Birkhoff had told Michael about the blown operation. When Nikita dumped her com, he called the other rogue and caught him up on the disaster. He had told him about helping Nikita's mole and how he had lost contact when things went to shit. The hacker didn't know anything else besides that. All he knew was that Nikita was in danger, and she needed help. Birkhoff wasn't skilled enough to help her. And her mole's cover could be destroyed if she stepped in. Michael was the only hope- if he could find anything to do about the crisis.
Pacing his motel room, weapons at the ready, Michael attempted to think of a way to help. Whatever he came up with, though, he didn't have time to implement. Division would've been long gone by the time he arrived. There wasn't anything he could do, unless Nikita gave him more information. He doubted that would happen. Birkhoff had been on the mission and he hardly knew what was occurring. All Michael had the power to do was wait. After a while, he couldn't pace anymore. He considered doing something reckless. Thankfully, a sluggish knock on his door stopped that from happening. He threw it open and sighed, "Nikita? Thank God."
"I didn't know where else to go," Nikita truly didn't. After sprinting away from Division, injecting herself with more adrenaline, and stealing a car, she knew she couldn't go back to her loft. She didn't have the strength to take care of her injuries on her own. Birkhoff's safehouse was too far to reach with her draining energy. The best place for her was Michael's motel. Birkhoff had given her the address and room number. She had just never done anything with the information until that moment; though, she felt like she shouldn't have. Michael had kept his distance from her for a reason. She shouldn't disturb that no matter how hurt she was.
"Hey, hey. I got you. Come on. Just breathe. I got you," Gently, Michael held Nikita so she wouldn't collapse. She couldn't even stand while slumped against the doorway. Her bronze skin had drastically paled. And she was somehow both feverish and cold to the touch. His relief at seeing her alive was quickly replaced with deep concern and fear. She was covered in dark, sticky blood, and she kept trembling. How she had managed to stay conscious was a miracle. But it wasn't going to last long. Michael had to patch Nikita up immediately.
Nikita rambled about needing to clean and dispose of the car she had stolen. Inside was covered in blood, and probably so was the walkway leading to the room. They had to get rid of any evidence that could lead unwanted people to the door. However, Michael didn't listen to her. It was important, but it could all be saved for later. Her injuries took precedence. He somewhat carried her to the bathroom. She wouldn't let him pick her up, but she couldn't walk without resting most of her weight on him. He just hobbled with her, trying to understand what she could've possibly gone through after she lost communication with Birkhoff, "What happened?"
"Alex was compromised. I had to give myself up to keep her safe," Attempting to even her breathing, Nikita did her best to explain. She knew she wasn't doing a very good job. It was hard to focus when she felt so dizzy she was going to pass out at any moment. Michael bringing her to the bathroom and helping her peel off her bloody clothes wasn't helpful. Her body was jostled too much; pain rippled through her. She just wanted to collapse. Except, Michael wouldn't let Nikita. He gave himself clear access to her wounds and sat her atop of the sink.
"What? Okay. I need you to give me more details," Michael fought to keep his confusion and anxiety from his voice. He needed Nikita to only focus on what had happened to her. He had to know the extent of her injuries, so he could know how to help her heal. Through labored breath and half-open eyes, she was able to tell him about being shot and running and fighting. But that was all he was going to get out of her at the moment. He poured her a glass of water as he washed his hands and pulled out his medical kit. She sipped the water slowly. He began to clean the blood and wounds on her thigh and abdomen. She screamed.
Terrified, Michael stopped. He used alcohol wipes to clean the affected areas. Although Nikita had whined at the sting, she didn't cry out until he touched her thigh. Her skin around the wound was feverish. It looked like someone had patched it up. But though the bleeding had stopped, infection had started. Michael did his best to gently care for the wound. Nikita tried not to shove him away. The pain was too much. She had to distract herself from it by talking, "Alex's my mole. She had a kill mission that went bad. I was there helping when our Shell was discovered. To keep her safe, I had her bring me to Division. This all happened in my escape."
