I am so, so, incredibly sorry about the update wait. I went to camp for a week and have had absolutely no time to write, and I had to rewrite this entire chapter anyway because I have a hard time writing on my iPod instead of the computer. Anyway, thank you for sticking with the story. I love your face. :)

Sean sat in the front seat of the Kia, looking from their prisoners to Michael to the speedometer and back again. For once, they had actually managed to capture Roan and protect the person they were supposed to, which was definitely a first for him. As long as he had been with Nikita's little group, the standard protocol for completing a mission was have-a-plan-then-watch-it-fall-apart-and-make-something-up-as-you-go. It had worked pretty well so far, and today was looking to be no exception.

However, Michael was still looking extraordinarily high-strung, which would explain why their speed had rarely dipped below 90 since they left the center for special surgery. He had lost count of the number of blown stop signs and blared horns, but at least they were on a fairly deserted road now. It really wasn't a good idea to let a pissed-off Michael drive in the city.

Sean considered telling Michael to slow down, but distracting him didn't really seem like a good idea. Although, they kind of were a safety concern for every single person on the road. And he didn't even want to think what would happen if a cop tried to pull them over.

Almost as if on cue, a siren started to wail as they whizzed by an empty parking lot and a pair of flashing lights slid into the roadway behind them.

Oh, great. Just what we needed. Hello, officer. Yes, please ignore the two prisoners and large number of guns in our car, no, I didn't realize I was going 90 in a 55 zone.

Sean looked over at Michael, wondering how the other man would react. Michael was both military and underground spy agency, law-abiding and law-shattering, and Sean was about to tell him to speed up, when Michael did it anyway without Sean's advice.

Sean stared out the front windshield, gripping the edges of the seat with white knuckles, hoping they didn't crash into someone and wondering where on earth Michael had learned to drive.

Birkhoff lounged back in his usual chair, drinking Red Bull and stuffing his face with the saltiest chips he could find. He had given up on actually trying to eat real food, and hey. He doesn't get as many opportunities to eat loads of junk food anymore, not living with Niki, who he had to admit was kind of a health freak. Doing freakin' yoga and eating all-natural? That is seriously not normal. Especially for a dude who isn't used to living with people so… healthy.

A grim sort of smile flitted across his face when he realized that he had just thought of Niki as healthy. Well, she does EAT healthily, when she's awake, she's just sort of lying on the couch with a bullet wound in her shoulder right now.

The smile died as quickly as it had come, and he glanced over at Niki and Alex. Apparently, Alex had decided that the best way to get Niki was recover was to completely neglect her own health and sit there, holding Niki's hand and barely moving for hours on end. He threw a chip at the back of her head, and she turned in annoyance, her eyes shooting daggers.

"You gonna eat something or just sit there looking dramatic, sweetheart? I mean, you look good doing it, don't get me wrong, but…"

Alex sighed, looking tired as a little bit of softness crept back into her face. "Birkhoff… I'm fine, really. I just… I need to sit with her until she wakes up, okay? I just have to."

Birkhoff nodded, then proceeded to stuff more chips into his own mouth and chew loudly. Alex crinkled her nose in disgust, turning back to Niki and gently rubbing the back of her hand.

The crackle of the coms that meant either Sean or Michael was about to ask something filled his ear. He finished his mouthful of chips, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his chair back up to the computer.

Sean's voice came in. "Birkhoff…"

Birkhoff cut him off. He needed to be a bit of a smartass right now, to distract himself from being too mopey. Mopey guys are most definitely not cool, and he is definitely not one of them. "Yes, Seanny-boy? What's got your kilt in a knot now?"

Sean sighed, then said, "Cut the crap, Birkhoff. We've got a cop on our tail. Can you, I don't know, redirect him or something?"

Now it was Birkhoff's turn to sigh. Does EVERYONE think I'm psychic or something? "Well, I could help you if I knew where you were or the number on the car."

He could hear rustling noises as Sean presumably looked around to find a street sign. "We're on… I think that said Willow? And we just passed President Street, and now Bourbon parkway, and now College Avenue, and…"

Birkhoff's eyebrows shot up. "Dude, how fast are you going?"

More rustling noises. He must be checking the speedometer now. "Uh… 103. I guess."

Birkhoff's eyebrows continued their ascent. "And MIKEY is driving? Holy crap, man."

Michael's voice came in, then. He sounded fairly aggravated and like he was concentrating on something else, which, considering how fast they were going, he probably was.

"Birkhoff, CAN YOU GET RID OF THE COP?"

His fingers already flying, Birkhoff delved into the police records, the security cameras, and the radio frequencies simultaneously. Hacking this simple didn't even require thinking for him anymore; it was just pure instinct and feel.

A few seconds later, Birkhoff had the live security feed, and felt himself wishing that he was out there, racing a cop down the street, when he remembered that he really didn't enjoy getting shot at or crashing into trees.

