Consider the quick update an apology for long waits, general shenanigans on my part, and evil cliffhangers.

JJ stepped forward, heard pounding in her throat, woodchips crackling faintly under her feet. She locked eyes with him as she stepped closer to him. There was a com in his mouth, but there was something… wrong about the way he was sitting, laying almost completely back onto the slide. As if… her steps faltered and she stood staring in shock. When he had been buried in rubble, both of his legs had been broken so badly. Had Division taken them away completely?

Will's eyes were pleading with her now, begging her to run, run, go, just go, get out of here. But she couldn't. Not now. It wasn't like she had a chance of escaping Division even if she did live through this. She knew too much, no matter what kind of deal Will and Percy had made would be completely voic the second he was dead, and she would go to meet them someplace over the rainbow where bluebirds fly.

JJ stopped when he raised his fist in a threatening matter, choking out, "Don't… don't take another step."

Nikita's sudden movement to her side and gentle touch on her arm startled her. Will let out a shriek of, "GET AWAY FROM HER!" The other woman ignored him.

Sad, calm eyes of a deep, liquid brown color met her own startled gaze, more watery than she would care to admit. I've killed people before, why should this be so god damn hard?

"Can you talk him down?" Nikita murmured, her voice sympathetic but not patronizing.

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She squared her small shoulders. "I can try."

Michael grabbed Nikita gently, reeling her away to the edge of the playground in a gesture both protective and respectful of the JJ and Will. Whatever happened in the next few minutes would be between them and them alone. Then, of course, another Division strike team would probably show up and muck everything around again, hey.

She took another step forward and he let out another cry of "DON'T! Don't…"

Stand down, you idiot, so we can get you out of this.

Michael grimaced, pulling Nikita back to the edge of the playground. It was a dream, that she could manage to talk him down, when Percy had set up the situation like this. It was strategic, and they'd all been lured somehow. I guess that means that Sonya really is playing for Division now. Poor Birkhoff. And even if Will stood down, there probably was no way out of this.

The vest would be equipped with remote detonation, and if he allowed any of them to get close enough it would be activated immediately. The location of the playground, set far into the park, meant that they would have to run back to the car to grab any sort of signal jammer, and by the time any of them had managed that the Division strike team would almost certainly be here. If they stood around waiting, then the Division strike team was definitely going to be there. If the man on the slide blew them all up (no, not the man, she had called him Will), then the Division strike team would still be there, but there would be the added disadvantage that all of them would be dead already.

Plans flicked through his head, and he glanced at Nikita, who he could practically see thinking.

She looked at him, with a clear, grim, sense of realization in her gaze. "There's no way out of this for him, is there?"

He shook his head, looking over to where the woman was talking Will and making soothing gestures. "The best thing to do is clear everyone out."

Nikita sighed, following his gaze to focus in on the pair. She was moving ever closer to the slide, and his hand was relaxing on the trigger. "She won't go willingly, not now."

Michael stowed his gun back on the holster, considering. If we grab her, and Nikita is close enough, they'll detonate…

"Stay here." He commanded, signaling for Alex and Sean to move backwards, far enough out of the blast range that they would be fine. Alex met his eyes for a second as he strode forward. She looked shaken, but nodded and pulled Sean off back towards the parking lot, raising their guns in anticipation for (yet another) hit squad.

Birkhoff's voice echoed in his ear as his com crackled to life. "Mikey, what the hell are you doing? They'll detonate as soon as you're in range!"

He ignored it, ignored everything, ignored Nikita's shout of "Michael!" He clicked the com, switched it to send. "Nikita, stay back. They'll detonate as soon as you're in range."

Her words were angry and fast. "And what if they detonate as soon as you're in range?"

He glanced over a shoulder as the woodchips crackled and the sound of a struggle erupted behind him. Alex and Sean had returned to grab Nikita and take her out of the blast radius. Thank god. He moved forward, ignoring the last shout of, "MICHAEL!"

Here goes everything.

She had refused to go away. Of course she had. Will took a deep breath and tried to focus his thoughts as her voice washed over him. Nikita was no longer in blast range, so there was no point in him detonating. If their group left completely, however, Percy would not hesitate to detonate as a mere clean-up, an efficient way to get rid of the two agents who had dared to disobey.

JJ was taking slow steps toward him, and he focused on her eyes, giving a small shake of his head. He honed in on her voice. "Will, come on. We can get out of this. But you need to put down that trigger and let me help you."

He shook his head again. Why doesn't she just understand? I CAN'T. "JJ, they'll blow it us up the second I put it down. You gotta get out of here."

She stopped moving forward but her voice was firm. "No. I did not sleep in the woods for a week just to come watch you get blown up. I think I still have twigs in my hair!" her voice broke slightly on the last syllable, the attempt at a humorous tone lost. She knows. She knows she's probably going to die.

And then there was Michael, coming up behind her to grab her shoulder. "We have to leave him and get out of here."

She slapped his hand off, turning and nearly hissing with rage. "I'm not goddamn leaving him."

He looked at her sadly, but his eyes were determined. "There isn't anything we can do. You're going to get yourself killed too."

JJ straightened, eyes flashing. "Then I get myself killed too." And with that, she finally turned, and nearly ran over to him, evading Michael's attempt to grab her arm and prying the trigger out of his unresisting hand.

There was a click, and the vest started counting down. JJ looked him in the eye, briefly startled by the tear running down his cheek. Gunfire erupted from the parking lot. The strike team's here. Doesn't really matter, though. "JJ…"

"Shh." She whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips. The timer continued to count down. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.

