| Subject: WTTS2 - 70 |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:19:24 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2" on 20:43:26 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 70
By KT
Copyright July 18, 2000
Sometime in the night, Nikita woke abruptly as her recurring dream of the shooting troubled her sleep yet again. Michael held her close, smoothing her hair and whispering terms of endearment. He feared this spectre would only serve to reignite Nikita's melancholy state. He looked down at her face as tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes closed against the dark images, wishing he could make furious love to her and drive all the demons away. But he knew how upset she was already about her limitations. He helplessly attempted to quell his rising physical reaction to her. The last thing he wanted to do was more damage.
"Michael..."
"Shhh..."
Michael heard Nikita's breathing change again, and felt the tension leave her body as she slipped back into oblivion. His own eyes closed as his troubled heart ached for his beloved. He hated this powerless feeling. As his roused body began to calm, Michael lay a light kiss upon Nikita's forehead, and sleep reached out its comforting arm and wrapped him in its soothing caress.
* * * * * * * *
Nikita woke to an empty warm place beside her in her bed. She still had her clothes on, and dawn was pouring in the window. Michael had again slipped away without waking her. As she lay snuggled, her mind drifted to events of the previous night.
Unconditional love.
She was still getting used to the concept. And the reality.
Roberta had come forward to show her what was in her heart. Sabine cared for her as if she were her own daughter. Jamie had given her the gift of tough love. And Michael... She had thought he was strong after her confessions about her past... but now! She was amazed at his extraordinary response to her situation. It was beyond any expectation she could have imagined.
He had challenged her to meet him on equal ground. The practicing, the plans for the future concerts, his refusal to leave when she invited him to go... Nikita felt more tears rising as she recalled his tender touch, his indignant words - she wondered if Michael ever really got angry as she flashed on the way he'd handled Zalman's derisive attack - and her heart beat harder as she recalled the heat in his voice as he'd promised her "Always..." All this followed by his tender care as she wandered in and out of her disturbing nightmare...
Nikita's eye was caught by a slip of paper on her night table as she reached for her water bottle. Michael's bold script again. She unfolded the paper.
"Nikita. Please. Talk to Sabine about the dreams. I would fix them if I could. Practice later. M."
This one was finished off with a tiny drawing of yet another constellation. She smiled as she recognized Orion, the Hunter. Nikita opened a little keepsake box she kept next to her bed and placed this note in with the others.
The corner of her mouth turned up in a little twist. She had talked to Sabine, but the images still plagued her. Nikita wasn't sure what more could be done... Perhaps they would fade with time? Maybe it was time to have another talk with Sabine.
The phone ringing jogged her out of her reverie and Nikita heard Sabine answering
"Why, yes... Oh, hello Mr. Birkoff... oh, of course... I'm not sure if she's up yet... I'll have her call you back... Yes, thank you."
Footsteps came down the hallway as Nikita stirred to move herself into her chair. She silently thanked her musical muse yet again for her extra upper body strength. She needed to get a bath and get out of these rumpled clothes. As Sabine poked her head around the doorway, she relayed Birkoff's message.
"Good morning, mon enfant. Your friend Birkoff just called. He was inquiring after your well-being. I told him you would call him back."
"Thanks, Sabine. Yeah, I sort of overheard the conversation." She was feeling a bit embarrassed as she regretted not calling Birkoff to let him know about her progress. And there was Walter, too... If only she hadn't been so fearful... It would seem that apologies were in order. "I'll call him, but first I need to get clean, and I want to get out of these clothes!"
Sabine was momentarily heartened, thinking that Nikita's growing will to recover was no doubt due to Michael's visits. She wasn't aware of Roberta's talk with her daughter, and assumed that this was the natural course of things. But as she took in her charge's appearance, Sabine noted that Nikita's smile was a bit half-hearted, and her face revealed that she had not rested well. Their eyes locked.
"Nikita..." The firm edge to Sabine's utterance of her name alerted her senses. "What is troubling you? Is it Michael?"
Nikita shook her head, attempting to avert her eyes, but Sabine's look was hypnotic.
