| Subject: Re: Jericho I: Repost, page 3 |
Author:
Anon
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Date Posted: 02:54:37 02/03/02 Sun
In reply to:
Anon
's message, "Jericho I: Repost" on 02:51:08 02/03/02 Sun
Chapter 07:
Michael found Nikita in her quarters. She sat up when he entered, a smile forming on her face as she dropped the book she had been reading onto the bed. "Hey. You're back." He circled the small area of her room, performing a visual check while she sat and watched. It was a habit he had and which she had grown accustomed to. Finding everything satisfactory, he turned and faced her. "That was a long mission," Nikita was saying. "Usually you're only gone two or three days. How'd it go?"
"Fine," he replied. It had taken long because Elena had needed his presence at home after Adam's birth and Madeline had deemed it an advantage to the mission profile for him to be there. It may have been an advantage for the profile but certainly not for him. Being around Elena, seeing her joy over their son, and holding little Adam in his arms, stirred such turmoil of emotions within him. During Elena's pregnancy, he had tried to maintain a certain safe distance. But it was difficult, especially when she would take his hand and place it on her swollen belly and he could feel the baby moving inside. He could feel the armor around his heart melting and it scared him. On one hand he wanted to give himself up to the wonder of having created a life. He wanted to immerse himself in the miracle of it all, but on the other hand, each time he looked at Elena with her dark smiling eyes, he felt the chains of betrayal weigh his joy down. He had come to care for Elena. It was difficult not to when they had been together for almost two years and she had given him a son. Perhaps, if things had been different, he may even have grown to love her, really love her. Each time he saw her, though, he was reminded of Simone and the fact that it was this mission with Elena that had driven a wedge between him and the woman he loved and eventually led to her death. And each time his heart swelled with this sense of insurmountable joy of having a son, another part of him cried out in sorrow.
"I'm glad you're back." Nikita had pulled her feet up on the bed so that her knees were by her chest and her arms folded atop them. Her hair fell about her shoulders in a disheveled array. Her T-shirt was ripped, sweat pants old, her feet bare... and yet she was still beautiful. Almost in an impish way, he thought. Sometimes he doubted even Madeline would be able to turn Nikita into the proper woman of elegance that Section wanted. That type of contrived beauty didn't match her. She was too natural... too wild.
"Why didn't you get dressed?" he asked.
She looked down at her clothes then glanced back up at him with that curious, child-like expression of hers. "What do you call this?" she asked.
"A mess." She rolled her eyes, dropped her feet to the floor and stood to walk over to the small closet in the corner of the room. "Well it wasn't like I thought I was going anywhere. I've been confined to this room the whole time you were gone except for the two hours of exercise in the morning and in the evening." She paused, as if a thought just struck her and she turned to look at Michael. "What should I be getting dressed for? I already had physical training this morning." A frown formed on her mouth. "Madeline doesn't want to see me, does she? I'm not going to have to wear make-up, am I?"
He suppressed the smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth. Nikita. He could always count on her to cheer him, though he was careful not to show it. Sometimes he didn't know what to do with her. She was so unlike any of the other recruits he had trained in the past. Her reactions were different, her way of thinking was different, but the most intriguing part of training her was the manner in which she trusted him. It was there in her eyes and in the way she obeyed him. Having operatives obey his command was nothing new to Michael. And he had no illusions that their obedience was out of a sense of loyalty or affection. They obeyed him because they feared him. Nikita, however, was different.
She didn't fear him. He didn't think she ever had. Even at their initial meeting, when he thought back on it he realized that she had been afraid of the situation she was in and of her surroundings, but never fearful of him. She proved that by attacking him the moment he had turned his back on her. Also, unlike other recruits he had trained or operatives under his command, Nikita spoke to him. There were days when she was sullen and quiet, but normally, if they were alone, she chatted away as if they knew each other for years. It didn't seem to matter to her if he didn't respond to half of the comments she made or questions she asked. She just accepted that he didn't want to talk and continued on with her conversation. Probably most fascinating, even amusing, to Michael was the fact that, even after almost a year together, Nikita still showed no physical attraction toward him.
"Have you tried?" Madeline had asked him.
"Seduction won't work with her," he had responded. "It'll cause her to withdraw rather than increase her trust in me."