His eyes fluttered shut, but he did not let her linger. I'm not going to be responsible for killing her. Gathering what strength he could muster, he shoved her up and off into the waiting arms of Michael, who grabbed her and ran. She started screaming, kicking at him.

Seven. Six. Five.

They were halfway, and she was still kicking and shrieking. They're not going to make it. And then Nikita was there, grabbing her, helping pull her struggling form out, to the edge of the blast radius.

Four. Three. Two.

They're nearly free.

One.

The explosion threw them all forward into the grass, Michael tightening his grip on JJ's form and Nikita's good arm as they fell.

Silence.

Then, slowly, bangs and the sound of sobbing crept their way into their ears, which were now ringing painfully.

She released JJ, looking over at Michael before turning back to see the playground, or what was left of it, for that matter.

There's no way he survived that. She looked down at JJ's form, curled into a ball on the grass. There were scrapes and bruises on her face, and leaves twisted in her hair, but she knew that the pain she felt was greater than anything physical. She reached down to lay a comforting hand on the woman's arm, and was immediately shaken off.

She looked up at Michael and mouthed 'Leave her.' There was only one person's touch that she would want now, and that was something that neither of them could offer. That was something that no one would ever be able to offer ever again. I know I didn't let go of him for a very long time after Colombia.

Michael staggered to his feet and went to go help Sean and Alex where they had the strike team pinned down in their vehicles. The shots became sparser and then died away, but still she sat by JJ in the grass.

She continued to sit next to her, offering silent support and a warm mug of tea, all through the car ride and back when they made it to the safe house. Dr. Branahan had examined her, proclaiming her in shock but otherwise fine.

She's anything but fine.

Roan watched the idiotic tactics implemented by the strike teams with a sense of fury that he could not quite restrain. Objective: kill Nikita- incomplete. They had anticipated perfect control over the situation. They had not anticipated them leaving the boy. All targets had survived. It seems that Nikita's bleeding heart is fading.

He turned, stalking out of Operations, clearing a path through nervous recruits and intimidated analysts as he made his way down to Percy's office. He stepped in to find the man already on the phone, berating someone.

Percy turned without prompting, meeting his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh of furious disbelief. "When will those IDIOTS finally learn how to capture one simple little rogue agent?"

He did not answer.

Percy sat down, steeping his fingers and resting his chin upon them. He took a moment of cold consideration before looking up. "Find them."

He nodded, moving out into the hallway.

A week later, she stood at the entrance of the airport, her face hidden in the shade of a hooded sweatshirt that had originally belonged to Alex. The past week had passed in a daze.

It had taken two days for her to break down, sobbing into Nikita's shoulder. That is all you let the world see she reminded herself. Nobody else had known him, really, at Division, and as kind as the rogue agents had been in offering her their home, she was off to do something productive and peaceful in a non-extradition country. He would have wanted that.

Every bone in her body ached to stay, ached for revenge, but the look on his face, the last words that he whispered just before she was pulled away, they were what grounded her feet and calmed her heart. If she got herself killed, after everything he had sacrificed to keep her alive, then she would truly have failed. And the fight against Division, when won, would not fill the emptiness in her chest, she knew that.

And so she went.

Nikita gave her a warm hug and a silent squeeze to the shoulder. There were no words, really. The others had stayed behind in the car, watching from a safe distance, wary of the safety cameras. Birkhoff offered some sarcastic comment on the coms that she would wear until she landed safely. And then she was free, free to go be whoever she liked.

She wasn't sure who that person she wanted to be was anymore, but she had a sinking suspicion that the person she wanted to be was the woman who Will came home to at night.

She sighed, turning to face the airport.

It was time.

The ride home was nearly silent. Michael had wrapped a comforting arm around Nikita, murmuring to her softly as she stared out the window with tears shining in her eyes.

Alex curled up in her seat, staring out the window. They had very nearly lost everything, so many times, in this week alone. The missions are always hardest when all you gain are injuries.

The house was mostly silent, as everyone made their way around, lost in their own world of thought. Birkhoff's keyboard taps and occasional hoots of victory when he succeeded in defeating yet another video game foe were the only sounds that she heard, but she could not even bring herself to be annoyed at how quickly he seemed to be recovering. Everyone needs a safety blanket.

It was lunchtime when she decided that everyone needed to pull themselves together and move on. That was the hardest part of the mission sometimes, letting go of it when it ended badly. But they'd dealt with loss and failure before, this was no different.

Slamming the plates down on the counter, she made Sean jump at least three feet in the air from where he had been sitting on a wooden stool, staring at the counter as if in deep concentration. Explosions were never a good thing for him, not after his mother.

"We're going to make soup for lunch."

Sean's face scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"Us. Making lunch. Now."

"Alex, we never make lunch. You never make lunch. Birkhoff eats potato chips and chemicals for survival. What's the deal?"

She looked down, opening two cans of Campbell's tomato soup and whacking them until the orangeish reddish glop fell into a pot that looked like it belonged on a spaceship more than in a kitchen. "Well, everybody needs to do something," she said imperiously.

Which is how, 20 minutes later, they all found themselves sitting around the dining room table, looking down at a slightly overcooked bowl of tomato soup bemusedly. But soon chatter erupted again, and there was laughter.

Alex smiled.

Maybe we won't get Roan today, but everything will be all right.

Wow. Thank you all. This story really belongs to you all, because without your encouragement there is no way on EARTH I would ever have found the motivation to get beyond the first chapter.

There will be an epilogue (not sure how long…) posted whenever I get around to it.

Again, I really don't know how to say how much I love you for putting up with my random posting and a plotline that surprised me more than anyone else, I think.

*hugs everyone collectively*

Tell me how my first multi-chapter fic went?