She drifted slowly through the hallways of Section, unconsciously finding herself at Walter´s workshop. "Hey, Walter."

"Hey, Sugar." He looked her over carefully. "Say, you don´t look so hot. You feeling okay?"

"Not really. Maybe I´m coming down with a cold or something. You know, they must have left a wire in place on my back. It itches. Can you get it off for me?"

She turned her back to him and lifted her shirt, and Walter examined her. But it wasn´t a wire he found. Nikita´s back was dotted with a series of tiny red spots. Instinctively he reached for a pair of Latex gloves. "Sugar, I hate to tell you this, but it´s not a wire you´re feeling. You´ve got something, all right, and it looks contagious."

Walter tried to quell his own fears at seeing the rash on Nikita´s trunk. She was like a daughter to him. If anything happened to her, well, it didn´t bear thinking about.

She turned around quickly, her hair whipping across her face. Startled, her eyes widened, exposing him to the fact that her deep blue eyes were bloodshot. Another sign that she was sick. "What is it, Walter? Tell me!"

Walter drew a shaky breath. "They brought a kid in here earlier. He had chicken pox. Now half of Section is down with it. Medlab is filled to overflowing. They´ve been trying to quarantine us, but most of medical is either sick or overwhelmed." Belatedly, he realized that what he said was not exactly reassuring. Nikita looked worried.

"Now, Sugar, don´t go getting worried on me. I´ll take good care of you. I had the pox years ago, back in medieval times, when I was a kid." He laughed his infectious Walter laugh and invited Nikita to join him. She did, but weakly. Another sign that she was unwell.

Walter knew he had to do something. But he was undecided as to what course to take. Whatever he did, he had to do it soon. But he wanted to be sure. Once he put her somewhere, he didn´t want to move her. In fact, if they succeeded in eventually quarantining Section, he might not be able to move her. So, they had to pick a place, and they had to decide who should know. Now.

"I was living on the streets as a kid, Walter," Nikita said softly, her head aching. She unconsciously rubbed her neck.

"Sore throat?" Walter asked.

She nodded. "More than that. My neck hurts."

Walter reached over and felt for swollen glands in her neck. "You´ve got swollen glands, Sugar." He touched her gently under her arms, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Hurts there, too, right?"

"I never had chicken pox. I wasn´t around other kids. I guess that´s why." Nikita didn´t need to remind him of why she was different from the others. He knew. He wished he had been able to be there for her then. Well, he sighed, he couldn´t change the past, but he could sure as hell do something for her now.

"Well, Sugar, we gotta find someplace to put you for the duration. You´re gonna be sick for at least a week. Chicken pox can be serious in an adult. I won´t kid you about that. But you got me. For as long as it takes."

Nikita smiled gratefully at Walter. He was so good to her, just like the father she never had. Any other time, she would have fought for control of what happened to her. But she knew she was sick. And weak. And she needed help. His help.

Nikita started to sway on her feet, and Walter caught her in his arms. "Sugar, you'd better sit down while I call someone."

"No!" she said sharply, her tone such a rebuke that Walter flinched.

"Sugar, someone's gotta know." Nikita began to cry, pleading with him not to reveal her condition to TPTB. She knew it was a further sign of her weakened condition, but she couldn't seem to control her emotions in this state. "Please…"

"Sugar, I got an idea of where to put you. But once we go in, we can't come back out till you get better. So we gotta decide who else needs to be there. Isn't there someone else you need?"

Walter eyed Nikita's face, but she dropped her head forward, allowing her hair to cover her face and her all-too-expressive eyes. Walter put his hand on her shoulder. "And we both know who it should be, Sugar. He's got to know. It'll kill him if you just…up and disappear."

She looked up, her heart revealed in her eyes, both tearful and hopeful. "You think so, Walter?"

"I know so, Sugar." Walter clamped his mouth shut, before he was tempted to reveal anything else he had observed. Not wishing to risk saying anything over the phone or the intercom, both of which were heavily monitored, even during chaotic times like this, Walter helped Nikita to her feet and put his arm around her, as though they were merely walking very closely together. She leaned her weight on him and they walked slowly towards the office in question.

Michael was in the process of closing his office door when he saw Walter and Nikita approach. He stepped back inside the doorway as they came closer, sensing instantly that something was very wrong.

"Nikita…" he said in a harsh whisper. He frowned at Walter. "Why isn't she with the others? In Medlab?"

Walter pushed Michael farther back into the recesses of his darkened office. He closed the door behind him and shifted Nikita's weight. She was nearly out on her feet now. She looked blearily at Michael.

Michael maintained a flat affect, his blank stare carefully and seemingly irrevocably in place. He couldn't allow himself to feel anything right now. She looked desperately ill.

Walter stared right back into Michael's lifeless eyes. "Is that what you want for her, Michael? Really?" It was a challenge. Michael's eyes flashed for a second, turning a vivid green. Walter stood his ground, while Michael considered how to answer.

