written by Fluffles
Michael ran the water through his brushes. The rainbow of dolluted
colors ran down the drain as he rubbed the bristles clean. After cleaning all of the paint
away he tapped them on the sink and placed them in the mason jar upright to dry.
He walked out into the hallway and stopped at the window. Looking out he could see the
bridge and the cars as they passed over it. He could not help but take a minute to study
Nikita's apartment building.
Barely visible to him was the balcony. Sometimes he could catch a glimpse of her. If she
only knew he was so close.
Michael sighed and sat where he was, back to the wall under the window. He turned his head
to see into the spare bedroom. "Nikita's room" he often thought of it. In that
room lied the answers to all of her questions. It held everything she could care to know
about Michael and, more importantly, how he really feels about her. His paintings and
sketches revealed all of his thoughts clearly, and if that was not enough, the closet held
the rest.
Long ago he had packed away all of the pictures, the memorabilia dating
back to his first years at section. He had pictures of past friends, Simone... he often
wondered why he had kept them all.
Frustratedly he got up and strided to the room. He found the shoebox in the closet after
several minutes of searching. After studying it for sometime he opened it. The first thing
he saw was Nikita. He picked up the photo in amazement. How did she get here? Then almost
as quickly as he had wondered, he remembered. He had taken the picture from her file and
filed it away almost 2 years ago. It was a real nice picture of her. It was also the only
thing he had that was "hers".
He continued to look through the box, and realized he had sealed everything off in an
envelope, except Nikita. He looked at the picture and thought about how ironic that was,
and how true. He had sealed off the world and everything in it, except for her. She knew
him, yet he had told her nothing.
Nikita rushed through her apartment door carrying her shopping bags. It was four weeks
until Christmas, and even though she had no one to buy for now but herself, she still went
Christmas shopping. It seemed to be the "normal" thing to do this time of year,
and that alone was reason enough for her.
She plopped her bags down and dug out one box in particular. Pulling it out with care, as
if realizing she had thrown it down, she took her new binoculars from their case and
looked through them.
"Ooooo, focus, focus..." she whispered to herself as she adjusted them
accordingly. "Cool!!"
She shrugged out of her heavy fur coat and stepped out onto the lanai. She played with her
new "toy" getting good looks at the bridge, the trees in the park, neighbors
(ha, ha). Smiling to herself she decided to try and not spy on anyone. Then she saw him.
Nikita almost dropped her binoculars. She caught them, looking with her own eyes she tried
to believe what she saw. She blinked in what she was not sure was amazement, or fear.
She looked again through the binoculars.
"Ohhh, man..." she said to herself in a worried tone.
She could not take her eyes off of him. He was leaning against the window frame. He was
wearing a black terry robe, open, and yellow plaid flannel pyjama bottoms. He was reading
a letter... no, she squinted... looking at... a picture.
On his knees now, he leaned elbows out on the window sill, still looking at her picture.
He sighed and hung his head out the window, letting the brisk fall wind weave through his
hair. He raised his head after a minute and tilted it back, looking her way as he did so.
His head came back up, locked straight in attention.
Nikita brought the binoculars to her chest quickly, but she did not look away. She was not
sure if he had actually seen her.
Michael's mind raced. Had she seen him? He looked closely and saw the confused and scared
look on her face. It had been an accident, she didn't mean to...
"Damn it." he thought. Suddenly angry with himself he stepped back away from the
widow.
"Maybe she did not see me?" Michael wondered, "And who the hell cares if
she did?"
He wanted to know why section had placed them so closely together. This was THEIR fault,
not his. For the first time in what seemed like his whole life, he realized that. If
section wanted his address anonymous, THEY should have tried a little harder.
Nodding to himself he decided what to do and ran to the spare room. When he returned to
the window she was still standing there, in what he assumed to be disbelief.
Nikita looked up to see him there again. Her heart started to pound, and she walked over
to the edge of her balcony hoping the railing and lattice would help to camouflage her.
