Nikita’s scream woke Michael and the rest of the house. She was sitting up in bed, panting, as if she had just run a marathon. Her arms were held in a defensive blocking gesture, protecting her face, and her knees were drawn up under her, like a little girl. Walter would have burst through the door, but for the lock that Michael had installed to protect their privacy against unwelcome interruptions during intimate moments. He knocked repeatedly, knowing that Birkoff was not far behind him. Declan was blinking sleepily, tying his robe over his pajamas.

"Is this a regular occurrence, Walter?" Declan asked, obviously concerned.

Walter blinked impatiently at Declan. "No, not for some time now. That’s what worries me." With that one cryptic comment, Declan was no closer to knowing what was going on, but his Section background made him suspect that there was more here than met the eye.

Walter banged on the door again, his hand thumping even louder if it were possible. "Michael! Dammit, let me in! That’s my Sugar you’ve got there! I need to know she’s all right!"

Michael unlocked the door, his face carefully blank and impassive. He turned his back on the two men, noting only that Birkoff had not shown up yet. He walked unsteadily back to bed, where Nikita lay shivering on top of the bed covers. He knelt in front of her, struggling to make eye contact with her. "Nikita...it’s me, Michael."

"M-Michael?" she quavered. Her breathing was erratic, coming in starts and fits, and Michael surmised that she was in the middle of a massive anxiety attack. "Breathe, Kita. Slow-ly."

Walter stood behind Michael, his eyes sad. "What brought this on? I thought we’d put the worst of this behind us."

"It’s the check-up, Walter. She’s afraid of something, but she can’t tell me what it is..." Michael raked a hand through his hair. He abruptly noticed Declan standing there, and he frowned. "Look, I don’t mean to sound unwelcome, Declan, but this is family business."

"And I’m definitely not family. No, no, I understand perfectly. I’ve never fit in anywhere I’ve been, including Section. So believe me, I understand." Declan readily agreed, but his hyperverbal response led Michael to think that Declan had some issues of his own. He couldn’t deal with that now, though, his first priority was Nikita.

Declan bit his lip, looking considerably younger than he had when they’d first met. He glanced at Nikita compassionately and turned to leave. Walter grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Listen, it’s not that you don’t fit in. It’s just that anything that affects Nikita affects all of us. She’s the heart of this family."

"I can see that, Walter. Not to worry." He smiled tightly and left, leaving Walter wondering just what Declan once did for Section and if he was still doing it in some way. One never knew with Madeline. Her hidden motives knew no limit.

"Where’s Birkoff, Michael? I passed him on the stairs, but he never came up here."

Michael shook his head. "I don’t know." He bent over Nikita, listening to her breathing and her heartbeat. She was still hyperventilating and her pulse was too rapid. Whatever was frightening her was still at it. He wished he knew what to do. He wasn’t reaching her with his voice, and frankly, he was afraid to touch her. He couldn’t medicate her because she was pregnant.

Meanwhile...out on the front porch, Birkoff sat on the steps, where he had seen Nikita sit with Michael. Her scream had awakened a deep fear in him, that something was wrong, something they would not discover until it was too late. He rarely had intuitions, and he was never superstitious, so Birkoff figured for him to believe this strongly in a feeling was a sign they should all pay attention to.

Declan sat down next to Birkoff on the steps. Birkoff started to get up, but Declan said, "It’s okay, I’ll leave. My presence seems to be curiously unwelcome everywhere tonight."

Birkoff sat back down. "What do you mean?" Intrigued despite himself, Birkoff just had to ask.

"Walter was just explaining to me how I don’t fit in as yet. Well, actually, he didn’t say the word ‘yet’, so I can’t claim to know where I might fit in as far as the future goes." Declan picked up a stone and threw it into the night air, hearing it land some feet away on the lawn.

"Declan, you just got here. And we’re not exactly your average trusting family." Birkoff felt compelled to explain the obvious, but being as Declan was former Section material, he would be familiar with the territory. Or should be.

"Can I ask you a potentially stupid question, Declan?"

