I am so freaking sorry for not uploading this sooner. I've got this and two more content chapters and an epilogue planned out, but that could change or get broken up.

She blinked her eyes open, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling and senses still dulled by pain drugs. But her mind was racing as she took in the surroundings: modern, anonymous, minimal furniture. Could it be? But no, there was no way that Division could have captured her. She remembered something, bits and pieces, Michael.

Another flurry of panic shot through her chest. Michael. If she was safe, then why weren't they at the house and where was he?

She attempted to sit up, briefly. Her entire felt sluggish and weak and even the small exertion of momentarily attempting to lift her torso off of the bed (bed? What… where?) caused her to settle back down with a low groan.

Still, her eyes flicked from side to side. She could feel a vague sense of panic building, the kind of panic that arose from the insecurity of an unfamiliar locale and no friendly faces.

She was about to give getting up another go when the thunk of a mug being hurriedly dropped on the table caught her attention. She looked over, startled, to see Michael rushing over towards her.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply once or twice, before opening them again to see his faintly worried face and tired eyes.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" he asked, his entire face softening into a small smile full of relief.

"Michael?"

Her voice came out tinier, weaker, raspier than she had intended, and she took a minute to swallow.

He rubbed her hand, replying only with a small Mm-hmnm.

"Where are we? What time is it?"

"We're at the new safe house. Everyone's safe. Let's just say we did some remodeling on the old place," he assured. "How much do you remember?"

" Mission . Roan. Warehouse floor. What did I miss?"

"Huh. I'd thought you were awake at one point, at least…. Division tracked Roan back home, we brought the Doc with us. Birkhoff's little toy explosives went off. We came here, got you patched up. You scared me back there."

She sighed, noting the dull sort of ache creeping into her shoulder as the meds effects slowly wore off. "What's our next play?" she queried, moving to get up again.

"Whoa, whoa, cowgirl, you're not going anywhere," he said with a surprised little quirk of his eyebrow.

She sighed again, flopping back on the bed. "Michael, I'm fine. I just need to rest a bit. Now what's the play?"

He let out a little disbelieving chuckle at that. "Nikita, you just got shot by a large-caliber rifle to the shoulder. It nicked a nice bit of bone that broke off caused some internal bleeding. We were lucky we were able to get a Doctor, we might've lost you otherwise.

She blinked. Well, that's getting shot by Roan for you, her inner snark helpfully provided.

She ignored it.

He blinked, slowly regaining consciousness. It appeared that he was not, actually, dead, which was a development, unless this was hell. It didn't seem like it, though… Unless hell looked exactly like Division, which wouldn't surprise him in the slightest.

He tried to move his arms and legs only to find them strapped down. Shit. An interrogation was not what he needed right now, he needed to… Wait. Hold on. What the hell?

Why won't… he tried moving his arms again, feeling them strain against strong leather cuffs. Then he tried moving his legs. Nothing. No response.

Shit.

Then there were footsteps, clicking slowly across the floor, men's dress heels and an expensive suit making their way towards him… and then Percy's silk-smooth, ever-derisive voice filled his ears. He winced.

"Hello, Will." A scoff. "Well, don't you just look terrible."

The scrape of a chair on the floor.

"Oh, relax. I'm not here to torture you. All that wincing is getting ridiculous."

He slowly opened his eyes again, realizing that he had been screwing them up in anticipation of the first blow.

"Then… then… what do you want?" he asked tentatively. God, his head was killing him and he had honestly expected to be dead by now.Why wasn't he dead again?

"Well, I've done something for you. I've kept you alive. And, I can get you something I think you want, for one… small…. favor."

The chair was swung around and the man was seated.

"You do, of course, want your girl back? Maybe even your legs."

He panicked. "Girl? What girl?"

A chuckle.

"Oh, the lovely Jennifer, naturally. Known as JJ, I believe, to you, correct?" There was a smirk in his voice as he pulled out a small high-tech mp3 player. The recording began to play and he gritted his teeth.

"Go, go, go, run, go, get out of here, go, now! JJ, now! Before they get here…"

"I can't just leave you all on your own, though. And what am I supposed to do out in the world? I'm a murderer. I'd be a fugitive."

"Get rid of the tracker and get out of here. It's your only chance and you know you want to take it. Now go."

"GO!"

"I'm coming back for you, Will, I promise! I promise…"

He closed closed eyes against the flood of memory. He was shaking with rage. How dare they send us out on a suicide mission and monitor us against our will. Was it all a lie?

The hateful, hateful voice invaded his my sense again. "We're tracking her through the woods right now. Funny how these recording devices come in handy."

The words wrenched out of him involuntarily. "What do you want?"

Another chuckle. "From you? I want bait. Your legs were so badly broken they would never have healed properly, so we… fixed… your spinal chord for you. You'll never walk again. But I have a rogue asset I very much want to bring in, one that you failed to contain in the first place. Then, if you succeed, I'll let her live."

A scrape of the chair on the cold concrete floor.

"You might even get to see her again. Your choice."

He set his jaw, thinking. They were going to capture her. They were going to kill her. He weighed the two… Nikita vs. JJ. He had more sympathy for the rogue agent by the second, but JJ.

"I'll do it," he whispered with a cringe.

A pause in the footsteps that had been clicking their way back across the floor.

