An AU for 3x13 "Reunion". What if Amanda and Nikita weren't pulled out of the fire in time.

Alex had just reached where Amanda's men were holding Stefan, when Krieg finally made an appearance. He must've been following her, waiting to surface when he actually had Stefan in his sights. Alex admired his dedication- she really did. But they didn't have time for their misunderstanding anymore. Stefan was going to get hurt if they didn't start working together to protect him. Alex had to convince Krieg to trust her. He had to believe her just long enough to save the boy, "Krieg, you have to listen to me…"

"No talking. Just give me the boy," Krieg interrupted. His gun was trained on Alex, prepared to kill her if necessary. She really hoped he never found it necessary. But if she wasn't able to talk to him to convince him, then they were going to be stuck at an impasse. She had to find a way to gain his trust. She probably had to get a little creative.

"I don't have him. But I can help you get him. He's in there," Alex attempted to tell Krieg the truth. But regardless of the validity of the fact, he was never going to believe her. The only people he trusted were Stefan and Ari. talking to Stefan was completely out of the question. But talking to Ari wasn't. If Alex called Division, they'd have to put Ari on the phone. He'd clear up the confusion in no time, and finally the real enemy would be revealed. Then, they could actually do what they were supposed to, "What if you talked to Ari?"

Krieg almost stopped Alex from pulling out her cellphone. But she managed to call Division before he could put too much thought to his actions. Soon, the ex-special forces soldier was connected with his employer and friend. They talked for some time, mostly about Stefan's safety, until finally Krieg was convinced to trust Alex. He ended the call, handed Alex back her phone, and almost smiled, "Enough nonsense. Let's get the boy, yes?"

"Yes," Alex sighed in relief. Together, she and Krieg created a plan to save Stefan from Amanda's henchmen. It wasn't the most well-thought out plan, yet it'd definitely work in a pinch. Krieg went ahead of Alex, putting their scheme into hasty action. She hung back for a moment, waiting for the perfect time to strike. She also made a phone call. It was just as a backup plan- something Nikita had taught her. But she still thought it important to make. With a teenager in Amanda's clutches, they couldn't take any chances.

Unfortunately, although Stefan was saved, Alex's and Krieg's plan led to the ex-special forces soldier to get shot. The bullet embedded itself deep in his thigh, leaving him unable to walk without assistance. The three were left at a severe disadvantage as they tried to escape the building before more of Amanda's goons arrived. Alex did her best to take the lead and protect them from assailants. But she could've really used help. If only Nikita hadn't been kidnapped, "This would be so much easier with Nikita."

"We've hit a deadend," Krieg brought Alex from her musings with a harsh reminder of reality. Just because Stefan was saved didn't mean they were out of the words yet. They still had to escape the armed mercenaries trying to kill them and the maze of a building. Between a teenage boy and an injured agent, their options were limited. Going out the front door was way out of the question. And staying where they were was going to get them killed. The three needed options immediately.

"The service tunnel leads out of here. I can hold them off while you go," Remembering the schematics of the building Birkhoff had sent he once he had a ping on one of the goons' locations, Alex led Krieg and Stefan back down the hall. The two could take the service tunnel to safety while she kept the mercenaries off their tail. That'd leave them injured and alone once they were free, which Alex didn't like. Yet that was the best plan. Stefan's safety was of the utmost importance, after all.

"You're not gonna come with us?" Whereas Krieg urged Stefan to start down the tunnel, the teenager turned to Alex, worried. She honestly thought his concern was sweet, yet it was misplaced. She'd be alright. Of all the people he had to worry about, she wasn't one of them.

"I called the cops. I should be fine," Alex smiled reassuringly. That was the trick Nikita had taught her. If she was ever outgunned, call the police. She then would have to figure out how to escape the police, but they were at least easier to handle than mercenaries- especially once Division discovered what happened and broke her out of jail. She was going to be fine. Her escape route was covered. Stefan and Krieg only had to focus on themselves from then on, "Just take care of each other."

Once Krieg and Stefan were safely in the tunnel, Alex raced back off to face Amanda's mercenaries. She was able to hold them off just fine until the police arrived. They began to take the bad men into custody, and all the gunfire stopped. Alex was then going to step out of her hiding spot and let herself get arrested too. But she couldn't stop thinking about Krieg and Stefan. A teenager and a badly injured man were left all alone in the wilderness. They were going to get hurt. They might not make it out alive. Alex couldn't leave them to that fate. Not when she could do something about it.

