A/N: Eeny, meeny, miny, moe… ;) Ask and you shall receive, one long chapter. Now give me some sugar. :D

Part X

Nikita's doubt was evident in her non-response.

Owen explained further, "When I cased the hospital, I saw the other agents looking in on him. He's in the recovery wing."

Nikita would have shaken her head had she could without dislodging the earbud. "I heard them call out his time of death," she whispered with a chill, too scared to hope.

"People die in hospitals all the time. Are you sure it was Michael?" he asked, sounding more and more reasonable.

She had been sure, but now, she wasn't. The earbud that she was using to communicate with Owen had been too loosely placed in her ear by Dr. Janus. Her restraints prevented her from pushing it further into her ear canal—the same thing could have happened to Michael. She'd black out between the time when Birkhoff had placed the device on Michael and when she heard the pronouncement of death. It could have simply fallen out and been displaced, and the last words she heard were for someone else.

Nikita went silent and stayed silent, her thoughts in turmoil. Owen chose to remain quiet as well as he made his way into the hospital, preparing for the rescue. Soon, the two agents outside Nikita's room reappeared with a nurse holding non-metal restraints, readying her for the MRI scan. They stood in careful attention, wary as the nurse replaced each metal cuff and re-restrained her against a large plastic cast. Finally, when the nurse was done, the trio pushed her rapidly down the hallway, the agents were eager to finish their hospital stint once Nikita could be discharged and relocated back to Division.

"No guns, guys," Evelyn Janus joined them and waved at the warning sign in front of the MRI room. The lead agent unholstered his sidearm and backup, handing them over to the other agent. He gestured for Evelyn to wait and entered the room first to clear it. She smiled stiffly at the other agent as they waited.

The man returned promptly. "It's clear," he said as he held open the double doors. To the other agent, he said, "Hold your position and check back in ten."

Evelyn pushed Nikita through, the agent following. But as soon as they were out of the visual range of the agent outside, Owen emerged from the previously locked the electrical room and swiftly stuck a needle into the man's neck, catching him before his fall could make a sound.

Evelyn and Owen made quick work of Nikita's restraints. He handed Nikita a duffle bag and joined Evelyn behind the observation glass to give her some privacy as she donned the wig and clothes he had picked up for her.

"Whatever she did, she didn't deserve what happened to her. No one does," Evelyn said as he came in.

As Nikita's attending physician, Evelyn saw her bruises and the tattle tale signs of torture. Although she knew that her patient was a captive of some government agency, she couldn't help but feel enraged at how they were treating her. She could perform surgery on Nikita, but she couldn't help her from the people inflicting the injuries on her. So when Owen accosted her outside the hospital and threatened her to help Nikita escape, it took her only a minute before telling him no threats were needed. Someone helped her when she was trapped in a cycle of violence; it was only fitting that she does the same for someone else.

For a moment, Evelyn appeared to be lost in an unpleasant memory as she watched Nikita redressed with haste. She visibly shook off the memories before asking Owen, as an aside, "What would you have done if I hadn't agreed to help you?"

Owen's eyes went to the fallen agent on the floor. She followed his gaze and admonished herself for asking the obvious with a wry grin, "Forget I asked."

Owen unsheathed the knife he kept in his boots. His brows furrowed as it glinted in his calloused hands. "I'm sorry," he said, contrite that after all she's done for them, he'd have to hurt her. Such a sentiment had been foreign to him before Emily.

Evelyn held her head up high. "It's for my own good, right?" She squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the blade to fall. Owen took a breath and sliced open her upper left arm with the ease of a seasoned professional. She gasped as blood sprang from the fresh wound. Her right hand grew slick as she placed pressure over the opening.

"Owen!" Nikita had finished dressing and was now staring in wide-eyed horror at the bleeding doctor. She was rushing forward to help Evelyn when Owen caught her in his arms and began to pull her towards the back exit.

"It's her cover for helping us. We need to go, the agent outside will check back in ten and the others on your detail in twenty."

Nikita reluctantly stopped struggling, but threw off Owen's restraining arms and approached the doctor until they were standing face to face. "Thank you, for saving my life," she said to Evelyn with solemn sincerity.

"I was told it's best not to mention it," Evelyn joked despite the burning pain in her arm, "Go."

Nikita and Owen nodded their good-byes and then they were gone.

Evelyn dropped down on to the cold floor, listening as her blood dripped and dropped. She stared at the growing puddle of red. She could barely believe what had just happened. Doesn't this stuff only happen in movies and TV shows? She started to giggle as the endorphins kicked in, whispering to herself, "I helped two secret spies escape and all I got was a knife wound."

As for the two secret spies she helped escape, they weren't exactly speaking as they navigated through the labyrinth of the hospital, ducking Division agents on the way. Owen knew Nikita was upset over the Evelyn's injuries, but she also knew it was the only way to make sure the doctor was safe from suspicion. Nonetheless, the silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

They came to a fork in the corridor, the exit within visual range when Nikita came to a swift stop. The placard on the wall above her held directions to the various parts of the hospital. One of them was to the recovery wing. Despite the fact Owen told her that Michael was alive, she'd never seen him with her own two eyes. She trusted Owen with her life, but she couldn't control the fact that she wanted to verify his words, nor could she readily deny her burning desire to see Michael. To see him, and touch him, and make sure he was real.

Somewhere, fate was listening.

"Nikita?"

She froze upon hearing her name, spoken only in the way he could, her mind a mad cacophony of fear and elation. If she faced the source of the sound, would he disappear as he did in her dreams? Would he fade away into the darkness and never to return no matter how much she called out to him? Her heartbeat palpitated in her throat as she turned around, her eyes unblinking.

Michael braced himself against the white hospital walls, his green eyes wide in disbelief. He hadn't been sure it was her, but something made him call out anyway. This was the first time he had been able to force himself to stand upright and walk without debilitating pain, so he'd almost thought he imagined her in a tired haze. What was she doing here? When he had finally woken up, none of them had said anything about Nikita, and he'd just assumed that she escaped again. But now she was here. Her long trademark locks were gone and in its place a crude brown wig. Her clothes hung haphazardly on her thin frame, and she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

He was thinner, Nikita saw at first, his complexion a dull and sickly white. His almost familial scowl conveyed his consternation, as if he had no idea what she was doing here, as if she should know better than to show at a facility the Division regularly used…as if he hadn't stepped out in front of her and taken the bullet meant for her. Just another meet and greet between antagonistic colleagues, never mind the once gaping, life threatening hole in his chest.

"Nikita!" Owen called out breathlessly. They were running out of time.

As luck would have it, she was standing between the two men, equal paces to reach either of them. Lucky, given that the choice was entirely hers, there were no physical variables to consider, no disadvantaged distance. Any decision would take an equal amount of time to implement, but there was no going back. The floor seesawed beneath her feet, beckoning her to decide, soon, before the agents find her gone.

Nikita swung her head back to Owen. His shoulders were tense with energy as he waited, his eyes simply urging her to hurry. The black boxes awaited. Then she spun around to see Michael, whose initial foray outside the confines of his hospital room proved to be premature as he clutched at the gnawing pain in his chest. But he never took his eyes off of her.

Owen or Michael.

Michael or Owen.

A girl should be so very lucky.

Once Nikita made up her mind, her pulse roaring with the force of it, she took the first step in his direction. That momentum was all that was needed to send her flying towards him. Her feet were light as air, but her heart drummed with a lingering regret for the path not taken.