"What was that? Sorry, didn't catch…"

"I said I'll do it, you son of a bitch. How do you want me to contact her?"

A pause. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure something out, won't you?"

The doors slammed shut again. He slumped in his bonds.

He was going to do this. There was no other choice.

Was there?

He sat at his computer, alternating between typing and chugging Red Bull. Hey, he could multitask. Niki was up again, but there was still no way in freakin' hell that he was going to let Percy get away with something like this.

Also, he owed him for that house. Somebody did have to pay for these sorts of things. It was just his luck that he was really good at making money illegally via computer. Psh. Course they freeloaded. He was just that awesome, right?

But there was still the matter of how, precisely they were going to make Percy pay. They couldn't exactly break into the facility, especially with Niki still on the sick list. There had to be something, though. Some way to get back, some way to get Roan at least. That guy had been a freakin' scary pain in all their asses was far too long.

If it had been anyone else, Birkhoff would've doubted they were alive, but with Roan? He was probably fine.

Of course, just as he was relaxing back into the chair, sipping at his nearly-empty second can of red-bull and reaching for the bag of chips on the desk that a message from Sonya popped up. He very nearly fell over backwards before catching himself. Jeez. Becoming a theme, much? Pancake you, chair.

But as soon as he looked at the message, he frowned. It wasn't a video chat like he'd been expecting, rather, a map with coordinates in some park approximately 40 miles from their new safe house, and a simple note that said, "Be there."

Huh.

Well, that's either the most obvious trap I have ever seen in my entire life, or she's ready to take this relationship to the next leve.

Hmm.

Focus, Birkhoff. Obvious trap. Got it.

He rolled back, about to call up to Mikey in the upstairs bedroom, and paused.

Niki could really use a moment with her guy… eh. He could do surveillance.

But brilliant hacking is never quite as much fun without someone to be impressed with it.

That's the weakness of genius. It requires an audience.

He walked into his flat, more relieved to see the familiar mess than ever in his life. There was something comforting about seeing his old familiar books and quite a few empty mugs and plates scattered around on the old dinged-up coffee table that he'd whacked his shins on ten thousand times at least.

Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He would deal with all of the emotional acceptance that he had just been captured by some sort of underground spy agency and now he was going to be some sort of target, naturally, and he would end up in the newspapers and... Well, thinking about it like that isn't going to help.

He was relieved that he had been able to help the injured woman when the finally, finally made it to safety. He couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't have ended quite as well if she hadn't made it. Her shoulder mobility might be a little limited for a time, and she would need some time to recover from everything, but she would be fine, sooner rather than later.

He walked into his bedroom, smiling fondly at the wrinkled bedspread that had somehow found its way from his roommate's bed at college into his boxes when the moved out. It was a good reminder, now, of the wonders of student life.

Not even bothering to take off his shoes, he flopped down, intending just to relax a minute.

So, naturally, he fell asleep a few minutes later.

Alex smiled softly in the doorway of Dr. Branahan's bedroom, taking in the sight of a full-grown man flopped on the bed like a small child who was too worn out by the day to get ready for bed. The man had his quirks, that was for sure, but he had probably saved Nikita's life. Even if it had been quite the endeavor to get him there in the first place.

She turned, nodding to Sean.

"Sleeping beauty will be fine. Come on, let's go."

He smiled briefly, but his eyebrows were doing their small I'm-troubled-by-this-situation dance. Funny how I can read him like that now.

She sighed in mock exasperation, crossing her arms in the most overexaggerated way possible. "What now, soldier?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, but… What if Division got an ID on him? I mean, Roan saw him. It's possible that they could, well, you know, persuade him into giving up our location."

She pursed her lips in thought. Damn it.

"So, what then. You want to take him with us?"

He looked up to meet her eyes, nodding hesitantly. "We've killed too many civilians today already."

She took a breath, then nodded, giving a rueful grin. "Well, he should make things interesting at least, right?"

He gave a small laugh at that. "That's one way of putting it."

It wasn't until after they'd dragged a very, very annoyed and sleepy Doctor back to the car that Alex groaned internally. I hope he doesn't slow us down. We're not exactly out of the line of fire.

He looked over at her from the driver's seat, noting the faint signs of exasperation on her face. Funny how I can read her like that now.

Grinning faintly, he glanced over at her, teasing, "Oh, what now, princess?"

She shook her head, laughing gently. "Nothing, I was just thinking that we're basically something out of a TV show now. I mean, a group of assassins with their own techie and now picking up a bumbling doctor by accident?"

They both laughed at that one for a good long while.

He looked down at the hospital registry before him. They found the right face, finally. It had taken far too long for the Division doctors to clear him to leave the medical compound. The wounds had been addressed and he was back in commission.

Update in Mission : Kill Alpha Threat One (Nikita)- New objective: Obtain information on Dr. Thomas Branahan.

The small, cruel smile was back, and so was the light in his eyes behind the same old pair of indestructible glasses.

Percy would not doubt his effectiveness again.

Not after this.

Whew, all right. So, as I said, I've got two more chapters of madness and an epilogue planned out. I really don't even know anymore.

I know about zip about getting shot outside of movies and television.

So I just kind of made things up. Whoops. Oh well!

And I neglected you guys for far, far too long, and I am absurdly sorry.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh, and if you completely forgot everything about what is happening in this fic, you're not the only one (whoops.)