So, she took off running. She heard orders for her to stop. She heard guns start firing again. And she felt the hot, singing graze of a bullet against her ribs and against her shoulder. But she didn't stop running. Through the tunnels and into the outside air, she never quit. She had people to save. That was more important than anything else.

Fortunately, Alex had lost the cops by the time she caught up to Stefan and Krieg. Both were surprised to see her. And they were even more surprised by her wounds (she was lucky they were mostly skin deep). But she just waved them off. She was there then; the focus could return to their safety, "I told you I'd be fine."

"Krieg's not doing so well," Stefan took Alex's brush off for what it was and drew attention to his caretaker. Krieg had instructed the teenager on how to create a tourniquet to staunch the flow of blood, but that wasn't enough to heal him from the bullet wound. He needed medical attention. The bullet had to be removed, damage had to be accessed, and infection had to be staved off. A field dressing wasn't going to work in that situation. It was too bad.

While Alex examined the wound, Krieg tried to urge her and Stefan along. They could figure out that problem once they were out of the woods. If they lost focus at that moment, then all of them would die, not just him, "Just get me a car. My storage is near here. I can gather medical supplies."

"And I can get Nikita," Alex stared at Krieg. He nodded. If she brought him to his storage location, then she could finally have Nikita.

Ensuring Krieg and Stefan would be alright for a moment, Alex sprinted towards her car. She had parked it out of sight from the building somewhere in that area. Hers and Nikita's mission bags were in the trunk, as well as a medkit. When she reached her car, she hastily patched up her grazes; she had to be taken care of first if she was going to take care of the others. As soon as she was alright, she hopped in the driver's seat and sped back to Stefan and Krieg.

The medkit had been left in the backseat for the ex-special forces soldier to use. He patched himself up as well as he could while directing Alex on where to go. Stefan sat in awed silence. Until Krieg made a joke. Then, the teenager and his caretaker smiled and talked excitedly about their future. It was the closest the two had been in the years they had known each other, and the fact made Alex smile as well. Going back to help them, despite her injuries, had been the perfect choice. Stefan and Krieg had the chance at a great future, and it all started then.

That happy, joyful feeling crashed and burned at the sight of smoke, however. The closer Alex drove to Krieg's storage location, the thicker and darker the smoke became. It wasn't difficult to guess where the smoke was coming from. Even parking a few miles away from the storage location, the brutal, horrific, deadly flames were easy to see. The whole place was on fire. And it was close to burning right to the ground.

Krieg didn't understand how that was possible. Yet, Alex wasn't listening to him. She could only think about how Nikita had been trapped in that building. Had she made it out before the fire started. Or did she get caught in the flames. Was she safe. Was she alright. Was she out there, struggling and needing help. Alex couldn't fight the dread that had seeped deep in her gut. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good. In fact, the worst thing possible was about to come out of those flames. She knew it. Terrible things always came from fires.

It took Alex a lot of effort to shake her head and refocus. Assuming the worst case scenario wasn't going to let her help Nikita. She needed to take a deep breath and act, "I have a black badge. I can figure out what happened and get you supplies. Just stay right here."

Krieg and Stefan nodded. Quickly, Alex climbed out of the car, grabbed a fake badge from the trunk, and approached the scene. Firefighters and paramedics were too absorbed with the raging fire to notice her. She was able to slip into the fray without anyone stopping to question her. She breathed a sigh of relief at the fact. That was one less thing to worry about. She could then solely focus on finding Nikita. Hopefully, she had remained nearby.

It thankfully didn't take Alex long to find her best friend. Next to one of the ambulances on the scene were two stretchers with two unconscious women atop them. Alex rushed over, her feet moving faster than her mind. Just like when she had seen the fire, she didn't want to assume anything. But it was difficult not to think the worst. Nikita could've been severely injured. She could've been burned. Being trapped in a fire couldn't be taken lightly. The flames were unforgiving. Alex should know.

Except, when Alex reached the two women, there was nothing glaringly wrong with them. They simply laid unconscious on the stretchers, dirty from ash and soot. Alex nearly sighed in relief, but she caught her breath. Both Amanda and Nikita were still and unconscious. Neither stirred at her approach or all the noises around them. They were probably really out of it, severely dragged down by the flames. But there was no doubt that they were going to wake soon. Then, the hell would begin again.

