Wow! Really was not expecting that much of a response, well, at all! Thank you to everyone who favorite, followed, and especially reviewed. So many people are so very lovely.

Michael gunned down the side street, glancing at Nikita as often as he dared, just to reassure himself that it wasn't too late, that she was still breathing. She looked paler, her breathing was shallow. Nothing unexpected, but he still felt himself speed up, panicking at the sight of her, in real danger and beyond his reach. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I need to concentrate right now. I did all I could, and now I need to get her home. He had stopped the flow of blood from her shoulder as much as possible with what limited medical supplies they carried, but there was no telling if she had any internal bleeding. Crashing isn't going to help much, Michael. Get it together. Then he realized that he had heard the last two sentences in her voice. God, Niki, if you don't make it… He couldn't even think about it without feeling that roiling anger combined with bitter, bitter, loss and despair, that same anger and loss that had consumed him after he'd lost Elizabeth and Hailey. Without her, his world was a blank.

It was just so god damn frustrating, not being able to help her. Not being able to look into her eyes and know that she was going to be okay. He'd thought she was dead twice already, and the second time had nearly killed him. He was not going to let her die now, now that they had come so far and risked so much, almost lost each other so many times and then came back together stronger than ever.

He might've sped up a little bit then, just a little bit. And may have blown a stop sign or three. Okay, all of them. But hey, the government owed them one. And she was definitely worth it.

Birkhoff knew Niki was in trouble the second Mikey walked in carrying her and he saw her injury. Her shoulder was soaked in blood and she looked paler than he'd ever seen her. He blinked rapidly as images of Carla, shot, Carla, dying, Carla, dead, started dancing in front of his eyes. Not the time, dude. Mikey definitely needs a bro, and Niki's gonna need some serious help over here.

Mikey didn't even glance at him as he walked in, carried Niki over to the couch, and laid her down gently. Birkhoff realized that he hadn't even managed to give his usual witty greeting, but maybe now wasn't really the greatest time for that. Hell, he couldn't even think of anything to say, even with his epic sarcasm skills. He shook his head slightly, just not believing that this was real, and then it occurred to him Mikey probably could use some help. Too bad I feel completely useless. Come on, dude, you got this. You got this. Be awesome for Niki. She looks like she needs it right now. This whole mission had gone wrong from the start, but of course, Niki's the boss and she's not going to give up a mission just because there's an entire strike team headed by Roan already in the warehouse. No. Of course not. But still, Percy really was missing the whole "go die in a hole" concept.

Birkhoff sighed, resolved to work on his hot-babe-got-shot bedside manner, and went to go help Mikey. All he really wanted to do was get the hell out of there, but if Niki didn't make it, he hardly thought letting Mikey do something insane was a good way to pay his last respects. Plus, if he lost Niki, who else would steal ridiculous amounts of HIS money for clothes and god knows what else while simultaneously managing to drive him batshit crazy?

Alex revved the engine of the car, because the mission was going well and she felt like it. Not because it makes you feel cool. Nope. Not down to that level yet. Birkhoff had been oddly silent on the coms, but that was Birkhoff for you. He probably had overdosed on Red Bull or something. She really hoped that things hadn't gone wrong in the other warehouse, the one that Michael and Nikita gone to raid. It would figure that they couldn't keep the crates of top-secret-super-spy-rifles in the same warehouse, nooooo, of course, they had to be on opposite ends of the warehouse district.

She looked impatiently back at Sean as he loaded the crate of rifles in the trunk. Whatever Percy had been planning to use them for, he really wasn't going to be getting them now. She smirked. Even now, striking against Division still felt oh so sweet. Although it was a little weird that a mission had actually gone as planned for once. She really couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

As they pulled up to the latest safe house, she noticed that Michael and Nikita were already back. Always the overachievers, she thought with a grin. They got out of the car, ready to celebrate a job well done and figure out what the heck was so special about these rifles. Sean grabbed the crate out of the trunk and she flirtatiously quipped, "Remind me to bring a big strong man to carry my luggage more often."

