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Chapter 12
Nikita slowly unfolded herself from the car and adjusted her sunglasses as she looked up at the house. It looked like a big old farmhouse, only well taken care of. The landscaping was immaculate, neatly trimmed and arranged. It even had a white picket fence. Gingerly she opened the gate. The scent of roses hit her then and she inhaled deeply. Dark wicker furniture sat on the porch, arranged to frame a large bay window. Window boxes profuse with white flowers hung from the railings and in baskets from the porch roof. *All right, where is June Cleaver and the Beav?*
As if on cue, the door flew opened and a woman rushed out. Greg appeared at the door. "Robin, you can't do this to me! I can't take care of him myself!!" His words didn't stop her departure. Nearly knocking over Nikita only momentarily slowed her.
Watching the swirl of dirt as she peeled away, Nikita cocked her head at Greg. "Was that the mrs?"
Greg gave a short bitter laugh. "No, just my now ex- housekeeper and caretaker. Life just keeps getting better and better. Anyway.... Thanks for coming, Jo. I appreciate it." He extended a hand.
Nikita slipped up her sunglasses and smiled at him as she held out hers as well. "How could I not after last night? I don't like to see that kind of stunt pulled. People die that way." She felt like a fool for saying it however, it was a method the Section often employed, quite effectively.
With a small smile again, Greg ushered her into the house. It was cool inside and just a neat inside as it had been out. A opening to the left lead to the living room. She could see that repairs were still being made to the large floor to ceiling window though you couldn't see from the outside.
*That must have been the window Simon was talking about. They were lucky they weren't cut to shreds.* It was done in beige and burgundy with accents of black.
A little further down on the right was an opening to what should have been a dining room but what looked like media room was there instead. Nikita heard a child's shriek and watched as Greg rolled his eyes. "That child has no patience. Can you follow me for a minute while I check on him quick?"
Nodding her assent, she followed him down the hallway. The wainscoting was in light oak and thin beige and burgundy striped wallpaper stretched above it to the ceiling. The stairs rose up to above on her left and the swinging door to the kitchen was on the right. It ended in a large opening that spilled out into a greenhouse type structure. Plants hung from everywhere and sunlight spilled in from all the clear glass. Rattan furniture with thick green cushions and white pillows gave it almost garden house look. It was pleasantly warm and felt very inviting. Nikita looked around, taking it all in and making mental notes. The yell from the child startled her.
"Mi....Mi!" he yelled. As Greg moved to the side, she could see a play yard set up in the middle of the room. A little boy looking about a year old was holding himself up by using the openings in the gridwork as handholds.
"MI.....MI!!" he said more insistently and louder than before. His hair was dark brown and impossibly curly. His eyes were big and his lips were slightly pouted. He was plumb as most children his age were. Sturdy was the word that came to mind as Nikita looked at him.
It was the eyes that caught her attention though. Green, almost the same shade as Michael's. With the same intelligence and wariness, something unusual in a child so young, right; Nikita asked herself. There was the almost cat like shape to them. It denoted some Asian influence in his background. Which was strange, Margeaux Linsdon had been from Belgium not the Orient. She hadn't looked that way in surveillance pictures that Nikita had seen. She had been a dirty blond with short close cropped hair, tall and athletic looking. And older than Greg by a number of years too. None of the photos had been close, so she was uncertain of the eye color. But the woman had definitely not been Asian. Reese had to be adopted.
Reese looked towards Greg then in her direction as she came into his line of sight.. With questioning and insistence he said again, "Mi....Mi?" She swore she saw disappointment in Reese's face as he got a full look at her.
Curiosity got the best of Nikita. She had to ask, "Who's Mi...Mi?" Reese looked expectantly at her and then around her, trying to see down the hallway.
Greg sighed and shook his head. "Our mutual friend, Michael. Reese seems a little fixated on him. And he's quite taken with Reese himself. But I guess that's understandable considering his past, right? Did you know his wife?"
Taken aback a little by the question, her head went into overdrive. Michael's past was very personal to him. How could he tell a complete stranger? Nikita shook her head, "No, I only met her once. It was shortly before she died."
"You never met his son then, did you? I forget his name."
Crouching down to Reese's level, she smiled softly at him. "Merle,' she replied just as softly. She took a hold of one of his hands and carefully shook it. "Hi Reese, my name is Jo. It's nice to meet you." A huge smile broke out on his face and he started to giggle. He let go of the framework and promptly fell on his behind. The smile didn't fade though and the eyes twinkle brightly. She couldn't help but smile back. He got distracted by a toy and picked it up. He offered it to her. "Why don't you play with it?" He giggled again and this time sat down on his own to play. Nikita stood up to find Greg's eyes intent on her.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. The look was a little unnerving. It made her feel defensive. He looked as if he was trying to fit her in somewhere or someplace. She didn't like it.
"No, just remembering something." He sat down on a chair close to the windows and motioned for Nikita to take a seat on the settee across from him. Greg watched her as she sat. The slim black skirt with the matching vest and the short sleeve aqua green mock neck sweater beneath only seemed to emphasize the legs that ended on ankle height high heeled boots. He stifled a sigh as he looked her over. Jo was more than a good looking woman.
For Michael to pass on the obvious invitation she had given him last night.... *that one he's hung up on must be a ...* He brought his attention back to Jo.
"So you and Michael have known each other a while?" she asked. It was time for her to take a little control back. Besides, she was coming into this fairly blind. She had fouled up last night by concentrating on them instead of the mission. Now she had to make up lost ground.
"A while." His answer was as vague as hers. *OK track two* she thought ruefully.
"What's he doing now?" Nikita needed to know how much of himself Michael was using here and how much was Section make believe. So far things looked in favor of himself.
"He's involved in art. What do you mean by 'doing now'? You almost make him sound like a drifter or something." His tone had a note of annoyance in it. Almost as if he was defending Michael. *Interesting. Michael has really hooked this guy.*
"Well our dear Michael can be a bit of a chameleon. He is very good at changing himself. Even from one minute to another."
"Oh, you mean his 'on/off switch' or something else?"
"His 'on/off switch'...different way of putting it. That's one aspect of it. Can I warn you about him, Greg? Be careful. He is what he needs to be or wants to be."
Greg started to chuckle. "You two have known each other a while. You know what, Jo? He warned me about you as well. You two don't trust each other very much." He watched her carefully for a reaction.
Nikita knew he was studying her, trying to get inside her head. She purposely acted as if she was considering his observation. With a thoughtful expression on her face, she replied, "Let's just say we know each other too well for it to be complete trust...more of a wary trust." Standing up she walked to a spot where she could gaze out. It was time to regain the steering of the conversation.
"I'm a little curious as to what you want here, Greg. I thought I was coming to help get some protective measures set up for you. But I'm beginning to feel l more here for you to pick my brain about what I know about Michael. Listen, if you've got a thing for the guy, go with it. Don't pull me into it. There is someone in his life though. She can be a bitch if you push her. Just some friendly advice, of course."
Getting up, Greg paced a little. It had not been his intention to give the wrong impression. "I'm not interested in him like that. You on the other...." As soon as he said it, he knew he had tread on the wrong step. Nikita whirled around and grabbed her purse.
"Good bye" Nikita said curtly. She was not a play toy, even in a profile like this. She refused to be treated as such. The control was going to be in her hands. She wasn't about to ride along on the wave. As she tried to stride past him, he caught the crook of her arm.
"Jo, wait. Please. I'm sorry. I really do need your help."
Nikita wrenched her arm away from him and pointed a finger in his face. "You don't touch! You don't try to touch! You don't think about touching! Do you understand me? Am I clear enough for you?"
