All right, guys, this update is for you, since I kind of feel bad for reasons, mainly evil cliffhangers, update waits, the fact that the last chapter was short, and writing that I don't feel is my best. Although, I guess I've been pretty good with updates recently. Also, for the Anon who wished for some Nikita POV, Merry Christmas.

If there are weird typing errors, don't kill me, I'm writing on a tablet and I'm not used to that. I'll try to check everything as much as possible. Also, if you don't like something, please tell me.

Here we go with Chapter 8!

The world had been strangely peaceful since I had risen from the grey and the white beyond it. I spent most of my time sliding in and out of the blackness. But still, every once in a while, the red came crashing over my barriers and I was sucked into it, feeling my consciousness shatter with each wave of pain.

A voice began to mutter through the red, quiet at first, but whispering and insistent. It came from a part of me I thought I had lost long ago. Some of its words I could not catch, and very few I could on to. But still it was there, ever calling

I sometimes tuned out the muttering of whatever corner of my brain was still coherent enough to form words, but when I was in the grip of the red, the words were all I had left. They are all that is still mine.

I had stopped resisting the pull of the red and the black long ago, and now felt as if I was sitting on a leaf, flowing and sinking and rising again in a fragile dance through a gushing stream. I could not control the red or the black or those occasional glimpses of gray. I began to repeat snatches of the whispering to myself, as a shield against the red. Michael. Hurts. Where. Homequarters. Nikita. Running. Nerd. Strawberries. Alex. Ocean. Ow. Yoga. Family. Pain. Nutrition facts. Loss. London. Love. Guns.

And gradually, I began to build myself a life raft of words out that tiny leaf. When I was in the red, I crouched behind my shield. But something new began to happen.

I managed to draw small bits of myself back behind the shield, back from the red.

And my shield of words grew ever stronger.

If only the river would let me go.

...

Sean flinched slightly as the cop reeled over backwards. It was against everything he believed in to kill a man who was just trying to do his job and protect his country. He was a soldier, he knew how the man felt. But Nikita's war against Division was perhaps the most important cause he had ever fought for. He gave me a clean shot, and I took it. Get it in gear, Sean, you've got at least 5 more cops out there.

There was no time for him to contemplate morals or regret killing an innocent man. He had three fugutives to get home and a... friend. I guess Michael is my friend. That's an odd thought. Oh, geez, Sean, focus. Five bullets for five cops. Come on. You got this.

Aim, fire, oh good, they weren't expecting that. One down, I think he might be alive, oh crap, they're shooting back, duck, you idiot.

He ducked behind the car as the bullets whizzed over his head.

All right, Sean, think, four bullets and four cops shooting at you. Consider your options, right, you're screwed... I wonder if they would notice if I moved around the back of the car?

Sean inched to my right, moving towards the back of the car. He heard shouting and then a spray of bullets went over the trunk of the car.

Okay, I'll take that as a no.

He sunk down behind the car, hearing the continued spray of bullets whistle over his head, closing his eyes and hoping, praying desperately for a way out. Nothing occured to him.

Well, Alex, it looks like we're gonna have to have that date some other time. I hope Michael's not getting shot up too bad up there. That would be the last thing Nikita needs right now.

The bullets stopped, and he wrenched his eyes open, turning to both sides and craning his neck desperately to try and see the officers he could hear approaching from both sides.

I might be able to get one of them... Breathe easy. Hopefully the other guy has really bad aim. Now, do I shoot the one on the left or the one on the right?

He heard a whispered, "One, two, three..."

He tightened his finger on the trigger. This is it.

And then he heard a spray of bullets from a new gun. That's... That's a machine gun... who?

And then he heard the dull thump of four bodies hitting the ground. Poor guys. Well, I guess they'll never get those donuts now. So, a rescuer, a car, a machine gun... who!

He heard the screech of a car stopping and light footsteps running towards him. After a second, he smiled and stood up, turning to face his rescuer, her long brown hair flying beneath her beret as she walked forward, looking very serious but also slightly relieved when he stood up.

That's my girl.

...

Birkhoff sat in his favorite badass ergonomic chair, wondering how this one would play out.

Alex had charged out the door seconds after he had told her all of what had happened with Mikey and her Seanny-boy. Watch Nikita and don't blow up the house. Psh. Really, Alex? What am I, five?

He felt a smile creeping onto his face. You can tell she trained with Niki. If those two don't destroy the world, they're going to smother it with motherly kindness.

