| Subject: Re: Jericho I: Repost, page 4 |
Author:
Anon
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Date Posted: 02:57:36 02/03/02 Sun
In reply to:
Anon
's message, "Jericho I: Repost" on 02:51:08 02/03/02 Sun
Chapter 09:
Michael pulled his car over into the empty parking lot of a park two blocks away from his home and switched the engine off. He welcomed the quiet solitude of night's darkness that enveloped him as he fell back against the seat and closed his eyes. A deep weariness settled upon him as he reviewed the evening's events. . Dozens of images flashed through his mind: all of them of Nikita, all of them painful. She had been so happy... so trusting when she looked at him from across the dinner table with those eyes of hers.
"I feel--" she broke off, her face lighting up as she laughed softly. Michael had stared at her, his eyes drinking in her beauty and feeling a surge of pride at how far she had come since their first meeting. But now, and his heart twisted painfully, now it was time to test her.
"Go on," he urged her gently. "Say it."
She smiled shyly as she met his gaze and she murmured softly, "Happy."
Happy. Michael clamped down on the ripple of emotion that surged through him and forced himself to think of Operations' words: 'Cancel her.' No, Michael thought, I will not allow you to cancel Nikita. She can make it here. She has what it takes. He paused, and then began to admit the real reasons why he couldn't allow Nikita to be canceled.
Nikita trusted him. She believed him when he said that he wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He was her friend. His eyes had roamed over her face, memorizing the look of innocent trust in her eyes, then reached down beside him and lifted the gift he had brought and he handed it across to her.
Nikita's eyes lit up further, her smile widening, and Michael's pain increased. "Really?" she asked, her eyes incredulous. Michael nodded, then watched as she accepted the gift and began to open it with great excitement. I do this for your own good, Nikita. Understand that.
Her eyes flicked up and she smiled at him, then she lowered her lashes and closed her eyes -- as if she were making some sort of wish. This is the only way I know of to keep you alive. She opened the box, then slowly opened her eyes to look inside. Surprise registered in those expressive eyes of hers, followed immediately by disappointment. She covered her emotions quickly, though, as she shrugged, looked up, and gave him one of her crooked smiles. Strange gift, her eyes said, but she accepted it, just as she did his silences when they were together.
She doesn't realize the implications behind the gift, Michael realized. If she did, she wouldn't still be looking at me with trust in her eyes. Leaning forward, he looked directly into her eyes, willing her to see the gravity of the situation. "The blond haired man sitting behind me has a PDA. Get it."
She blinked and her smile faded as her eyes darted over to the man Michael indicated, and then her gaze swung back to Michael. A hundred questions tumbled forth from her eyes but only one was voiced: "H--How?"
The elegant poised woman he had been having dinner with minutes earlier disappeared and the frightened inner child Michael remembered from their first meeting appeared. His gaze bore into hers. You can do this, Nikita. Remember everything I taught you. Aloud he said, "When you get the unit, don't leave through the front. There's a window in the ladies room. Use that. It leads to an alley. The car will be waiting."
Nikita swallowed and Michael recognized each of the emotions that flashed across her countenance: fear, disbelief, shock. She opened her mouth and began to protest. "I... I thought we were---"
Michael leaned forward a little more, his eyes forcing her to focus. "If you're not out there in five minutes, the car will leave without you."
There. Finally, he saw it. The look that revealed she finally understood the situation -- betrayal. It shimmered into her eyes with a curtain of tears and caused her to shake, her lips to tremble. She shook her head and gave him one last silent plea with her eyes. "I can't do this."
Michael hardened his resolve. You have to, Nikita. It’s the only way. "Five minutes. If you don't mind, wait till I leave."
He rose then, tearing his eyes away from her and walking smoothly toward the front exit. He could feel her eyes boring into his back; he heard her voice silently calling out to him. Michael swallowed and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, willing himself to let her go. She can do this, he chanted silently. She can do it. He forced himself to think back upon all their training sessions. Nikita was quick, she had an excellent aim, and she was tough. She can do this, he repeated to himself once more as he stepped through the door and walked over to the waiting limo.