"Come with me." It was a command, not an invitation.

Michael and Walter braced Nikita between them and walked her, almost in lockstep, down the hallway into unfamiliar territory. Unfamiliar to Nikita, anyway.

"Where are we going?" No one answered her. Starting to become somewhat fearful, since she no longer felt capable of defending herself, Nikita repeated her question. "Where are you taking me?" Unable to struggle with any real strength, Nikita gave up the fight as futile.

Michael in this mood was incommunicado. He might as well be in mandatory refusal. If he felt like answering her, he might throw her a scrap or two of information. But if her welfare was at stake, he would protect her first, everything else a distant second. At least, she knew that much about him. She closed her eyes.

Michael keyed in a code at the bank of elevators. Opening her eyes, she realized that she had never come this way before.

Walter looked at Michael. "CQS rooms still open?" Michael nodded briefly and pushed the button inside the elevator, effectively cutting off any further chance at conversation. They stopped in front of a totally non-descript door. What room it led to, Nikita couldn't say. She was familiar with the CQS rooms, but this was not in the same area.

Michael took out a tiny electronic device and pressed it into the slot outside the door. The door opened. Inside was a spacious room. Well, suite of rooms. There was a living room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was beautiful. The walls were a pale grey, the accent colors were a vivid green, not unlike Michael's eyes right now.

Nikita turned in Walter's embrace, for he was clearly the only one holding onto her now. "Michael," she said, puzzled. "What is this room? And who lives here?"

"I do." Michael stared at her impassively.

"You?"

He pushed her gently towards the bathroom. "Walter, Nikita looks like she needs to freshen up. Maybe you can help her while I make up the bedroom."

His tone was matter-of-fact, but inside, he was a quivering mass of contradictory feelings. This was a definite breach of protocol. If anyone found out about this, he would be in very real trouble. But the fact was, he didn't care. He needed to know that Nikita was being cared for, and if Walter was what she needed, he would make sure she had Walter at her side. It was a shame she didn't feel the same way about him. He felt a tremor run through his body, knowing it was reacting both to Nikita's presence and whatever threatened her.

Walter didn't pretend to understand Michael's refusal to show his true feelings. All he cared about right now was making Sugar feel better. "Sugar, I think you would feel a lot better if you had a bath. Now, I promise not to peek, but you need to take your clothes off." Walter felt embarrassed just to be asking Sugar to disrobe, but there was no one else. Sugar couldn't possibly do it herself.

Nikita shook her head faintly. "No, Walter. I'll just go to bed and sleep this off. I'm sure I'll be fine." She took a step and nearly fell, her body too weak now to allow her to walk unassisted.

"You're not gonna be able to sleep this off, Sugar. You're gonna need help." She sank to the floor slowly, as Walter held onto her. He wrapped his arms around her as they sat there, knowing she was drawing strength from the physical contact.

"Hey, Sugar, you're gonna be okay. Just leave it to me and Michael."

Surprised that Walter even remembered he was there, Michael turned at the mention of his name. He didn't want to be jealous of the older man. He knew that Nikita craved family, in many ways, more than she needed a man, even a special man, in her life. But watching Walter hold Nikita did something to him. It reminded him of how much he wanted. And needed. And what he couldn't have.

Walter glared at Michael until he noticed the pain in the younger man's eyes. "Sugar, we need to get you into bed so you can rest. Michael, come and help me stand her up."

Michael obeyed without question, never suspecting the older man's motives. He didn't know what Walter knew. That Nikita was the only thing that kept him going sometimes was a secret Michael guarded. That he loved her was a mere suspicion on everyone's gossiping tongues. Never confirmed or denied, they lived their lives in limbo. And suddenly, it wasn't enough.

When Michael's arms were around Nikita, Walter suddenly let her go, claiming a muscle spasm in his back. Rather than let her drop, Michael held Nikita tighter. He closed his eyes. God, it felt good to hold her again. How had he lived so long without doing this sooner?

Nikita relaxed in Michael's arms, feeling safe and secure…and something else. Something she had not felt in a long time. He was holding her as if his emotions were just barely in check. She wondered what it might take to push him entirely over the edge. But that would have to wait until she was feeling stronger again.

In the meantime, she buried her face against his neck, as if she hadn't the energy to lift her head. A strong pulse throbbed at the base of Michael's throat, betraying his emotional overload. His face remained blank, but he didn't have the shutters down on his eyes.

What Walter saw there gave him hope. They would be locked inside this suite of rooms at least a week. If he couldn't work magic inside that time, he didn't deserve to be the King of Gadgetry.

Michael placed Nikita on the bed at Walter's request. He immediately turned away, figuring that Walter would want to be alone with Nikita. He envied Walter's ability to trade stories, to make her laugh, to converse so easily about his feelings. Now, more than ever, he regretted the emotional gap between him and Nikita.

"Michael, maybe you could fix Sugar some chicken soup? She's gonna need plenty of fluids."

