Subject:  Chapter 5 - end (NC-17) |
Author:
Cynaera
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Date Posted: 10:02:23 01/18/02 Fri
In reply to:
Cynaera
's message, "Two Hearts Beat As One (Sequel to "From A Child's Eyes)" on 12:45:47 01/16/02 Wed
Chapter 5 - NC-17
It was still early evening - Michael and Nikita had dragged two of the comforters from the bed downstairs and were relaxed in front of the fire. Michael had added logs to it, and the blaze was warm and welcoming. He'd also provided a small banquet - a platter of cheese, fruit, wine and mineral water, as well as some sliced meats. Nikita was amazed at his skill, and his thoughtfulness - he must have prepared this feast while
she'd dozed after their recent lovemaking.
Thinking about it, she was caught breathless again. Michael had revealed a side she'd never experienced before - a tender, considerate, devilish side. He'd teased her, tempted her, his laughing eyes taunting her to give him more - and she had. He'd satisfied her unselfishly, whispering his urgency in her ear even as she had climaxed, then holding back and quietly coaxing, his voice rich with passion, "Again… come for me again…"
Nikita swallowed, coming back to the present in a rush of heat and embarrassment. She'd been wanton in her lust, and Michael had reveled in it, encouraged it, exulted in it - and finally, had succumbed to it with a loud groan, a hoarse expletive in French, and her name, whispered reverently, his eyes locked to hers as he completed his pleasure, making sure she could see everything she had done to him…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Where did you take P.J. that day you disappeared?" Michael asked her tranquilly, gazing into the fire with Nikita in his arms. The comforter was loosely wrapped around them, the banquet half-demolished in front of them.
"To the carnival," she replied serenely. "He wanted to ride the fastest rollercoasters, and there were two or three of them there, so I took him on all the rides." Michael couldn't suppress a smile. It was so Nikita to be a child to please a child. "We ate cotton candy and snow-cones and teriyaki chicken on skewers - I didn't know a kid could pack away so much food and still keep it in his stomach during the 'Cyclone'!" she laughed softly, her voice holding a twinge of sadness as she remembered that day. P.J. had been so animated, so very alive then…
"I can't believe he's gone," she whispered, and a pain shot through her and closed her throat. She squirmed deeper into Michael's arms, and he held her tighter, sensing something like bone-deep anguish rippling through her.
She fought the sorrow. It took several moments, but after awhile, she brought the conversation back to something which had been unfinished and which still troubled her. In a slightly shaky voice, she asked, "So - what was the plan you and P.J. came up with to tell his mother?" Nikita was still unsatisfied, mentally. In a deeper part of herself, Nikita knew that whatever she learned from this, it would be something she could apply to herself, somehow, and use in her continued survival. But, more than the surface-selfishness, she wanted to see even deeper into Michael - and P.J. seemed to be the one element, the one beautiful liaison, between inhumanity and humanity.
"We had to explain the fact that he'd been gone for nearly a month. I told her we'd been working with him on treatments. P.J. said he'd volunteered, but he hadn't told her because he didn't want to worry her. He apologized for being gone and causing her all that worry, and then, I asked her if there was anything she needed."
Nikita waited - Michael seemed to have difficulty with the words, and she could feel him take a deep breath, let it out, then take another, almost as if he were swallowing tears. She didn't look at him - she knew he needed time and a little discretion on her part, so she remained silent and still.
"She said she was fine."
No wonder he's choking up! Nikita thought, aghast. It must have been a shock for him to hear his own words used in such irony… Aloud, she breathed, "Oh, Michael…" She shifted her position until she was cradling him in her arms, then she tightened her hold on him and said nothing more.
Michael went on, his body relaxing against the pain. "I told her the research facility where P.J. was working was putting through the paperwork on a substantial reimbursement for any anguish we had caused her concerning her son. And I asked her if it would be all right if we kept him for a few more days, to finish up some tests. She said it would be acceptable, but that she wanted him home for the weekend."
"The weekend?" Nikita asked, curious.
"It was her anniversary - she and P.J. always spent that day together." Michael sighed deeply, and Nikita heard the catch in his voice. "I would have taken him there," he whispered. P.J. had died before the weekend.
Nikita was silently crying - tears, but no sound. Her heart broke along with P.J.'s mother's heart. When she could speak, she asked, "Did you go to her after-" She couldn't make the words come out.
"Yes," Michael said, his tone neutral. "I told her he was gone, but that because of him, a lot of people would live longer lives." He paused, then added in a hushed voice, "It was the truth."