"Go," he ordered the driver. Then sat back, leaning against the window, and waited. Each second ticked by in endless torture and Michael sat in stony silence.
Just shoot the target, get the PDA, and get out of there, Nikita.
A minute passed.
There was a scurry of movement, excitement. Michael turned around and watched as two men pulling guns out of their holsters, ran in through the front entrance. Hostiles. He turned back around and forced himself to sit still. Operations would cancel her on the spot if he interfered in any way. This had to be Nikita's show. She had to prove to Section that she had what it took to be one of them.
Two minutes.
His trained ear heard the faint pop-pop-pop of gun shots being exchanged and he closed his eyes. At least she was still alive. He had handpicked her weapon, a Glock 35, and checked it out himself. It was a little heavier than the 34, but Nikita seemed to like the extra weight, her scores were always highest with a 35.
Silence.
By now she would know that the bathroom window was a dead end. He could see in his mind the betrayal that would rip through her; he could feel it lash out at him.
I wish to God there was another way, Nikita.
More gunfire. Michael opened his eyes. Yes, Nikita. Fight your way out of there. You can do it.
Diners were pouring out of the front entrance. Screams filled the air. Michael tuned it all out, searching through the din for the comforting sound of gunfire. As long as he could hear that, he knew she was still alive.
Silence.
He looked down at his watch. Four minutes and twenty-two seconds. Suddenly there was an explosion and Michael's eyes slammed down as he leaned his head onto his closed fist.
Nikita where are you? Another period of silence ensued, and then he heard the car door jerk open and Nikita fell in.
Relief flooded him as Michael reached over and helped her into her seat. His eyes raked over her dirty, disheveled appearance, her tear-stained face, torn stockings, and he thought to himself that she never looked more beautiful.
*
"Have you ever heard of the city of Jericho?" It was late one night and Michael had been lying in bed, his arms under his head. Simone had lifted her head from off of his chest and gazed down at him. "Jericho?" she frowned. "I don't think so. Why?"
"It was a city in the valley of Jordan that Christ supposedly stopped at during his last journey to Jerusalem before his betrayal and death."
Simone had raised her brows. "I didn't know you were so religious."
"I'm not," Michael replied, and shifted to gather her into his arms. "Not now anyway. But when I was a child, I remember that story being told to me in a Sunday school class. I always wondered if, while Christ was traveling on that road, did he know that he was going to be betrayed? And if he did -- did he forgive those who betrayed him?"
"Michael," Simone's lips pulled downward, "what's brought all of this talk about Jericho and betrayal on?"
Michael had looked into her eyes and shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I was just thinking."
*
The road to Jericho. Michael looked across at Nikita who had retreated into the far corner of the limo seat and sat staring at him with pained eyes. He had known from the beginning that it would lead to this. Each day he had fostered Nikita's trust in him, believing that it was for her own good. Her trust, he had argued, would allow him to train her to survive in the cruel world of Section. There was no other way. Knowing, however, didn't make it any easier to bear the weight of the pain reflected in her eyes.
"You knew?" she asked. Her voice trembled with disbelief.
Michael looked away, searching for a reprieve from the unspoken accusations in her eyes. "We had to know if you could improvise," he explained softly. His eyes cut back through the dim lighting of the car to focus on her. "Did you get the PDA?"
He saw her mouth pull downward and the pain in her eyes overflowed.
Did Christ know he was going to be betrayed? And if he did -- did he forgive those who betrayed him?
Nikita had had no idea that he would one day betray her. She had been caught completely off guard. Now the question was, would she ever forgive him?
Perhaps, if it was just this once, she could forgive him, but Michael knew that this night was only the beginning. Fourteen years of surviving in Section had taught him that betrayal -- along with manipulation, half-truths, and deceit -- was a normalcy in the covert world. Before Nikita finished her own personal journey to Jericho, he would betray her many, many more times.