Backing away and feeling lucky because she hadn't smashed him in the face, Greg composed himself. It was a heady experience being that close to her. He was strongly attracted to her. In many ways she possessed the same kind of strength that Margeaux had but she was more intense and emotional. "Yes." was all he said. He wanted to say as little as possible right now. She was seething.
"I'm glad you understand the rules. I don't break them either. Remember that. Now tell me what has been happening to you that makes you think that you need personal protection. Besides from me at the moment and that fiasco last night."
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They talked for a while. Reese had gotten bored with his toys and fallen asleep in a heap in the play yard. Nikita had stolen several looks over at the baby while Greg was speaking. *He looks like such an angel. I wonder if Katie used to look that peaceful sleeping. I missed out on so much and I still am. I always will.*
Noticing her gaze centered on Reese and the fact she had drifted away from the conversation, Greg watched her for a few seconds. The hardness of her eyes and face had softened. Clouds of memory or maybe those of regret floated across her eyes. As he had seen with Michael, she was also one with a troubled past that she kept hidden. It was a strange thing for him to see how the past was so strong with some people that it affected everything they were and did. Margeaux had been like that but he had taken it as one of her little quirks, one of the many she had.
But now he was beginning to get the idea that to be just this side of right, like he was now officially, you had to have this trouble with the past thing. He frowned a little at the fact that Jo was like that as well. However, not that nor her 'no touching' rule were about to stop him. He'd be with her. He was alone and lonely, just as she seemed to be. Michael wasn't interested and that meant room and a chance for him. Being in the same league, as Michael had put it, was not a consideration. Greg was not a team player anyway.
As if aware he was being watched, Reese sat up and yawned. He rubbed an eye and looked over at Nikita. He gave her a sleepy smile and struggled to his feet. Nikita returned his smile. For a moment all tension seemed to leave her. He ambled over to the side facing her and peered out a hole at her. A small hand appeared over the top and patted the rim. "Uht?" came a little voice.
Rolling his eyes at the interruption, Greg said, "Not right now, bud."
"What does 'uht' mean?" Nikita asked just as a screech came from the play yard.
"Up, and if you don't pick him up, that's the result." Reese started to screech again when Greg yelled. His voice was hard and angry. "REESE DANIEL...THAT'S ENOUGH!!!"
Nikita was taken back by the harshness in his voice. It seemed a little much for what had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lower lip quiver and then Reese started to cry. Acting on instinct, she stood and picked Reese out of the enclosure. He was fairly upset and smacked at her a couple of times. Making comforting noises and whispering words, she alternately stroked the side of his head and wiped away his tears.
With a sigh of resignation, Greg rose and tried to take the baby from Nikita. "Sorry Jo." Reese let loose a scream and slapped at his father.
"NA!" He had grabbed a fistful of Nikita's hair and was not about to either let go or go to his father. Reese's temper flared and only added to his screams which were right in Nikita's ear. She moved from Greg a little; she was worried the little boy would pull the hair from her scalp. Though on second thought, he probably wouldn't be able to but it still hurt.
The screams he gave out were not very comfortable against her ear drum either.
"Greg, leave him. I can handle this. We're fine." She settled him back in her arms. Reese laid down his chin down on Nikita's shoulder. One had still firmly anchored in her hair and the other supporting the thumb in his mouth. He watched his father with knitted eyebrows. He was clearly an angry little boy. Little hiccups came from his mouth around his thumb. Greg glowered back at the child. Nikita was not pleased to see that. It was a sign of something she hoped was not true.
"Fine. Maybe a bottle will improve his disposition." He strode out of the room. Nikita let go of a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She rocked in place for a minute, stroking his back. It felt good holding the little boy. He smelled like a baby too. Closing her eyes, she leaned her cheek against the side of his head. Humming softly, she walked around the room with him a little. Gradually she felt the hold in her hair loosen and his little body relax. Now he gently play with the hair he had been holding onto so tightly.
Reese said something around his thumb that Nikita couldn't understand. She was a little peeved at the way Greg had reacted to Reese. He was just a baby and could be demanding. *Just like any man* she thought with a grin. The same feeling she had a few weeks ago watching Katie was starting to come up from inside again. It felt just right to be standing there holding the baby. Like it was almost something that should be. *Please someday, please* She hugged Reese and kissed him lightly on the shoulder. She felt the little boy snuggle closer. *Why do you feel like you're so lonely? Or is that just the way I'm feeling?*
Feeling tears threatening, she pushed herself away from the thoughts. There was that feeling again that she was being watched. She turned, opening her eyes and looked right into Michael's. He was standing there with Greg. She had been lost in her thoughts and hadn't heard the door or their approach. His expression was indecipherable except for his eyes. For an instant she thought she saw betrayal and then intense pain. He nodded his head slightly and said softly, "Perfect." Pushing Greg out of his way, he was gone.
With an innocent look in her eyes and a cocky tone in her voice; "Sorry if I upset him." All the while inside, she was screaming. She knew there was no way for her to fathom how much she had just hurt him.
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Michael had driven slowly away from Greg's house. His head in too much of an uproar for the control one needed for a speeding car this time. He felt like every daydream and fantasy of the past few weeks had been thrown back in his face. Nikita had looked so perfect holding Reese. Just like the sketch he had left laying on the couch at the cottage. It was as if the picture had come to life in living color.
He felt pain, sadness, regret, hope, joy and happiness all at the same time. Shaking his head, Michael was amazed at the emotions coursing through him. He just didn't understand it. It was distinctively uncomfortable and unfamiliar to feel like this. He almost felt human. "M'en fous!"
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The sun had set and the house stood out in stark relief against the deepening midnight blue of the sky. Staring at it, Nikita wondered what kind of mess they had been shoved into. Things here weren't right. From doing the hit on Margeaux Linsdon to right now. Something smelled more rotten than a skunk carcass on a highway. *Poetic tonight, aren't we Nikita* her inner voice mocked her.
It hadn't looked big from the outside but there had been more nooks and crannies than an English muffin.*Yes we are...big deal.* There had been a number of things that had been tampered with and the work was not that of Section One. That meant that another element was definite involved here. Operations had not been lying last night when he said that the cops were not part of the profile.
And there were the other small incidents that had been happening. Things Greg said he had deliberately not mentioned to Michael. First there were phone calls, then broken windows and doors left open. Greg was wondering if these were just scare tactics or if it was someone's way of gaging him and establishing when he did what. The kind of information needed to stage an attack like Michael had been involved with but more successful. Nikita had to give Greg credit for the thoughts. He might have been a small time arms dealer but he wasn't stupid. Or was he? The stuff she had seen in the house was out dated. Not used in many places, she knew of either. And it was not the piece of dangerous crap Walter had some of. It had been no where that advanced.
Leaning her head back against the car seat, Nikita tried again to figure out what was going on. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on besides this mission. That someone beyond Section One was after Greg Linsdon and Operations knew exactly where to get all the answers. Or for some reason, she and Michael were being kept on the surface so that what was going on deeper down didn't catch their attention. It was like Operations was keeping them busy. As if he knew that if he preoccupied her and Michael to the point of emotional meltdown, neither of them would be able to focus on anything else.
Swallowing hard, she glanced at the digital on the dashboard...1:30 AM. She flipped up the screen on the laptop and watched the readouts for any movement. Greg was still in bed; hadn't moved in over an hour. None of the perimeter alarms she had set up had been tripped. Only movement it showed was in Reese's room.
He was a restless little guy. He was moving around in the crib as she watched. The multi-colored image from the sensor she had placed clear on the screen. Impulsively she reached out touching the image but immediately pulled the hand back. Reese seemed to be such a lonely child, almost as if he was starved for affection and attention. Nikita hated to think that was true but the way he had latched on to her when she had picked him up had that feel to it.