Alex had to get Nikita out of there. She needed to steal medical supplies for herself, Krieg, and Nikita, and she had to move her unconscious best friend out of the area. Amanda, on the other hand, could stay and rot for all Alex cared.

Glancing at the bitch's unmoving body, something in Alex pulled at the back of her mind and told her to check for a pulse. It was possibly her morbid curiosity. She wanted to know if Amanda was unconscious or dead. And she hoped it was the latter.

Tentatively, she reached to touch the pulse in Amanda's neck. Her skin was warm, but there was no other feeling underneath Alex's fingers. She couldn't feel a pulse. She couldn't feel a heartbeat. There was nothing.

Amanda was dead.

Alex felt like laughing. She wanted to laugh, shout, smile, celebrate. Amanda was dead. The bitch was finally dead. She wouldn't torment the team anymore. She wouldn't try to destroy the world anymore. She was dead. And Division was free. The President had to grant them pardons then. There was no more war to fight. They could go home. Everyone could go home and be free and be happy. The worst was over. The hell was over. Amanda was dead. And Alex and her family could have their happily ever after.

Excited, Alex turned to the other stretcher. Nikita laid there unconscious and unstirred by the commotion beside her. Alex gently placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to wake Nikita so soon after being pulled out of a fire. She had to rest, recuperate. Yet Alex was too excited. She wanted to celebrate with her best friend. She wanted to see the end of the war with the woman who had started it all, "Nikita. Hey, Nikita. Hey. It's me. It's Alex. You can wake up."

Nikita continued to not stir. Despite Alex's shaking, she didn't flinch, her eyelids didn't flutter, and she didn't gasp for air. She remained unconscious; she remained unmoving. Alex shook her harder. She stopped expecting Nikita to jolt awake. Instead, she just wanted her to move. Even if she was unconscious, as long as she reacted, as long as she breathed, it would be alright. But she continued to do none of those things. Alex began to scream, shaking her best friend so hard she almost fell out of the stretcher, "Nikita! Nikita, it's okay. Amanda's dead. Krieg's on our side. Stefan's safe. It's okay. You can wake up. You gotta wake up."

Nikita didn't wake up.

She didn't move.

She didn't breathe.

Frantic, Alex checked for a pulse. Her fingers easily found the pulsepoint in Nikita's neck, and waited to feel the steady signs of life. They didn't feel anything. Alex checked again. Maybe she had the spot wrong. But her fingers still didn't feel anything. She checked again, and again, and again, needing to feel Nikita's pulse. But no matter where she moved her fingers along Nikita's neck, no pulse was found.

There was nothing.

Hysterics threatened to destroy Alex. No. That couldn't have been possible. Nikita couldn't not have a pulse. She was Nikita. She was so full of life, and justice, and vengeance. She was always so active, so wild. Her heart was always racing, always active, always so full of compassion for others. It couldn't be stopped. It couldn't be silenced. Nikita had to have a pulse. She had to have a heartbeat. She had to breathe.

Alex refused to accept that she didn't. No. No. She could get Nikita to breathe again. She could start her heart. Amanda had once restarted Alex's heart after it had stopped beating. Alex could do the same for Nikita. She could force her to stay with her. She could force her best friend to not leave her too.

Thank God there were ambulances nearby. Alex could rush to one and hectically search through the medical supplies. There had to be adrenaline somewhere. Adrenaline was what started her heart. It was what the movies did to restart people's hearts. Alex had to find it. She had to find it and rush back to Nikita and start her heart. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. Alex had the adrenaline; she had the syringe. She didn't know how much she was supposed to us, or how quickly or deeply she had to plunge it into Nikita's heart. But she had it, and she could save her best friend.

Stumbling as she hurried back to Nikita, Alex clutched the adrenaline like it was her own lifeline. She ripped open her best friend's jacket, then without a chance to overthink anything, plunged the needle into her chest and pushed out all the adrenaline in the syringe. Alex didn't know what she expected to happen. Maybe it was really like the movies, and Nikita would wake up in a jolt, spluttering and breathing erratically. Maybe it'd be like what happened to Alex, and Nikita would gasp and cough and feel a terrible pain in her chest. Or maybe Nikita would just wake up. She'd wake up, and they'd all go home.

But nothing happened. Nikita continued to not move.

To not flinch.

To not breathe.

