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Date Posted: 11:20:31 04/20/09 Mon
Author: Odelle
Author Host/IP: CPE0013f7f24246-CM0013f7f24242.cpe.net.cable.rogers.com / 99.234.121.213
Subject: When A Time Comes (Chapter 29)
In reply to: Odelle 's message, "When A Time Comes" on 11:23:04 04/14/09 Tue



The house was dark and quiet as the convoy rolled up the main drive, just after midnight. Nikita was tense and silent all the way from the restaurant – probably due to both the reality of the situation, and the possibility that the vehicle was also full of invaders. Michael wanted to search the SUV himself; he was practically itching to do so. He wanted to know – for her, more than anything. If Guillaume could bug her house, then he would likely do the same to the convoy of vehicles she spent so much time in. It was a certainty Michael knew they both felt; because once you had been watched like mice for decades – you knew it in your bones when it was happening.

Michael turned to watch her tense profile again. He could only imagine what she was feeling. Without any evidence yet, she was likely in a great deal of turmoil. Not knowing would be suffocating – and yet knowing so clearly that it had to be true would be intensely painful.

Michael would have understood if it were her putting surveillance in his apartment. He could see the developing trust between them, and could even feel the connection – the one far deeper than friendship – declare itself alive and well. Yet it would be understandable that she would want to have all possible information on his activities – especially since she had spent a couple of nights there.

Still, when she had immediately declared that they were not hers, he was somewhat relieved. While he could understand if she were the one responsible, it spoke better of their relationship that she was not. It meant that, possibly, she was beginning to truly trust him again.

But that she very clearly couldn’t trust the man she was sleeping with was an overwhelming thought. Michael was furious on her behalf that she could be so thoroughly betrayed. She would feel so vulnerable, so violated, as a result of Guillaume bugging her home. He was so furious that her pain was inevitable that Michael could not think for a moment on any personal gain that would result from a divide between the two of them.

The SUV pulled up silently and abruptly in front of the house. Nikita had opened her door and left before the engine was even in park. Michael matched her pace-for-pace, standing a shoulder behind, as she made her way toward the front entrance. Her gaze was fixated, her entire being locked tightly within her control. There was no quarter in any movement; she had reached the level of deep efficiency that only occurred when they were in the field together. Michael felt himself slip seamlessly into the rhythm.

Henry opened the front door – evidently regal and composed at any hour of the day – and ushered them inside.

“Is Guillaume here?” Nikita asked as Henry helped her remove her coat. Her eyes scanned the hallway as if he would be found nearby. She was itching with angry energy – the friction in her muscles feeding a growing fire in her veins. The familiar tension of fieldwork flooded her with uncontainable energy. She wanted to – needed to – move. Physically. Now.

“No Ms. Jones. Mr. Lias was called to a meeting a few hours ago. He said he would return before morning.”

“Thank you,” Nikita replied; feeling briefly relieved that a confrontation would not have to precede her search. She turned to Michael who had removed his coat as well, and her look was the invitation for him to follow her into her office. She wanted to start her search there. If any room would be bugged, it would certainly be this one.

Immediately upon entering the room, Nikita froze. She stared unflinchingly at the truth of what she was about to find. She swallowed hard and determined to accept reality in place of the farce she had been living in so far – even though it would cost her so much. Like throwing a breaker switch, she shut down her emotions and faded to indifferent emptiness. When she was ready, she looked a last time at Michael. Wordlessly, they separated and began to meticulously sweep every surface, crevice, book, vent, pillow, moulding, and picture frame.

When they finished with the office, they kept going.

Nikita silently led the way through every hallway, alcove, and living space there was. Inside, outside – garages, basements, attics. She couldn’t stop – not until it was done. She never met Michael’s eyes during the search, and she never stopped moving.

Three hours later, the only rooms they hadn’t searched were the children’s rooms. But given their results already, Nikita had a sinking feeling that the sleeping children were victimized by these tiny spies as well.

Michael and Nikita stood beside each other in the office again, silently surveying their spoils. Hundreds of tiny cameras, microphones and sensors were scattered across the surface of her desk, littering it like an obscene ant farm. Nikita had already called an emergency meeting with the Senate for 5am. She couldn’t imagine who was on the other side of these devices. Actually, she could. And that was simply terrifying. The reality that this activity was more than just Guillaume’s doing was highly likely now, given the sheer scale. That Michael was simply an additional target was not any source of comfort.

“This is so much more than being about you, Michael,” she stated the obvious, her voice low and strong.

He turned to face her, staring at her profile for a long moment. Her walls were a fortress, and he wished that he could take away this pain. “I know,” he whispered softly.

“How long?” she asked rhetorically, still staring at the electronic monsters, “Months? Years?” Michael watched as she shook her head, her jaw tightening in self-fury, “How could I be so stupid?”

This was not her fault. Such a violation was certainly not her doing. And each one of the bugs was meticulously, carefully hidden – often within fabrics, televisions and other devices, or behind baseboards, wardrobes, and other immovable objects. Some were even imbedded within drywall. These were all places that standard sweeps never considered because the placement of the surveillance would have to be done with a great deal of time and evidence – like paint and plaster.

But Michael knew no words would convince her right now. The sheer devastation of the last few hours must have left her open and wounded, on the inside. But her shell of iron was decades in the making, and it was possible he would never get a chance to reach what was breaking inside her. She was steel through-and-through in this moment; it flowed in her veins like a thick river, filled her gaze with a cold fire, and found its unyielding expression in her voice.

They heard the front door open. Michael watch her profile as they listened to Henry’s voice talk to the new person. At this hour, there was only one possibility.

Michael saw no movement in Nikita – nothing to indicate she was readying herself for what was about to happen. And it occurred to him that she was long-since ready for it – the last three hours must have robbed all other options, leaving nothing but cold precision. He turned to face the entrance to the office, to stand beside her and give her the presence of support she needed. She would never think of it now, of course – but once, a long time ago, they would face anything if only they were together.

And he realized in that moment, listening to the footsteps getting closer, just how alone he had left her for so, so long.

************

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