Closing her eyes, a bittersweet smile formed on her face as thoughts about the morning float through her head. The experience of holding Reese had touched off a waterfall of bits and pieces from daydreams she had allowed herself in the past. Most centered around watching Katie grow up and having been a part of her life. Of having been able to be a mother to her instead of someone else.
In many ways, Nikita felt robbed; even though she knew she had no right to feel that way. The choice that had been made was the right one. Her life at the time would have condemned Katie to God knew what. How could she had allowed that to happen? No, her choice had shown how much she loved her little girl. But now Fate seemed to have brought them to this. Thinking back to her state of mind that night in the hospital, there was no way to fathom a future like the present she existed in.
And looking down into his son's eyes for the first time, Nikita contemplated what Michael's hopes and dreams had been for Merle. Granted the world into which he had been born was not the proper place to raise a child. Maybe deep down Michael and Simone had seen their son as a way out, a path to freedom.
Could that be where some of Michael's pain came from? To have such hopes pinned on the child and then to have him so cruelly ripped away? That required a great deal of selfishness, something that Michael had, but not a lot of. And having seen the way Simone had let Michael go, told him to go on that day; Nikita had the impression that it was not a part of what Simone had been.
Sighing, she reflected on the conversation or more accurately the story that Christine had told her. It told her that Michael was not the only one who held himself blameful for Merle's death. Christine was right there with him. She had not uttered five sentences before she had broken down into tears. Through her tears, she had warned Nikita away, that she didn't need or deserve any comfort. It amazed her how much Christine sounded like her brother when she said that. * I just wonder how much longer she's going to wait to tell him.*
The events she revealed to Nikita had hit her hard. Nikita hated to think ill of Simone, she had lost her child too. But she had cheated Michael out of his chance to say good bye to Merle and helped to short circuit him in a sense. It had not been an act of selfishness, more like a misbegotten attempt at sparing him perhaps. She stole a quick glance over at the screen. Everything still read calm. She pulled a hand through her hair with a sigh. Christine's voice hung in her ears.
*"It took three days to get Michael back to the section. It gave Simone time to bury Merle and clean everything out that was connected to him. I tried to warn her not to do it....to wait for him. She told me to stay out of family business. I wanted to scream at her that I was family. I had just lost my nephew and I saw her trying to like erase his ever being. I knew how Michael would react.
*I didn't see their confrontation in Ops. I've been told that he flew into section like a wild man. She stood there in front of everyone and very calmly and matter of factly told him about Merle. Then she turned her back on him. He came for me after that. Simone's anger and grief were nothing compared to his. He slammed in here. I was working at my desk. He came in and cleared it with one sweep of his arm, papers, pens, terminal, everything on the floor. I tried to get up. He moves so fast sometimes and that was one of those times. I ended up against the wall before I could even push my chair back. I remember it hitting the floor. He didn't yell...just held me there...staring into my eyes.
*His face and eyes were like dead, there was no light in them. There was no color in his face. Then he started asking me where Merle was. Every time I started to tell him, he would point a finger in my face and say "No, where is my son?" After about the fourth or fifth time, he started to tell me what he thought of me as a person and of my skills as a doctor. Actually lack of skills. Then he let go. He grabbed the chair off the floor because it was in his way and flung it with one hand across the room. He was so enraged. I was petrified. I just stayed against the wall. He started to leave.
*As the door closed, I saw something in his hand. Then I heard him make this inhuman sound. God, Nikita I can still hear that in my sleep!!! He was in such agony. I tore into the hall. He was on his knees with a gun in his hand. Simone had a hold of the barrel and was trying to pull it away from him. She was so damn calm!!*
A bleep brought Nikita up out of her reverie and she stifled a quick yawn as she looked at the screen. It was just Greg. He was leaving the bedroom. *Probably one of those walks through the house he told me he started doing.* Without realizing it, she started humming softly as she watched his movements for several moments. The heat image on the screen showed his progress as he went from room to room. He was moving slowly almost as if he was asleep. Nikita was taken aback by him passing Reese's room without stopping.
Seeing that, maybe lonely feeling she got from Reese might not be as far fetched as she was trying to convince herself. Suddenly she heard herself humming and stopped. It was the same tune she had used with Reese earlier in the day. Nikita coughed around the surprising tightness in her throat and chest. The tune carried with it memories of Martina and the events in Israel.
A shiver ran through her as she recalled waking up in the Medlab in Israel. The horrors from the nightmare still after her and the pain both inside and out that Martina soothed. The calming comfort of being held, the soft humming and the stroking of her hair until the sobs subsided. Nikita swallowed hard again, holding back the grief. It hurt like hell. In 3 months, Martina had become more than just a friend, mentor and teacher. She had become like a mother.
Nikita refused to grieve though until she was somehow able to find out what happened. She had forced herself to go through the files and other assorted things that had been brought back from the site. She hadn't seen anything. There were people working on it, at least that was what was being said. But it had been so long already. Maybe all the info had gone to the grave with Kaspin, Lord knew.
Stifling another yawn, she looked at the clock on the dashboard again. It was now 3:30 am. She must have dozed off somewhere in there. Indecision made her play with the keys in the ignition. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked at the laptop and then the house. There were things in there that did not belong or fit. Anomalies that spelled trouble for the mission and danger for those involved. Michael should know about them. But at this point, did he even care? The look on his face this morning made her really doubt that. Well, that was two things she needed to talk to him about. With that thought, she turned the keys in the ignition.
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Chapter 13
Slowly he placed the glass on the coffee table and lowered his head to his hands. The entire bottle wasn't going to do him any better than the 4 glasses he already had. He never drank much anyway. They had gone down quickly and had no qualms about going right to his head. The empty stomach was not a big help either. He looked at the bottle, shrugged and refilled the glass. In 3 swallows that was gone which meant the bottle was now empty too. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and carefully walked to the bathroom.
A shower was in order. His senses were foggy and his head felt heavy along with the rest of his body. Being tired to begin with had only intensified the effect. He was closer to drunk than he had been in a very long time. The day had been spent split between introspection and watching her work around Greg's.
He had felt guilty about leaving her there without backup and returned. Her expression at times had puzzled him. It was as if something was wrong. There was something wrong with the whole profile but he wasn't sure what it was. So many other things had been demanding his attention, he felt in some ways that he had lost the pulse of the section. Usually he had an idea of everything that was going on, even if it was a vague one. Never had he felt so disconnected.
Or alone. The incident from the morning still bothered him. The eyes staring back at him from the mirror were tired, shadowed and troubled. Seeing her holding Reese had broke open something in him. He wasn't mad or upset with her. Maybe it was more of a feeling uncomfortable or unsure about her. No, it wasn't with her. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it. No, the problem was with the feelings and images that it had woken up in him. He pulled off his shirt, wincing at the pain from his ribs. They were still tender. Looking in the mirror, he could still see the dark bruising from under his arm down to his hip with ribbons stretching to his chest and around to his back. He had played with fire not getting them checked.
*No the fire you're playing with is yourself. Seeing her hold that little boy was exactly what you wanted to see. Exactly what you wanted to see, her holding your child. Having a life with her on the outside. Having a normal life and a family * Then he heard the laughter. With a snarl, he threw the shirt at the mirror. "Just shut up! I don't want to hear it!" *Can't ever be more than A DREAM Michael. Got it? You're not fit for anything else.* He ignored the voice in his head. He was determined that L' Araigne was not going to haunt him anymore. Rubbing both eyes with his hands he got in the shower. After this was done he needed time off and away. *I'll go to George if I have to. I've got to get my head together. I can't function. I can't deal with being like this.*
The steaming water coursing over his hanging head lifted none of the fogginess . Nor the lethargy in his limbs, they still felt heavy. *Maybe the answer to forgetting is just getting drunk and staying that way.* He flipped his hair back and let the water smack him in the face. *No that's just etre. Ce n'est living.* his inner voice chided him. True but was there ever going to be a time when he could. "Hasn't the past taken that opportunity from me?" He gave a short bitter laugh. Thought were definitely getting harder now. He was mixing his languages, thinking in both at once. It was an eerie sensation.
