Suddenly a familiar face approached the somber couple. "Walter!" Nikita cried out. Fresh tears burst from her eyes as she saw the man she considered to be the father she never had. She held out her arms to him, and he saw that Michael lay in her embrace, looking more dead than alive.

"Sugar!" he answered gravely, contemplating the very real danger they faced right now. Nikita shifted Michael away from her, and together, she and Walter made him comfortable on the makeshift bed inside the mission van. Michael barely stirred. Walter didn’t think that was a very good sign at all.

Birkoff re-entered, saying, "Look who I found driving the van." He snorted at Walter as if to say he didn’t believe in coincidence any more than Michael did.

"Well, I can’t claim all the credit for being here. Seems a little birdie named Madeline thought you might need my help."

"It was an easy job to switch with the regular driver. What does he know? He’s an abeyance op. He was kinda grateful, if you catch my drift."

Birkoff smiled at Walter, feeling better than he had in several long minutes. "Walter, we have a number of problems. But the priority right now has to be Michael. He’s sick with something serious. We don’t even know if it’s infectious."

Walter shrugged. "Let me take a look then." He peeled the mission jacket off Michael’s body. Wet with sweat, it looked even darker than it usually did. "He’s drenched, how long has he had the fever?"

Nikita replied, "First he complained of a terrible headache. Then his eyes were bothering him. Didn’t he say his vision was blurring, Birkoff?"

Birkoff nodded. "That’s right. Then the fever came later. Much later."

Walter shrugged again. "Odd. It would seem to be one of two things. Infection. Or he’s been poisoned in some way. Could be something new that Section’s been experimenting with. A neurotoxic agent of some sort."

Nikita looked scared. "Well, what does that mean?"

Walter held her by the shoulders for a moment. "Sugar, all that means is that the drug is targeting his central nervous system. These are all central nervous system symptoms. The headache, the increased pressure behind the eyes, the fever. It’s called autonomic dysreflexia."

Nikita laughed harshly. "I’m sorry, Walter, but you’re not exactly reassuring me here."

"If it sounds like a medical emergency, that’s only cause it is, Sugar. Now don’t worry, and let Uncle Walter do his thing."

"Sugar, I want you to do something for me. Grab this syringe and draw some blood for me, okay? I want to run some tests before we lose access to Section’s computer mainframe."

"Won’t that be dangerous, Walter? They’ll be able to trace us to where we are."

"Sugar, you’re in the mission van. If they wanted to find you, they would have absolutely no problem. But luckily for us, Birkoff is here, and he is sending them a set of false coordinates." He grinned at Birkoff. Birkoff grinned back. He was starting to feel almost hopeful again. Maybe they would be able to pull this off, after all.

"It should buy us some time. Not a whole lot. But some."

***

Michael began to stir. He felt cold. Walter asked Nikita for a towel, and she handed it to him. "Isn’t there something I can do, Walter? I hate playing the helpless female."

He glanced at Nikita. "Just keep sending him good thoughts, Sugar. He needs a lot of those right now."

Nikita muttered to herself. "Is-Is he going to die, Walter?" she said, barely able to utter the words.

"Not if I can help it, Sugar."

Birkoff whispered something to Walter, and Walter turned pale himself. "Damn, we’re running out of time, Sugar. I can whip up an antidote for the neurotoxic agent, but we’re all going to get caught if we wait till it takes effect."

Nikita stared aghast at Walter. "What are you saying?"

Suddenly Michael roused himself enough to speak. "He’s saying that we need to split up, Kita." Walter nodded. "What he said."

"You’ll all be captured by Section unless you go right now. You have to leave me here."

"No! Michael, you’ll die without the antidote!" Nikita’s eyes were bright with new tears. She knelt by his side and pressed her head to his chest. She listened to his heart pound in her ear for a few moments, then closed her eyes. "I won’t leave you here."

Michael’s eyes met Walter’s over Nikita’s head. He nodded to Walter and Birkoff. "Nikita, I need you to go with Birkoff."