"Sure, go right ahead. I reserve the right not to answer though." He smiled at Birkoff, quite innocently, but Birkoff was sure Declan was anything but.

"Why did you leave Section?"

Declan sighed heavily. "Ask me something else, Birkoff. I can’t tell you that."

"But you’re making it impossible for us to trust you."

"Miss Maddy trusts me."

"Miss Maddy lies through her teeth, and no matter how much we want to believe in her redemption, we all have doubts from time to time."

Declan grew weary of ever making anyone understand the relationship between him and Madeline. It wasn’t quite mother and son, but close enough for Declan. "I trust her with my life, Birkoff."

Birkoff nodded. "You may have to. We don’t."

Declan shrugged. "So explain to me, boyo, why you aren’t upstairs helping Nikita in her time of troubles."

"They don’t need me."

Declan observed Birkoff’s posture and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That’s not what they said."

"They said they needed me?" Birkoff brightened despite his self-doubt.

"Aye, they did," Declan said kindly. His eyes watched Birkoff get up and go inside as fast as his legs would take him. He seemed like a decent sort. It would be so nice to make a friend again. But he wondered if he would be here long enough for that. One never knew with Madeline.

Nikita quivered all over, staring at something unseen. Michael followed her gaze to the blank wall, an ache in his heart. Was she hallucinating or regressing? Indecision wracked his body and mind. What would help most? What would make things worse?

"Michael, do something, anything. I can’t stand seeing her like this."

"Neither can I, Walter. But I don’t know what to do."

Walter placed his hands on Michael’s already overburdened shoulders and felt him tremble. Michael wasn’t as calm as he appeared to be. That worried Walter. Michael was always calm. When he wasn’t, there was genuine cause for alarm.

"Kita...talk to me, doucette," he pleaded, biting his lip.

She turned towards him, blind to everyone else but Michael. "M-Michael?" She reached out her arms, falling onto her face when she connected with nothing. Michael moved forward immediately, pulling her into his arms. "Kita, are you all right?"

She whimpered softly. "I think so. Was I out long? Oh, Michael, I’m so scared."

He hugged her tightly to his chest, stroking her hair over and over, the movement seemingly as comforting to him as to her. Walter sat down on the bed next to Michael and put his arms around both of them. "You’re okay now, Sugar. We’ll take care of you."

Birkoff cleared his throat, and Walter turned, inviting Birkoff to join them. "You, too, Seymour. Come here." Birkoff sat down, and the scene turned into a lengthy group hug.

After long moments, Michael finally forced himself to let go of Nikita. "Tell me what happened, Kita."

"I was having a bad dream..." She frowned, remembering. "One of my mother’s so-called boyfriends was beating on me...but then, it got worse, Michael." She started to cry again, recalling more details, and Michael cringed, wondering how anyone could have treated a child that way.

"How did he hurt you, Kita?" Michael asked softly, knowing that the pain was only going to grow worse if left to fester inside.

"He touched me...he wanted to have sex with me...but I wouldn’t...so he kept hitting me...and hitting me..." She pushed her fingers into her mouth in an effort to keep from screaming again. Michael kissed her fingers, trying to gently pry them open.

"Then what happened, Kita?"

"The scariest part of all, Michael. His face changed." She looked at Michael with horrified eyes. "Oh, God, Michael, it was Dr. Hunter!"

Michael blinked. He knew Nikita was overwrought, but he had considerable difficulty believing that Neil Hunter had ever physically or sexually abused anyone, especially children. He assumed, given the anxiety she had over the pre-natal check-up and exam, that the two things had become hopelessly enmeshed in her mind, leading to the confusing but horrifyingly realistic nightmare.

Still, Michael was not a great believer in coincidence. He would speak to Madeline in the morning, and he was not going to let Neil Hunter touch his wife until he was convinced that no harm was going to come to Nikita.

***

Madeline paced back and forth in her office. "What you’re telling me is Nikita is accusing Neil of abusing her when she was a child. How is that possible, Michael? Neil is your age."