Tossing aside the empty and useless adrenaline, Alex resumed shaking Nikita. She could get the drugs to work. She could force the miracle to happen. By shaking Nikita, by screaming, by begging, Alex could bring her back. She could restart her heart. She could put air in her lungs. She could make her wake up, "Come on, Nikita. Wake up. Wake up! Amanda's dead. We won. You gotta wake up. Wake up, Nikki!"

Why did Nikita have to be so fucking stubborn. She wouldn't wake up, no matter what Alex did. But Alex wasn't going to give up. She could be more stubborn than the rogue.

There had to be something else in the ambulance that'd help her- something else to revive Nikita. Alex spotted the AED almost instantly. She frantically scrambled to grab it and frantically hurried back to her best friend. She was hastily placing the pads on Nikita when people finally noticed her. Her screaming and stealing had brought attention. With the fire still raging, it wasn't much attention. But the fire was mostly out. And she was steadily becoming the center of curious attention.

Just as she sent the first electric jolt from the AED through Nikita's body, people began to pull Alex away from the stretcher. They claimed in languages she hardly understood that she couldn't be there. They claimed she was tampering with things. They claimed it was too late. Nothing else could've been done. It was too late for the women who had been pulled from the fire. Alex had to stop. She had to go away. She had to give up.

Yet Alex refused to give up. She refused to leave Nikita's side. She fought the hands holding her back and tried to send another electric jolt through Nikita's body. However, more and more hands kept pulling her away. Some hands even began to pull Nikita away. Alex kicked and screamed and fought. But it was no use. Everything she did was of no use. She was just left screaming at nothing, "No! No! Nikita! Wake up! Wake up! You can't die on a mission. We won. You have to go home. We can finally go home. You can marry Michael. You can stop running. We can be happy. So, get up! Wake up!"


It was quiet in Ops after Michael had talked with Ari and had dealt with the Owen situation. He hadn't expected much when he returned. Alex should've had Stefan and should've been on her way to Nikita then. But the stillness was a little concerning. Alex would've checked in with Division once she had completed her mission, or had at least turned her com on. The lack of information was troubling. But Michael didn't want to start raising red flags just yet. He could've simply missed something while he had been gone. It was better to just ask about it rather than let his assumptions worsen his anxiety, "Have you heard from Alex?"

"Not since she made that call to Ari. But her tracker's been on the move. Maybe she got out with Stefan," Birkhoff replied with a shrug. Alex had turned her com off while Krieg had been talking to Ari to cut back on feedback, and she never turned it back on afterwards. Since he could still track her, Birkhoff didn't think it was that big of a deal. He saw her moving away from the building and figured she had been successful. She had an ex-special forces soldier as backup, after all. And Amanda was out of the picture, trapped in a building somewhere. Everything should've been fine. Division would definitely know if it wasn't.

"Turn her com back on. I want an update," Michael ordered. He was sure Birkhoff was right. If there was a real problem, Alex would've told them. But Michael still wanted to make sure. It'd be better to have all the information than to be left guessing.

Nodding, Birkhoff clicked a few buttons on his keyboard. Alex's com soon crackled to life. There was no sound coming out, however. It was eerily quiet. Neither Michael nor Birkhoff tried to think too much about that. She could've just been having a quiet moment. They'd found out exactly what was going on once they asked her. In their line of work, they had learned it was no good to assume. That just made things worse. Vital information was how they survived. It also made things better, "Hey, Princess. How are things going?"

"Amanda's dead," Alex responded hollowly. There was an emptiness to her voice, like she was responding automatically rather than on her own. Yet that was ignored, as what she had said was of far greater importance than how she had said it.

Excited murmurs erupted in Ops. Was it true. Was Amanda really dead. Was the war really over. Birkhoff shot upright in his chair, pure excitement buzzing in his veins. He couldn't believe it. Though, he wanted to. If the bitch was dead, then they were finally free. They could all be happy and live real lives. After spending so long in the shadows, he was so ready for the light. He nearly shouted as he asked, "Seriously? The Wicked Witch is dead?"

"Amanda's dead," Alex repeated herself, the same hollow inflection in her voice. But no one noticed. They were too busy celebrating the bitch's death.

Michael was absolutely ecstatic. With Amanda dead, it'd be so much easier for Division to gain their presidential pardons. They could consider Division cleaned up. They could permanently shut down, and no one would chase after them. They'd be free. Everyone would be free and clear to live their lives as peacefully and as blissfully as they wanted. And all Michael wanted to do with his new, free life was marry Nikita.