Birkoff swallowed the huge lump in his throat and said softly to Nikita, "Remember, Nikita? I promised Michael I would protect you." He personally thought that Michael’s confidence was misplaced at best, and that Nikita was far more likely to end up guarding him, but Michael had made his decision.

Nikita shuddered against Michael’s chest, feeling his heart beat irregularly a few times. "Please, Michael, I love you..."

Michael closed his eyes upon hearing her say those words. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. This was his life’s final irony. He knew that if he opened his mouth right now, he would be able to tell her that he loved her. I love you, Kita. He could hear the echoes of the sounds in his mind. But he knew what would happen if he did. He knew that Nikita would never leave his side if he told her he loved her. And so, to his greatest regret, he did not.

Walter saw how conflicted Michael was, and though he didn’t know exactly what was going through the younger man’s mind, he could guess. Unlike Nikita, Michael had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. His feelings were strictly his own, and never for public view. But if he felt anything for the woman Walter called Sugar, it was in his eyes right now. And if Nikita had not been lost in her own world of pain, she would have seen what it was taking out of Michael to send her away. Michael stroked Nikita’s hair and struggled to stay alert. "Kita..." he whispered.

Nikita’s head came up and she stared at Michael. "Yes, Michael?" she asked expectantly.

"You have to go now," he finished in a voice that was a mere thread of sound.

She leaned into him and kissed him with trembling lips. "I love you." He kissed her back less gently. "I know."

Dissatisfied with his response, she rocked back on her heels. She would have said more but Walter suddenly stood between them. "Listen, Michael, after you’re well, I’ll look for Birkoff and Nikita."

Michael nodded cautiously. "Of course."

Nikita clung to one of Michael’s hands as Birkoff tried to pull her to a standing position. "Nikita, we have to go. Now."

"What about the Directory, Michael?"

Michael shrugged. "There’s no time now! Go!"

Walter shook hands with Birkoff, and suddenly Birkoff, who looked almost tearful, grabbed Walter in a big bearhug. "I’ll miss you, man," he said, not a little choked up. He had few friends, even fewer people he could count on, but Walter was one of both.

Walter clapped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. "You take care of my Sugar, Birkoff. She’s all I got, next to you."

Birkoff nodded and resisted the urge to apologize to Michael for taking Nikita away. He knew the odds were better if they split up, and he realized that Michael was right, he was a real liability right now. But it hurt to leave someone behind. Especially when he knew that Section was hot on their trail.

Nikita hugged Walter fiercely, and there were tears in Walter’s eyes when he said goodbye to her. "Sugar, you just keep reminding the twerp here that he has to look out for you or he answers to me."

"I’m gonna hold you to that, Walter." She hugged him again, her eyes closed against the pain of realizing that she might never see him or Michael again.

"Goodbye, Michael," she said hoarsely. He never answered. He never looked at her. But she knew. She understood. And she was brave until the end.

***

"I’m not afraid."

"I’m not afraid."

"I’m not afraid."

Suddenly, Nikita found herself quite alone in the huge void that was Section. Michael had walked away from her, certain she would be canceled before the end of the day. He had tried to resist touching her, but his darkness was drawn to her light, as always, and he kissed her cheek. She felt the kiss and turned her face into his. She tried to be brave and not cling for dear life, but she hugged him, allowing herself one last time she could lay her head upon his shoulder. He stared blindly out at Section from over her shoulder. Then he walked away. His footfalls echoed in her mind.

"I’m not afraid."

***

After Nikita left with Birkoff, Michael relaxed some of the tense front he had been keeping up for her. Walter saw the difference in Michael immediately. "Look, I need to give you the antidote now, and then, we have to move as quickly as possible."

"Where?"

"Anywhere that isn’t here, Michael. We make a big hulking target, if you know what I mean."

Michael nodded, but it was clear he had not recovered from his parting from Nikita. Walter leaned over Michael and injected him with the antidote to the neurotoxin. "This is going to take some time to work, Michael. In the meantime, we are plumb out of time and luck if we’re still here in an hour."

"Walter, you’ve done more than your fair share. I’ll understand if you leave me here."

