| Subject: WTTS2 - 75a |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:35:57 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 75a
By KT
Copyright August 25, 2000
Vlad Chernov was on the move. He mused as his car moved north on Wells St.
Petrosian had given him some intel about Karen's vendetta, and he was feeling a might apprehensive. The man's name was Michael Samuelle and the woman, Nikita Wirth. Both worked for the Symphony, and he knew the history according to Karen. He was not, after all, a keeper of women without some expertise.
He had listened patiently to Karen's rantings, thinking she was just venting some fantasy of hers, but with the death of Zalman and the arrest of Petrosian, his picture quickly turned. Michael had spurned Karen's advances in favor of this Nikita. Karen had worked Zalman, knowing he and Michael were sworn enemies. But apparently she hadn't been able to turn Michael around, and took her revenge on Zalman instead, most definitely the more accessible target.
If he'd known how crazy she really was, he would never have played the sympathtic ear! Her bizarre behavior had led the police to start sniffing around his building, and he was having to do some fancy footwork to mask the scent.
Chernov parked, then strolled up and down the block on Schubert, casing Roberta's house from the opposite side of the street. Petrosian had been clear. If there was information to be gained, it wasn't coming from the police. Kidnapping was a bit radical, even for Chernov. No, all he wanted was some simple information - like who had tipped the police off to his connection to Petrosian.
Vlad was not about to go down with Egran. Why on earth would he want their lucrative business arrangement to cease? Now that Egran was being held without bail, he needed to pursue his own agenda. Chernov was fed up with Gerald Price's arrogant attitude toward him, Price indicating that Chernov ought to be more careful if he wanted to remain uninvolved. He had only helped the good doctor to disappear after sealing Karen's lips forever, and no one except Petrosian and Price knew about it. Chernov didn't think either of those two would reveal his activities and risk their own exposure. He patted his jacket pocket, reassured by the feel of his S&W .38.
As he stood across from the Wirth house, Vlad noticed that the front door was wide open. He glanced left and right. The street was typically calm for mid-afternoon. Chernov stood next to his car for a moment, comtemplating his next move... perhaps just a look inside the house...
As he began his approach, a car pulled up and parked. Chernov dropped back as a man got out, carrying a package under his arm. The man moved easily up the steps and disappeared into the house, leaving the door open. Chernov pursed his lips, disgruntled, realizing that he would have to come back. He got in his car and started the engine.
Jamie Alexander entered Roberta's living room expectantly, but soon realized that all was quiet in the house. So why was the front door open? His eyes fell upon Michael's cello, resting along side the piano bench, and he backtracked to the front door. Noticing Michael's bike for the first time, he saw Chernov's car taking off, and stared curiously. Vlad turned his head and caught Jamie's eye as he drove away. Jamie's gut knotted as his instincts kicked in, sensing... what?... Danger registered in his brain. He watched the car until it moved out of sight, then turned back into the house. He set his package down on the couch, shrugging off his unsolicited reaction to the stranger, and made his way into the hall.
Jamie silently pushed open the door to Roberta's room to find it quite empty, even the oxygen unit gone. No sign of Sabine or Gwen. He continued on, and as he passed the bath, he peeked in the half-open door. The atmosphere was steamy, the tub filled with something deliciously fragrant, and there were clothes strewn about the floor. He could see the door to Nikita's room ajar. Very quietly, he peered through the crack between the door and the jamb, and his eyes lit upon the sleeping pair, Michael in Nikita's chair, back to him, and Nikita, a pale angel in her bed. Deciding that discretion was advisable, Jamie moved back into the living room, clearing his throat.
"Ah, hello. Anybody home?" he called softly.
Michael woke, not sure if he was dreaming, when the voice called again, a bit louder.
"Hello. Is there anyone here?"
Michael recognized Jamie's faint lilt. His eyes swept over Nikita. She appeared to be resting without pain for the moment. He reached out to tenderly brush his thumb across the arch of her brow, then exited the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked out into the living room, his finger pressed to his lips as he indicated to Jamie to keep his voice down, he saw a grin start to spread over Jamie's face.
"Michael, nice to see you again," Jamie spoke in hushed tones, holding back his mirth, "Such, ah, handsome legs too."
A merry twinkle appeared in Jamie's eyes and his grin widened as knowledge dawned on Michael's face. With a completely blank stare, Michael turned with dignity and retreated into the bath, pulling his pants on without ceremony. As he emerged, Jamie burst into laughter. Michael attempted composure, but broke down at last, the corners of his mouth turning up, as he could do no less than to see himself as Jamie saw him.
"Thank you," he finally replied drolly.
At that, Jamie was destroyed and collapsed on the couch, laughing uncontrollably.
"In fact, they might be the finest pair I've seen in quite a while." Jamie spit the words out one by one as he attempted to catch his breath between fits. "Don't get me wrong Michael. Body parts are generic in my line of work."