They were waiting for their real identities. Then, they could marry legally, officially, and permanently. A hypothetical date had already been picked, as well as a location. And those hypotheticals could then become reality. The couple could go to Varca Beach whenever they wanted, and they could start their happily ever afters with their pardons and freedoms intact. It was finally going to be perfect for them. They could have all they wanted and more.

So happy he could burst, Michael needed to talk to Nikita. Alex had to have been reunited with her if she knew Amanda was dead. His fiancée had been freed, and she was safe and sound and ready to return home to him. But he couldn't wait to talk to her then. He needed to hear the excitement in her voice. He needed to hear her so beautifully happy and alive. He didn't care if Alex had more to update the team on about Amanda or Stefan or whatever. He just wanted to talk to Nikita, "Is Nikita with you? Get her on the coms."

"Amanda's dead…" Alex repeated again. There was something else she had to say. There was more news to share with Ops- with Michael. She just couldn't say it yet. She wouldn't say the words that had taken her far too long to accept.

A part of her still didn't accept them. A part of her still believed that she'd look over at the stretcher and see her best friend wake up. But that was never going to happen. The paramedics had already taken her body away (and Amanda's). There was no point in hoping for an unscathed victory. It was never going to happen. It was too late to happen. The firefighters had been too late. Alex had been too late. The fire and war had consumed everything.

It had killed Nikita.

It took everything in Alex to accept the truth. And once she did, the words came out of her, haunting and broken, "Nikita's dead too."

Silence.

The entirety of Ops fell silent at Alex's words. Celebrations immediately died on lips as the truth brutally sank in. Amanda wasn't the only loss that day. Her death, as wonderful and freeing as it was, wasn't the only one. Whatever had killed her had killed Nikita too. And no one could celebrate that.

The death of a fellow Division agent was always difficult. It reminded everyone that to the system, they were nothing but weapons to be discarded. But the death of a leader- of someone who had fought for them to be more than weapons- hit so much harder. Nikita had always been invincible to Division. She was the rogue who had caused so much trouble, who finally took a stand against the evils in that hellhole. And she had been successful at it. No one had been able to knock her down. She always fought and she always won. She continued to fight and continued to win no matter what.

Yet she had been killed.

Disbelief rippled through Ops. No. That couldn't have been possible. Nikita couldn't have been dead. She had survived shootings, bombings, torture, the worst kinds of pain. She had faked her death a million times to screw over her enemies. There was absolutely no way she was dead then. There must've been a mistake. There had to have been a mistake. Either Alex or someone or something was wrong. The truth was still out there. They had to dig for it. They needed to hear everything.

Except, when it came to asking questions, only Birkhoff could speak, and all he could muster was a simple, "What?"

Krieg had come to Alex's rescue after the firefighters and paramedics dragged her away from Nikita. He had heard her screams, grabbed another black badge from her trunk, and came up with a story that'd let them walk free and give them answers. Alex couldn't listen to the explanations, however. Her eyes remained on Nikita's not moving and not breathing body, and her mind disappeared. She grew numb. She grew cold. The firefighters answered Krieg's questions, and the paramedics patched up their wounds. But Alex wasn't there anymore. She had joined Nikita- wherever she was.

By the time Birkhoff contacted her through the com, she hadn't snapped out of her fog. She just regurgitated the information Krieg had to repeat to her to Division without thought or feeling, "There was a fire. Faulty wiring. A wire short circuited. Firefighters came. But, Amanda and Nikita were chained to their chairs. They had to be cut loose. Firefighters came too late. They suffocated in the smoke."

Birkhoff blinked. He had heard what Alex had said. He could believe that was what had happened to Amanda. Yet he refused to believe that Nikita had suffered the same fate. It just wasn't possible. She was too powerful, too important, to be taken down by smoke. It had to be a lie- a trick. Nikita was known for them. That time wasn't any different. They just had to catch onto her schemes and end them, "Well, then, you have to wake Nikita up."

"I can't…" Alex tried. Yet her voice was too hollow and tight. And Birkhoff was too upset to hear her protests- hear reason.

"There are ambulances there, right? Grab some adrenaline and wake her up," Birkhoff demanded, shooting to his feet. That was Nikita they were talking about. There was no can't. Nothing was ever impossible. Nikita defied the impossible. She laughed right in its face. Alex could wake Nikita up; she had to. There was no other choice.