"Now why would I go and do that? You have an interesting mind, Michael, I must find out someday why it works the way it does." He looked askance at Michael, almost personally affronted by Michael’s implication.

Walter soaked a cloth in cold water and placed it on Michael’s forehead. He placed cold packs under both of Michael’s armpits to bring the fever down as quickly as possible. "We need to replace some of the fluids you’ve lost, Michael, but we can’t travel with an IV in your arm. So we’ll just have to load you up with Gatorade and the like."

Michael smiled wanly. "I appreciate your help, Walter."

"Hey, that’s what friends are for."

Michael struggled to sit up, but Walter pushed him back down gently. "Not just yet, Michael. You’re always in such an all-fired hurry. But even you can’t force your body to do the impossible."

"It’s just that I need to set up the meeting with Operations..."

"Michael...my friend...you ain’t going nowhere till you get on your feet again...you got that part straight now?" Walter looked amused at Michael’s enthusiasm to meet the man who had probably ordered the neurotoxin in the first place. "Revenge is sweet and all that, but you look like crap. Wait till you can move. Sorta levels out the playing field."

Walter made sure that Michael was strapped into the makeshift bed, then went forward to drive the van, muttering to himself all the while. "I had to go and get involved. Well, I couldn’t just let Sugar go off without help. I could be just sitting around waiting to collect what passes for a pension, but no..."

He drove for over an hour, and then he saw it. The car that Madeline had said would be there. They had to ditch the mission van and move on as quickly as possible. He never thought he would hear himself say this, but he thanked God for Madeline’s help. Without it, they would definitely have been caught by now. Yes, Michael was good, and he might have made good his escape with Nikita, had he not been ill. But then, his illness was no accident, and Walter believed that Madeline knew this. It was why she had sent help.

Walter stopped the van and went into the back one last time. "Michael!" he called sharply, trying to wake the younger man. Michael stirred sleepily, more energy apparent than earlier. Walter leaned over Michael and saw that his color had definitely improved. "Good," he said with a smile, "you’re coming back to us finally."

He helped Michael into a sitting position and allowed him to stay that way for several moments before attempting to move him further. "We’re going to do this in stages, Michael...I don’t need you passing out on me, I could never carry you where we’re going."

He struggled to hold Michael’s weight as he raised him to a standing position. Finally, Michael was up and on his feet again. He looked woozy, but clearly more viable than before. Michael stared fuzzily into Walter’s eyes for a moment, then pronounced carefully, "I need to see Operations."

"Need to kill him, you mean." Walter corrected.

"That, too." Michael smiled weakly, and the effect was curiously inappropriate.

"Well, not for nothing, Michael, but today ain’t gonna be the day. So get used to disappointment, okay? We’re going to get into that car and drive like bats out of hell. As for our destination, who knows?"

"But Operations set me up. He tried to take me out, wanted Nikita alone and unprotected so she would walk straight into Bauer’s trap and be killed. Walter, you have to help me...please." Michael pleaded with Walter for a second, and it was obvious that Michael was not yet back in control of his feelings. Walter could not remember ever seeing Michael ask anyone for help, much less plead for anything.

"Michael, you have to let it go for now. You’re in no shape for anything but lying in bed right now."

What little fire had been flickering in Michael’s eyes faded. "Of course." He backed off immediately, knowing that without Walter’s help, he would have surely died. He could not do anything further right now, and he knew that. His body felt oddly unresponsive to his commands, and without precision control, he would be unable to do battle with anyone, much less someone of Operations’ caliber.

They shuffled together out of the van, and Michael allowed Walter to help him into the car. Walter settled into the driver’s seat and glanced at Michael. He looked weary, but he would survive. Physically, anyway. Walter had no idea how Michael might fare emotionally. He hadn’t even begun to deal with losing Nikita. When he did, Walter sighed to himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there.

Michael slumped against the passenger side window, leaning his head on his arm. Before long, he had fallen into a restless sleep. His body twitched now and again, but that did not alarm Walter. He was undoubtedly dealing with things in his sleep he could not face in the real world.

***

"I’m sorry it had to come to that."

