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Date Posted: 15:05:12 03/18/09 Wed
Author: Odelle
Author Host/IP: CPE0013f7f24246-CM0013f7f24242.cpe.net.cable.rogers.com / 99.234.121.213
Subject: When A Time Comes (Chapter 22)
In reply to: Odelle 's message, "When A Time Comes" on 22:50:15 03/07/09 Sat

(You guys are a fast bunch. I'd better post the next chapters before you manage to single-handedly piece together the whole thing, ha ha! :) Enjoy! -- Odelle)



Nikita found Guillaume upstairs in the sitting room attached to their bedroom, reading the report for the day. It was the next evening, and she had determinedly squared her shoulders to face the inevitable. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure where she stood with regard to her relationship with Guillaume now that Michael was here. It felt tenuous. Certainly, she wasn’t interested in swapping one with the other; Guillaume was not a commodity, nor an interim placeholder. But there was a tension in his role with her, she felt. And she knew that, even though she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed, Michael was certainly the catalyst.

In Michael she found her partner, her equal match in every way. Like folding two sides of the same page together – the corners coming together, the sides running seamless. She knew she wanted their friendship – the one that had developed many many years ago, to continue to find new life. She even wanted to trust him with her thoughts and memories – all the things that she couldn’t give voice to – all the things that Centre swallowed, but Nikita yearned to confide. When she was with him, she felt herself brimming with the need to talk to him, to let him in deeply. She felt a growing desire – no, a need – to let Michael flow into the most private recesses of her new identity.

Nikita was also becoming increasingly aware that she wanted Michael in her personal life, her family life. Not simply in a relationship of the two of them, but she wanted to share him with the ones she loved, and share them with him. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she had begun to dream of family and Michael in the same context again – albeit this looked vastly different than the white fence and cocker spaniel they had originally fantasized.

A personal relationship, however – a sexual relationship – was the issue she couldn’t think on. It was the one she could barely let graze her consciousness. She simply wasn’t prepared to view Michael in that manner whatsoever. And she wouldn’t now, she said to herself firmly as she descended into the cozy sitting room.

That view of hers and Michael’s relationship, however, was the precise manner in which Guillaume would view him, she knew. Guillaume was a man, first, and would see Michael as nothing short of a threat to what he undoubtedly viewed as his territory. Something inside her resisted this instantly. For all that she and Guillaume meant to each other, she never was, and never would be, his territory.

Looking up from the report, Guillaume’s look was unreadable as she sat down next to him on the couch.

“Hi,” she offered softly.

“Hi,” he returned, closed the folder and tossed it on the coffee table. “Are you alright, Nik?”

Nikita was a little taken back by the quick question. “I’m fine,” she gave a light shrug, “Why?”

He frowned, “You didn’t come home last night. Or a couple of nights ago. Clearly that would give me reason to be concerned.”

Nikita looked down and gathered her thoughts. She was never one to tip-toe around a subject – and Guillaume deserved more than to be manipulated gradually into it. They had gone through a great deal together; she owed him her life several times over. Nikita had always been able to tell him the truth and she wasn’t going to stop now – so she inhaled silently and met him with a level gaze, “Do you know who Michael Samuelle is?”

Guillaume’s jaw tightened a fraction, and he leaned back in his chair to regard her with clear hesitance. “I’ve heard stories.”

“What stories?”

Again he paused, clearly assessing her. After a moment, he replied steadily, “He was a level 5 Op at One. A prodigy. Rumour said he was twice married, and had a kid. All of them now dead,” sighing slightly, he ran a hand over the top of his head, “He was your mentor when you came in, and your lover later on.” He shrugged, but not indifferently, “He’s dead.”

Nikita’s eyes fell. What an interesting synopsis of a life. She wondered what people would say about her when her turn came to ‘disappear’. She chuckled internally and wondered what Michael would think if he had heard his entire existence in twenty words or less. Probably nothing, she mused – he would probably blink, file away, and move on. Her lips quirked at the thought, and she looked up to Guillaume’s expectant gaze.

“No so dead?” he ventured the obvious.

“No,” she shook her head, “Never dead – not for long, anyway.” That Adam was also alive and well she didn’t need to mention – the boy’s identity was Michael’s secret alone, one Guillaume didn’t need a part of.

Guillaume nodded slowly, absently picking invisible lint from the knee of his carefully pressed trousers, “I take it he’s here?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where you’ve been these last nights?”

She knew where this was going, and wanted to be clear. His tone contained no accusation – but she knew it would be his prerogative. Misunderstandings would only make this harder. “In no other capacity than as friends just barely getting to know one another again, Gui.”

“Is that what he thinks?”

No, she thought, Michael has certainly not hid his intentions. But she wasn’t about to admit that. Michael’s intentions were not her own. “I think it’s really early yet.”

He looked down and again ran a hand over his head. His struggle with this conversation was evident, and she silently wished she didn’t even have to do this much to him. “And you?”

The question was significant – and valid. She didn’t know what to say. Her silence caused him to look up at her, and she met his gaze evenly, but with a touch of consolation visiting her lips. “I don’t know.”

Guillaume nodded silently, looking absently at the folder on the coffee table. Nikita wondered about how worried he may be. They had made no promises, and she felt sure Guillaume knew she would never do anything with Michael and yet return to him the next morning. Still she couldn’t help but sense his anxiety, his vulnerability. After a while, he nodded again and met her gaze. “What do you want to do?” he asked honestly.

Nikita swallowed, looking off to consider the question. She replied as gently but honestly as possible, “I want to spend time with him. I want to show him my life.”

After a moment, he nodded, “That’s understandable.”

She arched a brow at him, “It is?”

“I’ve heard about some of what lies between you two – and if even half of it’s true, you’re going to deal with it, regardless. Regardless of me.”

“Guillaume –“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted with a sincere nod, “I would need time, if it were Heather.”

Nikita smiled softly at the rarely-delivered reference. Guillaume had lost Heather two years before they moved in together. He and Heather had been married as teenagers, and separated when Section took her in. Guillaume had found her a decade later; his search constant and formidable. Section had given him the choice – life with Heather in Hell, or death. The choice had been easy. But happily-ever-after didn’t happen in Section – not even the comparatively more liberal Section 6. Heather had been killed by the same creature that haunted Nikita herself – a demon that caused her and Guillaume some common ground in those first days after it happened.

“I’ve invited him to dinner here at the house.”

His brow rose, “Am I expected to attend?”

She scoffed, “Only if you want to.”

Guillaume paused, “I’ll think about it.”

Nikita nodded with understanding, and settled back into the cushion. She wondered what would happen when the two men met. Neither, she thought, would react in any way. It would probably take some catalyst for either to deal with the other.

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

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