushed it closed. He had finally cleaned his office of all the files that had been left there and found everything clear for him to start anew. Michael turned as he heard the commotion out at the reception area.

"Look Carla.... You are just going to have to wait... Michael is unavailable," Birkoff stated as he looked up from the computer terminal where he was attempting to complete all the updates that Madeline wanted done along with keeping the peace when the volunteers took their smoke break.

"Look man... That Madeline bitch threw me out of here when he left... now I heard on the streets he is back and I need him back..." Carlo hissed as she shifted her weight from side to side. It was clear that she was high and she had lost the housing that Michael had helped her secure. Birkoff saved the document and stood up at his desk.

"Carla... what are you on?" Birkoff questioned firmly.

"I don't know what you are talking about, boy... I just need Michael..." Carla jeered at Birkoff. She had never liked the boy.

"Carla... you are going to have to wait for another one of the counselors..." Birkoff stated as Michael looked out to Carla. He had seen her strung out before so this was nothing new, but Michael was disappointed. Carla had moved on away from the drugs, found a place to live and a full time job. It was clear that Section One didn't follow through with the follow-ups that Michael had scheduled.

"I'll handle it, Seymour," Michael spoke as he entered into the light. Birkoff looked to Carla and then Michael, shaking his head as he sat down. Carla started to run towards Michael, rubbing her hands together as she was clearly agitated. "Why don't we go back to my office?"

"I'm not here for me..." Carla stated and Michael nodded his head. It was a common way that some ladies entered Section, afraid to ask for help. Michael directed Carla down the hallway and shut the door behind him as Carla continued to pace in his office.

"Carla... what are you on?" Michael questioned and Carla shook her head back and forth.

"Michael... I need you for my friend... I got serious troubles with her.."

"Carla, you know the rules of Section One. She will have to come in herself to get help," Michael pointed out and Carla rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Michael..... I know that there are some problems with her... She has been curled up in a ball in our place now for four days straight... crying and moaning.... She must have gotten some serious junk..." Carla rattled on. Michael took a deep and steady breath.

So much for the easy cases.

"Carla... what happened to your housing?" Michael questioned as he settled down in the chair. Carla moved over and slammed her hands down on Michael's desk. Carla had never been aggressive and Michael lifted his head, knowing that something was wrong.

"Look, Michael... You know that I'm messed up... but this girl... she is messed up in other ways... and I think she inherited some of my troubles.... you got to save this pretty girl..." Carla informed Michael as her eyes focused on him.

"What can I do for you Carla?" Michael questioned, hoping that Carla would focus on herself.

"Nik... you go to go see her... she won't move... she won't even talk to me... What if she got some badass stuff? What if she got poisoned? I don't know that shit. You know it all... She hasn't even left that bed to go to the bathroom... the place is stinking up to high heaven or low hell, Michael... you got to help Nik..." Carla announced as she sat down, continuing to move her body around. It was clear that Carla believed that Michael had given into her request.

"I asked what I can do for you. Do you want to get back into a detoxification program?" Michael questioned calmly.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You always listened to me, Michael! This girl needs some serious damn help. We aren't the type that can go to fancy places around the world to get away from our problems... I'll take your free ride... but only if you help Nik.." Carla declared as she rubbed her nose. Michael swallowed and looked around.

Something sounded terribly wrong with this friend that Carla was describing and it was clear that it wasn't Carla. Michael frowned and swallowed. "I can't promise anything." "She is going to die if you don't do something, Michael... She can't trust anyone... she is like a scared little cat that has no claws and doesn't know how to meow..." Carla declared and Michael pulled out a pad of paper and sighed.

"Why don't you sit down and tell me what you know about her?" Michael questioned and Carla smiled as she settled back down. She looked around the office and then leaned forward. "Carla, what is her name?"

"Nikita.... Nikita..." Carla announced and Michael looked to the pad of paper and wrote down the name.

And something told him he had to help this Nikita.

*

Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material. -- F. Scott Fitzgerald

The front seat was crowded with supplies as the car inched down the dark road. The streetlights had long been busted and Michael pressed his lips together. He had been to this area before in the light, but in the dark, it looked even more sinister.

"Right there.... stop here..." Carla directed Michael as she swayed back and forth in the backseat. Michael realized that her high was going to come down soon and she was either going to start through withdrawal symptoms or she was going to find a way to score some more of her drug of choice.

Michael pulled the car to a halt, thankful that he was using one of Section One's cars and frowned as he looked to the building that Carla had pointed at. It was closed up and boarded up. It was clear that Carla and this Nikita were not supposed to be living in this building and that they weren't paying for anything.

"Carla... you are back to squatting?" Michael questioned as he hitched his head back to glare at Carla. She slightly shrugged her shoulders as if it was nothing and exited the car, indicating that Michael should hurry after her. Michael pushed the plastic back on the chair, having a bad feeling about this situation.

He followed Carla into the darkness of the building. It still had running electricity but it was clear that it was used sparingly so that their whereabouts were not found out. Michael struggled up the stairs, stifling his words that this was too dangerous to be living at. Carla pushed the lights on to a small apartment that she had relegated. Michael heard the crying as he looked around.

"Back room... back corner... far, far away..." Carla pointed towards the direction of Nikita's crying. Michael looked at Carla for a moment, knowing that if she did have a stash that she would run to it as soon as Michael turned his attention to Nikita. But he had no choice.

Michael's game plan here was to get Nikita to a hospital. It would be best for her to be there and not go through Section One. Section One had stiff rules and Michael didn't know if he was going to be able to get Nikita in. But, if all else failed and Nikita said no to the hospital, Michael would do anything for the woman.

Her life did matter.

"Carla... why don't you introduce me to Nikita? She doesn't know me," Michael directed Carla. It would hold off Carla hitting up and then leaving Michael with Nikita. Carla rubbed her hands together and rubbed at her neck. It was clear that she was starting to think about when she was going to get her next hit. "Nik never hears me... never.. just cries and cries..."

"She must have listened to you at some point if you are living with her..." Michael pointed out and Carla looked towards the door and sighed. She pushed it opened and stared into the darkness. Both Michael and Carla turned their heads from the stench that flooded out of the room. "Nik... come on babe... snap out of it..."

