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Date Posted: 15:34:11 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 40 - language
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 40

“Did you give it to him?” Walter asked.

Willie Kane sniffed, and said, “Yeah, he sent some guy to pick it up.”

“And you’re sure he got it?” Walter asked.

“Fuck if I know,” he answered. “I called the Lieutenant like you said, and then some flunky came for the paper. “

Walter sighed, “OK Willie, thanks.” He hung up the phone, and watched as the sun set over the beautiful Italian countryside.

“Ah,” he said to the air, “I never should have left this place.” His stomach began grumbling, and since there was no sign of Michael or Nikita, he smiled, he thought he’d check out the kitchen, whip something together.

Walter stood from his chair on the patio, emptied his glass, and descended the stairs. He couldn’t help himself, and he peaked through Michael and Nikita’s door. He saw them curled up together, fully clothed, lying on the bed, just holding each other.

He continued down the stairs to the ground floor kitchen. He wished he had walked in on Michael and Nikita screwing like rabbits, but he knew that after everything that had gone on, they were lucky to be alive. Reunions were for long lost brothers, he thought. Then he remembered the one looming around the corner. If his message to Wolfe via Kane was going to work, he would know by then.

Walter turned his attention to finding another bottle of Chianti, and inspecting his potential ingredients. He scanned the cupboards and the refrigerator. “This will do,” he said, as he began preparing the evening’s meal.

************

“If what Walter claims is true, and he has proof, Operations’ hands are tied,” Madeline said.

“It is true, my dear, but somehow I doubt even Walter can change the situation,” Adrian replied.

“Paul is expecting this report,” Madeline said.

“Give it to him,” Adrian said, “There’s nothing we can do at the moment. I fear there is more here than I expected.”

Madeline was uncomfortable. The last few telephone conversations with Adrian had been more cryptic than usual. “You’re holding back, Adrian. If this is going to work, we have to trust each other.”

Adrian chortled. “Trust? Madeline, I haven’t known trust since the war.”

Madeline was becoming tired of being the net on a ping-pong table. The delicate balance she had sought was seemingly slipping away, and she didn’t know why. “Adrian, I’m afraid I must go, I’ll be in touch,” she said, ending the communication. Madeline hung up the phone and studied her computer screen. What was it she was missing? If she had a prayer of surviving the next few days with her job, and her life intact, she’d best find out.

************

Birkoff sat in shock. They knew everything. M&Ms, the World Bank, the time he had pizza delivered to the bears at the San Diego Zoo, and to his horror, the unconsummated nightmare of his date with Helen. The love of his life, the woman who… never mind, there is no life anymore. There couldn’t really be a place like this, he thought. I’m making this up. That’s it, this is all one big nightmare. I’ll close my eyes and it will all go away.

He closed his eyes, waited as long as he could, and opened them. Section One was real. And Madeline was standing in front of him.

“Mr. Birkoff,” she said.

He blinked at her a few times, “I think you should call me Birkoff,” he said, understanding that this truly was his home. “That’s what everyone calls me.”

Madeline smiled her warm, but cold smile. “Of course, Birkoff. Is everything satisfactory?” she asked.

Birkoff wanted to scream, yell, throw himself on the floor, roll around, stomp his feet, pull his hair, stick out his tongue. “Fine, thank you,” he said.

“Good,” Madeline answered. She produced a CD and handed it to him. “Please look at this, and tell me what’s not obvious,” she said.

Birkoff looked at the disk, a small light reflecting from it striking him in the eyes. “Um… sure, yeah, ok,” he said.

Madeline sauntered towards the exit, turned and said, “Oh, and Birkoff,” she said.

“Yeah?” he responded.

“I need this in an hour,” she said.

“Sure,” he said. An hour, what the hell am I a robot? “No problem,” he added.

************

The aroma of something wonderful filled the air. Nikita was loathe to unwrap Michael’s arms from her, but she was starving. She knew he was awake, his breathing unsteady.

“Michael,” she said, “Walter’s cooking… smell.”

Michael allowed the aromas to waft over his body, filling his senses. For just a moment he forgot about everything and indulged in the innocent enjoyment of the edible fragrance. Nikita’s head rested on his chest, and he smoothed her hair behind her ear. “It smells wonderful,” he said.

“I told you Walter was a great cook!” Nikita said. She began to disentangle herself from Michael, when his hand reached out for hers.

“Wait,” he said, still lying on the bed.

She twisted her torso to face him, hand holding his, and gazed into his eyes, “Yes?” Nikita felt his eyes scorching her face.

“No matter what’s happened to you,” he said, “I love you.” Nikita smiled, knowing he was trying his best to open up to her. “Let me take you from here,” he said, cautiously pulling her back towards him.

Nikita looked at him quizzically, “What do you mean?” she asked, as she was drawn closer to him.

Michael’s lips were inches from hers, his eyes entreating her to listen. “Ni-ki-ta,” he said, “I love you.” His lips met hers and he kissed her, fervently, carefully, as if she were an ancient treasure easily shattered. Her lips welcomed his and she met his kiss with a more desperate passion. After the air in both their lungs had been exhausted, their lips broke apart from each other.

“We could disappear,” Michael said. “If we stay…”

“But what about Walter?” she asked. “What about my father, finding out why this happened to me. To you!”

“I can’t answer that,” he said, “But I know if we don’t leave now, we may never get another chance.”