He identified the cop, and then hacked his radio. The grim smile was back, but he looked a little more satisfied than he had before.

"Got him."

Bitch, you are mine.

The blaring sirens behind the car and the unfriendly sounds that the engine was making roused Roan from unconsciousness. He carefully cracked open his eyes, immediately taking in his surroundings. High level of speed: Hostile vehicle in pursuit. Current status: restrained, not adequately. They had been remarkably lax considering the skill level of their captive. Even though his arms were bound, he had just been unconscious for twenty minutes at least and he had a bullet wound in his gut, shoulder, and knee, he was definitely still a force to be reckoned with. He locked away the pain in the quiet little corner of his mind where he held things that he could not ignore but did not want to deal with. Most of his past was stashed up there, and a lot of emotions were too. It was a very useful corner, but there were cobwebs gathering on the handle. He did not look back at those things very often. Yanking his now pain-free mind back to his current situation, he began to plot.

Handcuffs in front, arms still usable as a club, movement restrained by seatbelt: mere annoyance, gagged: not immediate problem. Imminent car chase involving officer in recently upgraded vehicle: evasion unlikely if driver (identified hostage: Michael) continues current course of action. He had an advantage in that his captors were currently preoccupied with evading the police officer and not crashing the car.

Plan of action: utilize pursuer to escape captors. Method: neutralize driver. Commence immediately.

He began to coil the muscles in his arms and legs, preparing to spring forward.

His cold grey eyes, fully opened now, never left his target: the back of Michael's head, right in front of him.

Michael stared out the front windshield, hardly daring to blink, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though the world would end if he let go. He had driven this fast before, on occasion, but very rarely, and never in a situation where they were both being chased by a cop and weaving around the occasional car unlucky enough to be on the same roadway as them.

It was definitely an exhilarating experience, if you ignored the fact that you could die at any second and that there were people who were depending on you not to crash the car and not to get pulled over. He wished Birkhoff would hurry up.

It really does Nikita absolutely no good at all if we crash and kill everybody, especially the doctor. Although, I don't think she'd be too heartbroken over Roan. Please, just… don't let her wake up without me there.

His could feel his eyes darting back and forth extremely quickly, trying to really see the roadway before it zipped by. It was difficult. He knew he must look slightly idiotic and more than a little bit panicky, but couldn't bring himself to care, since the little part of his brain trying to tell him that was shoved back by the rest of his mind, focusing on the roadway, focusing on getting home to Nikita.

That was when he felt a blinding pain on the top of his head, one blows, two…

His second to last thought before he sank into the darkness was Oh, dear Lord, we're all going to die. Crap.

Then it occurred to him that those were not very creative last thoughts, and four words raced through his mind.

Nikita, I love you.

And then he knew no more.

Birkhoff hacked into the radio frequency of the police car, and got his best, deep, listen-to-me-I'm-authoritative voice out.

"Officer James, you are ordered to cease pursuit of the vehicle."

After a few seconds, an angry voice growled back. "This is Officer Kelly, Officer James is currently engaged in pursuit. With all due respect, sir, this driver is a menace. I don't give a damn what you tell us to do."

Birkhoff was starting to panic slightly, on the inside. He could feel Alex's curious eyes boring into the back of his head and tried not to let his anxiety show. "Officer, you are being ordered to cease pursuit and return to the station. Your employment will be terminated if you choose not to comply."

A low grumbling sound came from the other end. Birkhoff waited in suspense.

"No."

And then the radio signal cut out.

Damn it all. That was decidedly un-awesome. And I really, really, hate apologizing to people, especially Mikey and Sean.

If they didn't crash or get pulled over by these freakin' cops.

Papa's out of the house, boys. You're on your own on this one.

Alex's ears perked up as soon as she heard Birkhoff call Sean's name, in a manner of speaking. She giggled quietly to herself about the little kilt joke that Birkhoff had made, but then sobered when Birkhoff went to work immediately. If Nerd was focused and working, then something serious and work-worthy was evidently going on.

If that doctor gets delayed anymore… God, what if Nikita doesn't make it? What would we do?

And then another horrible thought occurred to her.

What if Michael and Sean don't make it and she does? What the hell am I supposed to tell her when she wakes up?

She shook her head slightly, willing the bad thoughts out of her head. Papa had always said that you need to be strong in your head and your heart or your help nobody. She had learned that he was not always right, but now was not the time to burst out sobbing.

Her eyes bored into the back of Birkhoff's head as if she could read his thoughts.

Just for once, can everything turn out all right? I think we deserve a mission where no one loses anything or anyone, just for once.

Please.

Dear God.

Please.

Oh, I feel ridiculously evil right now. I make you wait far, far, far too long before I update, and then I post a mildly angsty cliff-hanger. Sorry. Oh wait. I'm not. Heh heh heh.

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And if nobody really does that because they didn't want to read the author's note at the end, well, then, okay.