| Subject: Requiescant In Pace 1 |
Author:
Rox
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 20:43:01 01/15/02 Tue
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "Requiescant In Pace (Sequel to Anguish of Angels)" on 20:35:55 01/15/02 Tue
They walked in together. Like young lions they came, confident and purposeful, matching stride for stride, not touching, but together nonetheless. There was danger about them, grace, and powerful unity. People who noticed, were caught by their beauty and consciously stepped aside to let them pass.
It was Michael and Nikita--he in malevolent black, she his opposite, in angelic white, both sporting sunglasses that shielded their eyes and all the secrets they kept hidden there.
Madeline noticed and she smiled. They were a team now--pulling together, twice as strong and deadly as either of them had been alone. Just as she had hoped they would become.
* * *
Operations was almost buoyant when he appeared for the briefing. He acknowledged Michael’s presence with a nod of his head, then clicked on the main viewing screen.
“Our guest, General Nhan, has given us the location of a base inside Vietnam, near the Cambodian border. The last living American POWs were relocated there after the war. Originally, they were to be released, but they had been held for so many years, and were so badly treated, the Vietnamese government felt it was better to allow the West to believe they were dead, rather than endanger the on-going negotiations for Western aid. Our mission is to locate the prisoners and smuggle them out of Viet Nam. We have three weeks before Christmas, people, and I intend for those men to be home in time to share the holidays with their families.”
Clicking off the screen, Operations continued, “Michael, I’m leading the tactical team. You and Nikita will go in under cover as Western journalists. You will meet your contact in Saigon and we will rendezvous at the coordinates shown in your PDAs. Walter, you’re going as well.”
Nikita looked over at Madeline and was somewhat surprised at the hawkish expression of anger on Madeline’s face. Then she glanced over at Michael. He, too, seemed disquieted over Operation’s announcement, but remained silent knowing there was nothing he could say about it.
Walter caught the subtle exchange of all the major parties. He folded his arms, pretended to study the tabletop and murmured under his breath, “Ohhhhhh shit.”
“Did you have something to add, Walter?” Operations asked, casually. By his tone, Walter was sure Ops hadn’t heard his comment.
“No, just . . . talking to myself,” he gave Operations a fixed, toothy grin, before getting out of his chair.
“Fine. No mistakes on this mission. You won’t like the consequences, if there are.” Operations threatened, with a frown. “We load up at 0530 tomorrow morning. You’re on close quarters standby. Dismissed.”
* * *
It was late and Nikita yawned. “Are we done?” She asked Michael as he finished the final run-through of the mission parameters.
Michael nodded. Nikita noticed he looked tired as well.
“Good, because if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m---” she yawned again wider, “ah, I’m going to fall down.”
Michael smiled faintly at her, and Nikita was suddenly not so tired after all. To see Michael smile was such a rarity, and she wondered if she could make him do it again.
“Walk me home?” She asked, with her lips pressed together.
“I heard that.” Birkoff commented wryly, glancing at the two with a covert grin.
Michael put himself between Birkoff and Nikita and asked with a soft, menacing voice, “What did you hear?”
Birkoff caught the flash of warning in Michael’s eyes, and stuttered, “N-nothing, honest.”
“Michael, stop being such a bully.” Nikita teased. She leaned over and kissed Birkoff on the cheek, who sat stock-still and wide-eyed under Michael’s gaze, somewhat like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
"You trying to get me killed? “ Birkoff hissed into Nikita’s ear as she drew back. She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, “Night.”
“Yeah, okay--good night.” Birkoff replied, never taking his eyes off of Michael.
“So, what was that about?” Nikita asked, as she and Michael walked down the corridor to her quarters. Michael didn’t answer and she was dismayed to see the “blank stare” was back in place. “Michael?” When he still didn’t answer, she stepped in front of him to block his path.
“Oh, no you don’t!” She said firmly. Grabbing him by his lapels Nikita pushed him, unresisting, against the nearest wall. “Talk to me!” she ordered.
Nikita stared into his gray-green eyes and saw messages written in them for which she had no decoding device. She watched as his eyes drop from hers and could almost feel them on her lips.
In a flash of sudden insight, Nikita realized Michael was jealous! Jealous even of Birkoff! The idea was comical but Nikita didn’t dare laugh. Michael was jealous! It took a moment for the realization to sink in.
She thought about what he must have suffered through as Simone’s husband, waiting in a tactical van, having to listen while his wife used her body to entice other men. Even though Walter said Michael understood it, Nikita realized it had to have been very, very hard. As hard as it had been for her, knowing Michael had seduced Lisa Fanning.
Nikita smoothed imaginary wrinkles off of Michael’s sturdy shoulders, then leaned close to whisper in his ear.
“Birkoff is the brother I never had, and I love him. But I exist for you, Michael and only for you. You are the air I breathe, and if we weren’t on Candid Camera, I’d show you just how much I need and love you.” She moved away again to see his face so she could gauge his reaction.
Michael’s expression changed in an instant, softening as she watched. She kissed her thumb, then stroked it across his lips, as if to wipe something away. But he understood the gesture as it was meant, a promise of a kiss at a later date--somewhere where it was safe.
“I thought you were going to walk me home?” Nikita smiled and playfully slugged his shoulder. It was their cue to continue down the hallway. If anyone had watched what had occurred, hopefully they hadn’t seen anything worth noting.
* * *
“Paul!”
“Yes, Madeline?” Operations returned in irritation.
Is THIS your new plan of action? When George calls, whom shall I say is running Section? You can’t have been sanctioned to do this!”
Operations smiled, “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. I have George’s complete blessing over this.”
“Oh, I have no doubt! How much did you give away to get his “blessing”?”
“Actually, nothing. George owes me.” Operations smile was sweet.
"You are operating on emotions and that's always dangerous and you know it!" Madeline folded her arms behind her back, and began to walk away from him.
Operations stood, went around his desk and blocked Madeline from leaving his office. "You, of all people, must know what this mission means to me," he said soberly. "I have to do this, Madeline. Of all the reasons I ever had for being in Section, the one that's driven me the most is the POW issue.
"Then your mind is made up on this?" She asked coldly.
"You know it is." He said firmly.
"Who's your backup?"
"This is a surgical strike. We'll only get one shot at it‑there is no room for a backup team, you know that."
"Fine." She said with quiet anger and pushed past him.
"Madeline." There was a plea in Operation's voice. "Wish me luck?"
She paused in her retreat, then turned and surrendered. Her dark eyes regarded him gravely, "You know I do."
* * *
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 