Michael ran his hand against the wall and flicked the light on. He looked at the wall and then down to the mattress that was against the wall and then he saw the woman that was called Nikita. She was thin and tiny. She was rocking back and forth as the tears continued to fall down her face. There was no indication that Nikita had heard Carla's words. She pulled the blanket up closer and closer to her body and pressed her head against the wall.

"Nikita... my name is Michael... Carla wants me to help you..." Michael stated as he stepped into the room. He saw her matted hair and looked at her face. He was worried that she was running a high fever and that part of her altered state was due to that high fever.

"Nikki, girl.... look he is the best..." Carla commented as she stayed in the room. It spoke to Michael that Carla really believed that Nikita was very ill in order to hold off her craving for her next hit.

"Nikita... I want to get you to a hospital.... I think you are sick..." Michael informed Nikita as he tried to touch her face in order to access if she had a fever. Nikita pulled away but did not scream. She pressed deeper towards the wall.

"She'll find me..." Nikita spoke in a broken and worn voice. Michael pressed his lips together and leaned towards Nikita, knowing that she needed him to be closer, although all that had happened to her. "Who?"

"She'll find me.... no hospital.... no give my name... she'll find me...." Nikita moaned out until she pressed her head tightly against the wall and rolled it from side to side, trying to ignore what Michael was offering.

"I can put you in the hospital under a different name..." Michael offered as he tried to look into Nikita's eyes. She wouldn't even hold her head still enough to look at his face.

"Michael.... she doesn't do that..." Carla commented from the side. Michael looked to Carla and sighed. He was going to have find some thing else out about this Nikita. He scooted closer and touched her cheek with his hand.

She was burning up and she reacted.

"NO! NO! GET AWAY! Don't send me back!" Nikita cried out as she tried to slap Michael's hand away. Michael felt his heart pound, knowing that there had been physical abuse in Nikita's life, and it was probably not only recent but in her past. He tried to stop Nikita's wildly swinging arms, but in the process the blankets dropped away and her shirt rose up and Michael saw what was causing most of Nikita's fever.

Burning brightly red with infection was a word etched into her skin. Michael swallowed back the vomit and pulled the shirt down as he noticed that Nikita had gone silent. "She'll find me..... and they'll find me..." Nikita whispered.

Michael watched as Nikita pulled herself into a tighter ball. Michael pulled back and stood up. He directed Carla out of the room. He knew that Nikita realized that he saw the word. He knew that Nikita was running from something.

"I need to know what you know about Nikita," Michael ordered Carla firmly as he stood in front of her closed the door to Nikita's room. Carla pushed her hair back and shrugged her shoulders. "She is sick."

"Start back when you first met her..." Michael directed Carla, knowing that she needed a starting point right now to work from. Carla rolled her eyes. "She wouldn't go into a shelter about three months ago... but she looked so raw for a street person.... she said that they would find her... that she would find her..."

"Who? Who is Nikita afraid of finding her?" Michael questioned, feeling that Carla knew that.

"She never told me... Michael... she is sick... can you stop her crying?" Carla lied as she attempted to change the subject. Michael narrowed his eyes and stared at Carla, knowing that she would soon break and give him the information that he required in order to help Nikita. Michael, in his mind, although he didn't want to admit it, was not going to send Nikita to a hospital. "See... when you watch Nikita sleep... you find out things..."

"What did you find out, Carla?" Michael questioned as he moved closer to Carla. She looked around and shifted her weight from side to side, her face starting to pale. "Her mom... and these men... her nightmares are bad... even worse than this..."

"Does she go out with anyone?" Michael questioned, wondering who did that to Nikita's body. Carla shook her head. "You are the first man that got that close to her... you touched her... Nikita doesn't let that crap happen.... She's a recluse... I think this is the longest that she has ever been in one city for this long..."

Michael sighed and nodded his head. He touched Carla's arm and looked back towards the room. "I want you to come back to Section One with us... I'm not going to be able to get her to a hospital..."

"What about the rules at Section? I thought Nikita needed to come herself..." Carla bit out as she swung her head around at Michael, throwing the words back that Michael had told her. Michael looked back towards the room and then licked his lips. "I have some discretion, Carla... and I want you to come back... get back on the program..."

"NO!" Nikita shrilled out. Carla leaned her head back and Michael turned toward the room, stepping into it. Nikita was tossing the soiled blankets around as she moved around, clearly not knowing that someone was watching her.

"Nikita..." Michael whispered softly but the words did nothing. Michael heard a slam of the door and knew that Carla had just left him with Nikita and no additional information other than Nikita was afraid of her mother.

"NO!" Nikita shouted out again and Michael winced. Carla said that Nikita had been like this for days so it was amazing that she still had a good voice. Michael inched back towards Nikita and squatted.

"Nikita... Do you remember me? My name is Michael..." Michael stated as he reached and grabbed her arm. Nikita turned her head towards him, her blue eyes looking up at him but not exactly focusing.

"Don't let her find me..." Nikita begged out as her eyes melted with tears, looking much like a sad puppy.

"I won't... I'm going to take you to a place called Section One... it's a shelter... where we can help you feel better... and you can sleep on a real bed..." Michael offered Nikita the services. She looked around and tried to stand up. Michael grabbed Nikita as her legs immediately gave out. Michael was sure that Nikita had spent several days curled up in a ball, making the muscles used to that shape and not used to supporting her body weight.

"Don't let her find me..." Nikita begged again and Michael pressed his lips together.

"You can trust me, Nikita... I want to help you... What do you want?" Michael questioned. Nikita leaned her head back and then grabbed the blanket again, trying to hide underneath of it.

"To fade away..." Nikita cried out and Michael's heart panged with sadness. Nikita could have been a beautiful and successful woman. It was too soon for Nikita to want to give up on life.

"I don't want you to fade away... Can I help you with something else?" Michael countered smoothly. Nikita looked at Michael as her eyes blinked. Michael tightened his hands to Nikita's chest, knowing that she was fading quickly.

With one last look, Nikita stared at Michael. Nikita's thin lips opened slightly as her eyes drooped. "Help me."

Michael felt the tear fill up in the corner of his eye as he felt Nikita's body go slack.

Michael settled her back down to the dirty mattress and pulled out his cell phone. "Section One?" Birkoff answered the phone and Michael smiled. This was a good sign.

