Before Michael and Nikita had the chance to meet and finally talk, Ryan called the team into his office. He had talked to the President about their success in Kosovo, and she had been so impressed that she wanted them to look into a few other matters. Ryan had been given four files by the President's chief of security, Danforth- four files, four missions. Each was a government sanctioned assassination like Kosovo. Four missions, and maybe Division could finally end. They could finally all be free.

Birkhoff didn't think so, however. He was completely against the blue files. They had agreed to never do any jobs for the government. They were strictly on cleanup duty- Dirty Thirties only. They weren't even supposed to perform personal missions like Nikita had done. Division agents weren't the government's toys. They couldn't be used and abused anymore. They were just doing their cleanup job so they could go home. If the President really wanted the missions done, there were tons of other agencies who had the skills and resources necessary. Division was out of commission.

The rest of the team agreed with Birkhoff. They shouldn't become hired guns for the government. Killing Bechiraj was an exception; Nikita was in trouble, the team had no way out, and the CIA was going to kill him anyway. He was also, as they horrifically discovered, trafficking children, so he really needed to be killed. The team didn't know if the blue files would be the same. They couldn't risk it if it wasn't. Their focus should remain on the Dirty Thirties and on Amanda. God knew they were enough of a problem. But once they were handled, they'd be gone. Who could say the same for the files.

Nikita feared that the second Division did a blue file mission, the government would only give them more and more. They'd fall back into the practice that the rogues had fought so hard against. The agents were meant to be free, to live their own lives. Division could dig a deeper hole for all of them to be trapped in; it was already underground. Those four blue files meant death and destruction for more than just the targets. Division would be kept open forever, doing illegal jobs that ensured the government stayed in control.

Although Ryan tried to argue for the files, the team wasn't ready to hear it. First of all, they were exhausted; they needed rest before they made any huge decisions. And second, they didn't feel like getting into an argument that night. After everything they had seen, heard, and learned, they needed a night to rest. They couldn't think clearly, and their minds were jumbled with all the terrible things they had just witnessed. The blue files couldn't be discussed that night, not without the team arguing so much that they hurt one another. For their own sake, they had to ignore the missions.

In the meantime, the team could go home- or at least try to. Birkhoff managed to escape with Sonya, but not without complaining that the evidence from Heidecker's plane had overfilled his office. Alex attempted to bring Sean back to her apartment, yet he stopped to talk to Nikita. His sister pulled him aside and told him about what she feared Heidecker's group knew. Sean only assumed that the group had governmental ties, and that was why they knew so much. The scientists were powerful, but that was to be expected with the tech they made. The team probably didn't have to worry about any of that just yet.

Sean's response didn't settle Nikita's nerves, yet she didn't press the topic further. She let him go home with Alex, then she went to find Michael. Regardless of everything that was bombarding them, the two needed to talk. Things had become too bad between them. There wasn't a strain in their relationship; the two were broken apart. They lied to each other, they kept secrets, they pushed each other away, and they were acting like they were strangers despite the engagement ring on her finger. It wasn't right. It was so wrong that maybe talking wasn't enough to fix it. Her mission to get him a new hand certainly wasn't. Michael and Nikita were shattered.

When Nikita finally found Michael, he was studying the evidence from the plane in Birkhoff's cave. He was intently focused. He didn't even notice she had entered until she made a quip. Her attempt at humor went over his head, unfortunately. Michael started telling her about his plan to use Heidecker's information to steal a hand from the group. Nikita tried to argue about the types of people the group were. Yet he was too determined. He was going to get his hand back, then he was going to destroy the corrupt, evil group- simple as that.

Except, it wasn't simple. There was positively no way that stealing from and destroying a group that trafficked children, made horrifying tech, and knew more than they should was going to be easy. In fact, Nikita believed that it'd be as difficult as fighting Gogol, Oversight, and Division. However, Michael was still determined. He claimed that since they had succeeded in burning down corrupt organizations before, they could do it again. They'd be made even stronger if he got his hand back. There was hope in fighting the group. Michael knew that he and Nikita could win. After all, she was the one who had given him hope.

Hope. Nikita wanted to scoff at the word. What hope was there actually. Amanda was torturing the team. Dirty Thirties were still running around. The President had them in a chokehold. And Nikita didn't know where she stood with Michael. There was no hope. The team was going to burn out before they could ever burn down their enemies. Hope didn't exist in Division. That hellhole was where hope died. The team thought they could bring it back, yet they were wrong- dead wrong.

After all, Michael wasn't home with Nikita. Despite what just happened in Kosovo, he wasn't going home with her that night. He was too focused on combing through Heidecker's evidence. Nikita wanted to be okay with that; she wanted to understand his need to get a new hand and destroy a corrupt organization. But, whether it was her concussion, her exhaustion, or both, she just couldn't. She couldn't walk away from Michael. She had to say something. She had to yell at him, scream, do something to make him listen to her. Nikita was so tired of going home without him, "Are you ever going to come home? Or does this mean nothing?"

Once Nikita slammed her engagement ring on the file he was studying, Michael was ripped out of his thoughts. He had meant to eventually follow her home that night. After the danger she had been forced to face on her own, he didn't intend to keep her out of his sight for more than a few hours. He thought he could make it through that file, take some notes, then talk to her at home. But she had other ideas, horrible ideas. Michael grabbed Nikita's abandoned ring and snapped to his feet. He tried to respond to her, but he was too distracted by the fact that she returned her ring. He was left stammering, "What? No…"

"Then what is it? What do I have to do to make it up to you? How can I make you love me again?" Impatient, Nikita continued to shout. The look Michael instantly gave her made her regret her words. All the other times they had had a confrontation, he kept his expression as annoyingly stoic or emotionless as possible. The only time he had let emotion slip past his guard was when she kissed him on the sparring mat and said she was never letting him go. He had looked so anguished and distraught. The same expression crossed his face then. His dark green eyes shifted between her and her engagement ring, and she could've sworn she saw tears form.