"I can't…" Alex tried again. She had tried; she had really tried. But it hadn't worked. It never worked. The universe was never that kind or gentle. It was only harsh. It only took and took and took, until there was nothing left.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Sonya reached for Birkhoff's hand. She knew there wasn't anything she could say to comfort him, not when she was falling apart herself. But she could stop him from spiraling. She could help him accept the harsh reality, even though no one wanted it to be true, "Seymour…"

"No! Three times! Three times, I heard that Nikki was dead. And each fucking time she woke up and raised hell. She's not dead. She can't be dead. So wake her up, Alex!" Furiously, Birkhoff rubbed the tears from his eyes. How could everyone accept Nikita's death. It wasn't true. It had never been true before. Each time Birkhoff had believed it, he had been proven wrong. He couldn't believe it then. It wasn't true. Nikita was alive, and she was going to start raising hell any minute. It was what she did. She always survived.

"You don't think I fucking tried! I tried adrenaline! I tried an AED! I tried everything! Nikita's dead! She's not waking up this time," Alex snapped. The tears finally fell from her eyes, yet she didn't do anything to stop them. Why should she. She wouldn't have been strong enough to. Nikita had been strong enough- good enough- to bring her back from the brink of death when she had overdosed in the loft. But Alex hadn't been good enough to bring Nikita back. She couldn't save her best friend when it had really mattered. So why should she care about anything. Why should she stop her tears. Why should she walk away from the scene.

Since hearing the words 'Nikita's dead', Michael hadn't moved. He hadn't spoken. He hadn't thought. He hadn't felt. And he hadn't breathed. The ground had split underneath him and swallowed him whole. He was surrounded by darkness. The pain and grief were so immeasurable, he was left numb. He couldn't even cry. He just became a statue and shattered. He was a million pieces being scattered in the darkness with no way of being rebuilt. All he could do was just give up and crumble.

But, before he could, a weight in his pocket burned him alive. He absentmindedly reached for it. His hand shook the entire time, and his prosthetic twitched violently. The feeling of the weight was unfamiliar in his hand. It was cold and hot and rough and smooth. He had to bring it into the blinding lights of Operations to be able to tell what it was.

Nikita's engagement ring shone blue in the light.


Michael found Nikita in the weapons locker. He always seemed to find her there before an operation, gathering last minute supplies and thinking over the mission in private. Although she valued her time alone, especially when considering heavy topics, she let him into her bubble. He was always allowed to find her, no matter where she was, what she was doing, or what she was thinking. He always provided her safety and comfort, after all. She'd rather have that than complete solitude any day.

Before Michael could ask Nikita what she was thinking, she turned to him with a smile. He couldn't help but smile in return. He tried to move closer to her as well, but she held out something to him that stopped him. Whereas he was momentarily confused, she dropped her engagement ring into his left hand. Her smile never waned, "Hold onto this for me."

"What? Your mission bag isn't good enough anymore," Michael chuckled. Usually, Nikita just stashed her engagement ring in her mission bag whenever she was out in the field. She didn't want to lose or damage the ring, so it was kept hidden on whatever transport they had used. It probably was safer with Michael in Division. But Nikita didn't think to take it off as often as she should. She just never wanted to part with the ring. Since it was on her finger, she intended to never take it off. Her ring and her fiancé were going to be in her life forever.

"Consider it a good luck charm. As long as you bring it back to me, the mission's over," Shrugging, Nikita weakly explained her reasoning for giving Michael her engagement ring. She didn't want to delve into her thoughts about Amanda or how she should've killed her with Michael then. She had to keep her head on straight for that mission; Stefan needed her to stay focused. So she only shared a part of her reason for wanting Michael to hold onto her engagement ring. It was a good enough reason on its own. It had made him laugh, after all.

"I thought you were a big girl now," Pocketing his fiancée's engagement ring, Michael finished the memory. He was certain that there was something Nikita wasn't telling him, yet he wouldn't push her about it. Whatever it was, she'd tell him eventually- probably when she returned home from the mission. He could wait until then. In the meantime, he could simply pull her into his arms and cherish their private moment together before she had to leave.

"Just don't want to tempt fate this time," Quietly, Nikita muttered. Amanda had gone after too many innocents in her quest for revenge against Division- against Nikita. Stefan couldn't be added to that list. Nikita wouldn't let it. But, despite her conviction, she felt like she was constantly losing the war against Amanda. Each new win led to more losses. When was it going to end. When was the world actually going to be saved. When would she be happy.