"You should have told me this was a job," she said, her voice full of tears, "instead of pretending."
Michael sighed and bent to pick up the PDA she had thrown at him. "No matter what frame of mind you're in," he said, "you have to be able to perform." His words only served to anger her and she sunk lower into the seat.
"You're sick. You don't want a person. You want a machine. I can't do that."
Michael, who had been looking at the PDA, now glanced up at her and said quietly. "You just did."
*
He sat now in the dark, alone in his car, having dropped Nikita off at her new apartment, and his mind wandered through the turmoil that marked his life. Images of Adam, Nikita, and Elena flashed before him. Then, finally, one last image came to his mind and lingered -- Simone.
Michael opened the car door and climbed outside. He walked around to the front, sat down on the hood, and stared out into the darkness. Drawing a deep, shuddering breath of air, he released it in a pain-filled gasp. "Simone," Michael whispered, 'I wish you were here. I need you."
Over the past several months, his grief over her loss had taken on a new dimension. Rarely did he feel the deep endless ache he once experienced when thinking of Simone. Now there was just a sense of sadness, of regret, that filled him. Tonight, though, the burden of having betrayed Nikita bothered him to a degree that he needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to Simone. She had been his confidant in life and since she had died, he had had to keep everything inside of him. He couldn't do so tonight. His eyes searched the darkness about him as his spirit called out to her, and he hoped that somehow, wherever she was, she could hear him.
There are so many things going on in my life, he confided. I have a son now. His name is Adam. I know if you were alive, you'd love him, Simone. You'd love him simply because he's mine. I love him. I tried not to but I couldn't stop myself... He's beautiful.
Michael paused, hesitating. He looks a lot like Elena. I know you never wanted to talk about her and I know how much it hurt you when Section ordered me on this mission, but she's a good woman, Simone. That's important. One day this mission is going to come to an end and I'm going to have to walk away from Adam. Tears formed in Michael's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. When that time comes, at least I know that Adam will be in good hands.'
His mind wandered some more... You told me once that having friends was an important part of life; that friends would enrich my life -- make life worth living for. You were my friend, Simone, and you brought more happiness to my life than I ever thought possible. Then when you died, I felt as if I had died with you. I didn't want to believe what you said. I didn't want to make any new friends because... I'm afraid, Simone. I'm afraid I might lose them like I did you. I don't know if I can go through that again.
He swallowed and blinked away the remnants of his tears. After you died, I shut myself away, refusing to let anyone get close to me. But, somehow, it's happened. I've learned to care again.'
Michael sighed. I'm tired of being alone in this world, Simone. I long for the companionship we once shared. I miss coming home and having you lay in my arms. I miss feeling your fingers in my hair and hearing your voice whispering to me that everything will be alright... Elena and Adam have helped to heal me of some of the pain brought on by your death, but I need more.
He closed his eyes as a wave of pain wracked his body. I need you to forgive me, Simone. Forgive me for allowing myself to care for Elena and for giving her the child I could never give you. I love him, Simone. I love him with all my heart. The day is coming, though, when I'm going to have to give him up. I don't know how I'm going to be able to do that, especially without you by my side. Michael paused, his eyes opening as he stared up at the starless night.
Simone. A tired sigh escaped Michael's lips. As impossible as it sounds, I've made another friend in Section. She's a recruit and I've been assigned to her as a mentor. I think you'd really like her. Her name's Nikita. Walter loves her. And I think Birkoff has a crush on her. He sighed again and a sad smile tugged at his mouth. She's not afraid of me, Simone. Can you imagine that? I've tried on several occasions to instill a sense of fear in her but it doesn't faze her. She sees right past the walls I've put up and she sees me. Just like you did. Michael paused again and he closed his eyes, picturing Simone standing before him. I hope you'll understand then, Simone, that I need her in my life.
************
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