Sorry about the update wait on a cliffhanger. I really don't have a good excuse, although I did go away for a week and half to places with no internet. Anyway, here you go! Hope you enjoy.

Dr. Thomas Branahan was not having a particularly good day. He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up behind the couch, but after the two scary guys from the car had quit fighting and the initial spray of machine gun fire had stopped, that had been where he had found himself. Well, maybe I do have action hero instincts after all.

But after the attackers tried to come through the door and ended up either getting shot or pointlessly shooting the doorframe where the other two fighters on his side were hidden, he found he had far too much time to contemplate how strange his life was becoming. He also contemplated how he was still rather hungry, wished that they had stopped at a restroom on the ride here, and that he do some stretching without attracting attention and getting himself shot, which did not sound very pleasant. I've seen far too many of them to wonder what that would be like.

So, for now, he had to wait. Right. Waiting. Until the firefight stopped, and until his captors told him to move again, until his foot actually woke up again because right now it was completely asleep.

Hopefully there will still be a patient for me to treat when the wait is over.

Birkhoff wedged himself more firmly into the corner between the wine cabinet and the wall. After shooting up his beautiful tech and the ten millionth furniture set he'd had to purchase, the idiots had apparently forgotten that Mikey, Niki and Birkhoff were in the room. I always did think it was incredibly how single-mindedly idiotic people are when other people start shooting at them. As long as Sean and Alex could keep up the distraction, they would probably be all right. But if the stalemate continued for too long, they might realize they had easier targets and actually do something intelligent for once in their lives.

He peeked around the corner of the wall. The room where Sean and Alex were hanging out was at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the main entrance and the hallway that clung to the side of the main room, high above. So far, it looked like Sean and Alex had managed to kill or injure about 5 of the agents who had tried to come into their home, but there were probably about ten more agents out there, looking for an alternate entrance to the house or waiting to come in once their attackers ran out of ammo. Dammit, Niki, why do you have to like windows so much? We could be in a freaking nuclear bunker right now. Oh, crap, wait, that'd make us Division 2.0. Scratch that.

They needed to get the hell out of there before someone else got shot. Oh, great, perfect time for me to have the mother of all headaches. Thanks a bunch, Roan. Just kill me already.

He pulled himself back behind the wall, pressing his head into his hands and wishing that the shooting would stop already, because it was not helping. His eyes slowly traveled up the table where his computers had been set up previously, and he couldn't help but let out a small, distinctly un-badass whimper at the sight of his beautiful destroyed tech. Those computers were my babies! Alright, bitches, time to die.

Now angry, he continued his search for something, anything he could use as a weapon, that wasn't actually a weapon. His head was still pounding from the knock on the floor on and he was feeling more like curling up with a bottle of booze than actually trying to fight these idiots, when his eyes found a miracle. His tablet had been somehow knocked off the table and was lying on the floor about four feet in front of him.

Hallelujah. He took a deep breath, and then scrambled desperately forward to grab it, hoping that his sudden movement wouldn't attract the attention of the fighters up above. He felt like jumping up and pumping his fist when he managed to lay his hands on it without incident. Then a few bullets zinged by his head, burying themselves in the already ruined table, and he scooted backwards into his corner as fast as he could. Okay, dude, breathe, you got it. It's kill time.

He woke the tablet up, and of course he didn't breathe a sigh of relief when it actually worked. Flipping through the programs quickly, he opened the one that detonated various fail-safes and traps around the house, scrolling down the list; he accidentally hit the electronic control that set of the sprinklers. Whoops. Okay, I'm gonna pin that on someone shooting the fire alarm. After a few more seconds, he found the very latest addition to their household, one that he had insisted upon after the last house-invasion… He took another deep breath before pushing the button. Geez, what is it, therapy breathing techniques day?

But there was no more time for amusing thought as the entire area around the doorframe exploded, and the entire house shook as smaller explosions spider webbed across the wall spreading out from the initial blast.

And that was before the roof started caving in.

Oh, great. Well, damnit.

This is gonna be fun.

And then his thoughts were lost in the sound of the world collapsing around him.

Michael looked up in alarm, reacting automatically to the sudden cease fire and the new sound invaded his senses. Explosions.

Oh, god, no, not again. There had already been far too many dangerous explosions in his life; he didn't need this one…

He looked around automatically, and was able to identify Birkhoff and his tablet as the source of the new development in the situation. He must have activated the fail-safes. There is a reason they are called FAIL-safes.

He knew that the stale-mate with the agents trying to enter the doorway wouldn't have lasted forever, if any of them had any sense, they would have called for backup as soon as the attack started and the targets they were fighting were confirmed.