"It's the dream, isn't it?"
There was really no point in lying.
"It is."
Nikita was suddenly pleading, her voice filled with distress. "Oh, Sabine! Will it ever go away?!"
"It will. But we need to continue to talk about it." Sabine knew that the nightmares would pass with time. "And we need to give you something to help you sleep." Nikita was about to protest when Sabine spoke again. "Otherwise, your healing will be prolonged, and I believe that would not be to anyone's benefit. Rest must be a priority." She was thinking of Roberta, that she was clinging to life until she knew that her daughter would be all right.
Sabine's words summoned Nikita's resolve. She was thinking of Michael... the sooner she healed, the sooner they could... well, Nikita couldn't help thinking of the way his body always responded to being near her, even last night, when she wasn't doing anything to encourage it. She nodded in agreement, not trusting her voice at the moment. Nikita's eyes told Sabine all she needed to know.
"So, let's get you to the bath. We have much work to do."
* * * * * * * *
Gerald Price stared across the desk at Marcus O'Brien twirling his pencil, as was his nervous habit. Price found it mildly annoying, but sat back calmly, sizing up the Detective. O'Brien hadn't given up any information during their little chat, and Price was on the verge of telling him that he had resigned from the case. But he was just a little more than curious about the possible evidence that was keeping Petrosian in custody.
"The court has refused bail, Detective. Can you give me an explanation?"
"Sorry, Price. But that information is privileged." O'Brien felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled how generous Price had been with Karen's confession, but he knew that if he leaked any information, the D.A.'s office would have his head on a platter.
O'Brien leaned forward. "Look Gerald, you know I'd tell you if I could, but in this case, they'd can me in a minute. I've come too far to lose my job now."
Price mused. "I understand. But there is another matter I'd like to discuss." He paused pointedly. "Karen's injury is causing her some discomfort, and you know she has been on maintenance drugs for depression. Since her incarceration, she has been denied any and all medication, except initial pain medication. I've asked that she be put back on her maintenance drugs. I think her mental state is deteriorating rapidly."
O'Brien was surprised. Price actually sounded like he had compassion for the girl. "It's really up to the prison's medical staff."
Price handed O'Brien an envelope. "Here's the evaluation from her doctor and the order of consent from the prison medics. These are copies. The originals are filed with the D.A.'s office. I just wanted to offer them to you as a courtesy."
O'Brien's gut contracted. Price was way ahead of him here. Why hadn't he been notified? He stood up.
"Thanks Price." There was no hiding the shock he was feeling.
"Sure Detective. It was the least I could do." Price's politeness had a hollow ring to it. He also stood, exchanging a gratuitous handshake with O'Brien. Price left O'Brien with a smile that chilled him to the bone. He shook it off as the phone rang. It was Cossins.
"Marcus. Are you sitting down?"
He sat.
"Yeah, Patrick, what's up?"
"Karen Kent has just been found dead in her cell. I've notified the coroner. He'll meet you at the Lockup."
O'Brien whistled under his breath. "On my way."
* * * * * * * *
Sabine, Nikita, and Roberta were sharing a light lunch around the kitchen table. Therapy and massage completed, Nikita was verbally expounding on her plan for afternoon practice. Sabine chided her.
"First a nap, then practice. Who is the nurse around here anyway?" A teasing smile accompanied her stern tone of voice. Her hazel eyes flashed authority as she secretly rejoiced in Nikita's desire to resume her musical activities.
Roberta watched them spar. She thought she would feel a pang of jealousy toward Sabine and Nikita's easy relationship, but in reality, she was glad of Sabine's ability to handle her headstrong offspring, almost like... an aunt. Roberta grinned at the two of them.
"And who is the mother around here anyway? Hmmm?"
Nikita reached over and squeezed her Mom's hand. Their eyes connected and they exchanged bemused grins. "Why, you are, of course. So... what are your orders, Mama?"
Their silliness was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sabine rose to answer and returned to the kitchen with two guests in tow. Nikita blushed as Birkoff and Walter entered.
