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Date Posted: 15:22:54 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 35 - language, yet again
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 35

“I’m not sure I like French food, but I’m really glad we went out,” Birkoff said to Gail as the re-entered the maze of Section.

She smiled at him, guiding him back to his quarters. “I think fresh air helps, don’t you?” she asked.

Birkoff still didn’t have a clue where he was, except that he was in Paris. As far as he was concerned the only good news was that McDonald’s had franchises in Paris. “I guess so,” he said as they reached his door. His heart felt heavy, realizing Kari wouldn’t be waiting for him. “Come in?” he asked.

Gail saw the sadness on his face. “I guess so,” she said. “No funny business,” she added as his door closed behind her.

“No, no, of course not,” he said. “I’m sorry about those stupid things I said. I’m a real jerk.”

Gail snorted a small laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re like every body here. Scared.”

“Are you scared?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Seymour,” she said, “you don’t know scared until you’ve been here a while. You get a little comfortable and think maybe it’s not so bad. Then you work a mission, and half the people out in the field don’t come back. Or they do and they act like they’ve seen the devil. They’re never the same.” She exhaled slowly, “you never get used to it, but get used to trying to get used to it.”

Birkoff was sure he’d rather be dead. He was thinking about Gail’s comments when he noticed his computer monitor flashing a message. He walked over to it, and read the message. He said to Gail, “Madeline wants me to work on something, I guess I’d better get to it.”

“Yeah,” she said. She walked over to the terminal and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you.” She left.

Birkoff watched her go. He felt like a total pig. Kari was dead and his heart was filled with thoughts of Gail. He wanted to touch her face, her skin was so beautiful. He sighed, and turned his attention back to the computer.

He read the screen, typed some keys, downloaded the information and waited to see what developed. Walter. He knew it. It had his fingerprints all over it, the style belonged to no one but him. This was going to be interesting.

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

The door to Madeline’s office slid open to reveal Operations. He was wearing his self-satisfied grin, and this was one of those rare occasions when Madeline wanted so very much to find a way to erase it.

“Elise provide what you were looking for?” she asked, kindly, venomously.

Operations laughed. “Madeline, my dear, you actually sound jealous.” He walked over to the corner of her desk, pushed some of her things aside, and sat facing her.

She looked back at her computer screen and said, “Jealousy is a common person’s distraction. Probably something your Elise would know about.”

Paul put his foot on her chair, and spun it to face him. “Madeline,” he said, voice gruff, “only you have what I’m looking for.”

She ignored him. “You might want to see the latest intel from O’Brien,” she said. “She may be ready.”

An eyebrow was raised, “Really,” he said. “I didn’t expect her to bend so easily.” He slipped off his shoe, and ran his foot along Madeline’s thigh. “We still need to test her.”

She sighed. “Naturally,” she said.

“And Walter is due to arrive when?” he asked.

Madeline examined her screen, typed a few keys, and said, “Not until noon tomorrow. O’Brien still has plenty of time with her.”

Paul moved his foot from Madeline’s thigh and stood. He smiled and turned to the door.

“Paul,” Madeline said.

“Yes?” he asked, not wanting to spend any more time discussing this.

“Birkoff is analyzing the list Walter sent you through Kane.”

“And?” he asked.

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” she said.

“Fine,” he said, voice edgy as the door closed behind him.

Madeline turned her attention back to the computer screen. She already had his analysis, and she was finding it very interesting. So would Adrian.

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

By the time the train arrived at its destination, Michael was sure of one thing. That Nikita was his only possibility for life, and he would do anything to make that happen. Enough of pleasing his masters. His heart had one chance, and that chance had the longest, most beautiful silken hair in the universe.

Walter was waiting in a car. He flashed his lights at Michael.

“How far?” Michael asked as he got into the vehicle.

“Thirty clicks,” Walter said, reverting to military language.

“Stop the car five kilometers from the house,” Michael said.

“Jesus, Michael,” Walter groaned, “I’ve been fighting the enemy since before you were born. I know how the game is played, so cut me some slack.”

Michael’s neck ached with tension. He moved his head slowly, angling it left then right, stretching his muscles. “Then when did you become the enemy?” he asked softly.