"Nikita wasn’t regressed when she remembered this, Madeline. She was a teenager. That would make Neil in his early twenties. It’s perfectly possible." Michael seethed, just thinking about the possibility. He didn’t understand why Madeline was being so stubborn about investigating the allegation. It was probably not true. So what was the harm in checking it out?

"What it is, is perfectly ridiculous, and you know it, Michael." Madeline pursed her lips and frowned. "Nikita has been functioning on a very high level recently. No flashbacks, no regressions. She’s able to take pleasure in having sex with her husband. That alone indicates that she is well on her way to recovery. What triggered this now?"

"You tell me, Madeline. We just met Neil. And now Nikita is scared to death of seeing him." Michael’s face was set in stone, but his changeable eyes flashed with green fire as he contemplated tearing Neil Hunter limb from limb.

"That’s understandable, Michael. She has a history of abuse, she doesn’t want to be examined so intimately by a male."

"But you just said yourself Nikita has been functioning well. She’s not scared of me, or having sex, Madeline, just of Neil and this check-up. Why is that?"

"I can’t believe you’re buying into this nonsense, Michael. Your mind is normally so logical."

"I can’t believe you’re not checking it out, Madeline. Your mind is curiously in denial."

"Michael, I guarantee you there is no possible way this will check out."

Michael regarded the older woman with terrible warning in his eyes. "You’d better be right."

"Michael, are you threatening me?" Madeline felt her heart leap into her throat.

Michael gave Madeline his blank stare, and she felt her skin crawl. "Yes," he replied tersely, the sibilance of the last letter seeming to echo in the enclosed room.

***

Birkoff hacked into Section’s mainframe, using codes that Madeline provided for him. He kept searching and searching, but he found no evidence of there ever being a medical doctor’s license issued to a Neil Hunter. That made Birkoff remember his earlier feeling of uneasiness. What if Neil Hunter wasn’t who he said he was? What if he wasn’t even a doctor? God, did Madeline know? Did she care? Was she behind this? Trying to drive a wedge between Michael and Nikita forever? Birkoff understood what Nikita was experiencing, in the most personal way possible, and he feared for her safety and her sanity if anything evil was allowed to breach her again.

He called Madeline’s office, but there was no answer. He decided to head on over there. He knew that Michael was going to want to know about this right away.

Meanwhile...

Nikita huddled against Michael’s body, trying not to shake, but it was futile. Madeline looked her over carefully and sighed. "I don’t understand why you’re saying these things, Nikita. Is it because you hate me for all the pain I caused you and Michael? I’ve tried to make it up to you, the only way I can. I want you to be healthy and whole again."

Nikita continued to shiver, pressing herself as close as possible to Michael’s warmth. To her anxious mind, Michael represented security. She trusted him to keep her safe, no matter what. "Don’t forget, Michael. You promised to be there, you promised to hold my hand."

Madeline sighed. "This is taking two steps backwards, Michael. I can’t believe you’re feeding into this behavior. Nikita is manipulating you."

Nikita’s blue eyes grew impossibly wide with disbelief. "She’s calling me a liar, Michael!" Michael held Nikita close and glared at Madeline.

"Michael...Nikita is capable of undergoing a routine physical exam and pre-natal check-up without an escort. Nothing untoward is going to happen."

"I know, Madeline. Because I’m going to be there."

"Michael--"

"Don’t argue with me, Madeline. You’ll lose." Michael’s eyes flickered coldly over Madeline, and once again, she hoped that she was right to trust Neil. She didn’t want anything to happen to Nikita, either, but most of all, she didn’t want to believe she could misjudge someone so badly. She loved Neil in her own way. She even thought he might ask her to marry him someday. Didn’t she deserve some happiness too?

***

Neil smiled as he came into the examining room. Until he saw Nikita’s face. And Nikita’s husband. "What’s going on?"

"You tell me, Neil." Michael was in no mood to beat around the bush. He was rapidly losing his patience and he didn’t know who to believe anymore. But he was not about to place his confidence in someone he had known less than a week.

