Set during the end of 2x16 "Doublecross". The aftermath of Carla's death.

Someone had to take charge. There was a dead body in the safehouse, and the team had to get rid of it; they also had to clean all the blood, glass, and bullets that were littered across the floor. Ryan was too confused about what he had walked in on to be of much help. Birkhoff was too shocked about what he had done. And Nikita was too distraught about Carla. So that left Michael. He had to put aside his feelings about the situation and start taking action. He began with getting the hacker out of the way. He needed to breathe and calm down, so Michael had him focus on himself for a moment, "Birkhoff, go clean yourself up."

Birkhoff did as Michael said without a word. He moved somewhat on automatic, using Michael's order as his only thought and guide. His actual thoughts, feelings, and shock had to be dealt with. But that would have to wait a moment. There was still a dead body to take care of. Nikita continued to cry over it, unable to move from her friend. Michael didn't want to yank her away. However, she couldn't stay there forever. Gently, he crouched beside her and laid a comforting hand on her back. She didn't react to his touch. He had to softly urge her with whispered words, "Nikita. Hey. Nikita."

Nikita seemed to spur into action at the sound of her name. She shot to her feet and furiously wiped the tears from her eyes. Although she continued to tremble, she sniffed back the rest of her tears and straightened her shoulders. She could ignore how she felt when there was a mission in front of her. It didn't matter what the mission was; focusing on action instead of thought would help her settle down. And she seriously needed to settle down, "I know. I know. We have to move the body."

"Nikita. Why don't you clean up in here instead? Ryan and I got Carla," Michael followed to his feet and replaced his hand on her back. He knew Nikita needed to do something, but she shouldn't have to deal with Carla's body. Cleaning the glass and the bullets would be a better way to calm her down. Michael and Ryan could handle the worst of it- a thought shared by a still confused yet nodding anyway Ryan.

Thankfully, Nikita accepted Michael's offer without argument. She moved to sweep the area and collect the bullets and spent shell casings, leaving Ryan and Michael with Carla's body. Honestly, neither knew what to do with it. Dissolving the body like Division Cleaners did was completely out of the question. And burying her somewhere along the beach house property didn't seem like a long term solution. There had to be something else they could do.

Ryan was the one to come up with that answer. Since they had already called a doctor the rogues trusted to help Carla, why didn't they use the doctor's connections to hide her body in the morgue. It'd take more hush money and some false paperwork, yet the idea could work. Moving the body out of the room- and out of Nikita's and Birkhoff's sight- Michael put that plan into action. He also caught Ryan up on all he had missed while he had been in prison and while he had been presumed dead. Surprisingly, despite all he had to share, explaining everything to the former analyst was easier than disposing the body.

With the rogues' doctor friend's connections, it didn't take Michael and Ryan long to hide Carla's body in a nearby morgue. They were able to return to the safehouse just as Nikita finished cleaning the glass and bullets. Birkhoff had finished cleaning the blood off himself as well, but he didn't move to help Nikita. Instead, he stood still in the kitchen, staring blankly at the blood stain left on the living room floor.

Michael moved automatically to comfort Birkhoff and help ease his shock, but then he noticed Nikita focus her cleaning efforts on Carla's pool of blood. He could wait a few more minutes before talking to Birkhoff. Michael had to stop Nikita first. She shouldn't have to be the one to clean that up; she shouldn't even have to be near it, "Hey. I got it. I got it."

Once again, Nikita accepted Michael's offer without argument. She let him clean the blood that even she was having trouble trying to dissociate from, and she attempted to find something else to pour all her focus into. She knew if she stopped moving, the thoughts and emotions crowding her mind and bringing tears to her eyes would win. She couldn't let them win. She couldn't let herself think those thoughts or feel those emotions. So she had to stay busy. She had to do something.

There were still bullet holes in the walls to fix and broken computer equipment to throw away. Nikita could focus on that. Yet as she moved, she noticed Ryan standing awkwardly in the living room (he was still trying to adjust to what had happened). Before Birkhoff had called and told them what had happened with Carla, Michael and Nikita had intended to tell Ryan that they had gotten him his own safehouse. He could stay out of the rogues' danger and maybe find some peace after the hell he had gone through.

After everything that had happened, that had probably turned into a moot point. However, Nikita was going to urge Ryan to stay in the other safehouse anyway. At least one of them should be away from all that pain and heartache, "We're setting up another safehouse. You can lay low until this all blows over."

"You think it's ever gonna blow over?" Ryan couldn't help but respond with pessimism. He finally escaped Amanda's clutches in Division, only to walk in on heartbreaking death and destruction in the supposed safe house. There wasn't any place their war didn't touch, affect, or deeply corrupt. Could any of that really ever blow over. Or would the rogue agents be living like that for the rest of their lives.