"Seymour. Aren't you supposed to be done for the day?" Michael questioned as he looked down to Nikita. Her life had been so bad to this point. He was sure that it was going to be a battle for it to get better.

"Madeline has me running some reports... I'm out of here as soon as they are done." Birkoff responded, again ignoring that Michael was still calling him Seymour. "What can I do for you? I thought you were out of here yourself."

"Is Dr. Davenport still in?" Michael questioned as he looked to Nikita. He hoped that he still had a few favors due to him from the famed doctor of Section One.

"Yeah... he is running the prenatal clinic tonight," Birkoff replied and Michael looked to Nikita. That was the least of her worries.

"I need to speak with him..." Michael commented and he heard the side on the other side.

"Is this another one of your special cases? Why can't you just help those that come in the front door?" Birkoff demanded angrily. He had worked with Michael long enough to know the man.

"Just let me talk to Dr. Davenport," Michael commented as he stood up. He was going to look for some clean blankets, although he had made sure to bring enough liner for the car incase he had found Nikita as such.

She needed a bath and scrubbed along with medical attention.

"Davenport here. Why are you calling me, Michael?" Dr. Davenport picked up the line.

"I need a favor," Michael whispered as he looked over to Nikita and pulled a blanket out of the doorless closet. There was a rat's nest down there and Michael threw the blanket back down. He was just going to have to carry her out as such.

"You always need them. What this time?" Dr. Davenport sighed. He wasn't going to deny Michael anything. He always was good to Davenport, always respectful and thankful for his duties. That was much more than what he got from the other therapists.

"I have a female... early twenties... high fever... She has a word carved into her body... It looks severely infected..." Michael spoke as he swallowed. His mind could see the image of the word brightly even for the brief exposure to it.

"What word?" Davenport questioned.

"I don't think we want to discuss this... She has passed out and probably hasn't been out of her bed area for days..." Michael continued as he moved back to Nikita and pulled up her featherweight body back up. He rubbed Nikita's back as he felt the tears against his neck but then stop again.

"You are bringing me a stinker! Michael... why?" Davenport whined and Michael turned the light off and started out of the building.

"Will you look at her?" Michael questioned, knowing that Davenport would look at her.

"Only if you clean her up... and I mean it Michael..." Davenport demanded with a heavy voice. Michael attempted to smile as he moved, as Davenport was one huge teddy bear of a man.

"Deal." Michael snapped as he closed the line and moved into the darkness, taking Nikita away from the abandoned building and towards some sort of shelter.

And Michael hoped that he could help her.

*

The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread. -- Anatole France

"Dav! Hurry! Michael is back," Birkoff shouted as he pushed away from the cool door as he looked out the small security window. He waved his hand around as the large man stepped into the hallway and glared at him.

"It is Doctor Davenport, Seymour," Davenport reminded the man. Birkoff rolled his eyes. All of this didn't matter right now. Michael was one person you didn't make wait, even after his extended leave; even Davenport remembered this aspect of Michael. He moved down the hallway while still staring at Birkoff to open the door just as Michael was about five feet away, carrying Nikita.

"What do you think is going on?" Michael questioned Davenport as he touched Nikita's head as it flopped around. He supported it and looked around.

"I won't know until I can run some tests. Where is that cut?" Davenport questioned as back stepped into Section One and almost directly into Birkoff.

"What is that smell?" Birkoff questioned as he looked to Michael and then the woman in his arms. Davenport rolled his eyes at Birkoff. Sometimes, although he had been here for years, Birkoff was still too green to the ways of the world and the extreme situations that some people found themselves in.

"It doesn't matter," Michael growled as he narrowed his stormy gray eyes at Birkoff. He looked to Nikita and then backed away.

"That's gross! And you carried her! And you brought her in a car!" Birkoff screamed as he backed away. Michael locked his eyes with Davenport, waiting for the doctor's opinion of what to do next.

"The boy has a point... Let's get her cleaned up... It will help with the infection," Davenport stated as he turned towards a door and Michael nodded his head. He had long forgotten the odor as he had become directly focused on Nikita's health for the moment. The two men worked quickly moving towards the showers. It wasn't the best place to wash Nikita, but it was the easiest. Both men would deal with their own wet clothes later. Michael and Davenport had worked like this before, once with a man. He later committed suicide.

"I thought you were supposed to take it easy," Davenport commented as he pulled at the shirt that was hanging on Nikita's body.

"Have I ever listened to Madeline's rules?" Michael commented back as he held onto Nikita's body so that Davenport could pull the clothing off. The shirt dropped to the ground in a soppy mess and Davenport swallowed. "There is extensive bruising..."

"And here is the word..." Michael stated as he shifted the slack Nikita in his arms to show the exposed skin. Davenport winced and placed his hands around the cuts. "It is badly infected.... And she is wheezing. Was she in a damp climate?"

"She was in a squatter's house," Michael answered as he held Nikita carefully with one hand and turned on the shower water with his other hand. Davenport continued to pull down the pants and Michael swallowed. He didn't know if the person who had carved on Nikita's skin had done anything else. Michael closed his eyes until he heard the pants falling to the ground with a heavy splat. "There is a lot of defensive wounds down here... but I think that it is all... She probably hurt whoever did this... But it must have been days ago."

"That is what I gathered from Carla," Michael confirmed as he nodded his head and pulled at the roped soap that was hanging off of the knobs for the shower. Michael started to scrub at the skin.

"Carla? The same Carla we got through detoxification about a year and a half ago, maybe more than that?" Davenport questioned as he mimicked Michael's movements and started to scrub at Nikita's feet.

"Yes... she is back on the stuff," Michael stated and Davenport shook his head. "I told Madeline that she needed to have more regular monitoring.. she didn't listen."

"Well... all of that is over. Carla was worried about Nikita. Claimed that Nikita doesn't do junk... but ran as soon as I got to the house," Michael revealed the story. It showed that part of him still worried about Carla and that he would get in touch with all of his street contacts to see if they could catch up to Carla, but Michael also realized that Carla was scared now, knowing that Michael would look for her.

Then the men stopped talking, working quickly to scrub Nikita's body clean, being careful of the cuts. Michael rubbed Nikita hair with soap and then rinsed it away as Davenport retrieved a gown and lots of towels.