He smiled for a second, laughing at her playfulness. "Yeah, well, remind me to find a lady who doesn't carry around rifles all the time."

They walked in the front door, grins lingering on their faces, ready for something moderately cheerful

Instead, they stepped right into their worst nightmare.

Michael stepped back from the couch, wiping her blood off of his hands and feeling truly drained. If Percy had shown up and presented himself on a large silver platter, he didn't think he'd have the mental or physical wherewithal to shoot him. With Birkhoff's "help," he'd managed to clean the wound, but something was troubling him. He'd bandaged her shoulder, but from what he'd seen the bullet had done more interior damage then they'd thought. If it'd nicked a bone and shattered it internally, they then really were royally screwed.

He heard a small shriek from the doorway, and glanced over with tired eyes. Alex and Sean were back, good. At least something was going right. Not that it really mattered much. If they lost Niki, then what was the point? There was revenge, and then there was nothing. No future, not for him, anyway. He barely even registered what Alex was saying, all he could make out was, "OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

"It's bad," he replied, with no emotion, no strength left in his gravelly voice. "We're not going to be able to handle this on our own."

Birkhoff looked at him, startled, and he could see the alarm in his eyes. "Mikey, you know we can't put her in a hospital."

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. There really was no way around it, not that he could see. "We don't have a choice anymore."

Birkhoff looked at Mikey like he was crazy. He was about to make some witty, sarcastic reply, when he glanced down at Niki and then back up at MIkey. He felt his entire, I-know-what-I'm-doing-here-listen-to-me mojo deflate. He sighed. Mikey looked exhausted and desperate, about as exhausted and desperate as he felt. He didn't know that much about shoulders, or getting shot, or really, gross medical information in general, but Niki's shoulder looked bad and her breathing was shallow. Didn't take the world's greatest hacker to figure out something was wrong. And since he totally was the world's greatest hacker, it looked like it was up to him to make sure they handled this one right.

"Mikey, you can't do this, man. Division's got voice and facial recognition software everywhere, dude. They'd catch her the second she picked up on a security camera," he explained, trying to make him see what he was doing here.

Mikey looked at him, and Birkhoff realized that Mikey was at the end of his rope. The dude kind of had major issues with the people he loved best in the world getting hurt and/or dying, and it really did make sense for him to be just a little bit unhinged right now. It must be hell, looking at Nikita and seeing a car bomb explode over and over in your head, and realizing that all of this might be happening again. But he was shaken from his whole walking-in-your-moccasins reverie by Mikey's next question. "Can't you do that morph thing, with the video feed? You know, put another face over hers?"

Birkhoff felt his will to argue begin to drain. That was not good. This was a crazy idea, there was no way it could work. "Mikey, that program has to be done manually, and I can't sit and type for the next god-knows how long. We don't even know if Percy has any agents stashed around in hospitals, just in case. The old bat is sure paranoid enough for it. If you need a doc, he's gonna have to come here."

BIrkhoff glanced over at Alex and Sean, and almost felt like laughing purely because of the way their faces looked. They looked like they'd just been watching a very engrossing tennis match, their heads swinging from Birkhoff to Michael and back again as they argued. Deep inside, though, he knew how shocked and helpless they must be feeling. They had no clue what to do either.

It was Sean who finally piped up after what was turning into a rather awkward silence. "Well, then, we'll just have to get her a doctor. Birkhoff, where's the nearest hospital that has some kind of specialist?"

Mikey looked up at him, a little bit of life coming back into his eyes at the thought of an idea that actually might work. "Bone specialist. I think it might have shattered something in her shoulder."

Alex chimed in. "Yeah, we have to grab somebody. So…. Bone specialists. Where do we find those?"