Nikita lay in Michael’s arms, thinking about the insanity of the last two weeks. One minute she was a faceless teacher, haphazardly, but happily, striding through life, and now. Now? In the arms of a man she loved desperately, but didn’t really know, maybe a ruthless killer. Her best friend, and savior, Walter, having lied to her all these years, hid the truth of who she was. Leave?

Nikita lifted herself up and leaned on her elbow, her other hand resting on Michael’s chest. “I want to run away… with you,” she said, “but,” the dreaded tears falling again, “but I want to know who I am. I want to know about my mother, I want my life to finally make sense. And I want it to make sense with you.”

Michael reached up to her and pulled her down to him, holding her close. “OK,” he said, sensing that this was possibly their last quiet moment for a lifetime, “OK.”

************

Walter set the table, assuming the smells of his fine preparations would alert Michael and Nikita to come downstairs and eat. He wasn’t disappointed.

“I was wondering when the hell I’d see you two again,” he said, forcing cheerfulness, as Michael and Nikita appeared in the dining room.

Nikita smiled, “It smells wonderful, you know I can’t pass up a genuine Walter meal.”

“Michael, the wine?” Walter asked, pointing to the bottle on the table. Michael expertly uncorked the Chianti and poured some into the glasses as Walter served a luscious plate of pasta and wild mushrooms. “Sit,” Walter said, gesturing to the table.

Walter left the dining room for the kitchen, and Nikita followed him, leaving Michael with his glass of wine.

“Walter?” she asked as he was removing bread from the oven.

“Yeah, Sugar?” he responded.

“What the hell is going on here? What are you involved in?”

Walter sprinkled some salt and fresh rosemary onto the warm foccacia, and said, “Let’s eat, and then we’ll talk. I’ll tell you what I can.” Nikita nodded and picked up the plate of fresh bread. “Sugar,” he said. She turned and looked at him, waiting.

“I know you won’t believe me, but…”

Nikita smiled the smile that won Michael, so luminous songbirds stop in mid-flight, and said, “It’s ok, I know.” She turned and exited the kitchen, re-entering the living room.

Walter watched her leave the room, his heart bursting at her ability to love and forgive. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, in fact, he knew he didn’t, but she made his heart sing nonetheless.

The three ate dinner, Walter holding court. He regaled with stories of toiling in the fields, worrying about the grape harvest, and those few times where perhaps he might have had too much to drink. Nikita teased him at every turn, Michael witnessing, and appreciating the familial relationship the two of them had established with each other.

“Come on, Michael,” Walter said, “don’t you have any wine stories for us?” opening the third bottle of wine for the evening.

Michael considered, and spoke. “I was fifteen,” he said, “and she must have been at least nineteen or twenty.” Nikita raised an eyebrow. “I thought she was the most…” he stopped, and took another sip of wine, trying to generate the mood for the moment.

“What?” Nikita asked, irritatedly.

Michael almost laughed at Nikita’s jealousy. This had been twenty years ago. “Luscious woman I had ever seen,” he finished. “My friends challenged me to speak to her,” he drank more, “so I told her I was enchanted and she should come home with me.”

Walter was mesmerized, “You go kid,” he said. Michael did not continue. “So what happened?” Walter asked.

Michael smiled at the memory, “She kissed me, and walked away.”

“That’s it?” Nikita asked.

Michael looked at her and said, “My heart was broken. My friends fed me wine… to help.” He had never been so sick in his entire life. “My father stayed with me all night, while I was sick. He said women would always break my heart.” A silence hung over the feast.

“Well,” Walter said lightening the mood, “Did you ever see her again?”

Michael looked down at his plate, not wanting to see Nikita’s reaction. “Yes,” he answered.

“And?” Walter asked.

Michael lifted his eyes to Walter’s. “She didn’t remember me,” he replied.

Nikita emptied her full glass of wine down her throat. “I don’t believe you,” she said, both bemused and annoyed.

Michael smiled, “At first,” he added, reserving the rest of the story for his memories only.

Nikita stood and began gathering the plates. Michael assisted. “Meet me up on the terrace,” Walter said, grabbing the wine and the glasses. “We’ll talk.”

Michael washed the dishes, Nikita dried them and put them away. There was an uncomfortable silence in the kitchen. Michael walked to cupboard where Nikita was arranging the plates. He reached for her hands, loosening her fingers from a plate. He turned her towards him, and gently kissed her. She put her arms around him, and hugged him tightly.

“Ni-ki-ta,” he said, brushing hair from her eyes, a gesture that was becoming second nature to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, lovingly.

“I feel ridiculous,” she said, “I’m jealous of something that happened to you, I don’t know how long ago!” The exasperation was apparent in her voice. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it’s consuming me, I’m afraid if I close my eyes, you’ll disappear!”

Michael took a small step back from her, and grasped her hands. He placed them on his chest. “This,” he said as he held her hands on his body, “is yours.” His eyes shimmered, dark green, the color of shaded grass. “Whatever happens,” he said, “I’ll always be here,” placing his hand on her heart. She reached for him, pulling him close, lips searching for his. She kissed him, nibbling, biting, not wanting to release him. He responded to her kisses, voraciously, as if he’d been separated from her for a lifetime.

“Ahem,” Walter said, appearing from nowhere. “Did you kids need some time alone, or should we talk?”

Nikita and Michael simultaneously blurted, “Talk.” They followed Walter to the upstairs patio, anxious to hear why the hell their lives had been turned upside down.

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Replies:

  • Part 41 - language & twisted OpsMaddy warning -- Repost Fairy, 15:36:04 05/03/02 Fri
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