He looked down at Niki's motionless form. It figured that while they were out doing their superspy thing, they left the genius computer hacker to babysit the sickie. There was nothing more boring than watching someone sleep, even if it was because they had a serious gunshot wound. And even if they were your smokin' hot best friend and fellow badass.

He took another swig of the energy drink, feeling the sugar flow into his veins, revitalizing him.

I really am gonna have to train a lot with Mikey when he gets back to work all of this off.

Birkhoff spun around, looking at his computer to check the time. Alex wouldn't make it to Sean for another minute. Hopefully he and Mikey were doing all right against the cops.

I could check the coms... Nah. Alex is on her way, there isn't much I can help with now. Only the newbie techies hover over good agents when they're busy shooting at people.

He checked the time again. Alex would be arriving within the next two seconds, which meant for maximum awesomeness he should drop in casually on the coms within the next minute or two. I don't have to save their asses ALL the time.

Niki could probably use another shot of the good stuff. I don't want to walk though... hmmm, giving unconscious women drugs or being lazy? Geez, that makes me sound like a serial killer. All right, fine, Niki, I'm coming.

Birkhoff put his headset on and walked down to give her another shot of the painkiller. Just then, Alex's voice crackled on. "Uh, Birkhoff?"

He sighed. "What, need me to call off the dogs? I told you, these Popo weren't listening, I got nothing good to threaten them with."

"No, Birkhoff, I need you to check and wipe any security cameras and incident reports. We kind of killed or injured six cops."

Birkhoff cocked one eyebrow. "You want a good excuse and some fries with that?"

"Come on, Birkhoff. We got the surgeon and Roan, the boys are both okay although the car's sort of shot up."

Birkhoff grumbled all the way back to the computer. It's always something. That was my favorite car, too. We should get a frequent buyer discount for the dealer at the rate we're going through cars.

After a few minutes of typing, the wipe was done.

Just hurry up and get home already, you idiots. Awesomeness this great needs an audience.

...

Michael felt himself coming round in the back of a quickly moving car, because he was pretty sure he had been driving. Or was it crashing? He couldn't remember. He sat up, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

He was looking straight into the furious grey eyes of Roan, who was gagged, had his head duct taped to the back of the seat and his arms bound behind him.

Michael chuckled for the first time in days. This is a new one. I wish Nikita was here to see it.

He felt a slight twinge of uneasiness as he thought about his girl, rubbing his eyes blearily. His head was pounding, but considering Roan had knocked him out, that was to be expected.

"Nice touch, duct taping him to the seat. Whose idea was that?"

Alex turned around in the passenger seat, grinning like a naughty child, while Sean smiled and shook his head in the driver's seat but kept his eyes on the road. "Well, you were unconscious, and we had to put you somewhere. We figured you wouldn't appreciate it if he headbutted you, so the duct tape was my idea. Handy stuff."

Michael chuckled again, looking around. Apparently they had lain him across the laps of Roan and the still unconscious doctor in the back seat.

He gestured to the doc with his head. "What about him?"

It was Sean's turn to answer. "We knocked him out again when we swerved. He should be fine. I think."

Well, that turned out better than expected.

Hang on, baby, we're coming.

...

Roan allowed himself to be furious. He had analyzed the situation 3 times and had come to the same conclusion on each try.

Current restraints present Calculation (0) opportunities to escape. Moderately emotional response acceptable in order to create a chemical response (adrenaline rush.)

But the disadvantage to being emotional was that Roan felt humilation as well as rage. It was enough that they had thwarted his plan of escape and duct taped his head to a car seat. But had it really been necessary to lay Michael across his lap?

It is a method of psychokogical warfare, they wish for you to experience rage and humiliation. Lock down all negative emotional response and concentrate on triggering an adrenaline rush. Contain all adverse physical responses from gunshot wounds.

Calculation: time till Regimen withdrawal becomes a factor: 12 hours.

Percent likelihood of rescue within time: 0.6 percent.

And for the first time in 15 years, a different kind of thought penetrated his brain.

Damn.

Well, I think that turned out better than the last chapter, in my opinion. What do you think? And what is your favorite animal? Also, what is your favorite Nikita fanfiction? (If it's this one, great, but I'm looking for recommendations. Mikita is lovely.)

Okay, just a review of any kind is lovely. A reader of any kind is lovely. A person of most kinds is lovely.