Turning he swayed a little bit on his feet. This shower was not going to last long. He wasn't sure how much longer he wanted to stay on his feet. He wanted to go to sleep badly. The wine was wrecking havoc with his senses with a sort of numbness setting in. So much that he didn't know she was there until he opened his eyes after pushing the rest of his hair off his forehead. Quickly he closed his eyes and rubbed at them again. "Jesus, I am drunk." The wine and steam were the culprits. She really wasn't there.
Then he felt her hands around his wrists and heard her voice. "I'm not your imagination. Look at me." Pulling his hands away from his eyes, she let go and reached up to touch his slightly opened mouth with a knuckle of her finger. "I'm sorry for this morning."
Silently he studied her. She looked tired and troubled, like he did. That haunted look she had brought back from Israel was in her eyes again. He hated that look. He was responsible for her having been there and been exposed to the events that caused it. Another wrong that he couldn't fix.
But he could fix the need she saw for apology.
He kissed her knuckle, wrapping his hand around hers and slowly traveling down it to her wrist and arm. Casually he draped her arm around his neck as he kissed his way to her shoulder. His one hand slid into her hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head. The other around her waist pulling her closer. Nikita moaned as he kissed her neck and throat. She could smell the wine he had been drinking.
"N'est necessaire" he said softly as he kissed her mouth. His voice was husky and the accent strong. His hands and their caresses were demanding, expressing his hunger and loneliness. She could feel his need to know that she loved and cared for him. Michael wasn't alone in that either, she needed the same reassurances from him.
Kissing him back, she tasted the wine and knew right then he was probably a little drunk as he had said. She pulled away slightly which only made him groan and pull her back to him. There was no arguing with the desire in the next kiss they shared. She traced the outline of his jaw with small kisses and her tongue. Her hands slide down his chest as her mouth explored his throat and collarbone. Her next touch caused him to sharply inhale and grab her upper arms, pulling her up closer so he could kiss her again.
Michael hungrily sought her tongue, pulling her up to her tiptoes against him. He'd been away from her for too long. Everything else faded away. Slowly he moved his hands down her body. He broke the kiss, moving down her jaw and to her throat again. Her responses and touches only made him want her more. He pushed her back against the tile wall. Everything in him was centered on her. He didn't care or think about anything else except the way she felt against him.
The feelings and responses he provoked in her was making Nikita's head and body demand only one thing. Michael moved away for a moment, the water had gotten cold and was trying to distract him. A moment was all he had before she was tugging him back. He kissed her fiercely and then lifted his head so he could look at her. A smile spread across his face. Teasingly he whispered, "Is there something you want?"
Nikita looked at him with obvious meaning in her eyes. "I didn't come here in the middle of the night and join you in the shower so I could get cold. I was enjoying how hot it was."
Michael's smile became a grin to match her own. "So how do you expect me to fix it?"
Nikita brushed her lips and then her tongue against his mouth. "Make love to me." This time being the aggressor, she pulled him down into as hard a kiss as he had given her. Groaning against her mouth, he grabbed her waist to move her where he wanted her, when she broke the kiss. "Not here," she whispered.
"Mon Dieu, woman," he said hoarsely. Next thing she knew she was flat on the bed. "No more complaints." He kissed her gently. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too" she said replied huskily.
"Please, don't ever stop." And then the words stopped.
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It was starting to rain a little. The drops making tiny tapping noises on the windows. The crickets didn't seem to mind the light shower and continued to chirp. Reluctantly, Nikita opened her eyes. Michael lay on his stomach next to her, breathing slow and steady. He looked younger and more at peace asleep than he did awake. It was the eyes and set of the jaw that always did it. He was too restrained for his own good and now it seemed he was being paid back for it. As were the rest of them.
In a way, Nikita felt sorry for him, even though she would never say it outright to him. That would probably hurt him. Impulsively she moved a few strands of hair from his brow. He stirred slightly, tucking his arm under his head. She enjoyed this gentler side of him. It was something he usually only showed to her but she had an idea Reese had been treated to it as well. Thinking of the little boy made her wonder what kind of father Greg was. The answer was obvious, not a good one or Reese wouldn't act so starved for affection.
That lead to another thought. What had Michael been like? Gentle, caring, stern if needed, giving but not to the point of spoiling, well maybe. The pain he had exhibited at her apartment that night showed how much he loved his son and how much he missed him. Nikita wished that there was some way she could make the hurt go away. But there wasn't. It was in Michael's hands. She could stand beside him and love him. The rest was up to him. He had to let the past go and the ghosts from it that haunted him.
Something else was up to him too. Whether they were going to finish out this mission or not. There was definitely something not right. Driving here she had upgraded it from a feeling to a certainty. There was something beyond the face value of this mission. Something they were deliberately being kept away from. But why? It made no sense. As much as she hated to do it, she needed to wake him up. They had to talk.
She sat up, pulling some sheet around her. Tucking her knees under her chin, she wrapped her arms around her bent legs. Michael opened his eyes, "What's wrong?" The peace was gone but at least for the moment he wasn't as tense.
"I'm not sure. Will you listen to me for a while? Please?"
Now it was Michael's turn to sit up. Then tenseness was back in his body. Nikita felt like kicking herself. "What are you worried about?"
"This whole damn mission. It isn't adding up, Michael and I'm really getting worried. Greg was supposed to be this big arms dealer. Specializing in surplus arms from Bosnia that would go to cheap buyers. Kids were supposed to be getting hurt from the stuff he was dealing. Then there was supposed to be other items of a higher technological nature that were unstable, deadly. The stuff in that house is at least 10 years old. I doubt it works. Some of it's in pieces and all the pieces aren't there. He's got no security. Now no housekeeper. He needs someone to take care of his son. We're not the only 'danger' he's got facing him."
"I know. Things don't add up for me either. He's told me a lot that doesn't fit. That it wasn't his operation, he just helped finance it. This whole thing was Margeaux's. She was doing it when they met and she continued doing it after they got married. They were only together 3 maybe 4 years before... ahhh....she was away a lot. Always on business sometimes from what he's told me, weeks and months at a time. Greg thought he didn't need any security measures because it was always just him at home. Her work never touched them at home. They were somehow removed from it. Until last year, Margeaux came home with a surprise. She was 4 months pregnant. He hadn't seen her in 6. Seems she was not the most faithful wife in the world. Sex was a means of keeping control in her deals."
Michael shifted to lean against the headboard. Nikita didn't move. She had to know what he knew about things. He was silent, staring off into the darkness of the room. "And?" Nikita prompted him.
Sighing, Michael went on. "Reese's natural father was one of her Asian contacts. Greg thinks it was a guy she worked with a lot out of Seoul. She left right away again and didn't come back til Reese was about a month or so old. Then she was in and out for a while, Greg kept Reese here with him. Then about 2 months ago she decided she needed a break. Then Section started on them. And Greg pulled his disappearing act. Which in light of what he's told me makes no sense. Intel should have revealed it was her not him. But anyway, she stayed home until that morning in the graveyard. She made Greg accept Reese as his son. He did it in hopes of keeping her home. He did because for some unknown reason he loved the woman. He tolerates the little guy."
