Subject:  Chapter 19: Through the Looking Glass (And, voila! C'est fini. :-D As Jim Morrison wrote: "This is the end, my friend." ;-P) |
Author:
Sanlin
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Date Posted: 00:13:32 12/13/01 Thu
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "Welcome everyone :-D and a repost of "It's Absurd"" on 18:05:34 12/01/01 Sat
“How do we know what’s real and what’s an illusion?” Nikita cast a suspicious glance around her apartment, wondering how much of what she saw was part of their prison.
Michael placed his hands on either side of Nikita’s face, stroking her eyebrows gently with his fingertips and staring into her eyes. “Think, Nikita. What’s out of place?”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Nikita. Despite the gravity of their situation, she had to laugh. “‘One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn’t belong.’ Well for one thing there’s all of the cartoon characters and puppets from children’s television shows, and that TV. I’ve never owned one.”
“Good.” Michael kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck affectionately with his rough beard stubble. “Focus, Nikita,” Michael prompted. “Let go of the illusions…”
Nikita concentrated intently on the television set.
At first, nothing happened.
Michael held one of her hands, between his, stroking her fingertips and tracing the lines of her palms with his calloused thumb. She tried again. This time she imagined the set breaking, like a pane of glass, into a million pieces.
Without warning, the television set imploded into fragments of light and darkness. It folded inwards upon itself until nothing remained. Nikita stared in shock as the last fragments of the set glittered eerily, then winked out of existence. “That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen! Try it, Michael!”
Michael focused on some boxes resting on the kitchen counter. He imagined a giant paintbrush painting over them in his mind. Then he watched stroke by stroke as his careful efforts brushed the boxes out of existence.
“It’s working!” Nikita couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. Still sitting next to Michael, on the couch, she made a pile of CDs explode like confetti into a glittering shower of colors. She laughed triumphantly.
“Let’s go,” Michael growled, rising from the couch with Nikita following, hard on his heels. They stalked through the apartment, dispelling anything that seemed out of place or unfamiliar. Their progress was impeded occasionally by chaotic events springing into existence around them. Nikita made the antique bathtub, which had escaped from the bathroom and was heading down the hall towards them on its lion’s claw legs, burst and vanish like a soap bubble. Michael threw a mental blanket over a tiger that appeared abruptly, stalking from the doorway to Nikita’s bedroom.
Gradually, they made progress, until Nikita was finally satisfied. “That’s it. There’s only one thing left: the apartment itself. It shouldn’t have a second floor like this. And the stairway is all wrong.”
“Two things, Nikita.” Michael’s voice was soft, but serious.
A sudden chill raised goose bumps all along Nikita’s arms. Her heart shuddered in her chest, and she looked at him, instinctively knowing what he meant. “No.”
“Ni-ki-ta. If you hold onto anything, you’ll never leave this place. Madeline and Operations know the one thing you’d never willingly leave behind.” Michael stared meaningfully at her. “Don’t move. Just relax.” Calmly, his jade-green gaze still locked on hers, Michael walked straight towards her.
Nikita flinched reflexively as Michael drew closer to her. “Michael, this isn’t going to… Michael!”
Michael’s body passed right through hers, without any resistance.
“Michael! That’s not possible. We…” Nikita paused, thinking of their night of passion. That had to be real.
Michael, now standing behind her, looked as solid as ever once again. He spoke quietly, his eyes shining with passion. “The love is real, Nikita. My love lives, in you…”
“…and yours in me, Michael.” She paused, shaking her head. “What if you’re wrong?” Nikita’s voice was anguished. “I can’t leave you, Michael!”
“I’m always with you, ‘Kita,” Michael’s voice chided her gently. “It’s time to go. You can’t stay here.” Michael placed a hand on her arm. His fingers felt warm, solid and real now. He pulled her towards the bathroom. “You know where the exit is…”
Nikita shivered. She did know, but her feet didn’t want to move. “Michael, I’m scared.”
Michael kissed her hand comfortingly and led her into the bathroom. He stopped, standing near the full-length mirror where Nikita had received such a fright that morning upon seeing two reflections. “Don’t look back. The only way out…”
“…is through the looking glass.” Nikita gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Everything seemed so normal, the mirror and her image, but she could feel an instinctive pull towards the object.
“Trust me.” Michael held out his hand, keeping his eyes focused firmly on Nikita so she wouldn’t glance behind her, where the world was fragmenting into pieces and nightmarish chaos. He kept his voice perfectly calm. “I’ll be with you, always. Now, go!”
Nikita took his hand for one last moment and then stepped forward, falling into the mirror’s surface. She passed directly through the mirror as if it were water. Nikita tried to cry out but no sound came. It was like she was falling down a long, dark hole or passing through an endless, black tunnel. She held on as long as she could, trying to hold a picture of Michael’s face in her mind as a beacon. Somewhere along the way she lost consciousness, still falling into the endless darkness…
*****
Gingerly, Nikita tried to open her eyes. It was dark all around her. For a moment, she thought she was still in that black tunnel, falling forever. Her vision cleared even further. It was like a tunnel but there were lights and netting. It was obviously man-made. She was lying on her back and, propped near her head, she sensed… Michael! He was alive!
In a flash, it came flooding back to her. She’d been subjected to the Gelman process; a form of brainwashing and mind control. Madeline had ambushed her on a mission, drugged her, and forced her to undergo that terrible treatment. What had seemed a day to Nikita had been… how long? Days? Weeks? She’d operated as a soulless robot for all that time, killing indiscriminately. She’d been blindly obedient to Madeline and Operation’s every command; incapable of fear, love, sympathy, or human emotions. The human, feeling part of her had been locked away and cut off deep inside her own mind until Michael and his selfless, abiding love for her had helped free her trapped psyche, releasing her suppressed emotions.
Through it all, Michael had worked tirelessly. Risking his life by kidnapping first Adrian, the former “mother of Section” and the first victim of the Gelman process, and then Nikita herself. Taking Nikita to this remote hideout, Michael had used the information provided by Adrian, until he finally succeeded in bringing Nikita back to herself.
“I slept,” Nikita croaked weakly, as if she hadn’t used her voice in years.
“Yes. A little,” Michael said, softly.
“There’s still pain.” Nikita felt like she’d just been resurrected from the dead. Her body and head ached terribly.
“It’ll go away.” Michael stroked her temples soothingly.
“When?” Nikita’s voice cracked with anguish.
“When you let it go, Nikita.” Michael kissed the left side of her face and began working his way upwards, towards her temple. He continued to kiss her face, eyelids, and mouth, his lips brushing over her features as gently as the wings of a butterfly… He nuzzled the side of her neck like a great cat, rubbing his beard stubble against her throat, marking her passionately as his alone.
“Michael, I love you.” Nikita surrendered herself to the sensual, arousing touch of her love, her soul mate. The only man she’d ever loved. Michael.
Michael needed no words. His hands and mouth were too busy worshipping his beloved, so recently and narrowly returned to him from a condition of living death. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had soothed and loved every cherished part of his sole reason for existence and for struggling unceasingly against Section’s dark machinations. His Nikita.
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