He nodded. There was a small refrigerator in the living room area that held bottled water. Michael didn't drink much in the way of spirits, beyond the occasional glass of wine. He opened a can of soup and added the bottled water to it, stirring it till it seemed smooth. Popping it into the microwave, he heated the soup.

When Michael came back into the bedroom, Walter was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Nikita's hair.

Michael glanced at Nikita's face. She looked so peaceful. Until she opened her eyes and looked at him. When their eyes met, he felt a jolt of electricity that came from clear across the room. He almost dropped the soup. Nikita smiled, and he blinked, unsure if the smile was for him or Walter.

When Walter looked over his shoulder at him, Michael realized that the smile was for him. He couldn't unlock his jaw far enough to smile back, but his gaze warmed itself on her face.

"Here's the soup," he said lamely.

Walter grinned. How did a man so unobservant of the love emanating from Nikita survive long enough to become a class five cold field op? This was going to be fun. Sugar needed help, all right, and he was gonna give it to her. Michael was in need of enlightenment.

Nikita needed to be undressed. She was too weak to do it herself. She was beyond caring about embarrassment. She felt terrible. Her entire body ached and itched. The tiny red spots now covered her entire body. She scratched at her arms, and Walter reached out to stop her.

"Sugar, you'll have scars all over if you keep doing that. Every time you break open a blister, you're making a scar."

"But it itches so bad, Walter," she wailed unhappily.

"And it's gonna get worse 'fore it gets better, Sugar. So just bear with it a bit longer."

Walter went in search of Michael and found him sitting in the living room, staring off into space. "Michael!" Walter's shout broke Michael's concentration and he flinched visibly.

"Is she okay?" he said hoarsely.

Walter didn't even pretend to misunderstand him. "Yeah, no thanks to you."

Michael turned his head away. Walter sat down next to Michael. "Michael, she needs something that I can't give her."

He shrugged. "I find that hard to believe, Walter. You make her laugh."

"Yeah, but you make her cry. You tell me which is a more intense emotion, Michael."

Walter wagged his finger in Michael's face. "You've got a God-given opportunity here, to make things right with Sugar, Michael. I'll be damned if I don't see you use it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"The hell you don't. Michael, I love Sugar, like she was my own. Like she was my daughter. I don't want to see her unhappy."

"Then I know you can't be offering her to me, Walter," Michael said bitterly.

"She ain't mine to give, Michael. She's her own person. But she wants you. She needs you. And if you don't want her, I don't give a damn, as long as you pretend to, for the duration we're stuck in here. It's what she needs to get better. You got that straight?"

"Like crystal, Walter."

Michael pondered the irony of what Walter said. Here he was, in a situation where he could be any way he wanted with the woman he loved, and Walter thought he needed to fake it.

It was the excuse he needed. He had no trouble acting on his emotions as long as it was in the context of a mission.

"Nikita, Walter is too embarrassed to take your clothes off. So I'm going to do it."

Nikita blinked at Michael, unsure how she felt about that, but unable to do anything about it. Casting a dispassionate eye over her entire body, once he had stripped off her clothing, Michael pulled the sheets over Nikita temporarily.

"I need to find something for you to wear, Kita."

He rummaged through the closet, finally finding an old black T-shirt. He sat her up, trying not to see the curves of her body in any way but professional, but even his detachment didn't extend that far. In the process of pulling the T-shirt over Nikita's head, he paused.

"I should find the calamine lotion first," he said with a curious thickness in his throat. The thought of pouring the wet pink liquid into his warm hands and then rubbing it all over her…body…made Michael wonder about the wisdom of doing it himself. He might even…lose control…

Part of him, the part that no doubt sided with Walter, said, what was so bad about losing control? He laughed to himself, drawing a curious glance from Nikita.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" she said, starting to cry. "I have all these ugly red spots all over my body. Even my face is covered in them." She drew herself into a ball, as if trying to hide her body from him.

Michael sobered instantly. "Kita, no! I wasn't laughing at you! I wouldn't do that! You're too—"

"What, Michael? Too ugly? You can say it!" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Michael did what he was accustomed to doing. He ran.

Walter glared angrily at him as he passed him. Walter pulled the T-shirt over Nikita's body and took her into his arms.

"Hey, Sugar, did I ever tell you about when I had the pox? I was covered in spots, head to toe. Every part of me itched like a sonuvagun. But doncha know, my mom took one look at me, and she said, Walter, you all look as purty as a speckled pup! I never forgot that, Sugar. See, just cause I thought I was ugly didn't mean I was. And neither are you. You're every bit as pretty as me. Prettier, even. No speckled pup could hold a candle to my Sugar."

She giggled, finding comfort in the story, his compassion, and his love. Michael stood at the edge of the bedroom area and listened. Walter's easy manner belied his very real concern, but he seemed to know instinctively what to do, what to say. It seemed that Michael had good instincts about everything except Nikita. Give him a problem to solve, and he was the man to call. Give him a role to play, and he could say or do anything. Anything but be with her. For real.