"Don’t be..."

"I should be used to how things are."

Michael stared down at Nikita as she lay on the bed in Medlab. The beeping of the cardiac monitor was the only other sound in the sterile white room. He was sorry for what he put her through. He was always sorry. But he continued to use her, no matter how much it hurt her. Or him. But someday, maybe it would stop. Someday, maybe he would have had enough. Or she would...

***

Michael woke with a start, a gasp dying in his throat. It scared the hell out of Walter, who nearly swerved off the road, but a quick glance at Michael reassured him that he was merely coming out of a nightmare. "You okay?" he asked, steering back onto the highway.

"Walter," Michael said, his voice dry and tight from dehydration. He grabbed the bottle of water and drank thirstily, feeling as if he might never slake his thirst. He pressed the bottle to his forehead, in an effort to cool himself off and in an effort to hide his tremulousness.

"Bad dream, huh?" Walter said, not taking his eyes off the road this time.

Michael stared at Walter as if that were the understatement to end all understatements. "I thought I knew what hell was...I was wrong." Michael’s voice was soft and hard all at the same time. Walter sighed. And so it began. The grieving.

Meanwhile...

Birkoff found the other car that Madeline had left for them. Which was a good thing, too. They had trudged down the road for a couple of miles, on foot, until Birkoff really began to feel his lack of physical conditioning. Nikita was silent the entire distance. She had not spoken a word since they left Michael with Walter. He didn’t break the silence because he respected her privacy. And hell, he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to deal with the level of pain she was probably experiencing. He liked Nikita, he was more than fond of her, in his own almost adolescent way, but he knew he could never compete with the degree of feeling that she felt for Michael. What little he had seen pass between them had touched him. They were kindred spirits in the truest sense, complementing each other’s weaknesses and strengths. They completed each other. And, Birkoff worried, didn’t that mean that without one another, they would not be able to survive?

***

"I’m smiling while dying...."

"If you only knew...."

Nikita felt the tears start as the love thieves approached. She was on a train to nowhere. Leaving Section. Leaving Michael far, far behind. She stared out the window, ignoring the message on the PDA. It flashed repeatedly. Nikita, are you there? She closed her eyes, then she turned the PDA off. And when she did, she felt something die inside her.

"Love will be the death of my lonely survivors..."

***

After driving for a long time, Nikita finally spoke, breaking her self-imposed silence. "Do you think that Michael is all right?"

He glanced quickly at Nikita. "I don’t know, Nikita. He’s in good hands with Walter, though. You trust Walter, don’t you?"

"Of course." She fell silent again, her thoughts a chaotic mess of emotionality and pain.

"Do you--do you think he’ll come for us?" She stared out the window, waiting for Birkoff to say something.

There was no mistaking what Nikita meant. Would Michael come for them when he was well? Birkoff didn’t know. He didn’t know what was driving Michael more right now, vengeance or love. "I don’t know, Nikita."

Unsatisfying as that answer was, Nikita accepted it. Birkoff didn’t know any more than she did. She thought she knew Michael, but Michael could be unpredictable, even quixotic. She wanted, no, she needed, him to need her as much as he did. Even if he could never love her the way she needed to be loved, if he needed her, it would suffice. Her lashes fluttered across her cheeks, and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

They found a place to stay temporarily, posing as brother and sister. Nikita often thought, it wasn’t far from the truth. She did see Birkoff as a little brother, though she knew his feelings were more than that. But there was only one person she would ever love, in a romantic sense, and that wasn’t Birkoff. Even if she never saw Michael again, it would be true. Forever.

Meanwhile...

Walter found a small apartment for himself and Michael with money that Michael gave him. It seemed that Michael was well-prepared for this venture, and he had money and other necessaries stashed seemingly everywhere. The question was, now that Michael had recovered physically, what was he going to do? Walter was afraid to broach the subject. He saw Michael falling into depression again, and he was sure it had to do with Nikita. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how. Killing Operations didn’t seem like a viable option. If they had truly escaped Section, they could disappear and live seemingly normal lives. Anywhere. Why head back to Section? Certainly not for any reason he could see.