Neil asked Nikita to disrobe behind the privacy screen, and when she was out of sight, Neil motioned to Michael. "Is something wrong?"

Michael explained Nikita’s history of abuse to Neil, and Neil whistled loudly. "How come I wasn’t told about this sooner?"

"Maybe Madeline didn’t feel it was necessary." Michael was careful to keep his tone non-committal.

"Maybe...but something like this changes the entire approach to patient care. Obviously, we need someone Nikita trusts here. I guess that would be you, Michael." He ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat stunned. "Wow...you certainly took me by surprise."

Michael nodded, starting to relax slightly as he began to wonder if he was wrong about Neil. That was apparently what Neil was waiting for. He grabbed a scalpel from the counter and pressed it against Michael’s throat. Nikita came out from behind the screen at that moment and screamed.

"Michael!!!"

Several things happened at once. Birkoff ran in, carrying his intel in one hand. Madeline flew in through the side door, white as a sheet once she took in the situation. Nikita, no longer functioning as a trained operative, cried like a wife mourning her husband’s imminent death.

Neil tightened his grip on the scalpel, looking directly at Nikita. "Too bad you recognized me finally, Nikita. I didn’t think you would. You were so wasted the night I climbed into your--"

Madeline gasped. Neil swung around, still holding Michael tightly. "You were so easy to deceive, Madeline...poor love-starved woman that you are. Did you really think I would marry someone like you?"

"No, Neil..." Madeline suddenly looked positively chilling. "I didn’t. That’s why I sent for Declan."

Declan came through the door with Walter in tow. The two men trained their guns on Neil. Neil flinched, and Nikita muffled a scream when she saw Neil draw Michael’s blood.

"Please don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him..." Nikita was beside herself with anxiety now.

"Thanks for the tip, Declan, I appreciate being in at the kill of someone who would even think of touching my Sugar." Walter’s lip curled, and he looked positively demonic.

Michael finally spoke. "Don’t kill him, Walter."

Walter stared at Michael. "You of all people should understand, Michael!"

"He’s mine, Walter." Michael said quietly, and Walter nodded. Declan stepped back, but kept his gun trained on Neil.

Neil chuckled. "When is a cook not a cook? When he’s a Section One hired gun. Nice cover, Declan. You had me fooled."

"Thanks, but not everyone is as gullible as you, Neil. Birkoff knew right away, didn’t you, Seymour?"

Declan glanced at Birkoff, who flashed his piece of intel in Neil’s face. "Gee, it seems there is no such person as Neil Hunter. And you’re no doctor, either."

"Thank you, Birkoff," said Madeline, smiling coldly.

With that, all hell broke loose. Neil had too many people to keep track of, suddenly, and Michael used his distraction to break free, suffering only a superficial neck wound in the process. He whirled around and backhanded Neil, dropping the man so quickly, he was able to grab the scalpel out of his hand before he hit the floor.

Nikita ran into Michael’s arms, clad only in her underwear, but she didn’t care. She only wanted to reassure herself that he was all right. He threw the scalpel onto the counter and grabbed Nikita, lifting her off the floor and into his arms. "Are you okay?" he kept asking her over and over, not even waiting for the answer.

"Yes, Michael, I’m okay..." She started to cry, when she saw the blood on his neck, pressing her hands over the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"I’m okay...I’m okay...I’m okay..." Nikita was thrashing in her sleep, crying and chanting, chanting and crying. Michael struggled to wake her, but she was lost in a nightmare of tremendous proportions. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, eyes wide open, all the color drained from her face.

"Michael?"

"I’m right here, doucette."

She turned her head cautiously, so afraid she would see blood dripping slowly from his neck. He looked at her curiously. His skin was unmarked. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Michael, I had a nightmare..."

"Another one, Kita?" Michael frowned. She needed her rest, and this had been a terrible night so far.

"Yes." She flinched. "I dreamed that Neil Hunter was one of my abusers."

"Kita, that can’t be true, he’s my age," Michael stated with complete equanimity.

"That’s what Madeline said, in the dream..."

She looked confused. "Then you wanted Madeline to check it out, but she wouldn’t."