It occurred to Birkhoff that he finally had something to do. He dashed over to his computers, settling in that lovely comfortable chair of his and feeling like he was actually at home and doing something productive for the first time all afternoon. Epic typing skills, engage. After a few seconds of trolling through Shadownet, he managed to find a guy that seemed pretty dece. Impressive degree, long resume, yadda yadda yadda, but also no criminal activity and no family. Perfect.

"Alright guys. Shadownet has coughed out one Mr. Thomas Branahan, single, no family, lovely degree in bone stuff. He works at the hospital for special surgery in New York, and his shift ends in about three hours. And….. here is his picture." He paused, allowing himself to revel in his awesomeness for just a second. "You guys better run if you want to get over there."

Michael's head was reeling. This entire day had just gone so wrong, and now they were going to go kidnap an innocent bone specialist? He glanced down at Niki, noticing no change and not sure whether he should be happy or concerned. There was no way he could leave now, not with her like this.

He looked up. He really wished Birkhoff would just stop looking so smug, but he had a feeling that the man really had no idea what to do with himself. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have smirked at what an utter dolt Birkhoff was being, but he just couldn't find any corner of himself that felt remotely happy right now.

"I'm not leaving her now, guys," he announced. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he was there when she woke up. If she woke up. DON'T even start to think like that, Michael. Don't be an idiot. She's Nikita, she's tougher than anything. If she can nearly dislocate her shoulder just to spite you when sparring, there's no way she's going to give up because of a stupid bullet through the shoulder.

He noticed Alex and Sean exchange a look. It occurred to him that he might like to know what they were conspiring about but he just ended up staring down at Nikita as he leaned against the couch. Still no change. Of course there wasn't. It had been less than a minute since he last checked. This is my worst nightmare, he thought, gazing down at her.

A cool hand touched his and he looked up, startled, straight into Alex's blue eyes.

"Hey, she's going to be okay, Michael. Why don't you and Sean go grab the doctor? I think you need to get out of her, take a break. I can watch her, don't worry. I'll call you the second anything changes."

He wanted to argue, so badly, but really, she did have a point. He thought he would go crazy if he spent the next three hours pacing and worrying and doing nothing. And so he agreed.

They were going to do this. They were going to make it. And she had to, just, HAD to be okay.

Roan started recalculating the situation the second he positively identified the one carrying Nikita off as Michael and began plotting his next course of action.

Idiot, he thought, so scared for her that he can't even bother to clean up a major threat. Fear. He wondered what it was like. If he'd ever known, he'd definitely forgotten by now.

Course of action: Pursuit improbable due to restrictions imposed by medical condition. Next move: reacquire vision to neutralize that disadvantage. Then obtain medical attention.

He heard a door slam, somewhere far off in the warehouse. Excellent. Things were going even better than he'd hoped. He felt a small smile creep onto his face, more out of reflex than anything else. Gaining advantages from the mistakes of others was always one of his favorite things to do.

He opened his eyes a crack, and identified his glasses as the blurry objects a few feet away. He extended an arm, and put them back on. Few things in his life were constant, and elements in the dangerous game he and Percy played were ever-changing, but he had had this pair of glasses as long as he could remember. Good. Dependability is good.

He analyzed his thought processes and came to the conclusion that they were dulled by blood loss, his most prevalent weakness at the current moment. Obtaining medical treatment should be his next course of action.

He rose to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his abdomen. He internalized. It really didn't hurt, if he allowed himself to analyze it critically, he had felt far worse pains in his life. He pulled out his phone and typed in a short search to obtain the location of the nearest hospital. It just so happened that the center for special surgery was a few blocks away. Perfect.

In his current condition, it would take longer than necessary, so: Logical course of action: obtain medical supplies from surrounding area, stop bleeding and minimalize damage. Then seek further medical assistance. After assessing situation further, contact Percy.

Nikita has not escaped me yet.

So…. How is it? I'm really enjoying the whole writing-something-that somebody-actually-reads thing. It's rather nice. Sorry about the little wait. I'll try to work on Chapter three... Or should I? ;)