Title: Good People Gone Bad

Summary: second part of the Michael Fitzgerald/Nicole Malone series. Jack got custody of the girls, and Nicole got custody of Mike Fitzgerald's heart. Will Michael and Nicole's relationship advance, or will someone make sure that it stops?

Disclaimer: I own none of the Without a Trace Characters, but I do own Nicole Malone and Michael Fitzgerald, and should I end up creating more characters, I will own them also.

A/N: as with many of my other stories, I'm making a lot of things up as I go along. I'm a high school student with very little money. Please don't sue.

A/N: I think I finally know where I'm taking this story! It seems to me like it's going to be a great ride, so stick with me, my faithful reviewers!

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Going to the office when I was a kid was one of my most favorite things to do. For hours, I would sit behind my dad's desk, acting as if I were some big, successful federal agent that made millions of dollars, and were extremely famous. Any other time, the dull sounds of mixed voice, phones, and the dings of the elevators would calm me, but for now, I was here on an official reason. Earlier this morning, after news of yet another NYU student's disappearance, dad had called me and asked if I would come down here for a little bit, and answer some questions. I had been friends Melissa, Andrea, and Jacqueline, who had all been kidnapped, and maybe he figured that I was involved somehow.

"Hey, Viv, where's dad at?"

"Jack's in his office, Nicole."

I walk a little further down the hall and into dad's office, which is strictly professional. Going inside, I see that not much has changed: There are still no photos of him, his friends, or dad's family. Michael is sitting in one of the chairs in front of dad's desk, while dad is sitting in his big leather desk chair.

"What's going on?"

"You've been paying attention to everything that has been going on at school lately, right?"

"Yeah. Missy, Andi, and Jackie all went missing."

"Do you know if they had anything in common?"

"We were all in a sociology class together. Other than that, I got nothing."

Dad scribbles some notes down on a piece of paper, while Mike continues that questioning.

"Have you noticed anything weird lately? Has someone called the house and hung up or is there a car following you anywhere?"

"There have been the phone calls once or twice, nothing major. I really don't pay attention to see if there are cars following me or not. What's going on Michael?"

"Other than going to school at NYU, these people all have one thing in common; one or both of their parents work for either the police department or the FBI."

"And you think that they're going to come after me next because of you and dad?"

Mike and dad both nod their heads, indicating what I already knew to be the truth.

"Seriously, I can take care of myself, guys. I have been raised by agents, raised by agents, and I'm dating one of you. If anyone tries anything, I can take care of it."

"Nicole, when it comes to your safety, I'm not going to slack off."

"Michael,"

"Nicole, just do it! You could very well be the missing girl in the next folder that passes through this unit, and I don't want that to happen. Ground rules: Do not go out by yourself after dark, when some calls, look at the caller i.d. first. You're going to fight us on this one, but we are going to have a patrol car go down your street at least once an hour, just to make sure."

I just sit in the chair and nod my head, never having seen dad go so overboard on security. Taking care of us girls has always been high on dad's list, but I've never really seen him go so insane. I stand up out of the chair, sliding my coat back on, and walk out of the field office. The cold November air stings my face, but I figure that a walk in the New York air will help me clear my mind. On one hand, I'm glad that Dad and Michael are taking steps to keep my safe. Knowing that there are not only people on my side, but people that care about me very much, makes me glad. On the other hand, though, they're both being seriously obsessive, and that is definitely something that I do not like at all. I walk blocks and blocks back to our apartment, and still have no idea what to do. I'm so lost in thought that I have no idea that I've just walked right into some guy.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's not a problem, Miss Malone."

"How do you know my name?"

I look up at the man, confused. Before I can say anything else, a white cloth soaked in something gets pressed against my mouth and nose. The world around me goes black.