Title: Five Ways Flora Leung Could Have Died but Didn't (And One Way She Did)
Series: One Line companion
Author: Vashti
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: OC, Michael Samuelle, Elena Samuelle, Adam Samuelle, Madeline
Rating: PG - PG-13
Summary: Some fates cannot be changed.
Length: ~6,140 words
Disclaimer: I don't know you, you don't know me. Let's keep it that way. Story titles are from these songs: "Safe and Sound" by Sheryl Crow, "Bye Bye Brianna" by Nicole C. Mullins, "Do You Like the Way" by Santana ft. Lauren Hill and Cee-lo, "We Declare War" by Kurt Carr & The Kurt Carr Singers, and "Apres Moi" by Regina Spektor
Feedback: it's like air.
Author's Note: written as part of the fanfic100 challenge on livejournal. The One Line series is in progress, although this story is complete. The series and the accompanying short stories get their names from the song "One Line" by PJ Harvey.
AN2:Only read this if you've read "Shooting." As usual with these kinds of things, the titles have little to do with each other, though for once they relate to the stories.
AN3: As the title suggests, 5 of these deaths didn't happen but one does. Wild guess which one is the real death.

Five Ways Flora Leung Could Have Died but Didn't (And One Way She Did)
by Vashti

1. Until You're Safe and Sound

"Flora?"

"Yes, cutie?"

"I'm getting cold."

"Oh…I know you are, sweetheart. It's cold out here."

"I can see my breath."

"You bet you can."

"It's always cold when you can see your breath."

"Mmhmm."

"And sometimes even when you can't."

"That's right. Can you tell me why sometimes it's cold outside even when you can't see your breath."

"…Um…"

"Just think about it for a minute."

"Flora?"

"Got an answer for me, cutie?"

"I'm slipping."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here lemme…"

"Flora, are you okay?"

"I'm…fine. I'm fine. I just caught your leg on something when I got you higher on my hip. Are all okay now, sweetheart?"

"Mmhmm."

"Did you think of an answer to my question?"

"About how it can be cold outside even when you can't see your breath?"

"Exactly, cutie pertuttie."

"Flora, you're silly."

"And you still haven't answered my question, sir. Or do you give up?"

"Nuh uh!"

"Okay then, whatcha got for me?"

"Sometimes it's cold because…because…because the sun's not out?"

"Mmhmm. That's one reason. Got anything else? How about when winter turns into spring and even a little bit of a higher temperature feels warm, but when it's the other way around—"

"Like when summer goes into fall?"

"Exactly! So when summer goes into fall that same temperature in a different season feels cold, y'know?"

"No."

"Oh, cutie."

*

"Flora?"

"Yes, cutie?"

"Are we there yet?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, but I don't think so. Are you okay?"

"I'm still kinda cold."

"That's okay. Tell me if you stop feeling cold, okay?"

"Okay."

"Flora, I'm slipping."

"That better?"

"My leg feels wet."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay. Just press your leg into my side."

"Like tha— Did I hurt you? I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, sweetheart."

"But—"

"Just keep pressing, cutie. I swear it's okay.

"…Okay."

"You sound sleepy."

"I'm a little tired."

"Can you tell me how cold you are? Where you're cold?"

"My hands are cold."

"And your feet?"

"Uh huh. And my nose and my cheeks."

"But not your insides? Not your chest or your tummy? Your head doesn't hurt?"

"Nuh uh."

"Then it's okay for you to go to take a nap. But not too long, okay?"

"Okay, Flor. Are you gonna take a nap, too?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart. I can't go to sleep. Someone has to watch where we're going."

*

"Flora… Flora…"

"Hmm?"

"You said to wake you up if you started to get sleepy."

"Yes I did. Thank you very much."

"I did a good job?"

"You did a very good job, cutie."

*

"Flora… Flora…

"Flora…"

"Huh?"

"Flora!"

"What?"

"You were falling asleep again."

"I'm sorry, cutie."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"We were falling down."

"I'm sorry I scared you, cutie."

"I wasn't scared."

"I'm sorry anyway."

"That's okay."

"…If you want to call again, you can. Get the phone out of my inside pocket."

"Yeah!... … … …It's still not picking up."

"That's okay, sweetheart. Try again. At least we know it's ringing."

"Do you…"

"He'll pick up. I promise he'll find us."

*

"Flo—"

"I'm awake, I'm awake. I'm sorry. I…"

"Don't cry, Flora."

"I'm not crying, sweetheart."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not. I'm too cold to cry. Ha, made you laugh."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did—"

"Adam."

Flora stumbled, clutching the boy to her chest. Her chest hurt where her heart crashed against it. She could feel the pressure of Adam's hand pulling at her hair, but she couldn't feel the pain of it. Pain at all would have been a huge relief. Mr. Samuelle's voice was doing okay as an alternative.

"Flora. Why are you here? How did you—"

"Daddy?"

Adam twisted and squirmed in her arms, but he was zipped into her down coat. She whimpered.

Mr. Samuelle was there, undoing the zip, getting Adam out. It was cold without him there. It was the first time she had been cold for a while. It made her breath hitch. That hurt.

"Adam."

Was it snowing?

She didn't know. Her vision was filled with Adam's black hair. A world of black.

She was dreaming. In her dream it was white and bright and hurt; and someone was saying to turn down the light but it wasn't Mr. Samuelle; then Mr. Samuelle was there and maybe he had been the one to turn the lights down because dreams were weird like that and who else would care? And how had she gotten inside?

A dream.

Lower lights, and cold – burning cold. Were dreams supposed to hurt? Sometimes. In nightmares. Sometimes they hurt.

She dreamed Mr. Samuelle was talking to her but she couldn't see him properly, just hear him asking her how she had found him and why she was there and why Adam was covered in her blood. Then the dream changed and it was a doctor telling Mr. Samuelle that she had been up long enough already, let her rest, but she kept talking. Kept telling him about the people who had run Mrs. Samuelle's car off the road. How Mrs. Samuelle had been thrown and she had been thrown and Adam had been thrown, but she and Adam had been thrown together; and when the guys who had run them off the road, that had flipped the car over and over, when they came and shot Elena to make sure, then they came and shot her to make sure, how they had pushed her over on Adam and shot her in the stomach but left before they could make sure.

But she didn't think anyone heard her. Not even in her dreams.

*

She was dreaming. Of cold like fire. Of the neat hole in Mrs. Samuelle's head that she would not let Adam see. Of walking, following a signal on a PDA Adam had found and then left at her house a week ago. A year ago. Yesterday.

She dreamt of Adam's dark hair, his round eyes, his bright voice. His dark hair. His large hand cool on her feverish skin.

She dreamed of black.