Walter slammed the door to the car and started the engine with a roar. He was on his way to see Nikita. To say he was a man on a mission would be gross understatement. He was out for blood. Michael’s blood.

Birkoff tried to stop him, but it was no use. There was absolutely no stopping Walter when he got like this. He literally wrapped his lanky body around Walter in an effort to forestall the inevitable, but the man was unstoppable. "Walter," Birkoff said, jumping into the passenger seat beside Walter.

"What the hell do you want, boy?" Walter pressed the pedal to the floor and the car responded by racing down the driveway to the street. With a squeal of rubber as it hit the pavement, the car leaped onto the main road.

"You don’t want to do this," Birkoff pleaded.

"The hell I don’t," Walter snorted. Birkoff cringed as the car wove back and forth under Walter’s haphazard driving, no doubt made worse by his intense anger.

"Look, I’m sure there’s a good explanation."

"Sure there is, there always is." Walter gave Birkoff an evil grin. "Don’t worry, Seymour, I won’t kill him. I just want to rearrange Michael’s face a little. Maybe make him look like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone."

Birkoff gulped. He scratched his forehead. Declan was out shopping. Too bad. Declan could have stopped Walter. He was sure of it. Even if Walter wouldn’t listen to reason, there was always Declan’s gun to fall back on. Sheesh, no one was ever where they needed to be.

"Think about what you’re doing, Walter."

"I am," he said, flashing his teeth. "I’m gonna enjoy teaching that boy a lesson."

That didn’t sound good. Not at all. Walter wasn’t a bit afraid of Michael. If Michael were himself, Birkoff wouldn’t be worried. But Michael was not exactly Michael right now....

***

Walter pulled into Neil’s driveway and Birkoff scrambled to keep up with the taller man’s steps. He strode into the hallway, shouting for Michael. "Michael! I know you’re here somewhere! Come out where I can get you, son!"

Nikita’s head came up from the pillow. She looked fearfully at Michael. He gently clasped her hands in his and kissed her. "Won’t be long now, Kita. I give him ten seconds tops."

"Michael, I don’t want him to hurt you," she fretted. Her hands restlessly wound themselves around his, clinging to him.

"It’s okay, doucette. I expected this." He sighed heavily against her cheek. "I love you, my Kita."

"I love you, too." She started to shake, and when Michael felt her trembling, he almost lost control again. But he refused to run from Walter. He deserved whatever he got and more.

Walter slammed the door open, forcing it to hit the wall with a tremendous crack. Michael was still lying on the bed beside Nikita when Walter punched him in the face. "Michael!" Nikita screamed.

Michael’s nose crumpled under the force of Walter’s blow and it began to spurt blood all over the bed. Michael held his hands to the site and tried vainly to staunch the bleeding. Walter smiled wickedly. "Hit first and ask questions later, that’s what I always say. Get up, Michael."

Michael shook his head gently back and forth. "No," he said firmly but nasally. He thought his nose was probably broken. Good thing there was a doctor nearby. They would need Neil before this was over.

"I want you to move away from Sugar," Walter commanded. "Do it now."

Michael figured the only thing protecting him was his proximity to Nikita. He got up slowly and moved away from the bed. Birkoff appeared in the doorway. "Damn, Walter, what’d you do?" Birkoff moved to help Michael, but Walter waved him off. "Nope, go away, Seymour. This is between Michael and me."

Nikita crept gingerly off the bed and stood next to Michael. "And me, Dad." She emphasized the last word, trying to get Walter to respond to reason. Michael swallowed some blood and winced. "Kita, stay back."

"I won’t let him hurt you, Michael." She stared directly into Walter’s bloodshot eyes, noting how he was favoring his right hand now. "Did you hurt your hand, Dad?"

"Don’t try to distract me, Sugar. Yeah, I think I bruised my hand on your husband’s stone face."

Michael blinked. "Too bad, Walter."

