| Subject: Re: Jericho II:04 (Read this one, pls) |
Author:
Anon
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Date Posted: 06:06:55 02/06/02 Wed
In reply to:
Anon
's message, "Jericho II" on 23:17:33 01/28/02 Mon
It had been nearly six weeks since Michael had last seen Nikita. During that time he had checked on her progress regularly. He was aware that Madeline had kept her on an in-house rotation, allowing her to go out in the field only once, and even then, only as part of a back-up team. Her scores in the simulator were, as Madeline had informed him, above average. The true test though, Madeline had also pointed out, would be whether she would be able to transfer that level of performance out into the field where it would matter.
Michael sat back, a slight frown marring his brow. There was still much he had to teach Nikita. Unfortunately she wasn't always the most receptive of students.
There was a knock at his door and he glanced up to see it open. Nikita stood in the doorway, her head tilted to one side as she looked in. She had one hand on the doorknob and stuck the other in her back pocket. Her hair hung loose, eyes hidden behind a pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses. The t-shirt and baggy pants she wore looked as if she’d slept in them. Michael refrained from sighing as he motioned her in. “Have a seat.”
Nikita sauntered in, closing the door behind her. She remained standing, her expression bored. “You called?” she asked, folding her arms.
Michael turned off his laptop and then pushed his chair back. He placed his elbows on the arm rests and laced his fingers loosely together as he inspected her from head to toe. “Take off the sunglasses.”
Her brows arched. He could feel the challenge in her stare.
“Now, Nikita.”
Sighing loudly, she reached up and pushed the shades on to the top of her head. Blue eyes met his. "Happy?"
Michael stood up. He came around to the front where she stood and then sat down on the edge of his desk. Michael folded his arms and stared back at her. “How have you been?”
Nikita looked at him suspiciously. Then she shrugged and looked off to the side, seemingly uninterested. Michael waited until she finally turned her attention back to him. When she saw that he was still waiting for an answer, she said, “I'm fine. Anything else?"
Michael stared at her. Her sass, at times, reminded him a lot of Simone. “That’s good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She relaxed a little, her shoulders loosening. She shuffled on her feet, then walked over to the chair and dropped down into it. She stared at him, eyes inquisitive, and then her head tilted again to one side. “I have a question.”
“All right. Ask.”
“Why Josephine?”
Michael stared at her blankly. She looked back at him with genuine curiosity.
“Why use a codename?” Nikita asked. “Why not just call and say, ‘Nikita’, or ‘come in’, or something else instead of, “Jo-se-phine. Whose name is that anyway, your old girlfriend’s, because I really don't like it.”
Michael felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't even ten minutes in her presence and Nikita was already making him feel --- at ease. For him, that was rare. “Your code name,” he explained quietly, “is Section issued. I didn't have a say in choosing it.”
A look of disappointment shot across her face. “Oh. Too bad. I guess that means you can't change it then either. I guess I'm stuck with it then." She puffed out a breath of air, and then said, "How about you? Do you have a code name?"
Michael looked at her without responding.
"Oh. I get it.That must be one of those 'need to know ony' questions, right?" She rolled her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath.
"Madeline tells me that you've done very well in your training over the past weeks."
"Really? She could have fooled me. Does this mean I've passed my probationary status."
“No.”
Nikita snorted. “I'm so disappointed. So what now? Is there another test Section wants to run me through?”
Several seconds passed and then Michael said, “Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner?”
“With you?” Nikita gave a short sharp laugh. “Not likely. Been there, done that, thank you very much.”
“Then consider it an order,” Michael said. “Go to wardrobe and change into something appropriate.”
"Why the hell did you ask me if you were going to order me to do it anyway? she said, sounding irritated. "And what’s wrong with what I have on?”
“It’s not exactly appropriate attire for the place I have in mind,” Michael replied, and he saw Nikita’s shoulders tense.
“This is a test, isn’t it?” she accused. Her eyes grew hard and her voice angry. “Look. Stop f**king with me. Just give me the details of what I’m supposed to do and let’s get it over with. None of this sugar coating s**t, Michael.”
“Watch your language,” Michael warned. “It's not appropriate that you speak that way.”
Nikita gave him a wide-eyed stare, and then she started laughing. "Why? Because you're my mentor, or because I'm supposed to be a lady? I hope it's not the latter because I can tell you right now, Michael, I can't be what you and Madeline want me to be. This is how I am. Either take me as I am or get rid of me. It's that simple."
He stood then, took two steps to where she sat and then crouched down in front of her and looked into her eyes. His voice was very quiet. "You don't want to live?"
Nikita stared back at him, her eyes unflinching. "Live?" she asked, and then looked around the room. "How, Michael? What kind of life is this?"
"It's better than what you had before, Nikita."
Her eyes snapped at him. "You don't know that. I may not have had a roof over my head or food to eat every day, but at least I had my freedom."
Michael raised one hand slowly and moved it to cover hers. Nikita pulled back, eyes sullen as she turned away. Michael lowered his hand. After a moment he raised his hand again, this time he tapped his index finger against his temple. “Freedom is only a state of mind, Nikita. Once you learn that, no one will be able to take it from you.
She stared back at him, not speaking. Michael stood and walked to the door. “Come,” he said to her, and stood holding the door open.
She stood slowly and turned. “Where are we going?”
Michael followed her out and then closed his office door. He began walking toward the exit, not looking back. After several seconds, she reluctantly followed.
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