"It has to," There was far more bravado, conviction, and determination in Nikita's voice than she felt. She was probably overcompensating- trying to make up for the pain hollowing out her chest. But a part of her did believe her words. The war had to end some time. And when it did, the team of rogues could truly be happy. After all, there wouldn't be any more death or loss.

Ryan opened then closed his mouth. He wanted to make another comment about the rogues' (and honestly his as well) war with Division, yet he stopped himself. Despite the fact that she had stopped crying- for the most part- Nikita was still reeling from her friend's death. No matter how much she moved or changed the subject, that heartache kept creeping up on her. She hadn't dealt with it yet; and unless she slowed down, she never would, "Are you alright?"

"You can crash in one of the extra rooms tonight. We'll get you moved into your own place in the morning," Nikita wouldn't even let herself think about Ryan's question. She simply showed him a room he could stay in for the night and made plans to move him out in the morning. Maybe Birkhoff could help him set up his safehouse; it'd be good for the hacker to be away from the beach house for a bit. Maybe it'd be good for her too. But Nikita couldn't think that far ahead for herself. She just had to move one step at a time.

Her next steps led her to Birkhoff. The two hadn't said a word since Carla had died; though, they were the two that needed to talk the most. Nikita didn't know what she could say. She knew she didn't blame Birkhoff for what had happened. She had heard the story, she had heard his frantic, tearful confession, and she had seen the evidence of the gunfight. Birkhoff was blameless; he was only trying to save himself. But Nikita couldn't bring herself to speak. Thankfully, the hacker spoke first, "I don't know what happened, Nik. I told her to stop. She wouldn't stop. The gun just went off."

Nodding, Nikita wrapped her arms around Birkhoff's bicep. He didn't need to apologize. He never had to apologize for saving himself. Nikita couldn't hate him for that. Besides, the gunfire was all Carla's fault. She had doublecrossed them. She had tried to hurt them. She was the blame for everything that had happened. Birkhoff should never carry that guilt, "Hey. She knew what she was doing. You got that? She knew."

"Yeah," Birkhoff barely muttered. Nikita rested her head on his shoulder as a rogue tear fell from her eyes. Although she knew that resting meant thinking, she rested on her friend for a moment. They needed one another. They needed to know that they were okay, that there was comfort no matter what.

Except, when the tears kept spilling out of Nikita's eyes despite her best efforts, she left Birkhoff standing alone in the kitchen. He shouldn't see her cry; the misplaced guilt he felt was enough; she couldn't add to it. Besides, maybe if she cleaned herself and got ready for bed, her tears and thoughts would stop. She just wanted them to stop.

Birkhoff remained frozen in his spot in the kitchen even after Michael finished scrubbing the blood out of the floor. The hacker looked over the scene of the crime, horror, shock, and pain etched across his features. Although Michael wanted to chase after Nikita, he knew he had to finally give Birkhoff his attention. So after tossing the cleaning supplies and scrubbing more blood out of his hands, he approached his friend and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Birkhoff flinched at his touch like he wasn't aware that he had even approached. Michael remained gentle, and he slowly guided the hacker to his bedroom, "Come on, Birkhoff. Come on."

Once in the hacker's bedroom, Michael had him sit on his bed. Besides his apology to Nikita, Birkhoff continued to say nothing and act nearly robotic. Michael understood. He had seen so many recruits try and fail to process their first kill. Hell, he had also failed at processing that. It just felt like too much all at once. The guilt was too painful. The fact that Birkhoff had killed Carla definitely made it all worse. Yet Michael wasn't going to let him stay silent and robotic. He had to talk about it. It was the only way he could move past it, "You alright?"

Birkhoff just looked at Michael. The rogue agent chuckled dryly. That was a lame question to ask; he knew. Yet he had to start somewhere. And since he knew he had Birkhoff's attention, he could actually help him, "Look, Seymour. The first time you take a life… It's always hard, no matter who you hurt. It's not something you can get over easily. I mean, each time someone dies, it takes away a part of yourself. Trust me."

The hacker did trust Michael. That was part of the problem. Dropping his gaze, Birkhoff fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. He battled the tears that had been forming in his eyes for the thousandth time and tried to even his breathing. He didn't have much luck with any of that. He was falling apart at the seams. He might as well just accept that and beg Michael for any advice that'd help him keep it all together, "So how do you get over it?"

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know," Michael attempted some kind of joke. Birkhoff scoffed at him, so he took his attempt as a success. Though, he didn't flash a proud smirk. Instead, he became as serious as he ever was. He wanted Birkhoff to know that he wasn't alone and that he wasn't at fault. The sooner he realized that, the sooner he could heal. And the sooner he could heal, the sooner he could gain back the part of him that had been lost, "Seriously, though. Just try not to let the pain drown you out. Talk to us. Know you're not alone. Know you're not at fault."