Neil and Madeline arrived on the scene at last, surveying the obvious disarray of the room and the clearly adversarial stance of the two men in question. "No fighting! Walter, back off!"

Walter laughed. "You’re telling *me* to back off, that’s funny, Neil. I got more power in my little pinky than you got in your entire body."

"Fine, you’re all powerful. But I won’t let you upset Nikita any further. Does everyone here have a hearing problem? She’s five months pregnant with twins!"

Walter shrugged. "Then tell Michael to get out and fight me like a man."

Michael shook his head. "I won’t fight you, Walter."

"Why not? I’m not good enough for you to dirty your hands on? Fight back, Michael!" He shoved Michael against the bed, but Michael just swayed on his feet, quickly regaining his balance.

"I won’t, Walter." Michael’s mouth tightened.

Neil sighed in exasperation. "Can I at least look at the damage?"

"Why? It ain’t over yet, Neil."

"Yes, it is," said Madeline, evidently wielding what power she had left over Michael and Walter.

Michael and Walter both turned to look at Madeline. Nikita used the opportunity to throw her arms around Michael. It was a rather incongruous picture, the tall but slender blonde, abdomen protruding considerably, struggling to protect the slightly taller but lean man she loved.

Walter turned back to Michael, spying Nikita in protective mode. "Now Sugar, don’t get involved."

"I am involved. I’m the one you’re supposedly defending, Dad. But if you’ll notice, I’ve already forgiven Michael."

Her voice rang out with such sincerity, it took a moment for her words to register. Even Madeline was surprised. "You have?"

She nodded fiercely. "I have." Whatever it is he thinks he’s done.

Walter blinked. "Well, hell, Sugar. You sure know how to spoil a man’s fun."

Michael lay his aching head on Nikita’s shoulder, wrapping his arms protectively across her abdomen. "How can you forgive me, Kita? You don’t even know what happened," he whispered into her ear.

She turned in his arms to face him. "I don’t need to know details right now, Michael. I trust you," she whispered back.

He lowered his head gingerly and kissed her, wincing as his nose brushed against her cheek. Neil moved closer to Michael, offering to examine his nose. "May I please take a look at this?"

Michael nodded, and Nikita stepped back a little. Neil pressed on the area, drawing a sharp curse from Michael. "It’s broken, all right. You won’t be classically beautiful anymore, Michael," Neil kidded him.

"Birkoff, go into my exam room and get me a couple of ice packs. They’re in the first cabinet on the left."

Birkoff nodded, glad to do something useful, glad to leave the fighting to the others. Walter flexed his right hand and it was clearly tender, judging by his expression. Neil examined his hand, noting the break in skin across the knuckles. "Well, Walter, I guess you’ll live."

"Great, is that your professional opinion or what?" Walter asked sarcastically.

Neil raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been suffering with arthritis, Walter?"

"Only in the past year, it’s gotten bad. Why?"

"Well, at the risk of getting my head bitten off, may I suggest a medication that might help?"

Walter smiled sweetly at Neil. "Why, sure. And how much is it gonna cost me?"

Neil looked surprised, but met Walter’s gaze evenly. He understood men like Walter. They hated to show any kind of weakness, and the fact that this happened in front of his "daughter" only made it worse.

Neil smiled patiently at Walter. "Well, I was going to give you a prescription for free, but I know that would offend your sensibilities, so I’ll charge you the regular price."

Madeline choked on a bit of laughter, her eyes twinkling merrily. She met Nikita’s glance, and soon the two women were laughing out loud. Michael looked at Walter. "I’m guessing this is something that goes right over our heads, Walter."

Walter smiled, this time, more naturally. "Yup."

"Michael, I need you in my exam room now," directed Neil. Michael reluctantly let go of Nikita, almost afraid to leave her side. Madeline smiled reassuringly and put her arm around Nikita.

"It’s okay, Michael. I’ll take care of Nikita." Madeline ruffled Nikita’s hair lightly. Walter shifted back and forth almost anxiously.

