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Date Posted: 22:14:40 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Gypsies and Criminals - Part 1
In reply to: KT 's message, "Gypsies and Criminals" on 22:11:54 05/03/02 Fri

Gypsies and Criminals - A Story of Parallel Universes - Part 1
By KT
Copyright April, 2002


It was hot. Hotter than was humanly healthy for July. The afternoon seemed to stretch endlessly.

Nikita struggled up the hill, carefully balancing her water buckets, the staff that joined them biting into the tender skin at her neck. She stopped, setting her burden down, and breathed deeply. Her head tilted back as she took in the bluest sky she'd ever seen, its cloud denizens scuffling jerkily in the wind aloft.

At her feet, gentian and alpine columbine bloomed side by side, their purple and red flowers tangling in a blur of color, and the grasses parted to form the pathway she trudged up day in and day out on her mission to the well and back. It had been a dry winter, a nearly dry spring, and water might become scarce. The wells were full, but if they weren't careful, the water wouldn't last until the next snows. It was time for conservation, her Grandfather Walter had preached that morning, shaking his finger in her face like she was a three-year-old.

She stood up to her full height, nearly six feet, and shook her wild blonde hair in the breeze, her piercing blue eyes challenging the sky for intensity of color. Her supple body, lithe and strong from her daily regimen, braced itself against the wind, and she shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight as she stared across the valley.

Nothing moved except the grasses and tree branches. The horses stood as if rooted, the cows lay low, their heads to the ground, and the whooshing air hummed and whipped her skirts about as she took in the view. Love for the mountain and its wildness bloomed in her, as it did every day. And a restlessness for something more... a curiosity to know the world around her, outside the valley...

She had read all of Walter's history books, studied all his maps, and knew of caravans of gypsies who traveled the countryside, not tied down to anyone or anything, who held the unwritten history of the world in their heads, who had traversed the globe, gleaning magic and knowledge from every people, every tradition.

A dream had plagued her, a dream of joining the gypsies, of circling the earth and learning of all its mysteries. Her grandfather had warned her that gypsies were not to be trusted, that they would take you in, but never let you become part of their society. They would abandon you if it was convenient. No, gypsies were not to be trusted.

A forceful gust of wind buffeted her face and Nikita smiled into the sun. It was as if the fairies were rebuking her for her silly thoughts. The faint shrill of pixies' hornpipes floated in the ether, and the softly tickling sound of the laughter of the little people filled the rills around her. She stooped and picked up her buckets, and small sigh escaped as she lifted them slowly.

Visions of things unknown danced about her as she moved up the mountainside, her footfalls quiet and metered, a part of the wild landscape, her heart untamed, her dream yet to be fulfilled.

* * * * * * * *

Nikita sighed as she pulled her paperwork into a pile. It had been two years since she had taken over the Sections... two long years of battling Oversight and Centre for the reformation of the policies that had made life so difficult for her and Michael during their years together as operatives for the most covert anti-terrorist organization on the planet... their ends were just, but their means were ruthless. She had learned to play by their rules and live.

She sat back in her chair, wondering where they were, Michael and Adam, what they were doing, who their friends were, what kind of house they lived in... She had repeatedly sent teams out for surveillance, but Michael was good, really good... So far, no one had been able to locate him and Adam. Nikita glared at her computer screen as she sped through the list of missions on the pad... nothing out of control, nothing dire or pressing. She hit a button on her comm unit. A Southern drawl answered.

"Ma'am?" Jason's title for her carried a bit of good-natured sarcasm.

"Jason, I'm beat. Things are fairly quiet for a change. I'm heading home. You know where to find me."

"Yes, Ma'am. Uh, Quinn's in charge, I take it?"

Nikita could hear him smile through the comm unit.

"Uh-huh. See you later."

Jason had come a long way since his first baffling day at Section One, learning to trust her, learning to believe in fighting terrorism. She shrugged on her black leather jacket and exited her office, her motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm. She had taken to riding Michael's old bike. He'd left it behind, as he had left everything connected with the Section. She breezed past Walter's station, waving as she caught his eye.

"Hey Walter." Her old query sounded a bit hollow today.

He nodded. "Hey, Sugar. You actually gonna get some down time?"

She smiled at the way his greeting could always pull her out of a funky mood, even after all this time.

"Yeah. Got some reading to catch up on."

Walter eyed her. "That ain't all you gotta catch up on. Sleep first. Then..."

His voice drifted into silence as they looked at one another. Walter knew. He knew... He had watched her try to date a few men in the last two years, had encouraged her to move on, to let Michael go. But the memories were too strong, she had confessed to him one night in a heart-to-heart. He had begun to see a restlessness in her that hadn't been there before.

"You take care now." He waved back briefly as she continued to walk.

Nikita stepped into the elevator and rode the green-lit cubicle alone, the sound of the machines around her drowning out her thoughts, forcing her memories into submission, changing her dreams from magic into clay. The dull thud of the lift made her drift back into her dark mood. She closed her eyes.

The elevator doors slid open, and she made her way to the outside. Bright sunlight dazzled her unaccustomed eyes, and she stood still as the wind whipped around her, shading her eyes for a moment as she took in the tall buildings around her. Paris... it was good to be back. Her spirits lifted and she set forth at a brisk pace, a smile beginning to break around her lips. She breathed deeply and put her keys in her pocket. Time for a walk.

* * * * * * * *

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Replies:

  • Gypsies and Criminals - Part 2a -- Repost Fairy, 22:20:05 05/03/02 Fri
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