"You… Why didn't you call? I could've helped," That wasn't fair for Michael to say. He knew it the second he looked into Nikita's rageful brown eyes. He had left the team. He had separated himself, angry about the 'help' she had given him with Kasim. There was a chance he wouldn't have come running if she had called. He was only worried about what Birkhoff had told him because he knew downed communications meant a dead rogue. Although he was angry, he didn't want anyone dead. The two didn't deserve that fate, no matter what they had done.
"When are you going to realize I can take care of myself?" Nikita spat. She also tried to push Michael away from her, regardless of the stitches he began to place along her ribs. If he was going to be like that, then she'd just save herself like she had always done. However, she was too weak to do anything. Pushing against Michael only caused her to slump further back against the wall. Her arms dropped uselessly to her sides, and she struggled for air. Cruel chuckles slipped past Michael's mouth. Nikita instantly glared at him. What the hell was his problem. He couldn't care for her one minute, then laugh at her the next. Who gave him the right, "What?"
"You don't need me to save you, but you stopped me from getting Kasim in the airport because you just had to save me," Michael was a little harsh as he pulled the stitch through Nikita's skin. His green eyes instantly matched her glare. She came to his door, needing his help, but she was still determined to be her own savior. No one else could save themselves. No one else could be as stubborn or as strong as she was. It was all about what she thought or needed. Well shouldn't he have the same chance at vengeance and redemption.
"That was different. You were committing suicide. I was trying to save you from yourself," As soon as the words left her mouth, Nikita knew how it sounded. How many times had he stopped her from committing suicide. And how many times had she yelled at him for it. That moment wasn't an exception. Telling Alex to give her up to Division was a suicide operation. She was so very lucky to be alive. But she didn't care about that, as long as Alex was safe. Michael felt the same when it came to justice for his family. He didn't care if he died, as long as he made Kasim and Percy pay. How could Nikita yell at him for that.
"God, you just don't get it, do you? Nikita, I had him. I was past security. I was on the tarmac. Five more seconds that shiv would've been between his ribs, and I would've been the one pushing it in, looking at him as he realized it was me. Then I would've been gone, and no one would've seen anything. That is what you took from me," Michael gripped Nikita's waist tightly. He wanted her to look right at him, let his words sink past her thick skull. There was no use in saving him. He had Kasim, and next would've been Percy.
Sitting as still as possible, Nikita tried to get a hold of her ragged breath. She hadn't known any of that. Birkhoff hadn't known it either. As far as they were both concerned, Michael went to kill himself. They didn't think he'd be successful. Nikita didn't have that much faith. She should have. Michael had made her doubt in the past, yet he had more than made up for it by then. He believed in her. She should've believed in him, "I couldn't have known you were that close. All I knew was you could've easily been killed. I didn't think…"
"That is it with you. You don't think. You just do. Nikita the righteous," Michael snapped the last stitch into her side as if to sell his point. She wouldn't have been in that predicament had she not played the martyr in her mole's botched mission. She wouldn't have been tortured, shot, nearly dead, had she thought through her actions and created a better plan. But she just had to save the day. She had to be the hero. If she just thought instead of acting on pure instinct, she wouldn't have shown up at his motel room. And they wouldn't have had to see one another.
"Fine. Yes. That's me. You think you know me so well, Michael? What I did, I did out of…" Nikita and Michael were nose to nose when she blinked. His hands were on her bare abdomen, placing a bandage on her bullet grazed ribs. Green and brown eyes connected in a spark. She inhaled sharply. Could she blame her blood loss and possible infection for the slip of her tongue- for the way she looked at Michael. Maybe Nikita could, but not if she kept staring. She had to avert her gaze, clear her throat, and pretend she was never about to say a certain word, "Not wanting to see you get hurt. I will do anything to help you get Kasim."
When her voice softened, so did Michael's gaze. He lessened his hold on her waist and soothed her bandage. Her body went limp, losing the fight left within her. His fight left soon after. He returned to gently healing her wounds, his focus landing on her damaged thigh. He had to clean it again to ensure any infection was cleared. She winced and cursed, but she didn't push him away. He was able to stitch the bullet wound; though, it was a far messier job than the graze along her ribs. The bullet, whoever had previously patched her up, and her escape nearly ruined her muscles. He couldn't help but wince as well, "What the hell did Division do to your thigh?"