"What about me? I came over here to be with Sugar." Walter’s tone was still belligerent, but with much less intensity than before.

"Walter, I think we’ve had quite enough of your help, thank you. You’ve done enough damage for one day." Madeline gave him a bright smile that nevertheless threatened his continued well-being if he stepped over the line again.

Madeline put her hand on Michael’s arm. "I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t know that Walter would react this way."

Michael smiled crookedly at her and Nikita. "I did."

"And still you waited for him to come after you? Why?" Madeline looked puzzled.

"I deserved it. This was all my fault." He said this with absolutely no coloration in his voice. He was drained, emotionally and physically.

Madeline patted his arm caringly. "We need to discuss this more."

Michael left the room with Neil. Madeline turned to Nikita. "Well, it’s been a full morning so far. Do you feel up to eating something, Nikita?"

She grinned. "I’m starving. Is it the twins, Maddy?"

"Probably. Do you want me to call Declan? Or can you put up with a couple of sandwiches till dinnertime?" She brushed several strands of Nikita’s hair off her face. That Nikita permitted Madeline to do this was a sign that she was opening up to her. She was beginning to trust other people, aside from Michael. She was finally beginning to heal.

Walter felt curiously left out of everything. He glared at Birkoff, who looked scared, then confused. "What? Walter, what did I do? I was just trying to keep you from doing something stupid. And I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough."

Walter snorted. "There wasn’t anyone here who could have kept me from punching Michael, Seymour. That’s a fact." He sighed heavily. "Now the fact that it was a stupid thing to do...that’s something I have to deal with. It’s not your responsibility."

Birkoff’s lower lip quivered as if he were close to tears. "But Michael trusted me to keep Nikita safe, Walter. You were threatening him, but you were dangerously close to her, too. Did that ever occur to you? You could have hurt Nikita." He bit his lip, struggling for control. "I never would have forgiven you if you hurt her, Walter."

Walter swallowed hard. "I’m sorry, Seymour. You know I would never hurt Sugar." He turned helplessly towards Madeline and Nikita. "You know that, right? I wouldn’t hurt you, Sugar. Madeline, tell her I wouldn’t."

"No, Walter, you were wrong. Violence against each other is never acceptable. This is not Section." Madeline’s voice was like cool water, soothing and calming.

He looked down at his hands, seeing the fresh inflammation and bruising on his right hand, and flinched. "What was I thinking?"

"You weren’t thinking, Dad." Nikita rubbed Walter’s shoulder. "You wanted to hurt Michael because you thought he hurt me. Part of me understands that. But you’ve got protecting me and hurting Michael all mixed up in your head. They’re not the same thing, Dad. And this was between me...and him. Not you."

"Awww, Sugar. I’m sorry." Walter looked contrite, but then his temper always flared quickly and burned out just as fast.

"Come into the kitchen with us, Walter, Birkoff. I can feed everyone as well as ourselves."

***

Michael flinched as Neil carefully cleaned his nose, applying antiseptic to the area. "That’s a nasty break, Michael. You’re lucky he didn’t shove a shard of bone up into your head. You’d be dead right about now." Neil dropped the antiseptic pad into the waste container.

Neil washed his hands as he studied Michael. "It’s swollen, and likely to stay that way for several days. I’ll give you some ice packs to take with you. I can put you on an antibiotic, just in case it gets infected, but it’s up to you. It’s not necessary for now. If I were you, and I were concerned about my appearance, I would have it looked at by a surgeon."

"But you’re not me, Neil," Michael said flatly. "And I don’t care that much about what I look like."

"But your wife probably does. You want to wear it like a martyr, to remind yourself of how badly things went wrong today? I imagine your mind will take care of that all on its own. But you don’t want to hurt Nikita any more than you already have, Michael. And trust me, if you leave it this way, you’ll regret it later."

Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek. It felt like the only part of him that wasn’t black and blue or aching. When he opened his eyes again, they held tears. "Neil," he said hoarsely, "is Nikita going to be okay?"