"Madeline wouldn’t do that, Kita. She cares about you." He rubbed her neck solicitously.

"Then it got all jumbled up in my head...Birkoff hacked into the computers at Section and found out that Neil isn’t even a doctor!"

Michael’s eyes grew wide. "Um, his diplomas and his credentials are in his office, Kita. I checked them out."

"Why? You were suspicious, too, weren’t you?"

Michael almost blushed. "No, just jealous. I was hoping to find out something that he didn’t do absolutely wonderfully, but no...he’s everything Madeline hoped he’d be, Kita."

"And then Neil grabbed you and held a scalpel to your neck! Oh, Michael, I was so afraid for you!"

As Nikita shuddered in remembrance, Michael sighed. "And I didn’t disarm him? Now you know I’m not immodest, Kita, but what chance would a doctor with a scalpel have against a trained Section op?"

She bit her lip. "Well, Madeline turned cold...and...and...Walter and Declan came in and held Neil at gunpoint."

Michael blinked and laughed. "The cook? Walter, I could believe, he can still shoot, but the cook? That’s pretty funny, Kita."

Michael settled at her side, like a kid eager to hear the end of a bedtime story. "How did it end, Kita?"

"Birkoff created a diversion, and you backhanded Neil and caught the scalpel before he hit the floor," she said in a small voice, expecting derision.

"Well, at least, I finally saved the day." Michael grinned.

"Yes, you were the hero, Michael. That must be why I thought it really happened." She looked down, embarrassed to her toes.

Michael kissed her, his eyes warm and light green, like the color of leaves in spring. "Are you disappointed that it didn’t happen, Kita?"

"No! I’m glad it didn’t happen. You got wounded, and you were bleeding..." She hid her face in her hands. He pulled her hands away from her face and kissed her again, this time more gently. He lay back against the pillows, taking her with him. He settled her against his heart and stroked her hair. "We’re both okay, Kita. It was just a dream."

She kissed his chest, then snuggled under his chin, as she liked to do. "Okay, Michael...it was just a dream..."

When Michael and Nikita finally made it downstairs for breakfast, Walter was shocked at how haggard the two of them looked. Walter whispered under his breath to Michael as he passed, "Problems?"

Michael barely nodded, an imperceptible tightening of his lips evident. He passed a hand down Nikita’s hair, clearly to maintain physical contact with her. Nikita settled into a chair at the kitchen table, eyes downcast. Michael turned to Birkoff and addressed the younger man softly. "Seymour, would you please make sure Nikita gets something to eat? I’ll be right back."

Birkoff nodded, his eyes darkening at the sight of Nikita so obviously distressed. Walter got up, scraping his chair back loudly, and followed Michael outside. Out of Nikita’s earshot, Michael stared off into the distance and said softly, "Walter, this check-up is going to be even more difficult than we thought. Nikita is blending elements of her past abuse with the present reality. Last night, she dreamed that Neil Hunter abused her as a child."

Walter whistled low. "Whoa, that’s gonna make him examining her a real challenge."

"I don’t know if challenge is quite the right word, Walter. But Madeline has to know about this. There must be something we can do to make this experience less...frightening for Kita."

Walter patted Michael’s shoulder lightly. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Not much." Michael rubbed his eyes, which were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

Declan appeared in the doorway suddenly. "Is everyone giving breakfast a miss then?"

Michael turned slightly to face Declan. "What do you mean? Nikita’s inside with Birkoff."

"No, they’re not. That’s why I came looking for you." Declan barely uttered the words before Michael’s entire face changed and he took off for the kitchen at a run.

No one was inside. "Birkoff! Nikita!" Michael stood there for a moment, feeling totally powerless, and when Walter saw his face, he actually thought briefly that Michael would have an anxiety attack himself. Michael’s eyes flickered back and forth anxiously.

Suddenly, Michael turned on his heel and went outside, walking around to the back lawn. There he found Nikita sitting on the grass, playing with Josephine, as Birkoff watched. Birkoff jumped up the moment he saw Michael. "She wouldn’t eat, she said she was too nervous," Birkoff whispered. "I figured it was best if I stayed with her, wherever she went."

