| Subject: Chapter 17 |
Author:
Juli
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Date Posted: Thursday, August 24, 04:20:50pm
In reply to:
Juli
's message, "Anti-Virus" on Wednesday, May 17, 05:25:56pm
Chapter 17
Downstairs, in the CIA van, Davenport had recovered his wits enough to notice when the silver Mercedes, registered to Paul Wolfe, pulled from the underground parking lot. The white van quietly pulled into traffic behind the car as it headed for LAX. Paul Wolfe and his partner Madeline Sands were taken into custody before they could board a plane bound for Rio de Janeiro.
In an effort to plea bargain, Wolfe gave up the name of Perry Bauer as the main source for exporting the L-virus to terrorist causes outside of the country. Bauer was apprehended boarding a plane to Munich, Germany. Davenport got his commendation from Homeland Security. Walter and Michael’s roles were downplayed considerably.
Nikita spent the next two weeks closeted with top government scientists going over the L-virus and the genetic changes that Section One had made to it. The group discussed the “cures” she had researched and developed, as well as an antidote to the current, mutated version. She worked almost 24 hours a day trying to assuage her guilt. She lived in the government complex where they were working and didn’t see Michael even once.
After her work with the government was over, Nikita returned to her apartment and collapsed on the bed. She was under strict orders to keep the entire ordeal classified, so she gave Carla the carefully constructed cover story that the feds had come up with for her.
The story had some kernels of truth to it, so that Nikita had a good reason for no longer having a job. And Carla bought it hook, line and sinker.
“Has Michael called?” Nikita hesitantly asked her roommate the morning after she got home.
“No… not that I know of,” Carla said, hastily amending her comment to make it less painful. “But I haven’t been around much. I could’ve missed the call.”
Nikita nodded. She didn’t think that Michael was just planning on taking off. She thought that he kind of loved her – at least enough to see where their relationship would go. But he hadn’t called. Not once in two weeks.
“I’m gong to go for a run,” she told Carla. “I’ve been working round the clock and eating like crap. I’ve got to get some exercise.”
“Okay,” Carla said, smothering a yawn and pouring milk into her Frosted Flakes.
Nikita was rather melancholy as she changed into her running clothes and put on her shoes. She wanted to keep her spirits up, but the whole situation with Michael had been so surreal, turning into some sort of spy novel, that she wasn’t even sure what she felt anymore.
She stretched and headed for the beach, trying to fool herself that she wasn’t going for a run just for an excuse to run past the beach house. She turned on her headphones and began her workout, feeling her stiff muscles start to stretch and relax. She was in the zone when she rounded the fateful turn where she had fallen and met Michael the first day. She slowed and glanced at the patio and the house. The “For Sale or Rent” sign was back in the window and the house was dark and empty.
Nikita tried to squash the feeling of self-pity that welled up inside of her, but wasn’t successful. She blinked her eyes quickly to get rid of the tears that threatened, and then continued her run.
She ran for a long time, trying to clear her head, and finally turned around and returned home. Her body felt great after two weeks of little or no exercise; her mind and heart were aching.
As she got closer to home, she slowed her pace and then walked to cool down. She began to doubt her optimism about Michael. She was lost in her thoughts as she stepped off the bike path and walked down the street to her apartment. She was nearly there when she looked up and saw a black Porsche parked in front. As she rounded the car, she noticed Michael sitting on the steps. He looked up as she approached.
“Hi,” he said smiling.
Nikita’s heart leapt. Michael stood up and brushed off his pants.
“Hi,” she replied, shyly.
“Birkoff told me you got done with the Feds last night. I figured you might be tired, so I waited,” he told her.
Nikita nodded. “I was a little tired last night,” she said. “Do you want to come in?” she asked, motioning to the door.
She hated the strange awkwardness that was between them now.
Michael nodded and followed her into the apartment. Nikita noticed that Carla was in her room with the music blaring. They could hear it through the closed door.
“She’s sculpting,” Nikita explained, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge. She held it out to him, but he shook his head.
“Nikita, can we start over?” Michael asked quietly.
“What do you mean?” she asked, hoping he meant what she thought.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he explained running his hands absently through his hair. “I want to start over without Section One, without Red Cell, without a computer to hack…” he laughed mirthlessly, “without the CIA. I just want to take some time and get to know you. Without anything between us.”
Nikita smiled. “I’d like that, Michael.”
Michael let out a sigh of relief and pulled her into his arms for a passionate kiss.
Nikita squirmed. “Wait, wait! I’m all sweaty and gross!” she protested.
“I don’t care,” Michael whispered against her lips.
Nikita was lost and let the moment take her. Michael’s kisses turned her legs to jelly, and all she could do was hold on to his neck. After a moment, Michael turned and scooped her into his arms carrying her towards the bedroom.
“Where are we going?” Nikita asked in sultry voice.
“Shower,” Michael answered succinctly. Nikita giggled.
Much later, the pair snuggled together in Nikita’s bed.
“So what next?” Nikita asked, not raising her head from its place on Michael’s chest.
Michael held out his hand to her. She glanced at it in confusion.
“Hi, my name is Michael Samuelle, I work with computers to help companies to ensure their systems are secure,” he said.
Nikita’s laughter filtered out into the hall where Carla was getting a soda from the fridge. She smiled and went back to her work.
The End.
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