Neil liked Michael more and more, for his ability to see beyond himself, for his carefully hidden compassion, and for his persistent desire to protect Nikita at any cost. Neil dried his hands on a paper towel. Nodding vigorously, he knew it was time to make his own admission of guilt.

"Michael, Nikita is fine." He rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder. "I wasn’t lying about the amnio results. Her alpha-fetoprotein is elevated. But it’s not a chromosomal defect or a genetic problem. It’s just the fact that she’s having twins. There’s nothing wrong with the babies or her."

Michael sighed and raked his hands through his hair. "You lied to me?"

"In a manner of speaking. I...misled...you." Neil looked uncomfortable. "Your devotion to Nikita pulled you out of whatever depression you’d fallen into and it helped. Temporarily. But it did help."

"Well...there is no one in this world I care more about than her," Michael admitted. "I suppose I should thank you."

"No, that would make me feel worse. I’m sorry, Michael. I don’t enjoy deception. It’s not my usual thing."

Michael laughed shortly. "That’s interesting, Neil. God, are you preaching to the wrong man."

"In your former line of work, deception was an everyday thing?"

It’s not enough to lie to them, you gotta lie to each other, too. Michael heard Nikita’s voice in his head, and he shook it, as if to clear it. "You could say that."

"Did it bother you?"

"Would you be surprised if I said no?" Michael calmly stated as he met Neil’s eyes.

"No, I don’t think I would. But then, I don’t have any idea how you people live with that kind of thing." Neil frowned in contemplation.

"We don’t." Michael laughed inappropriately. "We keep going until we can’t do it anymore. Then we either get out or die." Michael hung his head, realizing it was true. He didn’t have it in him to lie anymore. Even telling the most innocuous of lies, to protect Nikita, had backfired on him. Him, who was once only comfortable cloaked in deception.

"Then your life has changed for the better."

Michael stared at Neil. "No, not better. More like, I had no life till I got out. And now I do."

"Now you do." Neil nodded empathetically.

"And I would do anything to protect that life." He smiled, thinking of Nikita and their babies. "Anything."

Michael looked up as Walter entered the examination room. Walter poked his head inside carefully, saw Michael, and winced. "Sorry, I can come back later."

Michael slid off the table and stood up. He removed his shirt, which was soaked with blood, and threw it into the red biohazard container next to the waste container. "It’s okay, Walter. I’m done here."

Neil nodded. "You came for the prescription? For your arthritis?" Walter gave a brief affirmative gesture.

Michael clapped a hand to Neil’s upper arm. "Thanks, Neil. I appreciate it. You got a name for me? A surgeon you recommend?"

Neil stopped Michael. He took out his prescription pad and quickly wrote out a name and number. "Call this one. He’s an old friend of mine. He does nice work."

"I will."

Michael left without another glance in Walter’s direction. Walter moved slowly towards Neil, as if he were in pain. "Joints aching, Walter?"

"Yeah. I guess it’s God’s way of reminding me not to take matters into my own hands."

"Something like that," Neil agreed.

***

Michael came up silently behind Nikita as she sat at the kitchen table. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and when she felt him, she turned so his mouth connected with hers. "Hi."

Madeline smiled warmly. "Hello. Are you feeling any better?"

He glanced at her and Birkoff. "Sort of. I need to go see a surgeon about this," he said, indicating his broken nose.

Madeline nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Nikita pulled at Michael, drawing him closer. "Give me a minute to get ready."

"You’re not coming. I might have to have emergency surgery, doucette. I don’t want you standing around in a hospital all day and all night."

"Are you going to be okay, Michael?" Nikita asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"Sure. I wouldn’t even get it fixed, but Neil thinks it’s best. Will you stay here with Madeline and Birkoff?"

Birkoff immediately jumped into the gap left by Walter’s absence. "I’ll take care of her, Michael."

