| Subject: Identity Crisis (Part 3) |
Author:
Nestra
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Date Posted: 07:30:17 07/03/02 Wed
In reply to:
Nestra
's message, "It's done. Mostly done. I hope." on 07:08:43 07/03/02 Wed
"We’re stepping up the operation."
"That doesn't tell me a lot, you know. I don't even know what the operation is."
"So listen carefully. Nikita is also working for Center. She has been our agent for roughly three years. We're going to send another operative to you, and you need to introduce her to Nikita as a friend or acquaintance of yours."
"Wait a minute…"
"Under no circumstances are you to tell Nikita that you work for Center. To her, you are still Mick Schtoppel. Michelle will be at your apartment tomorrow. Make sure she makes contact with Nikita. She needs to observe Nikita, and you're providing the excuse."
"Goddamnit, wait! Nikita works for Center? I don't believe it."
"Do I need to speak more slowly? Wasting my time would be a mistake, you know."
"No, I…I just…I'm just surprised."
"Things are going to change a lot in the next few months. So get over it."
************
He'll call her Monique, he thinks. He's certain she won't want Nikita knowing her real name. And besides, Monique sounds much more like an interior designer's name than Michelle. That's who Monique is – his new interior designer. Frivolous and non-threatening, and it gives him a perfect excuse to barge into Nikita's apartment with Monique in tow.
Michelle doesn't agree. There's something perilously close to a sneer on her face, and she doesn't appear to think much of him. "I'm your what?"
"Interior designer. Trust me, doll, it's perfect. She won't look twice at you if she's too busy being annoyed with me. And I'll make sure she's annoyed."
He's petty enough to be thoroughly gratified when the plan goes off without a hitch, despite Michelle's objections. He keeps Nikita distracted while Michelle floats around the apartment, doing whatever she was sent to do. Maybe she's planting bugs. Maybe she really is just observing.
Nikita gets summoned in by Section and kicks them out before she leaves, but Michelle seems gratified enough. She's completed her mission, and he, by extension, has completed his. And he'd be happy if he never had to deal with Michelle again.
Unfortunately, he doesn't get a choice. Later that week, he's called upon to impersonate Mr. Jones again in order to impress one of Oversight's people, some kid named Hillinger. He's not sure what this Hillinger's done, but he's somehow managed to piss off most of Section and Center. He tries not to look to closely at the boy's face, pretty sure that he'll be dead before long.
Monique watches as Hillinger is carted off, her delicate features showing no emotion at all.
************
He heads over to Nikita's apartment the next day to get a feel for how Section's handling the near-takeover by Oversight. She's almost certainly not aware of it, but he's always used her moods to gauge Section's atmosphere. As he blathers on about fabric choices and paint colors, she's slightly distracted, but friendly, and he considers that a good sign.
"So the front room is going to be this sort of ochre. Now, I'm not entirely sure what color that is, but it sounds masculine, right?"
She smiles. "It's kind of an orange-yellow, I think."
"Yellow?" He stops for a moment. "I'll have to think about that one. Not that I'd question Monique's taste. She's simply smashing, you know. Got a flawless eye. And her other parts aren't so bad either." Nikita rolls her eyes at the innuendo, as usual. Good. Another sign that the situation's normal; when she's stressed, she snaps at him. When she's upset, she ignores him. "Now," he continues, "did I show you the fabric for my pillow cases?"
"Purple gabardine," she says absently.
"Monique says that's my fabric. It speaks to who I am. You know, strong, bold yet traditional. It also matches my new silk bathrobe." It occurs to him that he should actually get a new silk bathrobe, in case he ever needs to back up this conversation with fact.
"It sounds like this Monique is really working out for you."
"She is not just a decorator, Nikita. She is a spiritual modifier. You know, you really should give her a ring for a consultation. She'll change your life. I promise you."
Nikita gives him a look that promises that she'd rather deal with a Section shrink 'than a "spiritual modifier, but he's saved from her disdain by the sound of the phone.