If she had killed Amanda when she had had the chance the year before, Division wouldn't be in that situation. The agents would've been free, and her family would've been safe and sound. But she just had to play the hero. She just had to do the right thing. Maybe if she was more ruthless, if she had stopped caring, everyone she loved would be safe and happy.

Gently, Michael caressed Nikita's cheek. He could guess what she was thinking, and she didn't need to go down that path. Thinking about all those what ifs was only going to harm her. She should only focus on the present, on things she could control. And protecting the innocent had always been what she was best at, "Hey. You, Alex, Stefan, you're all going to make it home. You're all going to be safe. Amanda's not gonna win this time."

For Michael, Nikita attempted a smile. He grinned brightly, an example for her to copy, and bumped his forehead against hers. She was forced to look at him and hear his next words. They weren't as serious as the first, but he didn't need them to be. He just needed them to make her smile and relax, "You don't want to miss out on my cooking tonight, do you?"

"I wouldn't miss that for the world," Nikita chuckled softly. Michael echoed her sound of joy, tucking an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her nose against his. He chuckled again and kissed her.

The engaged couple weren't aware of how long they had kissed. The sweet, gentle, tender, loving affection had swept them away and left them in a bubble of bliss and joy. The only thing that could burst it was Alex. She found Michael and Nikita making out in the weapons locker and threw her jacket at them. The material smacked them both in the face and ripped them apart. Whereas they glared at her, she rolled her eyes, "Let's go."

Nikita slipped out of her fiancé's arms to throw her best friend's jacket back at her. Alex caught the material and ran before more retaliation came her way. Nikita had half a mind to seek revenge for the ruined moment, but Alex had been right: the two had to go.

Sighing, Nikita grabbed her mission bag and began to move towards the door. Michael held her back, however. He took her hand in his and smiled at her lovingly. Although she had to go to Geneva, Nikita returned to Michael's arms. He kissed her sweetly once more, "I love you."

"I love you too," Nikita matched Michael's loving grin. Squeezing his hand, she brought his knuckles to her lips and kissed them. She gave him one last long adoring gaze. Then, she dropped his hand and walked away.


Michael must've blacked out. Because the next thing he knew, he was storming into the cell he had had security bring Owen to. After the former Cleaner had been treated for his wounds in Medical, Michael asked security to bring him to the cells. He rationalized his actions by claiming that it was Owen's punishment for assaulting a guard. But it was more than that. Michael wanted Owen in an isolated place incase anything happened to Nikita. That way, no one could interrupt him for what he was about to do.

Yanking Owen violently out of his cell, Michael instantly began to beat the shit out of him. His prosthetic laid several brutal, bloody blows to Owen's face before he even realized what was happening. As soon as he did, the former Cleaner attempted to fight. Yet Michael was too enraged to fight off. He just rained blow after blow, never letting up, never letting go of his fury, never letting go of his pain.

Owen eventually managed to shove Michael off of him. It was with great effort, yet he kept him at bay. He had absolutely no idea what was occurring, and he needed to find out. Had Michael finally lost his mind. Had all that brooding finally made him snap. Or had something happened- something to Nikita. Judging by the murder in Michael's eyes, it was the latter, "What is it? What happened? Where's Nikita?"

"Nikita's dead," Michael's voice didn't sound like his own. How could it, though. He had died in the flames along with Nikita.

Shock rendered Owen useless. He put his arms up to defend himself from Michael's attacks, yet he didn't fight back. Eventually, when his shock settled, he let his arms drop entirely. But Owen never tried to stop Michael. He let him beat the shit out of him. He let him turn him into a bloody pulp. He let him curse at him, scream, remind him of all the reasons why he was terrible. Owen had led to Nikita's death, after all. If he hadn't knocked Ari unconscious, Nikita would've been safe. She wouldn't have been trapped. She would've been home.

"She was trapped in that building because of you. She was trapped in that fire because of you. You killed her. You let her die," Michael kept those thoughts fresh in Owen's mind with each new punch. That fire wouldn't have consumed Nikita if Ari had been able to talk to Krieg from the very beginning. But because of Owen's fucking impulsiveness, that had been impossible. Nikita died because of one stupid decision. It shouldn't have happened. That never should have happened.

It was all Owen's fault.