"She is extremely underweight... In the clothes it was impossible to tell that she was this deprived..." Davenport commented as Michael moved to the locker room area and started to dry Nikita off as Davenport started to slip on underwear.

"You can count almost every bone," Michael sadly whispered as he looked down at Nikita. With the fresh shower, it was clear to see that at one point, Nikita was a beautiful woman, or could have been a beautiful woman. Michael had a bad feeling that Nikita's horrors were more than just a bad fight with her mother.

"You are getting attached," Davenport pointed out as he slipped the hospital gown over Nikita's body as Michael wrapped Nikita's damp hair up in a towel to be worried about later.

"And your point is?" Michael questioned Davenport. Michael liked to feel that he attached with all of his clients on some level. That was how therapy worked. Those ideas were not congruent with Madeline's own thoughts and ideas. She really believed that a therapist had to be objective and disengaged from the individual, as if a scientist studying the problem and then rendering a solution.

"I was just checking to make sure that I was still working with the Michael Samuelle that I knew," Davenport stated with a smile on his face. Maybe Michael had a tough year, but that man seemed to be back. "Let's get down to the clinic... I have a room set up."

Michael picked up Nikita in his arms, not giving control up to Davenport. He may be the doctor but it was clear that Michael was in control. "The back room? With the screens closed?"

"Yes, Michael.... I don't think she would like to have people looking in at her..." Davenport responded as he opened the door for Michael. Michael continued down the hallway and soon they were at the room. Michael gently placed Nikita down and heard the first noise from her mouth since she had passed out.

"She probably has pneumonia... that wheeze is pretty bad. We really should get an x-ray for that..." Davenport spoke as he started to work Nikita up. Michael nodded his head. The x-ray might take some time, but Michael trusted Davenport.

"About the infection?" Michael questioned, prompting Davenport to pull away the gown and look at it.

"It has been seeping... it is rather deep.. I'll have to clean it up and slip some stitches in... I also have to find out what kind of infection... Her condition you brought her in could mean various kinds of infections that we normally don't see..." Davenport assessed as he touched his gloved hands to the infected location. "Could be a staph infection."

"And her altered states could be from the trauma and the infection, correct?" Michael questioned and Davenport turned around.

"Michael... those are plausible.. but I won't know for a long time. I need to run some blood tests..." Davenport stated as he pulled up the chart that he had started on Nikita, although it was meager material to do so. He really needed Nikita to give him some history, but from the superficial examination of Nikita, she needed lots of rest.

"What kind of blood tests? For the infection, correct?" Michael pounded on the soft words from the doctor. Davenport looked at Michael with sad eyes. It had been a year that Michael hadn't been inside of Section One. He may know how to do some things, but Davenport knew that Michael didn't realize the technical things that now affected the medical aspect of Section One.

"No, Michael. We have mandatory testing for pregnancy, STD's, AIDS, and toxin screens," Davenport informed Michael as he flipped to the page of the chart that boldly stated exactly what Davenport had commented. "In fact, you were in contact with her bodily fluids... Do you have any cuts or injuries?"

"No," Michael hissed as he blinked his eyes. Davenport nodded his head and picked the pen up once more to note things. "I am also running some other tests... blood sugar... enzymes levels..."

"Fine," Michael whispered with a sad voice as he looked down at Nikita's face. Davenport dropped the chart down and then picked up some wires. He started to attach them to Nikita and Michael looked around. "You think this is more."

"Michael... she had defensive wounds... she is very sick..." Davenport commented as he continued to work although his mind was racing about what Michael's next question was going to be. Michael fluttered his eyes as he pushed back his wet hair and looked down at Nikita. Davenport felt a chill go down his spine, as if he knew that Michael was starting to feel way too much for this woman, but looking down at Nikita, it was clear that this was a woman who had a hard life before this current trauma. Michael always took the challenges.

But there seemed to be something more here.

"Can I stay with her? Are you going to shove me out of here?" Michael questioned as he raised his eyes to look at Davenport. It was not the question that Davenport had anticipated. He rubbed his chin as he struggled to find an answer for Michael. "I think you should dry up and get into something comfortable. I don't need you getting sick too."

There was that moment that Davenport expected the protest by Michael. It wouldn't have matched Michael's personality, but with everything else that Davenport had felt, it was a feeling that Michael wouldn't leave Nikita with him, but that didn't happen. Michael batted his eyes a few times, staring at Nikita, and then turned. Silently, he left the room and Davenport was able to clearly get some examination of Nikita and treatment started.

But Davenport also realized that Michael wouldn't take his time. He would be back soon and would expect for the doctor to have some concrete answers to the questions that were going to come.

~~

Davenport looked at the x-rays as Michael walked down the hallway, rubbing his forehead. The man stayed away a lot longer than what Davenport has expected. He had been able to accomplish a lot of things.

"How is she?" Michael questioned softly, showing a voice tinged with fatigue. It was a very busy day for Michael's first day back, a fact that Davenport didn't forget.

"She started to stir... I gave her something to help her sleep comfortably... and some oxygen..." Davenport reported as he pushed up another film. Michael looked up and although he was not a doctor could tell that there were problems. "She has pneumonia and bronchitis... The x-ray also shows several healed fractures of the ribs, ankle, wrist, facial, and skull... Nikita is not novice to abuse."

"How was she when she woke?" Michael questioned as he looked away from the x-rays. They were only proving what Michael had suspected.

"She didn't fully wake up. She stirred. And she kept on asking me to keep someone away from her.. Do you know anything about that?" Davenport questioned as he turned the light off from the x-rays and turned to lean against the wall. He studied Michael as he pondered if he should answer Davenport.

"I have a suspicion that it is her mother that she is hiding from," Michael revealed and Davenport hitched an eyebrow up. "But she is an adult."

"I don't think that it matters in her mind," Michael whispered as he looked into the door to see Nikita sleeping. He had to wonder that although she appeared peaceful at the moment, if her dreams were peaceful. "What about the blood tests?"

"Clear... it is actually highly unusual screen to come back... Usually someone on the street works with alcohol on the cold days to keep their body temperature up...." Davenport spoke as he tried to find something to talk about. He cleared his throat and looked to Michael. "You haven't called Madeline yet, have you Michael?"

