CHAPTER 6

"Sometime while I had been gone he met a Russian woman, Katya, and married her. She happened to be in the car when they wrecked," she paused, caught by an unexpected wave of emotion, remembering the day all too vividly.

She stepped out of the silver Mustang to admire her handiwork – a seven car pile up that blocked the entire highway, only she didn't have the usual sense of accomplishment. Usually she felt like she had done something for the greater good despite the fact it was often illegal, but now all she could see was the injury and death she had cause, mostly to innocent people. And it was all because she couldn't handle personally taking on her father.

Walking around the massive wreck, she looked like an innocent victim not badly injured, trying to see if there was anyone she could help, but that wasn't at all what she felt like.

There was continuous noise of groans and complaints filling the air as she walked by, continuing toward the blue Impala caught in the middle of it all. It was quickly obvious her plan had worked, albeit a little too well. The almost new car was now barely recognizable. A white Firebird had taken out most the front end and a black car T-boned them on the driver's side. Neither person inside moved. Tears welled up in her eyes as the realization finally hit her. She may have never been overwhelmingly fond of her father, but he was still her dad, and he had seen that she was adequately cared for no matter how badly she had acted toward him. What was worse, she had killed the woman beside him, probably just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I looked into the who the mysterious passenger was, which took a while since she wasn't yet an American citizen, her life goal evidently. Her papers came through the day after the crash. I felt so sick, I ruined peoples' lives for no good reason." She looked out the window as the trees on the outside seemed to race by, willing her mistakes to go away. "I really was for a while, took about two months off of work and I didn't leave my apartment the whole time except the buy groceries once. I don't remember exactly how or when I found out, although there's a lot I don't remember from those two months, but I found out she had a daughter, Nikita. She's a lot younger than me, but we had the same father and no one else too look out for either of us. She's my half-sister and my best shot and rectifying the mess I created, at least as much as I can."

"So why did you stay in the business then?"

"It's harder than it sounds to get out, you know that."

"But I did it."

"For a while. To a certain extent you haven't really escaped it."

"If whatever you did in Canada wasn't official business though, why did you go?"

"Making an old wrong right, or righter... that and, as you know, I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie, I need the rush. They aren't real fond of letting fugitives adopt children either, but I can't loose her, String. Please don't let them take her away."

"I don't know how I could help you there. Michael would be the one to see there. Even then, there's only so much he can do; keeping you out of prison is going to be hard enough."

"They can't send me to prison, they don't have proof of anything, and I'm not stupid enough to confess to it."

"So you want me to let you get away with murder and keep the kid? I think you're asking too much. Talk to someone else."

"Hawke, you have to," she pleaded. "If your brother was still missing, you'd do anything to have him back. It's the same thing."

"It's not the same, I wasn't killing people."

"This matters to me, more than anything else right now."

"Exactly. Right now it might matter most, but what about tomorrow? What about what's best for her? You're gone halfway around the world the majority of the time."

"She's been fine this long."

"She's seven and you taught her how to wire explosives and leave guns all over the house! If child services took once step inside your apartment they'd take her away faster than you could ask for a second chance."

"That's where I need you. Nikita is used to the unusual... decorations... around. I can take care of her on my own and would do anything to keep her. Legally they won't think about anything other than the fact I have a few guns I shouldn't, and that I've been chased by the cops a couple times though."

"If I agreed to help, and I'm not saying I am, what do you expect me to do? I don't have the connections someone like Michael does, and quite frankly I'd be as much hindrance as help if they started asking questions, given out track record together."

"I have a plan," she answered vaguely.

"You going to share it, or do I have to read your mind too?"

"I still have a couple minor snags I'm working out."

"You could give me a general idea," he prodded. "We'll be back in a matter of hours and I don't think anyone – FIRM, cops, or child services – is going to wait long when they find out you're back in town."

"Alright," she acquiesced, trying to come up with the easiest way to get him to agree. She failed to come up with any brilliance though and decided not the waste any more time.

The jeep pulled into the service station and came to a stop in a parking space.

"Well?" Hawke asked as he pulled the key out of the ignition, "I'm waiting."

"I want you to adopt her," Lexa replied hastily. "I'll go pay for the gas."

"Wait, Lexa!" he called, but she was already out the door and heading for the store front. He sat in the car wondering if he could have completely misunderstood what she had said. How was him adopting Nikita going to solve her problems?