"Thanks, Birkoff. Oh, and Birkoff?" Birkoff blinked. Michael had his full attention now. "Try not to blame Walter too much. He loves Nikita."

Birkoff rolled his eyes. "I know, but that was no excuse for what he did, Michael. He was wrong, and he knows it."

Michael braced his hands on Nikita’s shoulders, gently massaging them. "Yeah, well, we both were."

Birkoff disagreed. "No, Michael, you refused to fight him. I admire that. I don’t know a single other person who could have resisted punching him back and then some."

Michael sighed. "Don’t make me into a hero, Birkoff. I’m not. Just take care of Nikita for me."

He bent his head and kissed her. "I’ll try to call you if I can. I don’t know what he’s going to do or how long this is going to take." She clung to his mouth as he tried to break away, their lips almost touching. "Ki...ta...I’ll be back, doucette, I swear."

Nikita stared at him, her heart aching to be with him. "You’d better be," she whispered, almost tearfully.

He nodded. He almost let her go then, but she pulled on him again, whispering in his ear, "I love you." His face softened, something noticeable to everyone at the table, not just Nikita. He pressed his lips to her ear, "I love you, too."

Madeline stood up and said, "I’ll walk you out, Michael. Are you sure you can drive?"

He shook his head gingerly. "No, I was going to call a taxi."

"If you wait a moment, I can drive you," Madeline offered.

"No, I’d really rather you stayed with Kita." She nodded, smiling at the obvious conclusion she’d drawn. Michael trusted her enough to leave Nikita in her care.

They walked out to the entryway. Michael took out his cell phone and called for a taxi. He looked positively worn out. Madeline wished he would let someone go with him. But he cared more about what happened to Nikita than himself.

Suddenly Walter appeared. "Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just leaving, anyway."

Madeline smiled. "Walter, could you do me a very big favor?"

Michael shook his head at Madeline. Please don’t. You’re trying to manipulate me at a time when I have no energy to fight back. This isn’t fair.

Walter nodded slowly, rubbing his painfully inflamed hand. Madeline said, "Could you possibly take Michael to the surgeon’s office? He might need surgery, and he can’t drive in his condition." Her implication being that Walter was responsible for Michael’s condition in the first place, Madeline thought that Walter’s guilt would force him to compensate.

Walter looked startled at the idea of spending several hours with a man he had attacked and very nearly killed, by the looks of him. "I don’t know, Madeline."

Michael closed his eyes painfully. "It’s all right, Madeline. I told you, I’ll get a taxi."

Walter studied Michael carefully. Whatever disagreements they had in the past, he always knew that Michael loved Nikita. More than that, he respected Michael for nearly every hard choice he had made since leaving Section. He had brought them together, made them a family, allowed Nikita to adopt him as her father. The list went on and on. He owed Michael that much. That last punch notwithstanding, there was still a strong bond between them.

"I’ll do it, Madeline."

Michael opened his eyes in surprise. "Why?"

Walter suddenly hugged Michael. "I can’t stay angry with you, Michael. We share something important. We both love Nikita. Don’t hold an old man’s bad judgment against him. I can do better."

Michael gave in to what he’d been feeling all day and held onto Walter for long moments. "So can I, Walter. So can I."

The surgeon saw Michael right away, largely because Neil Hunter had called ahead and prevailed on their friendship. But there was also something in Michael’s eyes that the surgeon correctly identified as power. He didn’t want someone who looked like that lurking too long in his waiting room.

Michael winced as the surgeon assessed the damage to his nose. "It’s not as bad as Neil thought, but there is a bone chip imbedded in there. I’d like to get that out as well as realign the bone structure."

"Am I going to need surgery?"

"Nope, I don’t think so. I can do this here in the office. I just need to push back a few appointments. You allergic to anything? Especially anesthesia?"

Michael didn’t even hesitate. "No. And I don’t want anesthesia."