"No. I don't plan on doing that either." Michael stated, as he didn't even turn to look at Davenport. There was a sigh from the doctor. He didn't want Madeline storming into Section One on this night. This Nikita needed sleep and she didn't need to be woken up by a woman who was going to harass her about everything.

"That's good... and I hope that come morning... you can find something out about Nikita," Davenport spoke out the warning. He looked to Michael as he turned and looked into the room once more.

"Can I go in the room?" Michael questioned without even making a comment about what Davenport had spoken about. "I gave her something Michael. She isn't going to wake up for a while."

"She is used to being alone. She needs me to be there," Michael informed Davenport of his personal and professional opinion of what needed to be done. Davenport knew of Michael's personal tendency to handle cases personally, staying in the rooms while difficult individuals slept, but those were all in cases of children.

"Michael, you know that Nikita is an adult," Davenport pointed out, afraid that this had already fallen well off track. Michael turned his head and glared at Davenport. "Of course I do. I also realize that she is acting like a child... she could be repressed and we wouldn't know until it is too late."

Michael pressed into the room and Davenport pressed his lips together. He wasn't going to drag Michael out of the room. He couldn't agree with Michael's actions, but it was what Michael felt that he needed to do.

Davenport pulled the x-rays and Nikita's chart as he walked back to the office. Although he could have assigned all of the medicines to be given for a nurse to administer, Davenport decided against that. He was going to attend to them personally in an attempt to conceal Michael's actions for the moment. He felt for the man and believed that this was just because it was the first case that Michael had and it involved one of his former clients that Madeline had messed up on.

Davenport was able to work for several minutes before the door opened and he found the young Birkoff standing there with his glasses pushed on top of his head. The boy needed to get some sleep.

"Mind if I crash in one of the med rooms?" Birkoff questioned and Davenport sighed. This was a growing trend these days. Especially the nights that Davenport had been mandated to stay over.

"Sure..." Davenport stated, keeping his worries about Birkoff to himself. He was sure that it was just a stage that Birkoff was going through, just like it was wrong for any of them to call him Seymour these days.

"How is that girl?" Birkoff questioned as he pulled his glasses off of his head.

"Very sick... Michael is still with her."

"Wow..." Birkoff whispered as he turned. Davenport looked to the door and swallowed. He was going to stay the night. He always did when something was different from the normal. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

This time, it was all different. And Davenport didn't know if it was good or bad. But he wanted answers. He may not get them.

But Madeline would.

*

Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future. -- Corrie Ten Boom

Michael found the hours of watching Nikita difficult to say the least. He was going over all the details that he did know over and over again. And then Michael would stop and consider his source.

Carla.

He had sent out several people to find her, but Michael didn't hold out much luck in doing that.

But after those arguments were spent inside of Michael's mind, he was left with the room that only contained himself and Nikita. He studied her face and tried to imagine what would have driven her to this point. Michael had no way of knowing if his assumptions were correct, but he was able to guess at the intensity of the pain that Nikita was in for what she had appeared as.

Davenport had entered once to administer drugs and to see if Michael wanted a cot brought in, which Michael declined. Davenport spent a few minutes going over Michael what he had in mind for a treatment plan for Nikita, but it would all hinge on what further information Michael found out and what Madeline would want to input on it. Right now, most of the treatment, although heavily with drugs for the illnesses that had taken over Nikita's body was going to be therapy.

Nikita started to stir when Michael knew that the sun was rising. He also knew that Madeline would be back inside of Section One soon enough. He didn't want to deal with her yet, but Michael realized that this was probably a battle brewing.

"Nikita.... how are you feeling?" Michael questioned as he stood up from the chair and moved towards the side of the bed. Nikita blinked her blue eyes and then rolled her head to the side once before looking back at Michael.

"What?" Nikita hoarsely questioned, struggling to keep her eyes open. Michael looked to the door and smiled softly.

"I asked how are you feeling," Michael repeated. The door opened and Davenport stifled his yawn as he entered. He moved to the other side of the bed and smiled at Michael. "I'm interested in that answer too."

"Who are you?" Nikita questioned Davenport and Michael looked at Davenport. He was surprised that Nikita hadn't asked him that question, which meant on some level, Nikita remembered him. "Nikita, this is Dr. Davenport... He took care of you last night..."

"I helped clean you up... stitched your side and gave you some medicine... You are very sick..." Davenport reported to Nikita. She looked at him and blinked her eyes. She turned her head and licked her lips. Davenport noted the dehydrated state and knew that he would have to increase the fluids that Nikita was taking in. "Where am I?"

"You are in Section One. Carla used to get help here..." Michael revealed and Nikita shook her head back and forth. "She'll find me..."

"Nikita... You are safe here. No one will find you," Michael tried to reinsure Nikita. Davenport moved to the IV, attached the additional fluids and grabbed at the hanging chart. He decided that it was best to go over all of this later. "Nikita... Before you and Michael talk... I want you to know that I will be back and tell you how we are going to treat the pneumonia and bronchitis."

"What?" Nikita questioned as she struggled to sit up in the bed. Michael pressed his lips together and swallowed. "It is just some pills.... Nikita... Do you know why I brought you here?"

"No," Nikita stated out stubbornly. She looked around and then touched her thighs carefully. "Where are my clothes?"

"I am going to get you some soon.... We had to get you cleaned up last night..." Michael slowly spoke, sensing that Nikita was starting to panic about what they had to do last night.

"You took my clothes off?" Nikita questioned with a trembling voice.

"You defecated yourself, Nikita..." Michael pointed out and Nikita shook her head back and forth. "Why? I was fine. Why did you bring me here?"

"I want to help you," Michael whispered back to Nikita. Nikita moved to the other side of the bed, shaking her bed.

"You aren't helping me! You took my clothes off! You saw me!" Nikita shouted out as her entire body shook. Michael stepped back and dropped his hands to his waist. He didn't want to be seen as a threat.

"Nikita... I help lots of young women who have been hurt and abused... You need to know that you aren't alone..." Michael spoke as he looked at Nikita, hoping that he could reach her. It was clear that while she remembered whom he was and that he had visited her last night, that Nikita didn't remember much of what happened.

"No... you can't help me.... I need out of here..." Nikita stated and Michael shook his head. "You are really sick Nikita... and you need a warm and dry place to live... I'm offering you this here..."