Nikita knew it was. P.J. had helped Birkoff develop more sophisticated and airtight security measures for their systems. He had helped Walter create explosives which could be more precisely focused on a specific target, without the "wild-card" element that made them so dangerous to civilians. He'd helped Operations see faces - fathers, brothers, daughters, sons - instead of numbers. He'd helped Mad'laine re-think her
strategies for the greater good to include life, rather than death.
And he'd helped Michael to find the soul he'd thought had died long ago. The most profound proof of P.J.'s impact was lying in her arms at that moment, holding her as if he would never let go, shuddering in sorrow as he confessed things that, prior to P.J., he would have buried inside and borne alone, in silence. Nikita thought, Oh, P.J., I wish you were still alive - we miss you so much… She rocked Michael gently, her lips to his temple, her eyes closed as tears leaked out anyway. For that moment, in the darkness of the sunken living room in front of the fire, with the curtains drawn against the late afternoon sun, she and Michael were two halves of the same person - a person who loved a thirteen year-old boy beyond the boundaries of death…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Operations paced in the aerie, his ice-blue eyes worried, angry, intense. He was seeing the latest intel from a third-world country which had recently acquired nuclear weapons - they were poised to flaunt their power, ignorant of the chain-reaction that power-play would create. Jesus, he thought, not uttering a single verbal syllable. He could almost feel the grey hairs sprouting in forests on his head, and for one irrational moment, he thought, I'd keep Grecian Formula in business through the Y2K-debacle… It had been over two months since that damned kid had invaded his conscience and planted seeds in his head that he could not, for the life of him, jar loose. Now, he heard P.J.'s voice - a new voice, more mature, more confident, less urgent. I know your real name, Paul… Don't forget what that 'greater good' really is…
Operations slammed his palms down on the desk, squeezed his eyes shut against the voice, then finally gave up the fight, took a deep breath, and summoned Birkoff. "Get me Michael."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They lay, twined together, relaxed, indolent, watching the fire as it slowly burned hot and intense, with very little flame. Michael's fingers idly stroked Nikita's temple, and her cheek was warmed against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, slow and steady, peaceful and content. She memorized the moment, because her instincts told her it would not last.
Michael's cell-phone rang. Nikita felt his body stiffen, and she swallowed her disappointment, forcing herself to pull away from him, knowing he would answer the call. To her surprise, he pulled her tightly against him, delivered a flurry of kisses to her temple, her eyes, her lips, and before he separated from her, he whispered passionately, "I love you, mon coeur…"
Nikita watched as Michael rose quickly, lithe and limber as a cat, and in a few economical steps reached his cell phone. "Yes?"
Silence. "When?"
Another silence. "We'll be there in an hour."
He slapped the phone shut, his eyes staring at the wall, his body gloriously naked and unashamed. Nikita felt hunger rise in her again, but the counter-shock of Section made her take a deep breath and become the operative, not the woman. When Michael turned to her, she saw that her action was the right one - he was slowly becoming Team-Leader.
He approached her, seemingly unaware of his beautiful nudity. "We have a briefing in an hour." His voice was cold, his eyes flat and army-green. But Nikita saw beyond the facade - saw the fear, the pain, the sorrow, the joy - she saw it all, and silently, she thanked P.J. for giving her the words she should have already known… He loves you, Nikita - he's just scared… Don't give up… Immediately, she arose, shedding the warmth of the quilts and the fire, and left the room to fetch her clothing - swallowing her heart, one more time, knowing that Michael, too, was stuffing his true self down into the dungeon where he stored all his feelings. It was their survival - and now, they both knew it.
Before they departed the sanctuary, Nikita laid her hand against Michael's cheek, saw his eyes close in ecstasy, as if memorizing her touch, and she whispered, "I love you, Michael…"
He reached up, took her hand and removed it from his flesh, holding it tightly, and replied, his green eyes metamorphosing to an unearthly translucent hue that only Nikita could evoke, "Mon ręveur...ma vie...je suis ici pour toi - toujours…" Nikita felt herself begin to tremble. My dream…my life…I am here for you - always…
Anything… she thought fervently, and her eyes bored into Michael's with the vehemence of her belief. I can do anything, as long as I have you… They left the warmth of the home which had been their protection and their wonder for the past two days. Together, they emerged into a world that no longer held power over them. Their fingers entwined, they strode side by side - strong, sure, linked with one heartbeat and one voice - invincible. And P.J. was their guardian angel…
The End
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