As she reaches to answer it, he takes the opportunity to ask a careful question. "I heard Section jumped through a few hoops last week. Are things back to normal?"
"Yeah."
"That's good."
She punches a button on the phone. "Hello? Yeah." Her two-second conversation over, she looks at him pointedly. "I gotta go."
"Oh, yeah, me too. I got business to attend to. Things to arrange." Reports to call in to Center. Situational assessments to make. "Yeah. Bye, love."
************
He's not blind. He's not stupid. He knows something's about to go down.
His contacts with Center have gotten more frequent. They're sending him on countless errands as Mick, countless meetings as Mr. Jones. He's almost worried that one day he'll forget who he's supposed to be and slip into Mick's accent while he's supposed to be intimidating some international leader.
Nikita seems to be busier as well, gone from her apartment for days at a time, returning with dark circles under her eyes and weariness in her step.
Whatever's coming, it's going to be big. He hopes he'll still be alive when it's over.
************
"It's time."
"Time?"
"Listen carefully. There's no room for error here. You need to let Nikita know who you are."
"Who I am?"
"Yes. You're Mr. Jones, head of Center. You and Nikita, along with about a hundred of Center's operatives, are going to take over Section."
"Jesus Christ!"
"I'm assuming you don't have a problem with this."
"Uh, no. Of course not. I was just…nothing. It's fine."
"Very good, Mick. Although I can't really call you that any more, can I? You'll be leaving Mick behind."
"I will?"
"Everyone will know you as Mr. Jones. You'll tell them that Mick was a role you adopted to let you move around freely and gather information."
"Oh. Right."
"So set up a meeting with Nikita. Not in her apartment, in case Section's monitoring. A park, or some other place with lots of people. Make sure that surveillance is impossible. Identify yourself to her as Mr. Jones. She'll know who you are. Tell her to expect instructions for the takeover. It's all happening very soon."
**********
Nikita stares at him in a way that's a testament to either his acting abilities or her unflattering opinion of Mick's competence. "You're…Mr. Jones. You."
"Yes, Nikita."
She blinks twice, as if she's expecting him to disappear like a hallucination. "You. Mick Schtoppel."
"Not Mick," he says. "Mick doesn't exist." He's surprised by how much it hurts to say that.
"So all this time, you've been pretending? Mick was just…"
"A cover," he supplies. "A means to an end. No one looked twice at Mick when he blathered on about the birds he was shagging that week or the important people he knew. You certainly didn't."
"I can't believe this."
He sighs, still a little offended. "Well, we're just going to have to skip that part. You and I have important business at hand. The time has come for Section to fall."
That gets her attention, shakes her out of her disbelieving stupor. "A takeover?"
"A takeover." She looks entirely too happy at that prospect for him to feel comfortable, and he wonders what hell Operations and company have been putting her through lately.
"When?" she asks.
"Soon. You'll receive instructions in the usual manner, but I wanted to prepare you personally. Operations and Madeline aren't going to be very happy to see me, and I may need you to reinforce my initial authority."
"All right," she says. "I'll wait for my orders. But…"
"Yes, my dear?" He aches to call her "ducks", or "sunshine", or even "popsicle", but those days are over. Mr. Jones never says anything so informal.
"Michael will come through this okay, won't he?"
He doesn't have any idea what to say, so he equivocates as best he can. "Not even I can say. Not right now."
She bites her lip, her teeth digging in and pulling the skin white around them. "I understand, I guess. But…" She looks up at him, earnest, her voice low and quick. "I've been working for Center for three years, and I've never asked for anything."
He can't meet her eyes. "I will try," he promises.
He watches her walk away, dodging children and dogs and frisbees and ice cream vendors, and he prays that Michael will survive. He doesn't know how many casualties will result from Center's takeover, but he suspects that Operations and Madeline will not give in easily.
And he spares a thought for a silent goodbye to the first victim of this upcoming engagement. It's probably stupid to mourn for someone who never existed, who was just a creation of his own mind to begin with, but he already misses Mick.
************
White desk. White walls. Gray suit.
Mick's technicolor life was a lot more entertaining.
************
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