"And she'll find me!" Nikita shrilled out and Michael stepped back once more. He looked over his shoulder as he could feel the nurses pacing outside the room, probably listening to the majority of the words that were being spoken. A hospital room, although that was what Nikita needed right now, was not a place for Michael to even think of starting therapy.

"Who will find you? And how?" Michael questioned, wanting Nikita to defined exactly what she was afraid of.

"My name... she'll find me... She always does..." Nikita stuttered as the tears pored down her face. Michael shook his head. He didn't want to believe that. "We don't give away names... and I only know your first name..."

"That's all she needs... she comes after me... won't leave me alone..." Nikita stated as she turned her head away from Michael, unable to even look at him any longer. She pulled the thin sheets over her body more and Michael frowned. He was not making progress at all. If anything, it appeared as if he was making the entire situation worse than it was to start with.

"Who, Nikita? Tell me who to look for and I'll protect you." Michael promised Nikita. He didn't want Nikita to run again. She needed to find a solution to her problems.

"It happens whenever I get into a shelter... or a program.. I'm a missing person.. she comes running and finds me... when I want nothing.... Never mind..." Nikita hissed as Michael realized that it was getting to close to the things that were scaring Nikita. It was threatening whatever hold on reality that Nikita had at the moment and Michael swallowed.

"Your mother?" Michael questioned.

"I didn't say that!" Nikita shouted and Michael waited. Nikita turned her head and her eyes looked at Michael. Michael knew that he had figured out this much correctly.

That was when the door opened and there was a tap on the door. Michael wanted to scream. This was a breakthrough. If Michael only had a few more moments from this breakthrough, he could do so much for Nikita. Michael turned and saw Madeline narrowing her eyes on him. "We must talk, Michael."

"Madeline, as you can see, I am busy right now. Can I meet with you in an hour?" Michael attempted to buy time to finish this conversation with Nikita. As it was, Nikita was turning her head away from Michael, retreating into the shell that Michael did not want Nikita hiding in once more.

"No. Now," Madeline sharply responded as she stepped back and the door slammed. Michael looked to Nikita and then backed up slightly. "This should only be a little bit... I'll be back and we can talk."

"I don't want your help, Michael," Nikita stated out in a shaky voice. Michael knew that Nikita was lying but there was nothing that he could do at the moment.

"Just give me a few minutes," Michael begged as he opened the door. Nikita neither nodded her head nor shake it back and forth as Michael stepped into the hallway and quickly walked towards Madeline's side. "I don't have the time for this."

"I thought I told you to take it easy?" Madeline questioned as she started to walk away from the clinic. Michael looked over his shoulder as he looked at Nikita's room before trotting off behind Madeline.

"That is your opinion and assessment of what you think I can do. I handled this situation that came to me," Michael replied with a steady voice.

"Michael... You aren't ready for this and you need to review policies and procedures. How many rules did you break?" Madeline questioned as she pushed open a door and continued on. It was clear that she was heading towards her office, dragging Michael away from where he wanted to be.

"We have rules. But we also say in the mission that we will do whatever necessary to achieve our goals. This falls under this, Madeline. She needs our help," Michael argued as Madeline continued on. She stopped at her door and looked at Michael.

"Did she ask for our help?" Madeline questioned.

"Not exactly. She was too sick," Michael snapped out the response, knowing that at this point, Madeline just wanted to make her point clear to Michael.

"Did she come to Section One?" Madeline questioned.

"No... But I went to the house with all intentions being on sending her to a hospital... but she was scared to go there...." Michael informed Madeline. She opened the door and allowed Michael in. She allowed the door to slam behind her.

"Is she on drugs?" Madeline questioned.

"No," Michael responded.

"Does she have an STD?" Madeline questioned.

"No," Michael replied.

"Was she in the process of committing suicide?" Madeline questioned as she settled down behind her desk.

"No... but she was letting herself die," Michael fought back, finding something to use towards Madeline's words.

"So how do you think we are going to pay for her care in the clinic? We receive funding directly for drug abuse, individuals with STD's and attempted suicides. Now what category does Nikita fall under?" Madeline questioned out sternly.

"We treat all others!" Michael declared. Madeline nodded her head. "Yes, we do. But not through our medical clinic."

"Did you see how sick she was? Did you hear of the infection she had because someone and we don't know who, decided to carve the word 'SLUT' on her side? Don't you think this warrants medical attention?" Michael shouted as he shook his head back and forth.

"It wouldn't matter what was carved on her side," Madeline coldly responded. Michael shook his head back and forth. "Michael.. it has been this way for a while.... These are not new changes..."

"Are we back to me taking it easy?" Michael questioned Madeline, wanting no answer. He turned to stare at the wall. "Of course, you probably made my coming back even more difficult by sending clients away that still needed follow up... Like Carla..."

"Let's talk about Carla... How many people did you send out after her?" Madeline questioned and Michael swallowed. "Five."

"Five. To a known druggie?" Madeline questioned.

"She was clean." Michael stated out with stern words.

"Was.... but she went back on the drugs... Why are we wasting our resources that would take care of five people on one?" Madeline questioned. Michael turned and looked to Madeline. He didn't like the way that this was going. He didn't like this Madeline at all. He was starting to regret coming back to work for her, no matter how much of an expert she was being hailed in the field.

"I am attempting to fix your mistake," Michael declared and Madeline stood up. She shook her head back and forth as she studied Michael's being in front of her. "Maybe you did come back too soon."

"Yesterday you were complaining that I stayed away too long," Michael snapped as he looked to his watch. He didn't want to be gone from Nikita this long. Whatever the progress that had been made had vanished as soon as he walked out of the room and the longer he stayed the way, the harder it would be to make up for that lost trust.

"An error in my assessment. I think that maybe we should have daily sessions... So I can monitor what you are doing and how you are feeling," Madeline stated with a soft smile. It wasn't really a suggestion. It was an order.

"Madeline, I have my own mentor and my own person I go to for information and assessment. I do not believe that you should be worried about my problems. It confuses the issues," Michael assessed and Madeline sighed.

"I'll be watching you Michael," Madeline stated and Michael narrowed his eyes. This battle wasn't even worth his time. He pushed his way out of the office and quickly moved down the hallway. He turned the corner and ran into Birkoff.