But he did wait and wonder what was going on with Nikita. "Too bad we didn’t come up with a way to reach the others."

Michael looked startled. "You mean, like a comlink, or a PDA?"

"Yeah, sure. That would do it." He nodded to Michael. "I mean, you’re physically okay now, Michael. There’s no reason you can’t go to her now."

"Maybe she’s better off without me. Did you ever consider that?"

Walter refused to feed into Michael’s negative feelings. "No, I didn’t. She needs you. Hell, she loves you and you love her. Why make it more complicated than that?"

Michael sighed heavily. "It just is..."

"You aren’t making sense, Michael. Are you telling me that you’re not going to try to find Nikita?"

Michael nodded. "That’s right."

"Who are you trying to hurt now? Yourself or Sugar?"

"I’m not trying to hurt her. I’m trying to stop hurting her, Walter." Michael closed his eyes in obvious pain.

Nikita slammed her hand down on the table in the tiny room she shared with Birkoff. "I can’t stand one more minute of not knowing, Birkoff! I have to do something!"

Birkoff looked alarmed. "Nikita, wait! What are you going to do?"

She turned, flexing her shoulders as she shrugged into her mission jacket. "It’s been weeks, Birkoff. With no word from Walter or Michael."

Birkoff flinched. "I hate to say this, but we have to face it sometime, Nikita...Michael may not be able to come to us."

"You mean, you think he’s dead?" She backed up until she was against the wall of the tiny room. She clapped both hands to her mouth. "Oh, God, you think he’s dead, don’t you?"

Birkoff hated the look of pain on Nikita’s face, and worse, knowing that he had put it there. "It’s a real possibility, Nikita."

"No...no...I don’t believe that. I can’t. Not yet." She slumped to the floor, her knees against her chest. Birkoff studied her. No tears. But her eyes were dead. He was in over his head, and he knew it. He wished he knew how to contact Walter.

At the same time, Walter was trying desperately to communicate with Michael. But Michael was beyond normal lines of communication. He had withdrawn into himself, and he had clearly lost the will to go on. Without Nikita, what was the point? Even the idea of making good his vengeful threats against Operations held no real allure for him now.

"Michael, you have to snap out of this. It’s like talking to myself, I know, but if you’re in there, somewhere, you have to hear me. Nikita needs you. You can’t just leave her high and dry like this. It isn’t fair."

Michael moved his eyes a tiny fraction. "Who said life was fair, Walter? Mine hasn’t been."

"Oh, so what is this? Payback time? Poor Michael, never caught a decent break, so you take it out on Sugar? Who only had the poor judgment to fall in love with you?"

Michael stared at Walter with tortured eyes. But he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. Walter looked disgusted.

"You poor boy. The minute things get really rough, you bail on her. Well, that’s really just too bad. Good thing you didn’t take off together then. You would have left her out here somewhere with no one. At least this way, she has Birkoff."

Walter crouched down on his haunches and stared into Michael’s face. A lone tear tracked its way down Michael’s cheek. "God, this is killing you. It must be killing her, too. You could end this. But you won’t. Why? Cause you can’t say the words?"

Michael shook his head. "I could have told her I loved her, Walter. But I didn’t. Cause I knew she would never leave me then."

"You wanted her to go? But why?"

"So she could have a chance at a new life. Without me."

Walter glared at Michael. "I don’t think she wanted a new life without you, Michael. That was the whole point. Sugar could have her choice of men, but God, she picked you. Why, I’ll never know. You’re a manipulative, cold-hearted, enigmatic bastard on your good days. And on a bad day, you break her heart." Walter’s sarcasm was getting under Michael’s carefully erected facade, which he scarcely had energy to maintain these days.

"Yeah..." Michael agreed. "I know..."

Walter made a face at Michael and went to turn his back on the younger man. But Michael caught his arm and pulled at him, forcing Walter to stop for a moment. "But I love her more than my life..." he said with an audible shudder.

Walter sighed. "I know you do, boy...I know you do...it’s the only thing that’s keeping me on your side."