Madeline had agreed with his assessment. "So how will you proceed?"
"I'll find a way," he had answered.
That way turned out to be friendship. Something he had never tried before or that he would want to try again with anyone else. But with Nikita, it seemed to be working.
She was blossoming under his tutelage. She excelled in physical combat and her handling of weapons was impressive, all signs that she would make a valuable field operative. But there was something about her that worried Michael too. Some element that he couldn't quite figure out but he sensed could be a major problem for her survival in Section.
She was standing by the closet looking at him, waiting for his answer. "Dress casual," he said.
She frowned at him, her hand straying to her hip. "Michael, this is casual."
He flicked his eyes over her sweat pants and torn T-shirt then looked back into her eyes. "Then dress up," he said, and turned and exited. When Michael returned twenty minutes later, Nikita was dressed in a white ribbed tank top, army pants, and combat boots. Her hair she had combed and piled on top of her head in what looked to be a half ponytail, half bun. Michael looked her over slowly from head to toe without saying anything and Nikita fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Maybe I should put on some lipstick?" she asked.
"No," Michael answered, resisting the urge to smile. "You look fine." He would just have to make sure they didn't run into Madeline on their way out. He turned and led the way while Nikita followed. Michael could see her looking around with interest at the area they were passing through. He knew she didn't recognize it and he could see a question forming in her eyes. When he finally led her through a double door that opened up to the outside, Nikita stopped. A myriad of emotions flashed through her expressive eyes as she turned to him: surprise, suspicion, longing, and fear.
"Let's go," he said quietly, holding the door open.
"That's... that's outside," she said, her voice incredulous. She'd been indoors, underground for so long, it was almost as if she were afraid to step out into the sunlight, Michael thought.
"Yes it is."
The suspicion in her eyes grew. "Why are we going out? What's going on?"
Michael held his hand out to her. "It's all right," he said. "It's just another part of your training." Still, she hesitated. Michael released the door, letting it close as he turned to face her. "Do you trust me?" he asked. Her eyes met his and he saw the fear and suspicion begin to fade. It was an incredible feeling seeing that change occur in her eyes.
Nikita nodded slowly, "Yes."
He smiled then, a small smile that reached into his eyes as he stepped back and opened the door once more. Nikita looked out at the sunshine then back at Michael. Slowly she moved forward, stepping past Michael and out into the daylight. It was like watching a child on Christmas morning, Michael thought as Nikita tilted her face up into the light. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as a look of pure joy filled her countenance. She belonged out in the sun. Michael let the door close behind them and moved closer to her. "Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, her eyes opening to look at him. As he moved to lead the way, though, Nikita stopped him by grabbing his hand. He looked back and found her staring at him with tears in her eyes.
"Thank you," she said softly. Before he could stop himself, Michael raised a hand and touched it to her face, wiping away a tear that had rolled down her cheek.
"It’s nothing, Nikita," he answered, but as she smiled and turned away, he felt a small trickle of warmth seep through his veins.
************
Chapter 08:
Operations marched into Madeline's office. His mouth was set in an angry line as he stood several feet in front of her desk. "Why was Michael allowed to take Nikita outside of Section?" His ire had little, if any, effect on Madeline as she looked up calmly from her work.
"Michael thought it would help to strengthen her trust in him and I agreed."
"We've never allowed this in the past, Madeline. Why are we allowing it now?"
"Because this is a special case." Madeline stood and circled around her desk. "This isn't just about Nikita, Paul. This is also about Michael. He's one, if not the best field operative we have, but even he has limits. For the past two years we've subjected him to an overwhelming level of psychological and emotional stress: a Class-9 mission that interrupted his personal life---"
"He's an operative, Madeline," Operations cut in, his eyes hard and his voice cold. "He was warned about the hazards of forming emotional ties within Section."
"Yes he was, but he took the risk anyway. Now he's lost Simone and he's having to deal with playing a devoted husband and father while trying to remain emotionally detached. Michael needs this project to keep him centered. Allowing him a little leniency in his approach to training Nikita is a small price to pay to keep him functional and increase his POS on the Vacjek mission."
Several seconds of silence passed as Operations considered Madeline's explanation. "She's trouble Madeline," he said at last. "I heard she attacked Porter during training for no reason."