"Morning, Michael. Did you stay the night?" Birkoff questioned as he rubbed his eyes slightly. Michael nodded his head and looked passed Birkoff.

"I stayed with my new client," Michael informed Birkoff when he didn't move away from the doorway.

"The girl. How is she doing?" Birkoff questioned and Michael sighed. "I don't know a lot yet. She is rather sick."

"Davenport mentioned that," Birkoff stated as he nodded his head. Michael rolled his eyes and then looked to his hands. "Actually, I'm going to see her now."

"Oh... sorry..." Birkoff stammered as he backed away from the door. Michael brushed passed Birkoff quickly and didn't even say another word to Birkoff as he continued down the hallway.

Michael opened the door and then looked around the empty room. There was no Nikita. Michael pushed the call button as he walked around the room, seeing if there was any clue to what happened.

"What?" Nurse Gail questioned as she pushed into the room and then gasped. "She was just here."

"When did you see her last?" Michael questioned the nurse as Davenport entered the room and swallowed. This wasn't good at all.

"I brought in some sweat pants and sweat shirts in the room for her to wear. With possible abuse in her history I was sure that she wanted out of that thin hospital gown..." Nurse Gail spoke as she rubbed her hands through her red hair. It was a normal thing to be done and Gail swallowed. She knew and realized how sick Nikita was. She shouldn't be out of bed, yet outside.

'When does she need her medicine?" Michael questioned as he looked at the pulled out IV line. Davenport snapped up the file and looked to Michael.

"Two hours," Davenport stated and Michael nodded his head.

He left, going after Nikita. He had no clue where to start looking for Nikita, but she needed his help, even if she didn't know it yet.

*

Time . . . is not a great healer. It is an indifferent and perfunctory one. Sometimes it does not heal at all. And sometimes when it seems to, no healing has been necessary. -- Ivy Compton-Burnett

Michael slipped down into the green metal chair as he waited for a strong espresso to be delivered to his table. It had been a long three days since he had found Nikita missing from Section One. He first searched all of Section One and then moved to the streets after Davenport had supplied him with the antibiotics that Nikita needed to be taking.

He searched an hour before needing sleep himself. Michael picked up the search later that night, hoping that Nikita would be walking on the streets, trying to find somewhere warm to stay at. She wouldn't go back to the squatter's house Michael had found her.

The only other hope that Michael had during these days was that Carla would be found and she would know other places that Nikita might stay at. But Carla remained hidden, as did Nikita.

Michael returned to work yesterday morning, find the caseload he was given to be the cases that Birkoff could have done himself. It was clear that Madeline was upset with his decisions about Nikita and felt that she had to micromanage everything that Michael would do.

Today, after spending most of the night out, Michael called into Section One and begged off. He just couldn't imagine having another day of sending person after person to the medical clinic for birth control and setting up someone with the food bank.

Not while Michael was worried about Nikita. There were sometimes when Michael knew that he had to give up on the person, but he couldn't do that with Nikita. He couldn't even stop thinking about her. His dreams where of Nikita and how close he was to helping her out.

He should have spent the time catching up on the sleep debt that he had inherited during the entire ordeal with Nikita, but Michael stood up away from the phone after Madeline agreed that Michael needed some time off, and hurried to get dressed. There were no other options in Michael's mind. He was going out to look for Nikita. Paris was a big city, but Michael was sure that Nikita was still in Paris and that he would find her sooner or later.

Michael turned his head to the waitress that settled his espresso down on the table and turned away. Michael wanted to ask her questions, if she knew Nikita, but Michael held his tongue for now. The waitress would be back. Michael was sure. He spent the time sipping at the espresso and trying to run down in his mind the other places to look for Nikita. She didn't act like an addict when he met her. She was damaged, but Nikita still had most of her logical mind working. She was going to probably attempt to hide in plain sight, if she wasn't too ill.

Each morning, Michael had taken the time to call each of the hospitals and clinics to make sure that no one matching Nikita's description had been brought in. Yesterday, Michael was sure that he had found Nikita, until they told Michael about the tattoo on the shoulder of the woman. Michael knew that it was not Nikita.

It was several minutes later when Michael looked at the waitress as she approached once more. "Do you want something else?"

"Can I ask you some questions?" Michael questioned and the waitress rolled her eyes. She probably got pegged for this a lot. She looked around and raised an arm to her right. "The Eiffel Tower is in that direction."

"I am from here... I wanted to know if you have seen this woman around here?" Michael questioned as he produced a picture that Birkoff had been able to produce from the cameras inside of Section One. It didn't flatter Nikita, but it did distinguish her. The waitress looked down and then looked around the area.

"I served her yesterday... cut her a deal..." the waitress stated and Michael nodded his head. This was the closest that he had gotten to Nikita thus far. This was the most credible lead also. "What kind of deal?"

"We were packed... and customers were leaving because of her cough... I gave her some free food if she ate in the alley..." the waitress admitted as she rubbed her hands together. It sounded awful now that she said it, but yesterday she was sure that she was doing something right. The woman had looked starved and could only afford a straight, plain black coffee. The woman had also quickly scoffed the food down, showing that it had been sometime since she had food.

"Do you know where she went?" Michael questioned as he took the picture back and pushed it into his pocket. He looked around, wondering if Nikita would come back. "No... but I had a feeling that she would be back... She walked around the park a couple times until I lost track of her..."

"Thank you," Michael whispered as he stood up and pressed a large bill into the waitress' hand. She looked around, about to give Michael the money back, but when she had turned back, Michael had already disappeared into the park crowd and out of her sight.

Michael circled the corner easily, looking towards the park, scanning every inch. He needed to find Nikita but didn't know why. He just knew that he needed to help her. He turned his head as a car passed and then turned back towards the park and stopped. There she was.

Nikita.

She was leaning onto a bench, coughing. Michael felt his mouth go dry. She was getting sicker and it was easy to see that Nikita hadn't found anywhere to sleep and that she had spent too much time outside. She needed warmth and chicken soup. But that wasn't stuff that was normally found inside of Section One.

Michael didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew that he was going to help Nikita. Anyway possible. He started to cross the street as someone yelled at Nikita and pushed her slightly. Michael was worried that Nikita would see him and start to run. That would be the worse.