When Owen had taken all the punches that he could, Michael dropped him to his knees. His prosthetic was covered in blood, yet he didn't care to wipe it off. Instead, he pulled out his gun and held it against Owen's forehead. The former Cleaner didn't flinch. He had known that was coming. He had known that a bullet was destined for his brain. It was long overdue, "Do it. We both know I deserve it."

Michael would've gladly pulled the trigger. Yet his finger halted on the trigger. He was using his left hand, not wanting his prosthetic to glitch out on him. However, that shouldn't have stopped him. He still should've been able to pull the trigger- and he'd make his target at that close of range. But Michael couldn't do it. Staring at Owen, he couldn't pull the trigger. He couldn't make sense of it. He had never liked the guy. And he had led to Nikita's death. So why couldn't he do it. Why couldn't he kill him, "I… I can't… I can't…"

"Why not?" Owen snapped. He wanted Michael to kill him as much as Michael did. So why couldn't he just get it over with. He had the anger- the opportunity. He could've just pulled the trigger and it would've all been over. So why didn't he.

Michael tried so hard to pull the trigger. His finger was right there, all he had to do was bend it back. But it was almost as though something was stopping him. An invisible hand was on his own, holding him back. Staring at the man who had led to the love of his life's death, he tried to fight that hand. He had to kill him. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill Owen.

He couldn't kill Nikita's friend, "She loves you."

Owen stared up at Michael, mouth agape. Yet Michael was no longer paying attention to him. Tears began to fall from his eyes, and the gun dropped to his side. He didn't have the strength to stand anymore. He stumbled against the closest wall and collapsed to the ground. His tears fell heavier, and it became hard to breathe. Gasping and sputtering, Michael tried to contain the sob in his chest. But there was no use. It exploded out of him at full force, "She loved you, and she'd forgive you, and… that's all she did. She loved us all so much. She loved us and she forgave us no matter what we… what I did to her… she just loved me."

Michael knew he had hurt Nikita. However, that never made her stop loving him. She had always loved him and forgiven him, even when he didn't deserve it. How could she have ever been that perfect. How could someone so perfect, beautiful, amazing, wonderful, loving ever been in his life. He hadn't deserved her. Not after what he had done. But she had remained by his side. She had loved him. She had loved everybody. And she was gone.

The gun dropped out of Michael's hand and he helplessly grabbed her engagement ring in his pocket. It wasn't fair. Why was she gone. Why did she have to leave, and not him. She had done everything for others. She was so selfish and strong and perfect. So why was she gone. Why did she have to die for a world that had always discarded her. She had started the war; she should've seen it through to the end. The universe shouldn't have had to kill her too just to make the fight stop. She deserved to finally be happy. She deserved to finally know what peace was. Why did she have to go. Why was Nikita always hurt, "Nik… she…"

"She was better than us," Assuming what Michael was trying to say through his sobs, Owen responded hollowly. It was undoubtedly true. Nikita was better than both of them. Whereas they hurt each other, she loved and forgave. They should strive to be like her.

That wasn't what Michael wanted to say, though. He actually had no idea what he was trying to say. He just wanted to say Nikita's name. She wasn't just better than him and Owen, after all. She was the best of them. Her compassion, her strength, they never waned. No matter what hell she had been forced to go through, she always tried to protect and love others. Michael could never be like that. He could never be perfect. She was everything.

Nikita was his everything. She was all he had had left. The first time he had lost everything, he didn't want to live anymore. All he had wanted to do was die. But that time, he didn't want to exist anymore. He wanted to just fade away forever.

The hope and love and bright future he had rebuilt with her help had all been destroyed. He had pieced his broken heart back together; he had found sunlight and happiness again. But it had been violently ripped away from him once more. His heart shattered into even more pieces, and there was no use even attempting to put it back together. The heart could only take so much damage. And being taped up and rebroken had done it for him. He couldn't go through that again. The ache ran deeper- the pain slaughtering him. His soul being ripped to shreds the first time had killed him. The second annihilated him.

So the fuck what if Amanda was dead, and the war was over, and presidential pardons were on the way, and he could live a real life again. Because he couldn't live a life without Nikita. Michael couldn't breathe without her. He couldn't exist. There was no happily ever after on the horizon for him anymore. There was no future. It was just emptiness- darkness.

Nikita was dead, and so was Michael. The war had killed them both, claiming them before it finally ended.