(Posted to DW 1/24/11)

A/N: It's technically Monday, so here's today's one-shot. It's been a while since The Pretender though, forgive me if things are little off.

Title: The Chase
Author: jyorraku
Rating: PG
Fandom: Nikita, The Pretender
Category: Gen
Characters: Michael, Miss Parker
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: They keep up the chase, even though it's complicated.

Michael and his team were first on the scene. Birkhoff had discovered that an unauthorized Division hack was used to do a trace on some files from an organization called 'The Centre'. The hack was customized and Nikita's signature was all over it. Nothing obvious was coming up for the organization, so Michael headed out, leaving Birkhoff to deal with the electronic paper trail. The hack itself originated here, in a suburban house, which was now empty, except for a few newspaper clippings and binders.

Before he had a chance to read the clippings, a car came to a stop in front of the house. Michael cautiously peered out the window. He didn't know what to make of the entourage heading their way. The dark haired woman was armed, but the two other men weren't carrying as far as he could tell. Simple enough to subdue. He signaled the team to circle back as he waited, pretending to be engrossed in a binder.

The woman entered the room quietly enough. If he hadn't been expecting her, he might have been surprised. The click of the safety was the only thing he heard and that was only because she wanted him to hear it. "Hands up," she growled, her pistol pointed at his heart. "Looks like monkey boy left us with a friend." She gave him a once over and narrowed her eyes. "You're from a different class all together."

Michael's eyes flickered to somewhere behind her. She listened to the shuffling of feet, her gun still steadily trained on him. Her jaw clenched and her blue eyes turned to ice. She got the message loud and clear. Michael took her surrendered weapon as she glanced behind her. The Division team had the two other men rounded up and in cuffs.

"Syd."

The older man, Sydney, calmly said to her, "We haven't been harmed."

"Miss Parker—"

"Quiet, Broots!" Parker snapped. She turned back to Michael and asked flatly, "What do you want?"

An agent handed Michael the men's IDs. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for pictured keycards with a large 'C' inscribed on top. He thought about the intel that brought him here. "The Centre, I presume?"

"Jarod left you high and dry if he didn't tell you who we are and what we're capable of," Parker retorted acidly.

Michael ignored the threat in her voice, trying to make sense of everything. "Jarod. That'd be your 'monkey boy', right?"

Parker blinked in confusion, then it hit her. He wasn't with Jarod, and with all this firepower, it meant he wasn't here to make friends either. "You're after the woman he was with."

"Miss Parker!" Broots tried again.

"What?" Parker hissed, shooting the cowed man a frosty glare.

Broots tilted his head, so that his comms was visible to her. "We're being told to back off here."

At the same time, Birkhoff's disembodied voice drifted into Michael's ear, "Michael, Percy's ordered you to walk away from this one."

"What? Why?"

"Dude, I don't ask about Percy's business. I just told him about 'The Centre' and he went all creepy. Just get back here, pronto," the tech said, signing off.

Michael and Parker's eyes met. The powers that be had said their peace, and if this was like any other chase, there would be nothing here for them anyway. Just another reminder that the underdog heroes had saved another innocent or crushed another villain while they still ran in circles chasing after shadows. They treaded water in the grey, while the ones they chased played in the light.

Sighing quietly, Michael walked towards the exit. He placed Parker's gun on a small table near the door and spoke to the agents behind him. "Release them and let's go."

The next time Parker saw Michael, there was considerably less hardware involved. The bar was half full and normally a woman like her drinking alone would invite a second look. But she made sure everything about her said 'piss off'. By the sign of all the empty chairs within a ten feet radius, she was really good at it. But Michael was used to being the brunt of a woman's anger. He signaled to the bartender as he sat down at the stool next to hers. His drink came fairly quickly and the bartender uttered lowly before skedaddling, "You've got some balls, this one's on the house."

They nursed their drinks, neither acknowledging each other until Michael spoke up. "How long have you been chasing him?"

Parker knew he'd done his homework, so the question seemed more like a rhetorical dig than anything else. "Longer than you've been chasing her," she admitted before continuing bitingly, "Let me know when you do catch her. I'll help you put a bullet between her eyes since you can't seem to do it yourself."

Michael allowed her words to linger for a bit. He then replied dryly, "I should extend the same offer to you."

Despite the harsh exchange of words, they drink in what is almost companionable silence.

"Am I that transparent?" he asked, breaking the silence, wavering drunkenly between loathing and amusement.

Her lips twitched in what can be construed as a smile. "Am I?"

Their bar stools swerved a little as they glanced sideways at each other.

Parker lifted her glass. Michael raised his.

Clink.