"Hullo." Nikita looked from one to the other. Apology tinged her next words. "Um, I guess you two figured out that we got out of the hospital, huh?"
Walter grinned as he approached Nikita, his heart a little sore at the sight of her chair. He bent down and gave her a bear hug. As he pulled back, he couldn't resist teasing. "Yeah, we sure did, and no thanks to any of you!" His pale blue eyes swept over Sabine and Roberta with an accusing glare, but their irrepressible twinkle soon returned.
Birkoff stepped forward. "Hey. Nikita." His voice and eyes were soft as he too bent to give Nikita a hug. His was much gentler than Walter's, and his usually teasing mode was tempered by the serious nature of the situation. "I was worried. We haven't talked since the hospital. You were... well, you were unconscious when I last saw you. Sorry I haven't called. I've been pretty busy with my new position. It's not really an excuse... just... an explanation."
Nikita gave Birkoff a return hug. "And I'm sorry I haven't called either. There's been so much I haven't attended to. I didn't mean to neglect you. Truce?"
Seymour smiled. "Truce."
Nikita looked up at Walter. "Sorry, Walter."
Walter cleared his throat. "Ah, thanks. It's OK. We were just concerned, that's all."
Sabine interrupted. "Please, sit down both of you. Would you like some tea?"
Walter turned to Sabine, his eyes flashing a little greeting. "Tea would be lovely, wouldn't it, Birkoff?"
"Well, 'lovely' wouldn't be my description of it, but that sounds fine, thanks."
They sat and Walter prompted Birkoff as Sabine poured. "Uh, Seymour... the reason we came?"
Nikita feigned insult. "What? You didn't come to see me?"
Walter continued. "Sorry, sugar. But it's really the older girls we're interested in." He gave Nikita a wink and she nodded. Birkoff pulled an envelope out of his jacket and handed it to Roberta. She accepted it gingerly, turning it over as if to glean some hidden message.
"Open it," Birkoff prodded.
Roberta gasped as she read the contents. A letter and a check for ten thousand dollars. Her eyes widened and her hands trembled just a little as she looked around the table. She handed the check over to Sabine, who passed it around to Nikita. They murmured their appreciation.
"So Mom, aren't you going to tell us what's in the letter?"
Roberta sat reading, then looked up, touched through and through by the gesture of kindness she had just received. She spoke quietly. "It's the money from the benefit, dear. They're giving it all to me. "For expenses" it says. For whatever I want to use it for." She turned to Walter and Birkoff.
"Thank you, gentlemen. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." Roberta was quite overcome at having received a gift from people who barely knew her. Her eyes shone with moisture, and her voice failed her.
Birkoff was quite uncomfortable in the face of Roberta's emotion, but Walter's encouraging look gave him the strength he needed. "You're welcome. We're just glad we can give it to you." He confessed. "It was my idea. It's really not much, but..." He faltered as he wrestled with the reality of Roberta's condition.
She came to his rescue, her gaze showering sympathy in return, her voice nearly a whisper. "Oh, you're wrong, young man. It's really much more than one can measure in dollars." Roberta glanced at her daughter. Their eyes met in deep understanding.
Sabine poured a second cup all round, and the talk turned to music chat between Birkoff and Nikita. Walter stood up.
"Well, I need to get back to my shop. The clientele will be wondering where I could have gone that was so important that my Café was closed for lunch!" He eyed Sabine. "Walk me to the door, Madame?" His infectious grin captured her. He turned to Roberta. "So happy we could give you this. Nikita, please take care of yourself, and keep me informed, will you?! And call on me for anything... anything at all. Promise?"
"Promise," she responded, as Sabine and Walter walked out together.
"Me too?" asked Birkoff as he stood to take his leave.
"You too," she said solemnly. "Thanks, Birkoff." He nodded as he waved to Roberta and left.
Nikita and Roberta sat in silence as the kindness of others seeped happiness into their souls. Their reverie was broken by the entrance of Sabine.
"What lovely friends you have, mon enfant... lovely." Her voice sounded a little dreamy and Nikita and Roberta exchanged knowing glances. "Now, to bed with both of you!"
* * * * * * * *
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