Walter slapped the steering wheel. “Fuck you, Michael!” he shouted. “You don’t know anything.” Walter tried not to drive the care off the road. Michael didn’t know shit. He didn’t know about Roberta, didn’t know about the General, the drugs, the pain. Walter took a few deep breaths, and said, “You know what a lifetime in this crap is like.” Walter said, resignation in his voice. “I’m not proud of what’s happening, but if it weren’t for me, my Sugar would be long dead, and you…,” he flicked his hand.

Michael knew he had no right to judge, and it was clear Walter had always meant to protect Nikita, but he was also hiding something. What was so horrible that Walter seemed willing to hand her over to Section? Michael was sure he didn’t want to know, but knew he had to.

“Tell me,” Michael said, taking the gun Walter handed him and loading it.

Walter shook his head and said, “I can’t.”

Michael closed his eyes. This game was absurd. “Will she live?” he asked.

Walter kept his eyes on the road. “That’s depends on you,” he answered.

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

If there had been any food in her stomach, Nikita would have vomited. How could she be manipulated so easily? The rage was crushing, incomprehensible and absolutely real. The weight of this realization was so devastating, she lay face down on the mat. Nikita couldn’t lift her head, knowing if she had the chance, she would seek revenge on the person or persons who destroyed her mother’s life. And by destroying her mother’s had nearly destroyed her own.

After several minutes, Nikita rolled over onto her back, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the gym. She had feared this since she met Marco, feared that she was good at killing. She used to play dumb, trying to protect herself from the dark corners of her mind. But her mind always calculated ways to maximize her advantage. Nikita never wanted to tell Marco about this, she knew he would exploit it, exploit her. Maybe deep down she always knew what he really was.

Her eyes were beginning to ache from staring at the lights. She didn’t care. Maybe if she were blind, it would all be over. She tried not to blink, wishing the lights would burn through her eyes and destroy her brain. She stared. Nothing happened, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. “I’m not going to cry,” she said to the empty room. She sighed, instead. Hopelessness, her mind was filled with it. She didn’t know where she was, and had just proved that Marco had been right about her all along - no hope.

She closed her eyes, feeling loneliness take hold. Marco wasn’t real, and she didn’t want him anyway, well, not really. She was disgusted with herself. She didn’t understand it, didn’t want him, but still felt strong pangs of desire for him. How could this be true when she knew him to be such a monster? She must be the worst person on the planet, desiring someone who treated her worse than an animal.

Nikita cried. She couldn’t trust herself, and she had no one. Walter could be anywhere, and even if she knew, she couldn’t find him, and now she wasn’t sure if she could trust him. He never told her about her mother. Maybe if he had told her something, anything, she wouldn’t have been so easily programmed to kill. The thought of Walter enraged her again. This rage scared her - it made her feel capable of the worst kind of behavior. Killing. She focused on stopping her tears and listening to her breath. She loved Walter, how could she feel so much rage? That she wanted to kill him?

Nikita got up and walked over to the door. It was still locked. She stepped over to a set of hand weights and picked up a pair of ten-pound dumbbells. She flung them at the door. “Hey!” she screamed, ‘Open this door!” The weights crashed to the floor, rolling away. She waited. Silence.

She waited a few more minutes. “Enough!” she shouted, gathering her strength. She knew who she was. She was not a murderer. He couldn’t make her kill, no matter how hard he tried. If she could only hang in for just a little while longer. She felt tired, exhausted from the weight of the last two weeks. Had it only been that? She began drifting off to sleep and heard a voice in her head.

“I love you,” he said, “and if you still love me, I‘m yours forever.”

She still loved Michael, of that she had no doubt. But O’Brien had just shown her who she really was. She had been broken. Admit the truth, Nikita, she said to herself; O’Brien is whom you deserve.

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

Adrian received the transmission from Madeline. She studied it carefully, surprised by its contents. Philippe wasn’t the only one with proof.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a telephone. She answered, knowing it would be Madeline.

“Thoughts?” Madeline asked.

Adrian had several. “What do you suggest, my dear?” she countered.

“It doesn’t change the endgame for Philippe,” Madeline said, “But perhaps Paul needs to reconsider his plans for Walter and the others.” There was a pause, then, “If they live.”