"To a point. So you think something is out of whack here, too? Good, because I feel like we're being kept busy for some reason. Like there's a need to keep us away from the Section. Or maybe so centered on each other that we don't pay attention to anything else."
Michael shook his head. "That's really stretching it, Nikita. I think your nerves are getting the best of you. I think somebody is just being messy with intel. Maybe we're relying on the other places a little too much because we're still thin with personnel."
She glared at him. The sense of an approaching brush off was strong. "Think about this Michael. Come on. Has one thing been the way you or I was told it was going to be? Intel is not being that sloppy. Everything else is working out right. Intel matches with what is being profiled. Other sequences are going smooth. Except this one. Can you think of any mission you've ever been on that has required so much of 'you' to be used to make it work? How much of yourself have you had to share with this guy? He knows about your life, our life. Stuff that took me years to drag out of you. What the hell is going on here? Tell me because I'm ready to pull the plug on this!"
He focused his eyes on her. He couldn't see her very well and he knew the same went for her seeing him. "You can't. You're not running the mission."
"And you aren't either. Which is another piece that doesn't fit. No back up, the profile is screwed up and you're not running the mission.... We're being tinkered with or being kept out of the way for some reason. And you want to know something else... The fact is I don't know what the hell you're even up to!"
"Nikita don't start a fight with me. I'm not....I don't want to fight with you."
"Damn it! Will you get your head out of the clouds!! We're in trouble here!"
Michael threw the covers back and got up. She heard him yank open a drawer. "There more at risk here than the mission. There's a little boy to worry about."
She rubbed her forehead in aggravation. *Here it comes again.* "Let his father worry about him."
"He's not his father! Greg doesn't love him! You were holding him this morning. Didn't you feel it? He's starved for affection. He needs someone to love him and take proper care of him."
"That's not you, Michael. You've got to give up this fantasy you've been creating. You can't be a father to Reese. And Reese can't replace Merle, no matter what you say or do!"
"Damn it Nikita! What gives you the right to say that?" He went into the bathroom and threw on the light. He was furious at her for throwing that back in his face again. Looking in the mirror, he wondered what she saw. How did she know what he was thinking? How was she able to tell what hopes and wild dreams were stampeding through his head? What if this turned bad? He had after all made a promise to Greg. He had to keep it. Michael didn't make promises lightly.
Hanging his head down, he took inhaled deeply. Bit by bit he forced the anger back. He wasn't going to let her push him. Sensing her presence in the bathroom with him, his head came up and he looked at her through the mirror. More emotions than he cared to name at the moment were evident at the face he saw there. A sheet from the bed wrapped around her, hair rumpled and hanging down from their lovemaking. Standing there like that, she looked alone and vulnerable. The look in her eyes had almost been the same that first time. That had drawn him in and convinced him that something good was still possible in the world. And just like then he felt the urge to protect her. Only this time, he was afraid the person he had to protect her from was himself.
"We go with the mission as it was laid down. We do our jobs. Personal issues are put aside."
"Can you put your....I don't know....your obsession with this little boy aside?"
"Protecting him is in the profile. I'm not obsessed with him."
"Yeah, like you're not obsessed with your past." She whirled and left the room. He inhaled deeply again. He knew what she was doing. Nikita was lashing out at him because of fear and anger. She was also trying to get him to focus on their primary objective. Get the information and get out. Clean and smooth. All right, he would admit that it was a poorly set up mission. Yes, all the pieces did not fit. Yes, there was something else going on, but....... He strode out of the bathroom as the full impact of her last comment hit him between the eyes. Damn it...
"I am not obsessed with my past. I'm possessed by it! There's a vast difference." She was already dressed. Sitting on the bed, she was lacing up the boots.
"Then give yourself an exorcism, Michael! Before you lose everything else you have." Nikita felt angry words gathering. This wasn't supposed to be a fight. He was supposed to be listening to her. Giving reassurances that this was going to work. The mission would be completed without any losses. That seemed like a distant hope now. She didn't know if she could keep him from slipping any further into his well of self destruction. He didn't seem to care or appreciate the effort.
She should have known better than to try to walk past him. One hand grabbed her upper arm and the other her chin. Standing like a statue in his grasp, she kept her eyes averted from his. "Are you threatening to walk away from me? From us?" His voice was brittle. He had himself reined in tightly.
"As I said before, haven't you already started to do that to me? Maybe I need to pull back before you rip my heart to shreds. Then I will be just like all the other miscreants we work for. No heart...no soul." She had wanted to add 'just like you' but she couldn't hurt him like that. Maybe in the past but not now. He had a heart and soul. Strong but buried deeply. If he didn't have a heart, he wouldn't hurt so much or feel such guilt. Yes, maybe he compartmentalized his emotions. But those walls were paper thin now. It didn't take much to rip through them.
The sudden hard angry kiss he gave startled her. His words cut like a razor. The pain in his voice was so sharp. "What do you see Nikita? What do you think when you look at me?" He leaned his forehead against her, eyes closed. Both his hands circled her neck, fingers resting on the nape of it. She closed her hands over his wrists, her fingers feeling his pulse steady under them.
The only thing she could say was what was in her heart. "I see the man I've fallen in love with trying to figure out who he was, who he is and who he wants to be. I see that man struggling with guilt that isn't all his. I see the man I love crumbling before my eyes from that guilt and I can't stop it!" She shoved him away. "Get rid of this precious guilt of yours! Let the other people it belongs to claim it! I told you before. LET IT GO!! It's what holding you back, pulling you down into that well again. I'm losing my grip on you!"
Michael stood like a statue in the center of the light that spilled from the bathroom, hands cupped over his mouth. His eyes traveled around the room, looking everywhere but at her. Stiffly he replied, "You think you know me so well."
"I don't but I want to. I'm trying to so we don't have to repeat the business of yesterday. I'm done with it. I want to look for tomorrow instead. Because maybe when I wake up tomorrow this will all be done and things will be normal. We'll actually have a life."
"Nikita, I'm not so sure there's a tomorrow anymore. I sure as hell don't remember normal either. I don't even know where to begin to look. Do you?"
He watched as she rubbed the sides of her neck. Slowly she brought her eyes back to him. Her face was shadowed but what he could see looked sad and weary. "By looking ahead. Where else is there?"
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Walter looked up from the beer he was staring at as he felt the hand on his shoulder. He gave a nod to Madeline and gestured to the barstool next to him. As she sat down, the bartender slapped a napkin down in front of her. "Yeah?" he sounded slightly annoyed, as if she had disturbed him from something.
Smiling her usual smile, "Whiskey straight. Cube in a shot please." With an arched eyebrow, he poured her request and ambled away. She stared at the liquid for several seconds. Meeting Walter here only indicated one thing....the one thing she had hoped would be unfounded.
"Expecting the worst?," Walter asked quietly.
Taking a sip, she winced as the liquor began to burn on the way down. "Of course," she replied a little huskily. "Why ask me to meet you here instead of at Section. What you are going to tell me is not going to be good."
"No it's not. He's up to his eyeballs, Madeline. Him and George. He was partially responsible for L' Araigne getting free. But from what Silvo was able to dig up, he was completely responsible for the murder of Martina and most of her crew. I say most because there was signs of survivors. It was an agency hit. That's why L' Araigne was out. It looks like he did it for him but it backfired because he went AWOL to look for Michael."
"And how does Linsdon and his wife fit into this?"
Walter took a swallow of beer before he went on. "It's not clear at the moment. But it looks like she was a carefully constructed personae. Her history just all of a sudden starts. Like she was hatched full grown. She has to have been Agency crap. Linsdon is no big arms dealer. He's been led by the wife to think they were dealing. This thing is a front, Madeline. Michael and Nikita are getting screwed on this. I think he's looking at getting them killed."