Michael was about four feet away as he looked at Nikita. "Nikita... let me help you..." Nikita's head jerked up, but the coughing continued. It was difficult for her to breath and Michael saw the severely chapped lips. She shook her head and started to push away from the bench. "Leave me alone..."

"Nikita.. you are really sick... I can help you..." Michael offered as he leaned forward and offered his hand. Nikita stumbled backwards and Michael jumped to the side to make sure that she didn't fall all the way down to the ground. Nikita attempted to catch her breath and speak at the same moment. It was clear that it was going to take a large amount of bravery for Nikita to accept Michael's offer, to just allow him to help her right now.

"I can't go there... I can't..." Nikita stated as she rubbed at her forehead. She attempted to move once more, but the coughing commenced. It was clear that Nikita was more congested now than she had been three days ago. Michael touched her arm and she didn't flinch and didn't act like a young child that had been severely abused. It was clear that at this point that Nikita was so sick that she couldn't do much more.

"Let me help you..." Michael whispered as he pushed Nikita back towards the bench. He eased her to a sitting down position, hoping that it would help Nikita to breath and stop the coughing. He listened to the rasping wheeze as he studied Nikita's head, even as she shook it back and forth. "She'll find me...."

But Nikita stopped speaking, finding it impossible to talk and breath at the same time. Michael pushed his hands into his pockets, looking for the lip balm that he carried. He fished out the tube and lightly squeezed some on the tip of his index finger. Michael touched Nikita's lip slightly and she jumped.

That was the Nikita that dealt with years of abuse that she still couldn't admit. That was the Nikita was terrified of someone finding her.

However, Michael's index finger continued along the path of Nikita's bottom lip, coating it heavily with the balm. Michael added more and coated her top lip. "Please... let me help you... You tell me what I can do for you... and I will do it."

"There is always a catch..." Nikita hoarsely whispered and Michael looked into her blue eyes. They were so clear and it was as if Nikita was ready to open up to Michael just from his friendly and caring gesture of helping to place lip balm on her lips.

"I have the medicine that you are suppose to be taking. It is very important that you take it," Michael replied as he pulled out the bottles and rolled them on his hands.

Nikita shook her head back and forth as she darted her head back and forth. Even with someone like Michael sitting next to her, giving her protection, she was still looking over her shoulder, wondering what was going to come next, or if that someone was going to arrive in the area.

"I don't take drugs..." Nikita whispered as she looked to the bottles and then away to the street once more. She darted her head back and forth and Michael was sure that if he wasn't positive that abuse had created a woman who was always scared of who was around her, that he would classify Nikita as obsessive-compulsive.

"It's not drugs. It is medicine. So you can breathe... and get rid of that cough..." Michael pointed out, trying to distinguish the differences for Nikita. She couldn't even hold Michael's eyes as she shook her head back and forth. "Can't stay still... she'll find me... She's close..."

"Nikita... please tell me... I want to help you," Michael whispered out as he pleaded with her. Michael didn't have any plan in his mind what he was going to do from this point on. He had been so intent on finding Nikita that he hadn't thought past the moment of finding her.

"No... it isn't your problem," Nikita announced. Michael frowned. It was clear that Nikita needed some time to learn about what was right and what was wrong. She needed to accept help and Michael was afraid of what would happen if she didn't do that now.

"I work with others to solve their problems, Nikita... and I am willing to help... It is up to you..." Michael pointed out, hoping that his words were getting to Nikita's mind.

She looked around and sighed softly. It was as if she was ready to give in.

Almost.

Nikita turned her head once more and tensed up as she started to move her hands nervously together, dropping her head. Something had frightened Nikita and Michael looked around, trying to figure it out, wondering if Nikita was in a bad relationship and the man was after her. "She is going to find me!"

"Who, Nikita?" Michael pushed. He thought he knew, but he needed Nikita to say it. She looked over her shoulder and ducked slightly. "Roberta..."

"And who is Roberta?" Michael questioned as Nikita jumped to her feet.

"NIKITA! HONEY!" a woman hollered with bright red hair as she poked through the crowd. Nikita gasped loudly and shook her head.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Nikita yelled as Michael jumped up next to Nikita.

"Darling! I have been looking for you!" The woman who Nikita identified as Roberta shouted as she tried to push through the people that separated her from Nikita.

"No... you need money! You want me to hurt again, Mom!" Nikita hissed as she started to move down the sidewalk. Michael found himself in between the two moving women, trying to check out where Nikita was and trying to keep tabs on Roberta. It was clear that Nikita wanted nothing to do with this woman, who was more than likely her mother.

"Nikita! You are just confused... I'll get you into a good drug treatment program..." Roberta called out and some people moved out of Roberta's way, immediately believing this woman over Nikita. Michael narrowed his eyes. He knew the truth. Nikita was not addicted to the drugs so he had to wonder what the real motives were being Roberta's actions.

"Nikita... please stop.. I can help mediate this..." Michael called out as he saw a busy intersection coming up. He could hear that Nikita's movement was causing more coughing and wheezing. It was going to make her hurt herself this running. The running had to stop.

"You aren't involved with this!" Roberta shouted at Michael as she wagged a finger at him. He stopped in his tracks and came face to face with Roberta.

"She isn't a drug addict. How do I know you are who you say you are?" Michael questioned as he raised an eyebrow. Women like this Roberta didn't deserve to live, but Michael was going to give her the benefit of a doubt. There could have been terrible circumstances behind anything and other than assumptions; Nikita hadn't said anything about what happened to her.

"NIKITA!" Roberta called out as Michael stepped back once more. Nikita turned around and gasped. She was crying and shaking her head back and forth.

"Get away from me! You aren't my mother... you never were!" Nikita yelled out as the people on the street started to go in the opposite direction. Michael was sure that if this continued the police would be called out and that would not benefit Nikita at all.

"You have been missing for years... and I never gave up searching for you.... I followed the trail to the States.... to Hong Kong... I worry about you... you are my daughter..." Roberta cried out but Michael felt his blood chill with the words. It was all a scheme and Michael swallowed.

"You care for yourself... never about me.... I'd rather die than go with you!" Nikita declared as she turned abruptly. Michael jumped as Nikita moved without looking out into the street. She dodged a car and then circled around only to see another car coming towards her. She dove towards the other sidewalk and Michael winced as he saw her go down.