Michael’s gratitude flowed over his face like a soothing balm. "Thanks, Birkoff."

He walked over to Nikita and stood silently behind her, watching her pet the kitten. "Kita...it’s time to go."

She shook her head, her hair waving around her face in a halo. "No...just a few more minutes, Michael."

Michael gritted his teeth. "No," he said firmly, "we have to go now."

She looked up at him, her eyes wet, her expression bewildered. "N-now?"

He nodded, a lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. "Now," he managed to get out finally.

She stood up, biting her lip as she approached Michael. Suddenly she ran into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "It’s okay, Kita. I’ll be with you."

"You promise? Madeline wouldn’t let you stay with me--" She looked tearful.

He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her hair. "No, Kita, that was a dream. But even Madeline can’t keep us apart. She couldn’t do it at Section, and she certainly can’t do it now." He spoke in a whisper, but his tone was unmistakable. No one was going to get in the way of him taking care of Nikita, not even Madeline.

The ride to the doctor was conducted in almost complete silence. Everyone was thinking their own private thoughts, and no one wanted to risk upsetting Nikita. But truth to tell, the silence was unnerving to Nikita. She felt as if she were some kind of lab rat who was undergoing a procedure that everyone felt compelled to protect her from even as they insisted on subjecting her to it.

When they arrived at the doctor’s office, Madeline greeted them all warmly, inviting them to come and wait in her office. Nikita immediately saw the similarity between this and her dream and huddled against Michael, her body trembling. He felt the tremors running through her and looked down at her in concern.

"Madeline, I need to talk to you about this before we go in to see Neil."

Madeline glanced at Nikita’s drawn, white face. "Of course." Michael tried to extricate himself from Nikita’s embrace, but she clung to him fiercely.

"No! Michael, you said you wouldn’t leave me!" She began to cry, helpless tears that broke his heart.

Tears appeared in Michael’s eyes as well. "I’m not leaving you, doucette. I need to talk to Madeline."

"You said...you said..." she repeated, not unlike a child. He grabbed hold of her hands and looked helplessly at Madeline.

Madeline glanced at Walter and Birkoff. "Perhaps you would wait in my office, while Michael and I talk to Nikita?" They nodded their assent, trying not to reveal their own fears about Nikita’s condition.

Michael explained to Madeline about the ill-timed dream that turned into a nightmare of great proportions. Her brown eyes welled up with compassionate tears. "Oh, my dear..." She looked at Michael, as if asking for permission, then hugged Nikita as she cried.

"She’s been in such good shape lately, we all thought the worst was over, Madeline." Michael rubbed Nikita’s back as she stood in Madeline’s embrace.

"I think it is, Michael. This is not unusual, nor is it necessarily a setback."

She stroked Nikita’s hair and Nikita continued to cling to the older woman. "Would it help if I explained what’s going to happen, Nikita?"

Nikita shook her head negatively. "No, the only thing that would help is to cancel it."

"We can’t do that, Nikita. We care about you. We want you and your baby to have what you never had." Nikita burst into fresh tears when Madeline reminded her of the past.

Michael found all of this so intensely emotional, it made him uncomfortable. He tried to resist shutting down, which was his usual response to such triggers, but part of him feared losing control more. Madeline saw his struggle written in his face, and she held out a hand to him. "No, Michael, stay with this, it’s important that you do."

He blinked away the tears in his eyes, regarding Madeline with caution. "I don’t know if I can, Madeline."

"You have to, Michael. This is your life."

When Neil came through the door to Madeline’s office, Nikita froze, then reacted so sharply, neither Michael nor Madeline could do anything. She flung herself from Madeline’s embrace into Michael’s arms, burying her face in his neck, her eyes tightly shut. Michael looked stunned, then wrapped his arms around his wife, feeling her quietly sobbing against his chest.

"You see why, Michael?" Madeline forced Michael to examine what he saw with his own eyes.