Madeline took a long swallow on her drink, that had not been what she wanted to hear. In fact none of it had been. The poison they fought to keep at bay had managed to leech into the man she held in the highest regard. A man for whom she still keep a small ember for just in case there was a tomorrow. So far there hadn't been any but the need to snuff it out cold never got strong. Except for right now. In all the years she had know him, Madeline had never felt such loathing about his actions. Yes, at times she had been angry, disgusted but in the end it had been for the best. But not this, this was wrong. There was no right in these actions. They were cowardly and despicable. He was insuring the death of a future for any of them and irreparable damage to the present.
Emotions made her voice even lower. Sorrow was the only description she felt at saying her next words. "For now I have to count on them to take care of and protect each other. I have no other recourse at the present."
"You better be strong enough to do what has to been done. Just don't sacrifice the two of them to do it."
"I don't intend to. Tell Silvo to find them. I can not access the profile. It's not at Section and anything connected to it is sealed. The profiler was sent on a mission. He returned without much left to him. Simon said they rode in black out status. They were on the road about 4 hours he thought. He can't tell me where Michael and Nikita are. They have to be informed. Locate them and have him get in touch with me. You have his findings?"
For the pocket of his tan fringed coat, he pulled a mini cd and held it up to her face. "Everything is right here."
She started to take it from him when he curled his fingers round hers. "And what about Martina?"
"What did he find out? Something you need me to know before I view this?"
"It was an agency takedown that had authority from George and write off by Operations. But get this, there were survivors. I told you that earlier."
Madeline nodded. She had only been half listening to him before. "Who?"
Walter shrugged. "Rumours...that one was Martina. But we know that's impossible, right?"
"That's right. The autopsy confirmed it. That's your assignment Walter. Find out who survived."
"And what do you suppose you are going to do?"
"Figure out how to stop him." *And keep my promise to Nikita and Michael.* Pulling her hand away and slugging back what was left of her drink, she left.
With a sigh, Walter next pulled out his wallet. *Stuck with the bill again. Must be my fate. You'd think my armour would be tarnished or something by now.*
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Operations watched as the tall redhead sauntered down the street. Her stride reminded him of a panther with its feline grace along with the latent power it concealed. With her, she carried an air of vulnerability back up by a wall of determination, heart and steel. In fact she reminded him very much of another young woman about her age. One he had high hopes pinned on, though he would never admit to it.
Yes, CC McHughes was a formidable woman. And she knew it. She knew her power and how to use it. It was an awesome characteristic in one so young. Nikita was beginning to sense hers and it was an experience to see it develop. He knew it was part of what had attracted Michael from the start. He confessed now to having been wrong about her. CC had been right. The structure she suggested for the future was the right one. He wondered though...what had pointed it out to her as early as it had.
The redhead stopped, a hand resting on the back of the chair across from him. "Is this seat available?" Her accent clearly said New England.
Operations smiled warmly at her with a teasing glint in his eye. He genuinely liked the woman unlike his uneasy tolerance for George. Tolerance that now had been turned into disgust. "Now, Constance Camille, you know I always save a seat for you."
Rolling her eyes ,she sat. "Don't call me that. I feel like I belong at a cotillion when I hear that. And before you even start....no southern or redneck jokes."
Nodding his assent, he noticed how serious her expression became. "You've got bad news. We lost her didn't we?"
"Yes, I'm sorry Oscar. You know the damage though. We kept her with us longer than maybe we should have. She was in a lot of pain. The amount of morphine she was on really wasn't letting her live. She was just existing."
"I know." There was sadness and bitterness in his voice.
"This wasn't your fault. It's George's. He did this. But I think it was something she in a way wanted. She was tired, worn out and fed up. When was the last time she was just herself.. .just worrying about one place and one job? I can't remember; can you?"
"Truthfully, I think it was before you were born. Well maybe a little before the accident. When ....never mind." He stared down the street, watching cars and people pass. Things that were part of normal everyday life. It was a delicacy he wasn't allowed to indulge in. "Did she say anything before?"
"A few things....she wanted Nikita to know she didn't blame her...it wasn't her fault. She wanted me to tell Michael to 'keep the three of them safe'.....I don't understand that one. I doubt she meant him. Things were just about bottomed out with them."
He lit a cigarette and watched the ash tip slowly grow on it. "I'm sorry to hear that. I thought she was happy with him. I was wrong I guess. I don't understand her message for Michael either. When this is over, tell him. Knowing Michael, he will understand it."
"You were never replaced. He was just a substitute. There aren't many who can fill your shoes."
Operations sneered at her as he stabbed out the half smoked cigarette. "I can't think of anyone who would want to. I've love to hand them over right now."
"It bothered her a lot to see how you and Madeline ended up. She made a sacrifice of herself and I think she felt it was a waste. She had too much respect for the both of you to say it out loud. It is why she reacted so strongly to what she saw between Michael and Nikita. She didn't want to see that kind of combination wasted again." CC studied Operations intensely. The stress of the situation was beginning to become evident on his face. There were more lines around his eyes and mouth than just a few short weeks ago.
"I know. She did tell me how she felt when things started going bad. That's why all this bothers me so much. I know that in the long run this will protect everyone including them. But the short term implications are staggering as well as the problems I am having running Section One as I need to. Michael's an emotional wreck...Nikita is not much further behind. We ruin them...this will not have been worth it. And Madeline is snooping. She's using outside contacts to look into what is going on. And there one more thing..."
"Deal with Madeline as you can. We'll make it up to Michael and Nikita one way or another. The hurt will be worth it, I promise. What's the other problem?"
"Michael and Linsdon were attacked 3 days ago after the initial contact between Greg and Nikita. I didn't arrange it. This could all be blown to hell in an instant."
CC tapped a finger on the table, her eyes narrowing. The grey darkened in connection with her thoughts. "I need you to take care of that explosion, Oscar. It's time for you to make a sacrifice. In return for the ones they've made for you. I need more time. I don't have enough on him yet."
"There isn't much left. Either time or strength in my two best operatives. If you could have seen him two weeks ago, he was not good. He was ready to kill me. Paybacks are a bitch young lady. I'm looking at some hefty ones."
CC sighed. She knew what they were going through. "I know it is hard. I'm going through the same pain. I know who was responsible and now I have to clean this up. I promise you, Michael, Nikita and Madeline will get something out of this. Your sacrifices will be rewarded."
"You better keep it or you will deal directly with a very angry me."
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Chapter 14
One foot in front of the other lead to one end of the room. Then a turn with a foot forward following with the other took her back to the opposite end. The situation was now more unclear than before. An image of a volcano spewing ash, it was from a movie she had seen or something, flashed in her mind. Her eyes were dark and troubled, her features drawn. Her strides covered the place where she paced back and forth like an animal on the prowl. Which in a way she was, for some kind of answer as to what the hell was going on and how it was going to end up.
It was frightening to see the downhill slide that Michael was taking. In some ways it reminded her of how she had felt last year. For the third time in a row, she snatched the cell phone from the table and hit the keypad as she continued across the room. The numbers lit up as she stared down at the LCD.
"CALL?" was easy to read off of the display but it was not as easy to get herself to tell it who to call. Covering her mouth with her free hand and exhaling against it, the phone ended up off and back on the table again. Now for the third time too doubt had made her set down the phone. *You're not running the mission.* she could still hear him saying it. It irked her to have him remind her of it. It only made it that much more evident to her that she was trapped and controlled. *Like a damn animal in a cage.*
Wrapping her arms around herself, she laid her cheek against her hunched shoulder. Stopping in front of the laptop on the desk, she stared at the set of 6 pictures that the screen displayed. Operatives for the 'security team' at Greg's house. Two she vaguely recognized. They had been in Israel for about 10 days just after she had arrived and then she hadn't seen them again. The others she had never seen before. Could they be new or maybe loaners because they were a little strapped?