"Kelly," Softly, Nikita chuckled. It wasn't funny, yet she couldn't stop herself. Nikita, Alex, Michael, and even Birkhoff wanted their revenge. Apparently, Kelly did too. She actually got it by shooting her old partner. Having Medical do a pour job of bandaging her wound and leaving her to be tortured was just an added bonus. The rogue would be reeling from the effects for a long time. She was starting to again while Michael stitched her up. Fighting and running and fighting again zapped her strength. She couldn't stay upright anymore. She just wanted to drift off. It'd be easier if she just closed her eyes.
"Whoa, whoa. Stay with me," As Nikita pitched off the counter, Michael frantically reached out to grab her. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and she grew even paler than before. Maybe he should just let her pass out. With the infection and blood loss, she'd need the rest. However, slipping unconscious wouldn't give her the same rest sleep would. She had to hold on just a bit longer. He was almost done with his stitches. She could last just a few more minutes. He didn't doubt it, "You somehow got this far, Wonder Woman."
"Fake adrenaline helped. I know, I know. You don't have to say it," Nikita wanted to smile at the nickname Michael gave her. But she was too exhausted to think correctly. She could only admit to injecting herself with adrenaline to be able to escape while injured. She was aware of how damaging that was for her former junkie self. Especially after the mind-fuck torture she had received courtesy of Amanda. There was a strong chance of her relapsing because of her decisions. That was something she could never escape from.
Glancing up at Nikita, Michael thought about commenting on the drug use. It was only adrenaline, and it had saved her life, but it still wasn't wise. However, studying her troubled expression, he decided against it. She was beating herself up enough. He should just move on. He finished stitching her thigh, washed his hands and her wound, and poured her another glass of water. She gratefully accepted it. As she slowly drank, he grabbed bandages to finally finish patching her up. He didn't think he should do so silently, though. He should keep talking to keep her conscious. But the only safe subject he could find was her mole, "Is Alex okay?"
"She will be. Division promised her revenge against the man who killed her family, as long as she works as their agent. She's determined to get that deal. I just hope she does," Water helped stop Nikita from slurring her words. However, her eyes couldn't stay open for long. She just had to close them as she nursed her glass. She could hold on a little longer- talking helped. Though, she wasn't sure if she should be sharing all of that about Alex. It wasn't her story to tell. Alex had entrusted her with the secret. Nikita shouldn't tell it to everybody.
"Who killed her family?" Michael didn't know if he was going to get a coherent answer out of Nikita. She was fairly out of it. He should simply focus on wrapping her wounded thigh, finding her medication for the infection, and cleaning up the bathroom. However, that was his chance to finally get answers about her mole. He believed he deserved it after seeing her bloody and at death's door because she had to save her mole. Who was it that had gained the rogue's devotion. Who had the kind of trust and care Michael had rarely seen Nikita give.
"Alex is Alexandra Udinov. She's hunting down whoever hired Division to kill her family that night," Finding her strength, Nikita blurted out the information in a rushed breath. There was no use in hiding that from Michael anymore. He and Birkhoff should know. Since she was determined to help Alex with her cause, it was bound to show up in their rogue missions. The three had been a team, after all. If they were going to work back towards that, information had to be shared freely. Hopefully they could work back towards being a team. Being separate obviously didn't work for them.
Michael blinked. Although he had suspected Alexandra Udinov to be alive in Division after Nikita admitted she had saved her, he didn't expect her to become a mole. He also didn't think Percy or Amanda would make a deal with her. Unless, of course, the two were gaining something from the deal- other than Alexandra as an agent. Whatever the whole situation was, then wasn't the time to unpack it. Nikita was fading fast. Michael had to find her medicine and clothes, and get her in bed. They'd have to have that discussion in the morning, and probably involve Birkhoff in it, "Okay. We're gonna talk about this later. Right now, you need to rest."
"Thank you," Nikita opened her eyes once more. She caught Michael's deep green eyes while he cleaned the bathroom, and smiled. His lips lifted in a crooked grin in return.
"Of course," Tenderly, Michael tucked Nikita's wild hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her chin for just a second. Though, their gazes and smiles held for a lot longer.