"She has a few problems with trusting men. Probably the result of a traumatic experience from her past."
"But she trusts Michael?" Operations smirked.
"Apparently. Her scores are high and she passed her one-year evaluation with a score of ninety-two percent. Whatever Michael's doing, it’s working."
The corner of Operations' mouth lifted with a cynical twist. "Simulations are no true measure for how an operative will perform out in the field. You and I both know that."
"Yes," Madeline agreed, then added, "but it does give a strong indication of which recruits are most likely to survive. Nikita's doing well."
"We'll see," Operations muttered, then turned and stalked back out.
*
Michael sat behind his desk reviewing mission profiles when there came a quiet knock at his door. Looking up, he saw the door open and Nikita stick her head in. "May I come in?" she asked.
He nodded once and pointed to the seat across from him. She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. Her brows furrowed together in a frown as she bit at her lower lip.
"Don't do that," he had once told her. She in turn had raised her brows and gave him a questioning look.
"Do what?"
"Bite your lip."
"What?"
"It gives away that you're nervous."
"Oh." She sat quietly for all of ten seconds, contemplating what he had said, then bit her lip again. She was doing the same thing now.
"What is it, Nikita?" Michael asked.
"My two years are almost up." Her eyes held a trace of uncertainty. "What happens if I don't pass?"
Michael stared at her in silence for several seconds. He leaned back in his chair then and exhaled slowly. "You'll pass, Nikita."
"How do you know?"
"Because I trained you."
She rolled her eyes and sat back dejectedly. "That's a lot of help."
Michael's expression softened fractionally. "You don't think I did a good job?"
"That's not what I meant," she frowned, "and you know it."
"Then what do you mean?" She paused and her eyes drifted toward his window. He could see that she was looking out toward the main hall and up toward Operations' office. "I don't think he likes me," Nikita said quietly.
"Who?" Her gaze didn't move. "Operations. He's been watching me at my training sessions. I can tell by the way he looks at me that he doesn't like me." Her eyes cut back to meet his. "What happens if I don't pass?"
"You'll pass, Nikita," he said softly. "I'll make sure of it."
*
Two weeks later Michael strolled into Operation's office. The older man was standing at his window looking down over Section. "You're late."
"Training ran long," Michael explained, a trace of weariness in his voice. Operations had begun putting him back into the field, utilizing him on short-range missions that lasted only a few hours. It was an indication that he would soon be placed back on full active status. Adam was over a year old now and crawling. He kept Elena busy, filling her days so that she didn't miss Michael so much when Michael's job began calling him away for long business trips. The past few days though Adam had been sick and Michael stayed up with him at night so that Elena could get some much needed rest. The lack of sleep though was beginning to wear on him.
He stood quietly as Operations began to explain the details of a mission that was about to be underway. Van Vactor, an old Section enemy, was brokering an alliance between several Eastern and Middle-Eastern terrorists. He was going to be in the states in a few days time and Section wanted him captured. After the private briefing, Michael turned to go but was stopped by Operations. "Michael, about Nikita."
He froze and turned slowly back. "What about her?" he asked.
"I've been watching her," Operations stated. "She lacks discipline."
So Nikita was right, Michael thought. He swallowed, his thoughts racing ahead. "She needs a little more time."
"It's been two years. That's our policy. We start making exceptions, then we're no better than the CIA." Operations turned and pinned him with a hard unblinking look. "Cancel her."
An image of Nikita appeared before Michael: long unruly hair, crooked grin, angel eyes... He wasn't even going to give her a chance to prove herself. "I think that would be a mistake," Michael said, his eyes meeting Operations.
"It would be a mistake to become emotionally attached to the material," Operations countered. His brow arched as he added with a note of cynicism, "You, of all people Michael, should know that."
Yes, I do, Michael thought. He had learned that lesson well. At least, he thought he had. But if that was true, then why did he feel this sense of panic at Operation's order to cancel Nikita? "It has nothing to do with that," he stated, struggling to keep his voice neutral. "I think she could be a good operative."
Operations allowed the seconds to tick by silently as he stared at Michael. Finally, he said in an intentionally threatening tone, "If she fails, Michael, you fail."
************
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