Which ever was the case, it made her all that more uneasy. She had assumed there would be members from the team in on this. That way there would be some backup. The details on each of these were sketchy and almost haphazard, as if they had been picked as an afterthought. Reaching out, she smacked down the top. With an exclamation she threw herself backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. They were to be at Greg's later in the day. She had to finish up her plan quickly. A yawn shook her and she realized how tired she was. Maybe a cat nap, she was going to need the energy.
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*Operations hurled her against the wall, telling her that it was time for her to make a choice. Him or her, a future or the past, the present was not an option . At first she didn't know what he meant. He shoved a gun into her hands and pushed her forward to the railing. It was then she realized she was home in her apartment. Michael was on his knees at the end of the couch on the floor, his head hanging down. His hands were behind his back, so she had assumed they were tied. Madeline stood to the side of him. Her hands resting on Katie's shoulders. Eyes of blue identical to her own locked with Nikita's and they were wide with terror. Tears silently fell from each one and her lower lip quivered.
Fighting to control her own terror, Nikita tried to fight off Operations but she just didn't have the strength. Her arms and legs felt like lead. Like she had been drugged. He stood behind her forcing her arms straight out. He held the gun with her, his finger covering her on the trigger. He was demanding that she choose. Michael or the child. "I won't let you have both. You can only have one." Madeline repeated his words. There was almost an echo in the room. She pleaded with him. She begged him not to force that kind of choice on her. She couldn't do it.
Michael looked up at her, he looked like the night he had come to the apartment.. His own eyes were full of that pleading and pain that he had lately. "Let me go, mon coeur. She's more important." Operations hissed in her ear that he had offered the same choice to Michael and he couldn't make it either. This was part of his punishment. One brat down and one to go. But Michael was going to be next. As she screamed no, Operations pulled the trigger. Michael fell forwards, bleeding from the chest. "Losing things only makes you strong" was all Operations said as he pulled the trigger again in spite of the struggle Nikita now found the strength for. This time the gun was fired in the direction of Katie. Screaming Nikita's knees buckled and she fell to them in front of Operations.
Still in a deep sleep, Nikita slid to the floor from the bed. Her movements began to match her dream as she fought against the images in her head. Words were sprinkled among the moans and groans she made. Tears began to trickle from beneath her lashes. Slowly her door opened...
It took a minute for Madeline's eyes to adjust to the dimness in the room. Cautiously she entered, holding a small pistol in front of her. She could hear the noises coming through Nikita's door and had become instant concerned. Had the damage already been done? If anything had happened, she was going to kill him herself.
*She was afraid of opening her eyes, screams echoed around her She knew the screams belonged to her team but she hadn't been able to find them. She forced her eyes open.... It was dark! So black. Everything was wet and sticky. All she could smell was blood and burning... 'God don't think about it. Jayme's still alive get her out.' She could just make out the face. It wasn't Jayme anymore... .Martina's eyes stared back at her. 'Got to get her out. Couldn't let her down like that again. There! Light! Got to get to that light'. Martina felt so heavy and she was moaning so much. A door.' I found a door. Martina? Martina, where are you hurt? Light got to take a look at her.' The door fell open to a cement parking lot with head stones, deep in shadows. She cradled Martina's head against her shoulder, pushing some of the brown hair out of the brown lightless eyes...'Not again!.....How could I fail you? I didn't mean to!!! I tried!! I tried so hard'*
With the adjustment of her eyes, Madeline found Nikita on the floor, leaning against the bed. The noises had been the result of whatever nightmare she was having...... *But it wasn't Martina anymore, it was Momma. "Momma talk to me. Please momma. Don't leave me again." Momma's eyes popped open and her hand tangled in her hair pulling her closer to the blood oozing from her chest. She pulled Nikita's face close to hers. "See what you've done. Just like you've done to so many others. Now you've done it to me and her. Your scorecard is getting full there blondie!" She pulled at Momma's arm, trying to release the strangle hold. *
Nikita struggled to break her mother's grasp, as Madeline pulled her to her feet, intending to get her back on the bed. She screamed. Woken by her own scream, Nikita pitched forward, knocking Madeline off balance. Her eyes snapped open, dilated with fear and adrenalin. She was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. She'd had this nightmare before.
Then she sensed the presence in the room with her. Still not completely awake, she reacted on reflex and attacked. Madeline was shocked at Nikita's intensity. The kick sent her crashing against the wall. Sheer force of will kept her from floating into the swirl of colors in front of her eyes. Mustering all the force she had, she backslapped her. Nikita staggered back, hand to her cheek but with reality back in her eyes. She blinked her eyes and shook her head. "Madeline?"
"Yes, are you done?"
Closing her eyes, she swallowed , it didn't take away the dryness. On quivering legs she went to the nightstand and grabbed a half empty bottle of water, gulping it down. The dream gnawed on her with sharp teeth. Still shaky, she sat down on the edge of the bed with a groan and put her head in her hands. "What do you want?"
"You better get your head on straight. Focus on right now, Nikita. You need your center to be right here. There are things going on that you need to be prepared for. I'm afraid you and Michael are in danger."
With a short laugh, Nikita looked up at her. "Nice to know I'm not as off my rocker as I thought I was. Exaggeration my foot. What is it?"
Madeline took a deep breath. She didn't have any of the facts she needed yet. So much of what she was discovering was incomplete and as yet totally substantiated. But they had to know to protect themselves. "At all cost keep Michael alive and keep yourself alive. Something is going on that will require me to ask for your help in the future....the near future."
"Where did you learn to be so vague or is it just a gift you have. So what is the big deal? Another Section plot? Now that would be a new one." Nikita asked sarcastically.
"This is agency and it involves all of Section One and the rest under the umbrella. George and Operations are both ..."
"WHAT?" She stood, taut and angry.
"Nikita, don't ask me any questions! I have no answers for them. If I could pull you two out of this profile right now, I would in an instant. But the risk of exposure is too high. Not only for myself on the inside looking into this situation we've been dragged into but for you on the outside. I can not allow either of them to know I am investigating what is going on. Walter is working as fast as he can with his contacts but he must not rush, ripples can't created."
"Give me a hint here Madeline. I need to know! What are we involved with?" Nikita felt ill. Somehow she knew what was going next.
"Operations and George were responsible for L' Araigne coming out of his cover. He was the one who cancelled Martina's unit. Then he went for Michael without their directive as it looks now. Maybe they thought with him taking care of the both of you, two problems could be eliminated at once."
Nikita fought for air. It felt like a ton of metal was sitting on her chest. "Operations' been responsible for everything since Israel...maybe even Elouette. WHY? "
"I told you...I have no answers. Just questions like you do and more suspicions than I care to have. I can't say if he was responsible for Israel or Elouette. I don't know."
"He killed Martina!!!!"
"Not directly. It looks like it was L' Araigne...perhaps he was looking for you to get to Michael. Maybe the aim was not even to have done anything. I DON'T KNOW!! I just need you to keep each other alive."
Nikita's next words tumbled out one rapidly following the other. "You don't know what has been going on here. Michael and Greg were attacked not by our people but by somebody else's. There's stuff at Greg's that's not Section issued. The weapons he selling are worthless. There's an innocent child involved. Who isn't even Greg's. From what I've learned this kid is a dead ringer for Michael's son. I'm trying to hold on a man who I think could care less what happens to himself. He's spinning like a top, Madeline. I can't stop him either. He sees a second chance with this child. I have a feeling he thinks he can right some mistakes of the past."