"I understand." Michael tried to save face as Jamie's laughter died down. A shadow in the doorway and a slightly lisping voice signalled the arrival of a new visitor. Michael turned, his usually stoic countenance crumbling under Jamie's comic assault.
"Hello Birkoff."
Birkoff looked from one to the other. What had gotten into these two?
"Hi Michael. Had some down time and wanted to visit with Nikita." Birkoff took in Jamie with an inquiring look. "And you are...?"
Jamie stood up, extending his hand. "Jamie Alexander, male nurse."
Birkoff's expression registered surprise, but he shook Jamie's hand warmly. "Takes all kinds, I guess."
Jamie shrugged. He was accustomed to people's mixed reactions. "Sabine and I both work for the Hospice Care Program. I sometimes fill in for her when she needs a hand. That's how I came to be here."
Birkoff nodded. "Pleased to meet you."
Michael continued. "I am about to wake Nikita for our practice session. We could use a bit of critique."
Birkoff grinned. "Thanks. Always glad to give my humble opinion."
"Jamie, you'll stay for a bit?" Michael spied the package.
"Yes, and I thank you. It will be my pleasure to hear you two play. Sabine says you're like a fire out of control." His hand rested on the package. "Besides, I need to talk to Sabine. Do you know where she is?"
"Nikita said they all went for a drive, Sabine, Roberta, and Gwen. It sounded like they would be gone for most of the afternoon."
Jamie's eyebrows raised and he smiled inwardly as he put two and two together. So... the bath, the clothes, the nap... and perhaps a bit of... erotic diversion? He didn't comment, sparing Michael the explanation. He could see that Michael was a most private person, lack of pants notwithstanding.
A raspy voice from the doorway startled them all.
"Well, well... what's this? Some kind of stag party?" Walter grinned at the gathering of men before him. "Now that I'm here, we can start, eh?"
Walter moved toward Michael and clasped his hands briefly, their eyes connecting with great affection, noting Michael's disheveled hair, casual clothes, and bare feet. This was not the Michael he knew to exist on a weekday. A slow smile spread over Walter's face.
"So, Michael, I can see why you couldn't help out at the Café," he teased sarcastically, feigning insult. "Too busy taking the afternoon off."
Michael shot him a warning glance. Regaining his manners, he introduced Walter to Jamie, and quietly moved off toward Nikita's room. He heard Jamie's invitation as he disappeared through her door.
"Well, gents, how about a nice cuppa all 'round, hmmm?"
Birkoff rolled his eyes. "Uh, sure, thanks." What was it with these guys and their tea?
Michael's lips quirked again as he caught Walter's wisecrack reply.
"Tea?" he sputtered. "You're joking, right?"
Jamie eyed Walter. Obviously the man was more of a party animal than met the eye. Decidedly likeable. "Well, with the return of the ladies imminent, I'm not sure they'd take kindly to us commandeering the whiskey stash so early in the day. Now, what's you're pleasure?" he prodded, heading for the kitchen.
* * * * * * * *
Michael sat on the bed and stroked Nikita's hair. It was growing back too slowly for him. His fingertips played with its softness as she responded to his touch. Michael had hoped that Nikita would wake refreshed and cheerful, but he knew in his heart she would be hiding her true feelings about the passing of her painful episode.
Ocean blue met sage green as their soul windows connected, and Michael felt trepidation as he saw her fighting her disappointment. Nikita's face fell. She couldn't bear it if he pitied her. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face so she had to look full at him. Michael could feel the trembling in her jaw as her lips tightened against each other, holding back her rising despair.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm... fine. The pain is... gone."
His eyes searching hers, Michael reached his arms around Nikita and pulled her close, his head resting on her shoulder, her head on his. He could feel her quietly letting go as the heat of her silent tears soaked into his sweater. Her arms slipped under his, tightening across his back. He gave her time to release her frustration from the shattered hope that the pain had signalled the return of sensation to her legs.
Michael's lips were close to her ear. "It's a good sign, the pain. At least something is happening." He inhaled the scent of narcissus lingering on her skin. The sensual memory of the bath spun through his mind. Unable to resist, he took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, his tongue playing with the soft skin. He heard her give a little moan as his action distracted her from her thoughts.
"Nikita, do you think you can you play? We have an audience gathering to hear us practice." Michael pulled back, laying his hands on her cheeks, drying her tears with his thumbs.
Voices were coming from the kitchen. Nikita heard Birkoff's laugh, and Walter's chortle, and Jamie's chuckle. She nodded.
"I want to play." Her eyes held his. "I need to play."
* * * * * * * *
Michael and Nikita did indeed play for their friends. Their musical chemistry shone so brightly, there was no doubt in the minds of their listeners that they were perfectly matched in temperament and technique. Theirs was a labor of total devotion, colored by all the emotions that the music invoked. They stopped as needed to discuss finer points and replay passages. Nikita was full of fury as she poured her anger into her articulation. As her focus shifted from her troubles, she began to feel a bit of a lift.
