| Subject: Re: Jericho I: Repost, page 2 |
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Anon
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Date Posted: 02:53:05 02/03/02 Sun
In reply to:
Anon
's message, "Jericho I: Repost" on 02:51:08 02/03/02 Sun
"So how is she?" Madeline asked ten minutes later when Michael reported to her in her office.
"We may have to adjust her profile a little."
"How so?" Madeline queried.
"She's more starved for a mother's love more than a man's," he said. Madeline leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap.
"You think that I should put her with a woman trainer? Someone older?"
"No." Michael held her gaze and his voice was flat when he answered. "Not necessarily. She craves for a mother's love but I think she also needs exposure to a man's attention."
"Did she respond to you in any way?" Michael thought back to his encounter with Nikita. "No. There was no attraction on her part."
"That's interesting," Madeline commented. "Most female operatives have some sort of reaction to you, Michael."
Michael stared back at her without blinking. "Most, but not all," he corrected.
A small smile curved the dark-haired woman's lips. "I'm sure if you try, she'll come around."
"Do you want me to still be her trainer?"
Madeline's smile deepened. "I think that would be best."
"And the role of mother?" he asked.
"I'll handle that myself," Madeline replied as she leaned forward in her seat. "I'd like to meet the young woman who was able to resist your charms, Michael." Michael didn't return her smile but inclined his head slightly.
"Will that be all?" he asked. When Madeline nodded, he pivoted neatly and strolled out of her office.
************
Chapter 04:
"Do you always wear black?" Nikita was leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest as she surveyed Michael from head to toe. He waited until the door to her newly assigned quarters slid closed, and then gave her a cursory glance.
"Yes," he answered.
She arched a brow, and then pushed herself away from the wall. "Manic depression, huh?" she smirked.
Michael's eyes did not reveal any of his thoughts as he turned and strolled away. At least she was being more receptive to her situation than yesterday. "Follow me," he ordered.
She fell into step beside him. Her eyes darting about, absorbing the austere environment they were passing through. "No wonder you're depressed," she said after several minutes. "This place is creepy." Michael continued at a leisurely pace beside her, not acknowledging her comment. Nikita turned her head and looked at him. "You're not very talkative, are you?" she asked, and then shrugged. "Well that's all right, it's not like we'd have anything in common to talk about anyway."
They walked on in silence until they came to an elevator. Nikita stood to the side and waited while Michael entered a code into the security panel. Just then, two male operatives passed by and cast curious glances Nikita's way. Michael watched as Nikita's mouth tightened into a line and her chin jutted out stubbornly. "Ni-ki-ta."
Her head snapped back toward Michael and he saw she had that wide-eyed expression again. He realized with a start that Nikita was frightened of men. He could see the childlike fear peering out at him through the tough facade she wore and, somehow, it caused a tiny prick of emotion to stir within him. What had happened to her, he wondered, to create that fear?
Prior to his recruitment into Section, Michael had lived a sheltered, privileged life. His family was wealthy and he had never wanted for anything. Standing beside Nikita, he wondered silently what sort of life she had lived. Did her fear and distrust of men stem from an experience she had while living on the streets? Or did it happen when she was still living at home?
Michael held her gaze, his eyes softening a fraction. "It's all right, Nikita," he said quietly. "I won't let anything happen to you." She stared at him with guarded eyes. Michael pointed toward the open elevator doors. "We have to go," he said.
Nikita looked once more over her shoulder and down the hallway where the two male operatives had disappeared, then turned and walked past Michael into the elevator. He followed her inside and took his place beside her, he left enough room between them so that she wouldn't feel crowded in and they rode the car up in silence.
The doors opened onto the main floor of Section and he exited first, pausing momentarily to allow Nikita time to follow. He sensed that the flurry of activity about them could be intimidating to her and he watched from the corner of his eye as she stepped out of the elevator and moved a little closer to him. He moved forward with no apparent rush and she followed.
"Where are we going?" she asked, when they came to a halt outside of Madeline's office.
"To meet your new mother," he replied, and watched for her reaction. Nikita shot him a sidelong glance and he was relieved to find a spark of defiance in her eyes.
"So who are you -- my father?" she asked, and Michael realized she was finally showing an interest in knowing who he was. It pleased him and, for the first time since Simone had died, his lips curved into a genuine smile.
"You should smile more often, Michael. Then people wouldn't be so afraid of you and they'll open up to you." Simone had been laughing when she told him that, but he could tell that she was serious. Unlike him, Simone made friends easily in and outside of Section. She had the type of infectious laugh that drew people to her. Often she tried to introduce Michael to people whom she felt he could relate to. Apart from Chuck though, another cold operative, Michael kept his distance.
"I don't want people to open up to me," he told her. "It makes my job easier if they don't."