She lifted her binoculars again. He was so beautiful there, she thought, noting the
vulnerable, at ease Michael she saw. She watched him lean out as before, watching the
water. She was completely lost in him, until his eyes turned slowly to her. She gasped a
little and ducked as far down as she could without obstructing her view.
Michael chuckled a little to himself at seeing her binoculared eyes just above the balcony
wall with her top-knot ponytail sticking straight up above them. He folded a poster board
out his window. Nikita read it :
"# 9A "
A little confused, but definite that he had seen her, she stood and laid her binoculars on
the table behind her. Michael saw her and waved with a slight smile curving his lips. She
shrugged, palms up as if to say "I'm sorry?" He flipped the sign over, it read:
"Come Over "
Jokingly, Nikita looked behind her then pointed at herself. "Me?" she mouthed.
Michael raised his eyebrows and nodded "Yeah, you."
He walked away from the window, closing it. Slowly he glanced around his place. Although
he was a tidy person by nature, he was afraid it would not meet her approval.
The only thing out of place was the shoebox. He picked it up and took out the envelope,
studied it for a moment, then reached back into the box to get Nikita's picture.
Walking into the living room, he quickly put her picture in a frame and placed it
deliberately on the coffee table, sure that she would see it there. hen he took the
envelope and the box, he rubbed his thumb across it briefly before throwing it into the
trash. He felt himself suddenly determined to move on, and have what little of a
"life" he could manage.
When Nikita got there he opened the door and let her in. She pretended not to be curious,
but he knew she was.
"You may look around if you like" he said, carefully watching her reaction.
"No," she paused "...unless you want to show me?"
She had placed the ball in Michael's court, and that pleased him.
She was not meddling or nosey, just curious. Michael took her hand and pressed his lips to
her palm. She ran her knuckles down his cheek and he gently put his arm around her,
leading her in.
Then, she saw the picture. Smiling, she picked it up and showed it to him.
"Nice, isn't it?" he innocently asked.
She just smiled a little bigger and nodded "Yeah, I like that."
She put it back down and looked at him carefully. He pulled her in closer and he gave her
the grand tour.
Finally he came to the spare room..."her room."
"I have something for you in here." He smiled and opened the door. He watched
her reaction.
When he opened the door, Nikita walked in with eyes wide taking in all of the paintings
and artworks that decorated the room.
"My God..." she whispered, breathtaken, "They are beautiful." She
began to study them.
He did not feel the need to watch her, as he was a little uncomfortable himself.
"Take your time" he said waving his hand in invitation before leaving the room.
His paintings revealed the "real" Michael, and they read like an open book.
Nikita stayed in there for almost an hour. Among the various paintings were portraits of
himself and Nikita. Those pictures alone spoke the words to Nikita that Michael could not.
Michael was sitting on the couch waiting. Nikita sat down next to him. He leaned forward
and folded his arms together, rubbing his shoulders. She leaned in and rubbed his back and
kissed his cheek. Slowly, he looked at her. She tentatively kissed his lips.....and he
broke.
His arms held her strongly, and she held him as tight as she could return.
"I--I love you" he whispered roughly into her ear.
"I know..." came Nikita's tear-filled reply "You've showed me." She
let out a gasping laugh "I guess you have always showed me, haven't you?" her
voice cracked and her tears fell as she realized even before the paintings, and through
all of the deception, Michael had always protected her, done what had to be done for her
sake, all because he had loved her. She started to cry harder.
"I'm sorry that I never told you" he tried to calm her, kissing her ear.
"I'm sorry I never understood why you didn't" she admitted. She pulled back to
look in his eyes.
He studied her for a moment. Now she understood why he did the things he had done. He
smiled at her sheepishly. Nikita laughed and hugged him "Thank you, Michael. I love
you, too...always have."
Michael had never loved anyone so much as he loved Nikita, and he vowed to himself that he
never would. Nikita promised the same. And so... their future began....together.
THE END
written by Fluffles
©1998 La Femme Fiction
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