"You don’t want to be put under?" The surgeon looked at Michael, who simply stared impassively at him. He then turned to Walter, who shrugged. "Is he always like this? This stoic?"

"Oh, sometimes worse," Walter nodded. "High tolerance for pain. Runs in the family."

Michael turned his gaze on Walter, as if warning him not to embroider the truth too much. The surgeon considered his options. "Well, I can do this under a local, how would that be?"

Michael agreed, feeling too weary to argue over such a trivial detail. The surgeon called his nurse in to prep Michael, and they asked a myriad of questions. Walter tried to intervene when he saw how tired Michael was, but the cross-examination continued.

***

Nikita crossed her arms and paced, albeit slowly. "Madeline?"

Madeline was sitting in an overstuffed Queen Anne chair in the living room, trying to distract Nikita by flipping through the television channels. No such luck. She was hopelessly fixated on the fact that she and Michael had never been apart since they were married. "Yes, Nikita?"

"Do you think he’ll be home tonight?"

She didn’t need to ask who "he" was. She knew. This was the fourth time she had attempted to reassure Nikita about this. "Nikita, if there is any possible way for him to get home to you tonight, he will." She said this as evenly and as patiently as the first three times she had said it, wondering how she was going to survive the evening.

Where was Neil? He was finished with office hours for the day. He and Birkoff had gone off somewhere, ignoring the two women. She would settle up with him later. Marriage was a partnership. She didn’t want Neil to miss his share of the...fun...even though they were not yet married.

***

Michael gritted his teeth as the surgeon probed his wound. Though Michael had been given a local anesthetic, he found that it did not even come close to taking the edge off the pain of the procedure he was undergoing. But he would not say anything. He merely sweat and struggled to stay conscious.

Walter watched Michael grow paler by the moment. Fool. He didn’t know when to ask for help, he didn’t know how, and now he was paying the price. He took out his cell phone, and the nurse frowned at him. He waved and left the room.

Once outside, Walter called Madeline. "Just wanted to let you know that Michael should be home tonight."

Madeline nearly beamed. "That’s wonderful news, Walter." There was no way she was going to confess that trying to distract or entertain a pregnant woman for five hours was too difficult for her.

"I don’t think he’s going to be in any shape to do anything but sleep, though, and that only if I can convince him to get a prescription for pain."

Madeline faltered, thinking that if Michael could not go home, she would be dealing with both him and Nikita for another day or two. As much as she liked them, she felt she needed more practice, in much shorter doses, before taking on the role of caretaker. "I can take care of that, Walter," she said, knowing that she could convince Neil to write an order for pain medication. Whether or not they could persuade Michael to take it was, of course, another question entirely.

***

The surgeon carefully stitched the wound on Michael’s nose. His nose was still horribly swollen and bruised, but it was now recognizable as what it was. Michael’s nose.

Tying off the last stitch, the surgeon asked Michael if he needed anything for pain. Michael controlled the urge to flinch and said calmly, "Not really." Walter shook his head and snorted derisively.

Michael closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. His head ached and throbbed like the very devil. He didn’t understand. He had always been able to control a certain level of pain, and this was surely no worse than a gunshot wound or a burn. Instead, he felt like there was nothing but pain, and his body trembled.

Walter stared at Michael, who by now was ashen and no closer to controlling the pain than before. "Michael..." he said warningly, trying to convey to the younger man that he needed to have additional medication. Michael’s eyes clouded over and he finally lost the struggle against the pain. He was unconscious.

The surgeon looked somewhat surprised, but he continued to close and dress the wound, knowing that it was probably better this way. Michael was beyond feeling anything.

***

Madeline flipped through a magazine idly, waiting impatiently for Walter’s second call. He had promised that Michael would indeed be delivered home tonight. It was what she lived for. Nikita’s whining had even gotten to Neil and Birkoff, who were playing cards in the kitchen.

She heard a car. So did Nikita. She ran to open the door, seeing the two figures alight. "Michael’s home!" she exclaimed. Madeline closed her eyes. Thank God.

