A/N: I don't actually hate Nika. I thought she was…alright. ;) Maybe it's jealousy. Who knows? I doubt Emilie's gonna like her much though…:) Just a hunch. Didn't have time to edit! Oopsie ;)

Chapter Six – Nika

"And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche.

When Nika opened her apartment door, her eyes widened in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected me. Can't say I was thrilled to see her, either. Lincoln was in bad shape as he breathed heavily down my neck. My mood was quickly spiraling downhill. The man I loved was returning to the woman he married, and here I was trying to be totally cool with it. Perhaps I could bond with Nika over some soda. I could use a drink right now. The moment Michael asked her for help, she turned pale.

"What are you doing here?"

"Social visit," I muttered sarcastically. Michael burst past her, leaving me to balance Lincoln. He had his arm around my shoulder, kindly trying not to crush me in his pain. Michael went into her kitchen, and Nika followed asking him what he was doing here. He barked orders at her, finding supplies to help Linc. I gently set him on the couch, careful to make sure his sore leg didn't touch against the leather.

"How are you holdin' up Linc?"

"Watching Nika give you the stink eye cheers me up just a little."

I slapped him gently on the side of the head, and he sniggered before he groaned in pain. I smirked. "Karma, dear Lincoln. Karma."

He truly was in some pretty bad pain.

"Painkillers, towels.." Michael listed off.

"Booze," Lincoln added. Nika looked at all three of us for a few seconds. She did as he asked, though I was busy staring at Lincoln's totally bloody leg. Michael did his best to roll up the leg of the pants without hurting him, but Lincoln moaned in pain anyway.

When Nika brought the pills, Lincoln swallowed them right away, without a drink to wash them down. Gross. Michael handed me a tissue, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. I took it and applied pressure to Lincoln's bloody wound, and he leaned his head against the sofa, scrunching his eyes shut from the pain.

"Okay, take it off," Michael ordered.

I did as he asked, some alcohol running onto my hands as he poured it on Lincoln's leg.

"Michael you should not have come here," Nika babbled. "The police have been here asking questions…"

She caught my eye, quickly looking away. Eye-contact was something she couldn't take with me. Legally she was still married to Mike, wasn't she? Does that mean I'm a mistress or something? Great. Not only am I Emilie the Bandit, I'm also Emilie the Mistress.

"We didn't have a choice."

"You know I'm grateful but…"

"It wasn't part of our deal! I know! I'm sorry!"

Pssht. Don't be sorry. I can't help not liking Nika. It might be childish and rude, but I can't help my jealousy. Lincoln glanced at me, smirked a little and went back to rolling his own self-pity. But I'd let him off. The man has a bullet wound for God's sake.

"When I saw you on the News I was worried!"

Oh cry me a river Nika. We're the ones who escaped from prison, she has nothing to worry about. She didn't have to watch Seth commit suicide, she didn't have to put up with Theodore's disgusting touching or break out of Fox River. Or run around in these pumps. They hurt like the six shades of Hell. I frowned, trying to focus more on Lincoln than on this…this woman. See, I can stay civil.

Michael used duct tape to tie a towel around Lincoln's leg. It would be the best thing we had to stop the flow of the blood right now.

"I saw you all on the news last night," Nika repeated slowly, as if trying to absorb it herself.

"Oh, did I look nice?" I asked absently, raising an eyebrow.

Nika's eyes narrowed. "You've changed your hair since. The media became extra focused on you. The Modern Day 'Bonnie and Clyde', that's what they're calling you!"

"You like my hair?" I asked, smirking. She was getting irritated. Bonnie and Clyde. I can get used to that. Let's hope we have a happier ending though. "I mean, you're a brunette, but I like to think blondes have more fun."

"Now isn't the time-…" Lincoln started, trying to end our little bitch fight.

I interrupted him, "Though I know you must've had a fun time getting into America. Which sounds more fun? Breaking out of prison, or marrying a man to get a green card? Really, you and I should hang out more." I weighed the options in my hand, grinning at her. I get also get used to messing with Nika.

"See if you can find him some clean clothes. I gotta go find the car," Michael said, giving me a look that said 'Don't-fight-with-Nika'.

"No," Lincoln hissed, gripping his leg a little. "Forget the car, we can get another."

"I need the stuff in the car!" Michael snapped. "Everything we need to disappear is in that car!"

"I'll go with him," I suggested, though it was more of a demand. I wouldn't let him go alone. I stood up, ignoring both Nika and Lincoln's gaze, strolling to the door. Michael threw on a cap, following me out into the hallway.

We were quiet at first, quietly taking the elevator. To my surprise, he held my hand. I assumed we would have to stay stoically stay from each other in case he was recognized, but I can't say I was complaining.

It made it easier to imagine what our life would be like had we met outside of jail. I imagined it like those cheesy magazines, with the man wearing a fancy sweater tied around his neck – not a prison jumpsuit – and I in an expensive dress. However, this life suited me just fine. Sometimes I can't decide which I'd rather have.

A boring, normal and happy life, or a life spent on the run with never a dull moment?

"I'm sorry Emilie."

"What for?" I asked, cocking my head to look at Michael. He squinted in the sunlight, looking adorable.

"For involving Nika and everything. I remember how mad you were when you found out I was married, I know, but I needed to save Lincoln. He was bleeding too heavily."

"I know that Michael. Nika and I will get on just fine."

He eyed me with an apprehensive look.

I laughed. "Don't look at me like that. I can handle it no problem. I'm Emilie Robins Michael, I don't give in to petty squabbles with women like Nika."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged, smiling. We turned the corner leading to the car.

Just our luck. The car was gone.