They ended their session with the Sixth Brandenburg. Their small but appreciative audience generated heartfelt applause, and Michael and Nikita sat back, exhausted from their efforts. As their eyes connected, the onlookers moved back to the kitchen, distracting themselves with conversation and compliments, giving the players some time alone.
Michael's gentle speech was directed to Nikita alone. "Well done, ma chère."
Her face was serious. "Merci, Michel."
"Feel better?" His question was not rhetorical.
"Yes."
"Good. I'd like to coach you on the de Falla this weekend. If you're up to it, that is."
She paused. "All right."
Michael noted her less than forceful consent, but decided not to push her any more. This was the only medicine that he knew for sure would work. And he wasn't going to let Nikita's momentary setback interfere with his plan. He stared into her eyes. His voice was soft and calm.
"This is who you are, legs or no legs. You cannot abandon yourself. Think how fortunate it is that you can play. It's time you got back to work."
Michael stood and walked to the kitchen, leaving Nikita to contemplate his indisputable wisdom.
Anger rose before she could stop it. Easy for him to say, she thought. What if he were in my place? But deep down she knew he was right. His words had held no comtempt. They were simple and honest. And true.
Nikita wheeled into the kitchen and looked at her friends. "And me, the only woman here," she mused aloud. "With friends like you..." She listened as Birkoff launched into his dissertation.
* * * * * * * *
It turned into a dinner party. Sabine, Gwen and Roberta returned to find a house full of company. Jamie declared that there were too many to cook for. A pile of money appeared on the table, and they ordered in some Chinese and spent the rest of the evening in easy companionship. Roberta observed her daughter keenly, knowing that something was eating at her. She caught Michael's eye, seeing he was having similar thoughts, but she wisely kept her counsel to herself, retiring early. She would talk to Nikita in the morning.
Walter managed to get Sabine to sit out on the front porch with him. He wanted to pursue his courting, but Sabine once again put him off, reminding him of his promise and of her duty to Roberta. Walter sighed to himself. This was as good as it was gonna get for now.
Michael watched Nikita's reserved interactions, knowing she was maintaining her outwardly relaxed appearance so the others wouldn't worry. He felt a confrontation coming, but was powerless until he could be alone with her. What more could he do? He had already voiced his opinion about the music, and if they got into it, it would be about sex. Michael sighed to himself. That was something he could not fix.
The guests took their leave until at last, only Michael, Nikita, Sabine and Jamie were left around the table. Jamie rose and retrieved his package, setting it in front of Sabine.
She looked sideways at him. "And what might this be?"
"Open it."
"Jamie," her voice had a warning tone, "you know I told you never to..."
"Sabine," he responded sternly, "when someone gives you a present, just say thank you."
She carefully removed the brown paper to find a prettily wrapped package within. A card fell onto the table. Sabine pushed it aside as she gingerly pulled the paper away, taking care not to tear it. Inside was a beautiful picture frame, fairly large, constructed of several kinds of exotic woods, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl stars. Sabine gave a little gasp of delight.
"Oh Jamie, c'est très beau! Merci! Merci beaucoup!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on both cheeks. As she examined the frame further, she noted the exquisite workmanship, and the initials J.A. on the back. "You made this?"
Jamie nodded. "I know you've been wanting a frame for your portrait of Max and Martine." He spoke aside to Michael and Nikita. "She's an artist, you know. Modest about it, but quite good." His blue eyes sparkled darkly at her. "Happy Birthday, my dear Sabine."
Nikita gave Sabine an admonishing look. "Your birthday? And you kept it to yourself?"
Sabine replied a bit defensively. "Oh, no. I had a holiday today. A lovely afternoon out with my dear "sisters". Quite nice, really." She ignored Michael's chastising expression.
Sabine said nothing further, but sat reading the card, also handmade by Jamie. Her eyes misted a bit, then she tucked the card back into its envelope.
"It's been difficult lately, hmmm? This is the hardest kind of case, is it not?"
Jamie was solemn. "Yes. Nancy and Sophie are nearing the end of their time together. Rob is in despair, but I believe he is quite strong, and knows that he must be there for his child. They are holding up very well. I am the one who is tired."
Sabine reached across the table and took Jamie's hands. "Take care of yourself, Jamie. You know, you should take your own advice... mon enfant," she murmured, and they fell silent.
Michael and Nikita exchanged a look as the conversation took this intimate turn. Nikita turned to hug Jamie. "So good to see you. You're part of the family now. Don't be a stranger."
He delicately kissed her hand. "Thank you, mademoiselle."
Nikita looked at Sabine. "As for you..." She broke into a smile. "Happy Birthday."
Michael echoed the sentiment, kissing Sabine on both cheeks. "If you'll excuse us please, we will say good night."
Michael grasped the handles of Nikita's chair, but she pushed it herself, taking off ahead of him toward the hallway. She entered her room and spun the chair around as Michael caught up with her. He looked into her eyes and saw... determination.
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