Walter all but dragged Michael to the door. He looked half- dead, to be truthful. The discoloration of the wound had spread, the bandages made his face appear even more swollen, and he was out on his feet from sheer exhaustion. Nikita’s mouth dropped open. "Maddy! You didn’t tell me Walter was taking Michael!"

Walter laughed. "How quickly they forget, Sugar. Only this morning, I was Dad."

She glared at him fiercely. "Only this morning, I had a husband who was still in one piece."

Michael stirred briefly, but succumbed almost immediately with a groan. Walter shifted his weight. "Uh, Sugar, you wanna give me a hand? Or would you like Michael to end up kissing the floor?"

Madeline jumped up to help Walter. "Walter, your daughter is hardly in any condition to be lifting anything, much less a 6 ft. tall man who outweighs her."

"She’s probably stronger than you, Madeline," Walter said huffily.

Together they managed to maneuver Michael into the chair Madeline had just vacated. He slumped against the back of the chair, his face made even paler by contrast with the dark green chair. "Well..." she began.

"Oh, hell," Madeline said, throwing up her hands. "It looks like you two are staying here overnight. You can’t take care of Michael like this, Nikita."

Nikita bent down, her pregnancy making it difficult, but she needed to touch Michael. He looked strangely fragile like this. It frightened her. It forced her to confront his mortality in a way she had not before. In Section, they routinely expected to be placed in dangerous situations, and they knew the statistics associated with them. Some operatives never came back from a mission. It was just the way they lived...and died. But here, in this niche of normalcy, she had forgotten how it felt to think that she or Michael might not make it back one day. This was worse than a mission. This was their life.

In the end, it took Walter, Madeline, Neil and Birkoff to carry Michael into the bedroom. Or as Nikita thought of it, the scene of the crime. Neil and Birkoff made sure that his head was elevated, that an ice pack was applied to his face, and that an emesis basin was nearby, not that Neil anticipated any medical problems during the night. Still, Neil felt strongly that someone should watch Michael for any signs of bleeding or difficulty breathing.

"Someone is going to have to stay with Michael all night," said Neil with considerable authority.

Nikita looked down at Michael, tears dampening her cheeks for perhaps the last time that night. "I’ll be here with him," she said, almost inaudibly.

Neil glared at Madeline. "That isn’t going to work. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal yourself today. Part of which was my fault. I’m sorry, Nikita, but I...well, I lied to you."

"What???" Nikita almost shrieked. Neil grabbed her by the arms and sat her down on the bed, near Michael’s legs. "Calm down."

"You’re my doctor, I trusted you, doctors aren’t supposed to lie to people, especially their patients!" Nikita on a full-fledged rant was truly a sight to behold. She had left her tearful demeanor by the wayside and jumped right into agitated depression.

"It wasn’t that big a lie." Neil was having a terrible time trying to subdue Nikita, and he suddenly realized that no one was coming to his rescue. Walter and Birkoff were staring at him in abject pity. Madeline looked downright hostile, even though she had known about the lie, at the time it was inventively put to use. And Michael? Michael was sleeping right through the entire episode.

Neil said, "The thing is, I told you and Michael that your alpha-fetoprotein level was elevated, which it is, and that you or the babies could be...at risk."

"And???" Nikita’s face was flushed, and her hands were drawn up into fists in front of her. If looks could kill, Neil would be a dead man.

"It means nothing because you’re having twins, and it’s always elevated with multiples. I’m sorry. Michael was upset, depressed, even, and I was trying to get him to move towards you, instead of away from you...it was a mistake to try to manipulate you. I see that now." Neil cast his eyes down and prayed that the earth would swallow him up somehow.

Nikita’s eyes spat blue sparks at him from where she sat. Neil absorbed all he could take and then no more. "Look, I know what you must think, but I had your best interests at heart."

"Ha! Now where have I heard that before?"