Nikita had said something like that to Birkhoff; she had tried to get him to believe that Carla was at fault, not him. However, even with both of the rogues telling him otherwise, the hacker couldn't force away his guilt. He knew how much Carla meant to Nikita. He knew she'd do anything for her. And he had taken her away. That couldn't be forgiven, "Nikki loved her."

"She loves you too," Michael argued. Despite how annoyed Nikita got at Birkhoff, he was still her nerd. He was one of her best friends- the closest thing to a brother she had ever had. She would never want to lose him, not in a million years. It'd never matter what happened, as long as she had him in her life, she'd be perfectly happy, "At the end of the day, I'm positive she'd rather have you. No matter what you do, she'd rather have you here."

It took everything in Birkhoff to agree with Michael and not let his dark inner voices argue. Nikita did love him, and he loved her. But that wasn't enough to absolve him. It was something Birkhoff had told Carla right before he shot her. Nikita always forgave the people she loved. Even if they hurt her over and over again, she still loved them and she still did what was right. She was going to do the same thing with him. Hell, she already had by the time she laid her head on his shoulder. Even if he berated himself, she never would, "She always forgives the ones she loves. No matter how many times we hurt her."

"You didn't hurt her, Seymour," Michael spoke softly. Even if he hadn't truly spoken to Nikita since Carla's death (though he didn't like it, giving her space and time first was for the best) he knew with absolute certainty that Birkhoff didn't hurt her. He could never hurt her.

Michael waited until Birkhoff nodded before he said anything else. The hacker couldn't argue with him, especially when they both knew he was right. Nikita and her nerd would be okay. They had survived that long; they simply had to get through the rest of the night. Clapping a comforting hand on Birkhoff's shoulder, Michael double checked that he was okay. When he got another nod, he smiled softly and gave him one more piece of advice, "Get some rest, okay? I'll always be here to talk. So please talk to me."

The rogue agent received one more nod before he went to his own bedroom. He instantly found Nikita in the bathroom wearing his shirt and brushing her teeth. He didn't talk to her immediately, though. Instead, Michael leaned against the doorframe and watched her. Her brown eyes were blurred with tears, and her muscles were tight- the same as they had been hours earlier. Yet, she wouldn't break. She was going to keep going, refusing to collapse. Michael had to put a stop to that. He waited until she finished brushing her teeth before he approached her, and he asked as gently as possible, "Are you okay?"

"How's Birkhoff?" Nikita asked rather than answered. Michael sighed. After he had taken over cleaning, he had seen her talk to Ryan and then Birkhoff. Although it was sweet and wonderful that she was still trying to comfort her friends, Nikita had to stop. She couldn't keep going forever. That pain that had washed over her when Carla had died needed to continue being felt. She needed to process, grieve. She didn't have to be so strong all the time. It was okay if she allowed herself to crumble.

"Upset. You know how hard it is the first time… He'll be alright," Although Michael responded to Nikita's question, he stopped himself from saying what exactly Birkhoff had done. He was aware that Nikita didn't hate him or blame him or anything like that for Carla's death. However, Michael didn't know how she would react to hearing pointblank that one of her closest friends had killed someone she cared for. He didn't want to upset her further. He only wanted to bring her peace and comfort.

Unfortunately, Nikita refused to accept it then. She brushed past Michael, leaving the bathroom and heading towards the bed. She didn't actually plan on sleeping. Letting her thoughts invade her as she fell asleep wouldn't be ideal. But she could settle under the warm covers and distract herself with something on her tablet.

She could also focus on taking care of Michael. He must've been exhausted and stressed after having to carry the emotional weight of the team for the night. He deserved to rest and take care of himself too, "You should shower."

There was no point in arguing with her. Not only did Michael actually have to shower, but also he couldn't push Nikita to talk when she obviously didn't want to. He'd simply have to wait her out. Taking a shower and getting ready for the night should take him long enough. By the time he reentered their bedroom, she'd be ready to talk. At least, he hoped she'd be. If she bottled up any more of her tears, she might explode.

Nikita was under the covers when a freshly cleaned Michael emerged from the bathroom; however, she wasn't lying down. In fact, she wasn't doing anything. She simply sat and stared at nothing. Michael had assumed that'd happen eventually. She hadn't processed Carla's doublecross either (he had tried to get her to talk about it after she had made the discovery, but she just focused on the mission). Nikita had suffered two heartbreaks in one day. And all of that damage was violently tearing her to shreds.

