| Subject: Re: Jericho II |
Author:
Anon
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Date Posted: 09:18:15 02/10/02 Sun
In reply to:
Anon
's message, "Jericho II" on 23:17:33 01/28/02 Mon
One of the drawbacks of being involved in a deep-cover mission for Michael was that when he inevitably returned to Section, he had to work at re-establishing his trainee’s trust. Not trainee, Michael corrected, as he looked across the exercise mat to where Nikita stood looking less than pleased. She was an operative now. Young and still very green, but a Section operative none the less.
She had changed into long sweats and a tank top per his instruction, and all without complaining verbally, but her tight-lipped silence and the icy glare she cast his way relayed quite loudly her reluctance of being there. But since she had squawked at his invitation to dinner, Michael had decided to take this approach to lowering her defenses.
“Ready?” he asked, walking across the mat to meet her. In answer she planted her hands on her hips and frowned with irritation.
Her reaction amused him. Most operatives dreaded sparring with Michael but, judging from the look on Nikita’s face now, one would think she was the seasoned operative and he a pesky nuisance come to, once again, bother her.
Michael circled slowly. It always took Nikita a little while to get into full combat mode – another weak habit Michael was trying to alter. “Attack,” he ordered. She rolled her eyes and huffed. In the next instant she landed heavily on her back, Michael having swept her feet out from under her.
“Why you…!
“I told you to attack,” Michael said, standing back and waiting for her to get up. She did so – quickly. Blue fire burning in her eyes. Michael allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. In the two years he’d worked with her he had discovered that Nikita would almost never fight at her fullest potential unless provoked. But once she was angered, she came roaring forth like a lioness. Madeline said it was the years of repressed anger and fear that Nikita had lived with at home and while on the streets that was being manifested. Michael agreed with Madeline’s assessment and so he purposely provoked her on the mat so that she could learn to control her anger and channel it into her fighting.
They sparred for a good thirty minutes. Again and again, Nikita ended up on the mat. Each time she got up, rage filled her eyes. But Michael guided her, pointed out to her the need to focus on her opponent’s weakness and to anticipate his every move. Slowly the anger in her eyes faded and she began to watch him more carefully, pulling back when he struck out. She circled him slowly and when her eyes strayed to his hands, Michael shook his head.
“My eyes, Nikita. Look at your opponent’s eyes. That’s where you’ll know when he will attack.”
Nikita heeded his advice and Michael slowly felt the tension between them ease. When the session was over, Nikita was tired but physically more relaxed. She dropped down to the mat, arms resting across her upraised knees. Her ponytail had come loose and her cheeks were flushed from the exercise but she was smiling. Michael handed her a bottle of water as he sat down next to her. “You did good.”
She gulped the water down and then took a deep breath and handed the bottle over to him. “Thanks.”
Michael allowed her to catch her breath further and then pointed out quietly some of the points she needed to work on. Nikita listened and when it was over, asked, “Is this it? Can I go now?”
He smiled and nodded once. “Yes. Get some rest. I’ll expect to see you here again in the morning 5a.m.”
Nikita groaned but he could tell from looking into her eyes that she was looking forward to their next match.
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