Neil knelt down on his haunches, meeting Nikita’s angry gaze. "Look, it’s not good for the babies for you to be this angry. You’re pouring adrenaline throughout your entire system. Please, whatever you think of me, calm down for their sake." Neil had finally struck the right chord with Nikita. For her babies, she would do anything. Even swallow a tremendous heartache like this one.

She nodded at Neil, letting him know she would follow direction. This time. She sighed and combed her fingers through the length of her long, white-blonde hair. "Y’know, I am perfectly capable of looking after my own husband. As much as I appreciate everyone’s help and best wishes, I really would like to be left alone with Michael. Which, I am sure, will come as a welcome relief to Maddy." She paused long enough to smile sincerely at Madeline.

Madeline smiled back, though she was unsure how Nikita was able to read her so well. She thought she was doing such a good job of concealing her irritation. She shook her head, astonished as usual by Nikita’s amazing capacity for emotional recovery.

Neil exhaled slowly. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Nikita. You just had the amnio, you’ve been under stress all day long..."

"Neil," Nikita began patiently, "as everyone keeps reminding me, I’m pregnant, not ill. There is absolutely no reason I cannot sleep beside my husband and observe him the same way you would."

Neil gave in. She was right. He knew when to back off. Holding both hands up, he slowly stood up, as if he were being arrested. Interesting image. Madeline studied Neil’s body language and decided that he had suffered enough for one evening, but she would find a way to bring the lesson about lying home to him.

Walter and Birkoff exchanged glances and came to some sort of unspoken agreement. Nikita was certain that something was going on, but she didn’t know what. But she didn’t care, as long as she could have Michael back. She got up and moved to the end of the bed, pulling and tugging at Michael’s boots until she managed to remove them. Throwing the boots onto the floor, she gradually began easing Michael’s pants off his legs. Then she turned and fixed Madeline and the others with a blank stare that would have done Michael proud. "Well, are you leaving us alone or not?"

Slowly, one at a time, the others shuffled out of the room under Nikita’s careful scrutiny. She resumed the not unpleasant task of removing Michael’s clothing. She decided to leave him in his underwear, assuming that he might need to get up during the night.

She made sure that the ice pack was in place on his face, and she noted how well he was breathing. Nice and even. That was good. His color seemed much better, too. And he wasn’t restless, which probably meant that he was adequately medicated for pain. Everything seemed okay. She got herself ready for bed and climbed into bed beside Michael, pulling the covers over both of them. He stirred for a second, and she froze, listening. But he was fine. She snuggled as close as she dared, wrapping one arm across his chest, and closed her eyes.

"I love you, Michael."

He shifted beside her, as if he heard her, but there was no other sound or movement forthcoming. She fell into a deep sleep.

Unbeknownst to Nikita, Walter had stationed himself outside her bedroom door. He didn’t care how brave or capable she thought she was, someone had to protect her, now that Michael couldn’t, and Walter volunteered for the job. It was his fault that Michael was incapacitated anyway, and it assuaged his guilt to do this. He slid down to the floor and braced his back against the door, laying his head on his knees.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Birkoff slept, curled up in the same chair that Nikita and Madeline had shared. He wasn’t about to go home without knowing that Nikita and Michael were all right.

As for Madeline, she undressed for bed and stopped Neil from hugging her. When she then evaded his kiss, Neil grew frustrated. "Okay, Maddy, what gives? What’s with the cold shoulder?"

"Neil, I realize you might have gotten the impression that I condoned your lying to Michael earlier today, and if I did give you that idea, I’m sorry. The problem is, it almost always ends up this way when someone lies. It makes things complicated."

"Let’s cut to the chase, Maddy, shall we? You don’t want to sleep with me tonight, do you?"

She colored. "Well, actually, I do. So this is my punishment as well."

"Fine," Neil said, slamming out of their bedroom. He stalked angrily down the hall and into his exam room, climbing up on the table. He had slept here before. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it sure as hell didn’t look like it was going to be the last time.