Madeline hung her head. She could only guess the pain that Michael was experiencing. She knew Nikita was running scared. The nightmare was only one manifestation of that fear. The emotional and mental fortitude of the Section's two best agents was eroding away under the heavy pounding of the sea they were trapped in. "If things deteriorate further, I'll find a way to pull you out. For now, stay in the sequence. If you can finish it, pull out and find a place to lay low."
"What about this bond that he feels for this child? Reese doesn't belong with Greg. He doesn't even want to be near him...at least it seems that way. I held him yesterday, Madeline. He grabbed me so tight. He didn't want to let go. Michael's felt it too. He wants it to stop. He said he's starved for affection. He's worried for him. I can't blame him either. Greg doesn't love him, doesn't want him. He tolerates him out of his wife's wishes. I'm afraid of what Greg might do to Reese. I don't think he would beat him or anything but .... it's abuse just the same. I've seen neglect Madeline up close. I know how it starts. It's starting here. I don't want to see that happen. Michael won't let it happen. He will not let go. I won't be able to stop him either. I don't even think he would let me."
"Nikita, don't get into it. You can't be sure of what's going on there."
"I am the product of neglect. It starts with lack of affection, tolerance bordering on indifference. And goes downhill from there. It is wrong. Children should be loved. They are not objects to be tossed aside or paid attention to when they annoy you or can be a MEANS TO AN END!!!!"
Madeline knew she was going to regret her next words. But what Nikita was saying was right. Reese was an innocent child. For all they knew he wasn't even Margeaux's son. He might already be a pawn. And they would unwittingly be giving someone leverage.* Another thread... I'm all three of the Fates in one. Please just don't make me have to do the task of Atropos!*
"I promise you just like I did before. I'll take care of it. Please trust me to do as I say I will."
Nikita watched her unblinkingly from where she had stood at the foot of the bed the whole time. *What makes you think I'm willing to trust you? Your promise? Yeah, we'll see about that... won't we, Madeline?*
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The phone rang five times before it was answered. "Bon jour." Nikita had calmed herself down before she had managed to find a payphone and dialed Claude's number. The trembling started anew as she heard the voice on the other end. She leaned her head against the glass of the booth, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Katie sounded perfectly fine and safe. It helped to sooth the rawness in Nikita's mind somewhat. Now if she just knew if Michael would be.
"Allo." She could hear the note of impatience and annoyance in her daughter's voice. Her accent was similar to Michael's but more pronounced. It hadn't been tempered by other influences yet. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She felt too troubled though for it to form completely. With some effort Nikita found her voice.
"Claude, s'il vous plait." She winced a bit at her pronunciation. It couldn't be helped.
Now she could make out the curiosity in Katie's voice. Nikita had a suspicion she always needed to know what was going on and why. "D'ac. Qui est-ce qui?"
*Qui? I think that means who...she wants to know who I am....Fake or real, Nikita?* her inner voice spit at her. "Nikita."
"Un minute." Nikita could hear her put the phone down and then muffled she could hear Katie calling for Claude. Within seconds, Claude was on the other end.
"Nikita?" His voice was tense and full of worry. She could just make out a whisper from the other end. It sounded like his wife, Annika. The phone muffled for a second. "Annie, please.... .Nikita, are you there? Is everything all right?"
"I'm here. I needed to make sure she was ok." Her throat was getting tight and tears were starting to leak from her eyes. In frustration she wiped at some of them. She looked up at the top of the booth, fighting to keep them out of her voice.
"What's wrong, Nikita? I can hear it in your voice. Tell me what's going on! Why are you calling? It's not just about that!"
"I've got a problem and it's Michael. I don't know what to do." She couldn't stop the tears now.
Claude took a deep breath. "Tell me what he's gotten involved in." He was going to get burned. He'd been too lucky for too long. He knew it. But he couldn't deny a plea for help, especially one that involved Michael. The man had done too much for him to say no.
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Claude and Annie sat quietly at the table in the kitchen, their mugs of coffee long cold. She looked up at him, worry making the tiny lines around her brown eyes more noticeable. Tucking a piece of black hair behind her ear, she took a deep breath and started to open her mouth. Instead she closed it tight again, pressing her lips together in a thin tight line.
For years now Annie had silently stood by while Claude had taken care of one displaced child after another. She knew where they came from. She knew the answer he gave Michael and others that they were homeless was not the truth. But the truth could not be given. There were times when the child would stay for only a short while and there were others that had been with them for so long she thought of them as her own.
Annie didn't need to ask where the money came from either. They never lacked it or anything else they needed. Every few months Michael would show up on the doorstep with some as well. Many times there were gifts for the children too. One thing she noticed about him, he never forgot one of their birthdays. Even if it was in between visits, a surprise would be there on the special day for the child.
Claude and Michael had been friends since they were teenagers. They had shared something then that had bonded them together strongly. But Claude has refused to tell her about it. They didn't talk about the past much nor about the present except what had been going on with the children. Many times she had hear them talk about the future. Michael's last few visits had been brief. His remarks had centered around someone who had come into his life. Annie has been happy to see and hear the change in him. It had been difficult for him after losing his wife and child. It was good to see the life back in him.
The transition had not been without its troubles. Nor had the ongoing relationship with the woman he called Nikita. When he had called and asked them to take in Nikita's child, she had suffered a lot of doubt. Upon meeting the child though, the doubts shrunk. Katrina or Katie as Michael referred to her was a delight. She sparkled with life and kept the remainder of the 'family', all boys, on their toes. She was also stubbornly tough. She refused to back down from any squabble with any of the boys. In fact it was usually one of them who gave in first.
Jerrod, one of the boys Annie thought of as her own because he had been with them so long, referred to Katie as Blue Thunder. He always said that when the little girl's blue eyes started to flash, a storm was about to let loose. Upon meeting Nikita soon after Katie's arrival, those last few lingering doubts evaporated. Annie could see where the child got her spirit and why Michael loved the young woman. The spark that glowed in Katie was the same one in her mother. Nikita was resilient, a fighter, a survivor and she had a good heart. To love Michael and get him to return that emotion, she had to. He was not a man who let people get close to him. She had managed it with her heart and spirit. Those traits she had passed on to her daughter as well.
The phone rang again and Annie was quick to her feet to answer it. "Hello? Yes, he's here." Holding it out to Claude, she said, "It's that woman. She wants to speak to you."
By the tone of his wife's voice, Claude knew who it was. Annie always referred to her that way. If they ever met he was sure Annie would be hard pressed to keep her tongue. It was obvious that the situation was more complex and serious than he thought. Reluctantly he took it from her. "This is Claude.... Hello....I'm fine and so is everyone else....Things here are good." There was a long pause as he listened to the person on the other end. "I understand...I'll meet you tomorrow around 3? The usual place....of course....for how long? ....yes of course I understand....as always....Yes I will....Tomorrow then... yes good night to you as well." Slowly he hung up the phone.
"You'll be leaving in the morning?" Annie asked with sadness and worry in her voice. She hated when that woman called. It meant Claude would be away for a while. And he always came home bleak and depressed. Looking down at the floor, he loudly sighed and nodded yes "For how long this time?"
"This will be brief for now. We are only going to talk."
"What if Nikita needs you? You promised to help her with Michael's problem."
"I will be there. There's a connection. I'm caught in the middle, Annie. There's no way out of this one. I hope I can keep my word to all of them."
End of Part 6
continue on to Bitter Refrain, Part 7
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