He couldn't stand to see her like that. Michael had to get Nikita to open up. He sat close to her on the edge of the mattress and reached for her cheek. She didn't pull away. He was able to gently caress her skin and wipe away a tear that had formed, "Are you ready to talk now?"

The instant Michael caressed her cheek so softly and so tenderly, the dam Nikita had built broke. Her thoughts came flooding in, and she could no longer hold back her tears. Carla was dead. There was no hope of ever reconnecting with her. Though, honestly, that hope had faded long ago, starting with when Nikita realized she had doublecrossed the team, "I shouldn't be so upset. She… she helped Percy instead of us. She… she almost got Alex killed. She almost… she almost killed Birkhoff. Carla wasn't… she's not who I remembered. She wasn't my friend… she… she picked Percy over me…"

"Hey. Hey. Shh. Come here," Michael immediately moved to pull her into his arms. Nikita scrambled out of the blankets to rest in her boyfriend's lap instead. Cradling her head with his steady hand, he held her tightly. She sobbed into his shoulder. He didn't mind the fierce grip she had on his t-shirt that caused her nails to bite into his skin. Whatever she needed for comfort, he'd allow. He'd simply hold her and soothe her.

Ever since the team had learned of Carla's deception, Michael had some thoughts he wanted to share with Nikita. It wasn't a solid explanation for everything. But it could answer some questions. And it could soothe some pain, "Being on the run for so long, it changes you. Carla got twisted up while she was out there, and she lost herself. But deep down was the woman who had cared for you and helped you. Of course you still loved her. How could you not? Deep down, she was still the woman you loved."

Although Nikita wanted to believe her boyfriend's comforting words, she just couldn't think that way. The Carla Bennet she had encountered was not the same Carla Bennet she knew. Where was the selfless woman who always wanted to help people. Where was the kind woman who saw the best in everyone. Where was the loving woman who opened her heart to those who needed her. Where was the woman who was the closest thing Nikita had to a mother.

Carla was no longer that woman. She had almost killed Alex because of her desire to get revenge on Amanda. She had almost killed Birkhoff because he accidentally shot her. Nikita didn't know who that mean, vindictive, single-minded woman was. She wasn't her mother.

Though, Carla still fit the mold of her other mother figures. Every one of them had hurt her- had fed her to the wolves. Carla wasn't as special as Nikita had thought. Caroline chose Gary over her. Amanda chose Division over her. And Carla chose Percy over her. It was all the same. No one chose her. Why did no one choose her, "I thought she loved me."

Nikita's voice breaking over those words froze Michael. His heart seemed to stumble and fall, and his thoughts stopped processing. Was that really what Nikita had been thinking. Did she truly believe herself to be that unlovable. Michael instantly wanted to argue otherwise. However, the words caught in his throat. He didn't know Carla enough to change Nikita's mind.

She had hardly spoken about Carla before the rogues had rescued her. Michael understood why. Carla came from a very difficult part of Nikita's past. She didn't like talking about when she was in foster care, when she was a junkie runaway, or when she was in jail (pretty much her whole childhood). However, the things she did have to say about Carla were always so kind. Nikita always spoke of the woman with praise. Carla had saved her, had cared for her, had given her a chance when no one else had. There had been no one else like her in Nikita's life. So of course Nikita would have believed she had loved her.

And maybe Carla did love Nikita. Deep down and long ago, Carla really did love Nikita the way she loved her. However, Michael couldn't think of a way to say that to his crying girlfriend. 'Maybe' wouldn't be enough for her. He needed real evidence to comfort her. He wished he had some. However, he only knew one or two stories about Carla in the past. And the Carla he knew in the present was a drastically different person. There wasn't much Michael could say to negate Nikita's statement- to prove that Carla did love her. Especially after all the pain she had caused her.

But Michael couldn't just sit there in silence while Nikita sobbed. Even if he couldn't say anything about Carla, he could still say something. There were other people that loved Nikita. And unlike Carla, it was very obvious and clear that they loved her.

Michael squeezed his girlfriend as tightly as he could and kissed her temple. She trembled in his arms, trying to contain her sobs. He kissed her again and ran a soothing hand up and down her spine. He waited until she quieted down a little before he whispered sternly in her ear- he had to make certain she registered and believed every single word he breathed, "I love you. Okay? I love you."

Nikita choked on another sob. She tried to burrow into Michael's warmth and strength, clinging to him with all she had. He kept repeating that he loved her. He rocked her, and held her, and kissed her ever so gently. Even when she eventually quieted her tears, he continuously soothed her. Michael wouldn't let Nikita go. At least one of the people she loved more than anything in the entire world had to remain by her side and love her back. And (although he knew Alex, Birkhoff, Ryan, and even Owen would express the same sentiment) Michael was determined to be that one.