She had stared at him with an expression that bordered on pity. "Michael, friends are meant to enrich your life," she said as she caressed his cheek and smiled gently up at him. "They help make life worth living for."
"You're all the friend I need," he had responded, and he had meant it.
Simone had paused, her hands sliding down to encircle his waist. "And what happens if I'm no longer here one day, Michael? What then?" He hadn't answered her at the time but over the past months he often reflected back upon that conversation. He had been naive enough to believe then that Simone would always be there, that he could protect her, even from death. But he couldn't, and when she died, she left a giant gaping hole in his life. Elena filled a little of that emptiness, but she didn't -- couldn't, understand the depths of his weariness. Simone understood because she lived his life, she saw the horrors he did, experienced the same humiliations and dehumanizing experiences. And when the job became too much for them, they sought solace in one another. He missed her.
Staring at Nikita now, his mouth still curved into a smile, Michael realized that he may have just found himself someone whom he could call a friend. Someone who needed him but at the same time wasn't afraid to stand up to him. His eyes glided over Nikita's stubborn face and his smile brightened imperceptibly. Reaching over, he pressed a button on the side of the door, then turned to face her. "Wait here," he instructed softly, then turned and walked away.
************
Chapter 05:
Madeline bent at her knees and adjusted the ankle strap to the heels that Nikita was wearing. This was day three on making Nikita into a proper young woman. A few feet away Michael leaned against the railing of the stairs that led up to the second level. His eyes met Nikita's and he resisted the urge to smile at her frown.
"There," Madeline said as she straightened and took a few steps back. "Now try it."
Nikita's gaze dropped down to her feet and her frown deepened at the ridiculously high heels. How the hell was anyone supposed to walk in these things? She took a tentative forward, stiffened as she felt her ankle wobble, and then proceeded again, slowly.
"Better?" Madeline asked. Nikita nodded and gave what she hoped was a convincing smile. Madeline smiled back. "Good. I need to check on something with Birkoff for a few minutes and then I'll be back. Use your time to get used to the feel of those. You need to be comfortable enough in them that, if the need arose, you'd be able to run in them." Madeline turned away, missing the incredulous look in Nikita's eyes at her instructions. Michael, however, saw and – as was often the case where Nikita was concerned – found himself beginning to smile.
Nikita scowled at him after Madeline left the room. "What are you smiling at? And stop staring at me."
Michael moved away from the stairs and took several steps toward her. "You should get use to the idea of people, especially men, looking at you." He paused, looking into her eyes. "You're a beautiful woman. That’s part of the reason you were recruited."
Her scowl deepened and she tugged at the end of her skirt, pulling it lower on her thighs. "You said that Section One fights against terrorists. How is learning to run in heels and wearing make-up going to accomplish that? Am I supposed to impress them to death?"
Michael looked at her but remained silent. If he told her the answer to her question, she'd bolt out of here and get herself canceled. Frustration entered her eyes as his silence lengthened. "Practice," he said, directing his gaze down to her heels.
That didn't improve her humor any but it gave her a focus for her anger. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine, and took several small steps forward. "Relax," he ordered, and heard her mutter something unintelligible. "Ni-ki-ta," he warned.
"I know, I know!" she growled, and then clamped her mouth shut.
Michael watched her progress, his eyes gliding over her figure and noted with approval that she had put on some weight. Living out in the streets, not knowing where her next meal was coming from, had left her a little on the thin side. Now that she was being cared for daily and had begun an exercise and toning regiment, her figure was taking on a shape that was less childlike and more womanly -- feminine. Her beauty was becoming increasingly obvious, a fact that, Michael suspected, made Nikita nervous and uncomfortable. She was very different from Simone, or even Elena. Simone had been petite and all grace. Her size made it difficult for her to prevail in one-on-one combat, but she had been nimble and quick, and often could escape danger with her speed alone. Elena was graceful also, especially with her hands. As for Nikita, Michael paused in his reflections to observe Nikita stumble -- again. The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement… Nikita would need a little more work.
Eventually the lessons with the high heels ended and Nikita, gratefully, changed into her practice clothes and followed Michael to the gym for martial arts. There was a sensei that regularly did the training of new recruits but Michael opted to teach Nikita himself. She still tensed up around others and Michael feared that placing her with other recruits would cause her to regress in her training.
He changed and met her out on the mat. After several minutes of warm up exercises, he began to put Nikita through the paces of the latest techniques he'd taught her. Her eyes, he noted with disapproval, were too expressive. They reflected her every move before she even executed them. She lunged and Michael deftly sidestepped her attack and kicked out with his foot, catching her behind her thigh. Nikita fell and muttered an expletive under her breath. Michael held out his hand to help her up.