Of course, he would like to think that the training at Division had dropped so considerably in its quality that all of the members of the attacking strike team wouldn't be able to process communication during a firefight, but somehow he doubted it. It was Percy they were up against, after all.

And then the debris began to fall heavily from the high ceiling as smaller explosions ran along the wall by the entranceway and then down the stairs. He threw himself upon on the couch, bracing himself over Nikita's inert body while carefully avoiding her injured shoulder, and covered the back of his neck as the entire side of the house began to collapse.

Oh, I am so going to kick Birkhoff's ass for this one when we get out of here.

Jennifer knew that something was wrong the moment that the attack began. She had been in a fight so much like this one so many times that she couldn't even remember when the first time it had happened and what it was like not to know precisely what to do with a gun.

But the members of her team were mostly complete idiots. Especially the ones who were in charge of strategy, apparently. Because sending off five members of their squad after the initial firing into the stupidly large windows and then having the rest try to go through the door had to be the WORST strategy she had ever been forced to execute.

And she couldn't help but feel a small, sick burst of smug I-told-you-so inside of herself when the first five members through the door were mowed down immediately. From what she had read of Michael and Nikita's little band of miscreants, they were many things. Deluded, perhaps, but effective? Unquestionably. And Percy had sent a band of the most inexperienced and inept recruits and agents who had displeased him in the past few weeks. She wasn't stupid. This was deliberate.

She had been suspicious from the first vague briefing about the mission. All they had been told was that it was a "rescue mission" and that a "valuable asset" needed recovering. Some asset if he can't manage to save his own skin. He hadn't mentioned that he was getting rid of the most useless agents in the whole place. She paid attention, but kept her head down and tried her best not to draw attention to herself, which might explain how she had ended up on this mission.

Her past few months in Division, her eyes and ears had been open. She had learned the Operations of Division better than very nearly anyone, especially some of the people who were actually supposed to know what they were doing. She had gone from a life of crime to a life of really, really, organized competitive crime, what was the difference, really?

And then there was Will. Stupid, incompetent, following her around like a lost puppy half the time… and yet, there was something about how his black hair was incessantly curly and messy and frizzy and the way he looked at her like she knew all the answers and the way that he could surprise her sometimes by saying something, well, remarkably intelligent. She didn't know what to make of it.

But she was glad for him now, with her back pressed up against the doorframe, trying to get the idiots who were actually shooting right now to aim at the unprotected people in the room rather than at the doorframe that hid the people who were firing back. His presence, right next to her against the wall, was like an anchor that kept her from getting frustrated and just shooting everyone, although she did contemplate it.

When it became clear that everyone else on their strike team was both deaf, idiotic and not going to listen, she looked around for another way to help. The side of house that they had initially fired at, messing it up royally, might be an option for alternative entry if the morons weren't so fixated on gaining access through the door.

Jennifer turned to him, looked him in the eyes, and told him, "Stay."

She saw the protest rising in his eyes but she ran off toward the side of the house before he could master his opinions or make up his mind to follow her anyway. For some reason, she found herself being stupidly protective of him, which was a mistake. It would be useful to have another person with her, but her instinct was to keep him here where the reinforcements she had called would arrive within ten minutes and where he had less risk of being shot. He could be absurdly clumsy sometimes, which explained how he had landed himself on this mission even though he wasn't doing too badly overall.

She scanned the inside of the house, and then she saw them. Michael and Nikita. Priority Numero Uno. Michael was crouched protectively by the side of a coach where Nikita lay… injured? That was new. And on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from multiple places, was Roan. Hmph. Some asset.

She raised her gun, preparing to take them out one and for all. Her eyes from Michael to Nikita and even once for Roan, uncertainty flooding through her mind. She knew Division better than most, better than Percy would ever be allowed to suspect. And these… rebels… whatever they were… They represented a hope. A hope that she could get out too. Maybe even with Will… A traitorous little part of her brain whispered. She hit that part of her brains several times with a frying pan. She was just taking aim, about to shoot Michael because he actually seemed to post a reasonable threat here, when it started.

A noise she was far too familiar with was echoing through the air, growing louder and louder with a roar as the entire side of the house began to collapse from the explosions. Explosions. By the door.

Will.

Gun forgotten, she sprinted toward the source of the explosions, which was, in hindsight, a terrible, awful, stupid idea.

And she wouldn't regret it for a second.