"As much as she trusts me, who did she go to when she felt most threatened? You. As often as you’ve betrayed her, as often as you’ve lied to her, still, she went to you. Without hesitation." Madeline’s voice cut him like a knife, running through him, again and again.

"You can’t fail her now, when she needs you the most."

"I won’t."

Nikita was lost in a veil of tears, but she knew one truth remained. Michael might be her imperfect savior, but he always protected her, somehow, some way. Even if it meant hurting her, or himself, Michael protected her, sometimes from herself. And he would give his life for her. That was the single thing that kept her sane in the chaotic world that was her mind right now.

Neil saw what was going on, and he was uncertain whether to interrupt. "I came looking for my patient. I see she’s here. Is everything okay?"

Madeline smiled with an effort. "It’s a trifle hard to explain, but you need to know before you can examine her." She outlined Nikita’s past history for Neil, finally finishing with the tortured nightmare of the night before.

Neil paled. "God, that’s--" Neil abruptly remembered that the patient was standing, huddled in her husband’s arms, right before him. "Well, we have a few changes to make, that’s all. We’re not in a hurry, here, Nikita, so don’t worry. We’ll just take it all nice and slow. Okay?"

His voice was so soft and reassuring, Nikita felt herself calming down, despite her initial reaction to the sight of Neil. Her rational mind was clearly fighting for control over her fears. Michael’s presence reassured her. He was her bastion of defense against cruelty and injustice. He was her lover, her husband, and her defender. She might need all three before this was done.

She unwound herself enough to nod at Neil, seeking Madeline’s eye contact as well, apparently for approval. But her hands clutched at Michael’s jacket, as if she were afraid to release her grip on him. Maybe it was symbolic, her grip on him was her grip on reality. Madeline saw no need to separate the two. It was as compelling as it was beautiful.

Neil indicated that the couple should follow him to his office, and they did, albeit slowly, Michael trying not to force Nikita to move along any more quickly than she could comfortably go. Madeline brought up the rear, after asking Walter and Birkoff to rejoin her. But she intended that they all stay in the background, unless their help became absolutely necessary.

Neil washed his hands, then dried them on a paper towel. He threw the paper towel into the wastebin, and he realized he was procrastinating. "Let’s start with something easy, Nikita. Let’s get your height and weight, and then some vital signs."

He recorded her height and her weight, dismayed to see that she hadn’t gained as much weight as he’d hoped. "You do realize that you are still extremely underweight, Nikita? How’s your appetite?"

Nikita looked anxiously at Michael, and he nodded to her. "It’s okay. I’ve been eating better since Declan came. Really."

Neil smiled. "Well, that’s good. Maybe we’ll see some real improvement by your next visit."

He took her blood pressure, frowning at the result. "I’m not surprised to find your BP elevated right now, Nikita, but we’ll take it again later, when you’ve had a chance to relax."

He began to ask her questions about her medical history, and again, Nikita glanced at Michael, as if seeking his approval.

Neil narrowed his eyes and hit the intercom to the outer office. "Okay, is there something going on that you didn’t tell me, Madeline?"

"Like what?" she asked calmly.

"Trying to pull a medical history out of someone who doesn’t want to answer questions is frustrating, not to mention counter-productive. This has nothing to do with what you just told me, Madeline, so I ask again...what are you not telling me?"

Nikita hid her face against Michael’s chest. "Michael," she whispered, "how can I explain my scars from old gunshot wounds and stab wounds without revealing our connection to Section?"

Michael held onto her, knowing that Madeline would find a way. Somehow.

Madeline’s voice came over the intercom, loud and clear. "They’re like Declan, Neil."

Neil nodded, obviously understanding something that was remaining unspoken. "Thank you for that, Madeline."

Nikita stared at Michael, wondering what this meant, wondering if her dream was somehow starting to come true. "Michael, remember what I said about Declan?"

Michael gazed at her, green eyes cool. "Declan is a cook, Kita."

Neil laughed. "When is a cook not a cook?"

Nikita froze. She knew those words. They were etched in her mind forever after her nightmare.