Michael had messed up. No. He had more than messed up. He had absolutely fucked up his life with Nikita, to the point that they didn't even have a life anymore. What was wrong with him. How could he have done that to them- to her. Haven't they suffered enough. That was why he had wanted to keep her at arm's length. She had suffered so much, he didn't want to hurt her any further; she could've been safe far away from him. However, that was the complete opposite of the truth. He had been so stupid to believe he could protect her by staying away. He had only hurt her. He had hurt her so bad, "I never stopped loving you. I…"

"You what?" Nikita should've let him finish. Michael was trying to talk to her then. All she had wanted for the two of them to do was talk, yet she was cutting him off. In her defense, she just wanted him to tell her why. Why had he pushed her away. Why had he stopped being her partner. Why wasn't he home. Why did he hurt her. If it was because he hated her then, she needed to know. If cutting off his hand ended things between them, he had to tell her immediately. She couldn't wait in limbo anymore. It hurt way too much.

"I'm an idiot! Okay?" Michael snapped. The outburst startled Nikita; she couldn't help but take a step back. He didn't notice. He angrily swept things off the desk and paced around Birkhoff's nerd cave. There were better things he could've said or done. Yet he was just so angry. Not at Nikita. She hadn't done anything wrong. Everything she had done had been in response to his stupidity. He was to blame for all the hell she had been through. He couldn't fucking stand himself, "I'm a stupid fucking idiot who made his fiancée think he didn't love her."

"What's going on with you? With us? Please, talk to me," Much softer, Nikita asked. She had known his thoughts had been killing him for weeks. Whenever she had looked at him, he always seemed as though his mind was torturing him. But he wouldn't let her in to try and fix it. She could help him. She could quiet his demons and soothe the noise in his head. He just had to talk to her. The two had to be as open as they once were. If a war hadn't broken them apart, then they couldn't fall to shreds then. They had to fight. They had to talk.

Although Michael knew he had to say something, he needed to finally talk or else he'd truly lose Nikita, he couldn't form the right words. His behavior as of late definitely needed to be apologized for. And he desperately needed to make amends for making her cry and thinking he had stopped loving her. But all he could think about was her slamming her engagement ring on the desk, and the way her injured eye made the pain in her gaze worse. He had caused that. He was to blame for all of it. What was wrong with him, "I didn't know you were missing. It took me ten hours just to start looking for you. You could've… I could've…"

A tad confused, Nikita wanted to say something in response. Yet Michael cut her off. He crossed to her with determined and tearful green eyes. She was frozen in place. He took the opportunity to lightly caress her injured cheek and speak softly, "I never stopped loving you. I am so sorry I made you feel that way. The worst thing I've ever done is make you think I don't love you because that is so not true. I love you so much that it hurts. I never wanted you to feel my pain. I know what you did saved my life, and I love you even more for having the strength to do something I don't think I ever could've done."

Tears sprang in Nikita's brown eyes as well, yet she valiantly held them back. Watching her struggle, Michael couldn't contain his tears anymore. They slipped free as he forced himself to continue bearing his heart and soul to her, "But I was so angry about what happened. I didn't want that to reflect on you. You didn't deserve it. You also didn't deserve my problems to affect you in the field, to put you at risk. So I pulled away. So I made Owen your partner. You're safer with him; he can protect you when I can't. And with this prosthetic, I can't."

"I can take care of myself," Despite the tremble in her voice, Nikita stubbornly reminded Michael. She had spent years fighting alone. She had survived missions and hell all by herself; no one had watched her back even through the worst of it. She didn't need a partner to make it home in one piece. Even in Kosovo she had managed to escape her bonds using her own skills and resources. She could save herself. She could be by herself. She didn't need anyone fretting over her. Michael didn't need to be overprotective of her. Time and time again, she had shown that it was unneeded. He just had to trust that she'd be fine alone.

"Yes, I know. But you don't have to. You don't ever have to be alone. I'm never moving on from you. I'm just an idiot who didn't know how to talk about what happened without hurting you further. I'm an idiot who buried himself in pain because he doesn't know how to heal. And I am forever sorry for that," Gently, Michael lifted Nikita's chin so that her eyes would connect with his. He knew how strong and capable she was, but that didn't mean she had to be alone. She could have extra protection. She could work with a team that'd have her best interest at heart. She wasn't stranded. Others could help her even when they couldn't help themselves.

"You have to talk to me. That's what this ring means. Together in all ways," Removing her engagement ring from Michael's prosthetic, Nikita continued to urge him to talk. She might not have known the best way to cope or heal; she didn't know how to dig herself out of her own pain. Except, she'd always be there to help Michael. They could work through their struggles together. They should love and support each other for better or worse, till death did them part. Wasn't that what they were supposed to do once they were married- if they were still getting married, "Do you still want it to mean that?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Taking the engagement ring, Michael tenderly slipped it back onto Nikita's finger. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. She threw her arms around his neck. With every ounce of strength she had, she hugged her fiancé. He returned the embrace with equal fever. Neither moved for a long time. They just held each other as tightly as they could, never intending to let go. Although Michael soon spoke, he didn't separate from Nikita. He held her closer as he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to take you home. We're going to talk. And we're going to get away from here for a few days. Okay?"

"Please," Nikita begged softly. Michael nodded. As soon as they were willing to separate from their embrace, they'd clean up and go home. He'd text Ryan on the way and tell him that they weren't going to be back for a few days. The two needed time to talk, to rest, and to heal. Doing that inside Division wasn't going to help them. The couple had to go home together.