Sean and Alex opened their eyes once the explosions and things falling down around them seemed to have stopped. The ceiling was slanted downwards and they would have to crouch if they wanted to stand up. There also happened to be a lovely array of deadly weapons scattered all around on the floor.

Alex felt a slight flush color her cheeks when she realized that at some point during the explosions, she had grabbed onto Sean's shirt and buried her face in his arm, and that he had grabbed her in a protective way as well. But as much as she'd like to watch him try to think of a way to ask her out that he hadn't tried yet, they had work to do, possibly some people to kill, and definitely some people that needed to get the hell out of there.

She untangled them, but her hand trailed down to grab his. They crawled forward, because it was easier than crouching, moving from the side room where they had been camped out into what used to be the main room of the house.

Whoever had rigged the explosives had done an excellent job. The wall by the door was essentially demolished and the roof of the house was now sagging rather dramatically in that direction. There was debris and dust everywhere. Alex couldn't help but give a little whistle.

Fortunately, the side of the room that Michael and Nikita were on was the opposite of the collapsed-exploded destroyed part and the roof was still clinging to the intact wall before sloping downward.

She surveyed the destroyed tech and shredded up sofa cushions, her eyes pausing briefly on Roan, passed out on the floor, before finding Birkhoff. Birkhoff, who was still sitting on the floor clutching the tablet with a faintly shell shocked expression.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I know we did this last time, but seriously? A little warning would have been nice before you blow our home up, again?"

He shrugged, seemingly recovering his wits, and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes slowly and shaking out his absurd hair.

"Well, you know, babe, I did just kind of save all your asses, again, so you could be a little more on the grateful side right now," he quipped, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere.

Alex rolled her eyes and turned to the couch, where Michael had pulled himself off of Nikita and seemed to be checking everyone over for injuries.

Sean wasn't in a mood for joking either. He kept turning, his eyes flicking from side to side to survey the damage. He turned back towards her and caught her questioning gaze. "We need to get out of here, now. This won't go unnoticed and they probably have backup on the way."

She took a deep breath, and then turned to the frightened Doctor who was still crouched behind the end of the couch. Wait a second… is he unconscious again or did that guy legitimately fall asleep in the middle of a battle?

She walked over and nudged him, none too gently, with her boot. Surely enough, he jolted awake, looking around with wide, startled eyes, before focusing on her and seeming to remember why he wasn't at home eating.

She made a motion with her head to indicate Nikita, who Michael was still busy checking over for any change or accidental injury.

"Is it safe to move her?" she asked, trying not to let her worry shine through in her eyes.

The doctor took a deep breath, and after a few seconds gave a slow nod. "Well, it won't be good for her, but it can't hurt her much. As long as it's quick. Time is important here."

Michael seemed finished with his examination, because he turned to the group, taking control once again.

And Alex couldn't help the breath that caught in her throat when she realized just how long Nikita might have to wait to get the help that she so desperately needed right now.

Michael wanted to shoot somebody. Specifically, Michael wanted to shoot Birkhoff for endangering his already injured girlfriend, not to mention everybody else. Although, he had to admit, it had been effective in stopping the attackers.

They somehow managed to navigate out through a broken window without any further incident or injury. Getting Nikita through gently was a project, but when she was out and safely settled in Michael's arms, he resumed his standard procedure of fuming at Birkhoff, scanning for remaining members of the strike team, and worrying about Nikita. A lot of worrying about Nikita.

They had decided to leave Roan alone in the wreckage. With the amount of injuries he had, a normal person would probably be dead, but Roan sort of defied all definitions of normal. With luck, he might be out of commission for a few months, which would be one less thing for them to worry about.

They somehow managed to make it to the backup getaway car that they always parked in the woods, just in case they had to flee. They somehow got on the road, with Sean at the wheel, driving like he had a destination in mind. He wasn't sure. After his initial burst of leadership back in the house when they were trying to get Nikita out, she had been one of the only things he was focused on. And as long as they got somewhere, safe and quiet and fast, then they would be all right.

He hoped.

I have absolutely no idea what happens when you blow up a side of a house, but it was kind of fun, so… If anyone is an architect or a physics person ignore the rules of the universe for a bit with me.

That seemed weird. Oh, god, was that weird? Did I do okay? Did you like it? Hate it? Wish I would stop shipping OC's for no reason? Would you like to know what the heck happened to poor Will and Jennifer when things started exploding?

Oh, and yeah, they might have references to other characters in their name, but they are completely different people.

Oh, geez, I'm going to dislike this chapter anyway, no review games for me. *hugs* SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT FOR THIS MILDLY CRAPPY CHAPTER HAVE I FAILED YOU?