“Perhaps,” Adrian said. All of her plans had been drastically altered in the last two weeks, no reason why further alteration wasn’t possible. “I’m not sure his intentions are to oppose us.”

Madeline considered Adrian’s words. “What does he want?” she asked flatly.

Adrian laughed. “What do we all want? To escape our nightmares,” she said.

Madeline nodded, reflecting on the truth of the statement. “That’s not possible,” Madeline replied.

“No,” Adrian said, “It isn’t.” She tapped her fingers on her desk, and asked, “Tell me Madeline, what do you know about what happened?”

“I know it would be difficult for everyone to explain,” she answered. Madeline did not like sharing information, even with someone ostensibly working with her.

Adrian scoffed, “Yes, it’s true,” she said, “But there is so much more at stake then reputation.”

Madeline had to admit her information was incomplete, but she did know that the western and eastern worlds would certainly want to know about the massacre of innocent civilians, and the power of this opium. “I don’t agree, Adrian. This information would surely be damaging to all involved.”

Adrian wished they could have this conversation in person, she didn’t trust these electronic devices. “Madeline,” Adrian said, “It is more. I suggest you do your homework, and we’ll talk again soon.”

Madeline was annoyed. She was risking her life, making her bed with Adrian. She hated admitting she was in the dark, but she needed a clue. “A hint?” Madeline asked.

“Oh Madeline, don’t disappoint me,” Adrian replied, and then added, “talk to Paul,” concluding the discussion.

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

The door opened, and Marco stepped inside. “Ready for another round?” he asked, smiling.

Nikita had fallen asleep on the mat, and jumped at the sound of his voice. “Huh?” she asked.

“Get up, Nikita!” Marco bellowed.

Nikita didn’t have the energy to fight him - his directions or his abuse. He had won. “Yeah?” she asked.

“So, don’t you want to know more about the man who killed your mother?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said, knowing that Marco couldn’t have killed Roberta. Nikita moved herself from the middle of the mat and found a wall to lean against. She sat, leaning against the wall, legs bent, feet on the ground, and her arms resting on her knees. “I’m done with this, Marco,” she said contemptuously, “can I go now?”

He stood above her, looking down. “You used to cry in your sleep you know,” he said. “You’d cry for your mommy.”

Nikita blinked her eyes quickly, trying to remain calm. “You never told me that,” she said.

Marco snorted. “It was so pathetic, I didn’t want to upset you.” He reached his hand down to her head, brushing his fingers on her scalp. She flinched. “What’s the matter,” he taunted, “hit a nerve, did I?”

“Shut up!” she yelled. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” Nikita put her head on her knees, trying to shut him out of her view.

He reached down, grabbed her hair, and yanked her head up so she was looking at him. “What’s the matter, Nik, truth hurt??”

“Let go of me,” she said, her hands digging at his to release her. “What are you doing, let me go!”

O’Brien freed her hair and laughed. “I’m just trying to get you to see the truth,” he said.

“Truth?’ she asked, frightened, not of him exactly, but of his words. His words affected her so powerfully, she feared she could not control herself.

“When you and I were together,” he said, “you told me you’d do anything to fix what happened to your mum.”

She shook her head, “No, no I didn’t.” She tried to remember talking to him about her mother. She only remembered that when she became upset and spoke of her mother or mother’s boyfriends, Marco’s answer was to take her to bed. There wasn’t any discussion of revenge. She lifted her head, her ocean eyes meeting his, “I don’t remember that.”

“You really have missed me baby, haven’t you?” he said. Marco was uneasy. Maybe this drug wasn’t working. Her behavior so unpredictable. He thought she desired him and then saw the hate in her eyes. He reached his hand to her and said, “Get up, and get cleaned, and then we can have dinner.”

Dinner? She thought it was morning. “What time is it?” she asked, hearing herself sound submissive – this wasn’t what she was planning.

“It’s almost eight,” he answered. “Eight at night, dinner time. Come on, let’s rock.”

Nikita got up. She was hungry, thirsty, tired, and needed a good night’s sleep. Marco stepped towards her and kissed her gently on the lips, she kissed him back, surprised that the sensation was pleasing.

“Ok,” she said. “Lead the way.”

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  • Part 36 - some sex, language -- Repost Fairy, 15:24:57 05/03/02 Fri
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