"I can do it myself." Blue eyes flashed as she batted his hand away.
Well at least she was consistent, Michael thought. And resilient. He stepped back as Nikita scrambled back up to her feet, glared at him, then took her stance again. "Concentrate," he directed. That irritated her further. Michael turned his back on her and walked to the edge of the training room.
"Where are you going?" she asked. He looked back over his shoulder to see her standing with her hands down to her sides. "Are we finished?"
"No." He bent and picked up his water bottle and took a long sip. There was a period of silence, and then he heard her sigh.
"You're upset with me." She was learning to discern the different levels of his nonverbal communications. Another plus on her side. He remained quiet as he felt, more than heard, her approach. She hovered uncertainly, sighed again, and then apologized. "I'll do better."
There was sincerity in her voice and he looked at her to see that she was looking at him with a silent plea in her eyes. Angel eyes, he thought. One day she was going to steal a man's heart with those eyes of hers. Hopefully it would be someone deserving of her. "Are you ready to follow my instructions?" he asked.
The beginnings of a scowl formed on her face then, just as quickly, it disappeared. "Yes."
He walked silently back to the middle of the room and waited. Nikita took her stance once more across from him. "Concentrate," he ordered. This time she nodded, no sign of anger in her eyes as she crouched and watched for his next move.
************
Chapter 06:
Michael stood with his feet apart, hands clasped in front of him, and looked directly into Madeline's eyes. "We named him, Adam."
The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that lacked any trace of mockery. "How do you feel?" she asked.
Michael blinked, his eyes remaining blank as he thought over the events of the past few days. How do I feel? He hadn't been at the birth, had missed it by half an hour. Elena had cried but she quickly forgave him when he took her in his arms and rocked her gently. The nurse brought his son... his son... and placed him in his arms. How do I feel?
Michael contemplated the question as he continued to stare blankly at Madeline. Do you mean, did I think of Simone as I looked down upon my son and recalled the night she cried in my arms because you denied us the right to have a child of our own? Or do you mean, did I think of the fact that one day I was going to have to relinquish all parental rights on this beautiful little baby sleeping in my arms? Or the fact that his mother who was looking at me with tear-filled eyes, so full of love, would never truly know the man to whom she was married?
Michael resorted to the reply that had become his lifeline over the past two years and said in a flat voice, "I'm fine." He doubted Madeline believed him, especially since she continued to stare back at him with eyes that were silently appraising every nuance of his being, from his breathing to the number of times he blinked per minute.
She relaxed, her eyes softening a little, and changed tactics. "How's Elena?"
"Fine."
In truth, Elena was more than fine. She was ecstatic. She adored Adam with a fierceness that shone continually in her dark eyes. She couldn't stop touching him, holding him, breathing in his scent. She even protested when Michael took Adam to his crib and she insisted that he bring the crib right up next to the bed, on her side, so that she could hear her son if he needed her in the night. She would make a wonderful mother. Very loving and nurturing... Simone would have made a wonderful mother too.
Michael quickly shut off his train of thoughts lest Madeline detect how much the birth of his child had indeed affected him. "Is that all?" he asked, setting the groundwork for his escape.
"Actually," Madeline began, smiling again at him. "Its not." She paused, then swiveled her chair to face the computer on her desk and she typed in a few commands. "Nikita's one year evaluation will be coming up soon."
Michael relaxed his guard a tiny fraction, thankful that she had steered away from the topic of Adam and Elena. "In two months' time," he concurred.
"How do you think she'll do?" Michael stared off to the side, his mind evaluating Nikita's performance over the past few months. "Her scores are high in sims and combat," he reported.
"Yes, I saw the reports," Madeline said. "But how is she responding socially?"
"She's formed an attachment to Birkoff and also Walter."
"And what of her relationship with you?"
Michael paused, hating the way Madeline's use of the word relationship sounded. "It’s fine," he answered.
"Does she trust you?"
Michael's eyes remained impassive. Nikita's sessions with Madeline had decreased to once a week. She had blossomed into a beautiful woman though she still preferred to hide her beauty under grungy, ill-fitting clothes. Most of her training time now days, when she wasn't with Michael, was spent in the company of Birkoff learning the uses of the computer, or out in the firing range with Walter. He had no doubt she could pass the physical parts of her one-year evaluation with relative ease but it was the psychological part that worried him. Nikita was still wary around strangers, especially men. It impeded her progress during live sims. If she was paired with him, she did fine, but if Michael put her with another operative, she froze. "Yes," he answered Madeline. "She trusts me more than she does others."
"You mean, other men."
"Yes."
Madeline considered his answer awhile. "That's good. We can use that bond to further her training."
Michael didn't answer but inside he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly the type of training Madeline spoke of.
************
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