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Date Posted: 15:31:45 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 39 - language, suggestive (not sure)
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 39

Nikita awoke, at first unsure of where she was. She sat up, and remembered she was in Tuscany with Walter and Michael. She moved to the side of the bed, and dangled her legs over. She looked down at her feet. Michael had washed them. It had been the most wonderful experience, and she relished the memory.

She was still wearing the dress from the previous day, and still had O’Brien’s blood on her. She shivered, and got up. She wandered from her room in search of a shower, and found one. Fresh towels were laid out for her, as well as a bathrobe. Michael. He was an extremely meticulous man. She smiled, thinking that if he had only seen her house before she had cleaned it. He would have been horrified. Her house. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she even had one.

She showered and scrubbed the blood off her body, shuddering as she remembered O’Brien’s dead body falling from her. She closed her eyes, Michael. She tried to tell him what happened, knew he must know, but he wouldn’t let her tell him. Nikita didn’t want to hurt him, she loved him, but if she had to hold the words inside her forever… she couldn’t. How could her soul heal if she buried this burden? She saw the toll such an approach had taken on Michael and knew it would take a lifetime for him to heal. She didn’t want that. One thing she had learned about herself during this ordeal was that she had to face her fears, her pain, her past. She couldn’t bury it any longer, and if she and Michael were together, he needed to hear her out.

Nikita stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and put on the robe. She went in search of Michael and Walter. She wandered through the house and found them nowhere. As she was beginning to think they had left her, she heard Walter’s laugh coming from above. She found a small staircase she had missed in her earlier search and climbed.

“There you are, you devil,” she said, walking over to Walter. She bent down and gave him a giant hug, happy to see him alive despite everything.

“Sunflower!” he yelled. “You sleep?” he asked.

Nikita dragged another chair over to where the two men were sitting, and sat. “Yup,” she said.

“Good,” Michael whispered.

“Michael?” Nikita asked.

“Hm,” he said.

“Don’t suppose you have clothes for me this time,” the said.

Michael smiled, “Not this time,” he said.

Walter laughed. “There’s a whole house full of ‘em,” he said

“How…?” she began asking.

“Don’t ask,” he said, “But I’m sure whatever you need is here.”

The three sat in silence. Nikita stood, “Well, I guess I’ll go find those clothes.” She started to walk away.

“Ni-ki-ta,” Michael said.

“Yes?” she asked.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“Help me?” she said, confused.

“Clothes,” he said.

“Huh?” she asked.

Walter interrupted the ridiculous exchange. “I think Michael wants to speak to you in private, Sugar,” he said.

“Oh,” she laughed, “Of course, yeah, uh-huh, please,” she babbled.

Michael stood from his chair and smiled. Nikita almost sounded like herself. He would do anything to hear her babble again.

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

Despite his loathing his existence, Birkoff was enjoying himself. Bishop had been showing him the details of their computer systems and it was a complex process. He understood everything, but the system was extremely powerful. He studied the mapping, the directories, the encryptions, everything. He thought their security was good, but their firewalls could be better.

“Bishop,” he said to the creature next to him.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I think the security could be better, who should I talk to about that.”

Bishop looked at him. “You don’t get it, do you?” he/she asked.

“What?” Birkoff said.

“You. It’s you,” Bishop said.

Birkoff screwed up his face, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What are you talking about?” he whined.

Bishop slid Birkoff’s chair from his terminal, and moved his over. He typed on the keyboard for several minutes, then slid his chair away, making room for Birkoff. “I’ll be back later,” he said. Bishop left.

Birkoff walked his feet along the floor, the chair moving with him to his terminal. He loved office equipment. He spun around in the chair for effect, and continued to the computer. He stopped in front of the screen and saw his picture staring back at him. “Huh?” he asked to the empty room.

He began reading the accompanying text to his photo. “Oh my God,” he said. “They know everything.”

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

Nikita rummaged through the drawers in her bedroom. “Look at all this stuff,” she said to Michael. “I guess we’re staying awhile,” she said.

“Two days,” he answered from the chair she had slept in.

She turned her head, “how do you know that?” she asked.

“Walter,” he said.

She turned back to the drawers and removed a pair of jeans and a black tank top.

“Warm enough?” he asked.

She pulled a black sweater from the drawer and added it to her collection, “Better?” she responded. Michael smiled and nodded. “Close your eyes,” she ordered, as she opened her robe. He closed them, and she changed into her clothes. “OK, you can open them,” she said.

Michael watched her from the chair, hating the awkwardness between them. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She would throw her arms around him, he would lift her off her feet and make love to her all day. Instead, walls of separation.

Nikita walked over to the bed and plunked down on it. “For someone who wanted to talk, you’re not saying anything,” she said.

Michael’s fingers tapped on the arm of the chair. “Are you ok?” he asked.

She bounced on the bed a little. “I don’t know,” she answered. “You?”

Michael looked down to the floor. “No,” he answered, “But then, I don’t know what ok is.”

Nikita’s heart ripped a little more. “Sit with me,” she said.

Michael stood and approached the bed. He stood in front of her, pausing.

“What?” she asked, afraid that too much had happened for him to be open with her again.

Michael couldn’t move any closer. He sunk to his knees at the side of the bed, almost coming to a sit on the backs of his legs, his eyes focused downwards. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Nikita slipped off the bed, and sat next to Michael on the floor. She reached for him, and felt his body stiffen as she touched him. “Michael,” she said softly, dabbing her hand at the air, afraid to touch him, “It’s over, he’s dead.”

“No,” he said. “I should have stopped him. I should have told you everything.” He could barely speak, his breath trapped in his lungs. He lifted his eyes hers, “I’m sorry.” A tear ran down his face. Nikita reached up and wiped it away.

“I love you,” she said. “Do you hear me?” she asked, his head hanging forlornly in front of him. He nodded. Nikita grabbed his head with her hands and looked into his eyes, “Michael, you wanted to talk, and you’re just sitting there! Talk to me!!” She pinched his cheek hard.

“Ow!” he said, moving himself so he was sitting next to her.

“At least I know you have vocal chords,” she said.

He couldn’t help but smile. He leaned back against the side of the bed, and picked up her hand. “I’m not very good at talking,” he said.

“Really?” she said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

He chuckled. “I know…” he paused, “I know that what happened… you didn’t… it wasn’t…” he stopped. The levity disappeared from Nikita’s face. The tears spilled from her eyes, and she chewed her lip. He tightened the hold on her hand. “You shouldn’t…worry… worry about my feelings,” he said.

If he could have said anything that would have made her feel worse she couldn’t think of it. Nikita looked down at the floor, and said, “Did you know that since we left that horrible place, I die a little every time I look at you?” She raised her voice and said, “How can I not think of your feelings? How can you say something stupid like that! I’m sitting here…thinking…knowing you won’t want me anymore because I… I…. um… he…he was inside me.” Her cries fell harder and louder. “I want to peel my skin off! I want to set fire to myself!” She lifted her head and searched for his eyes. “How can you want me after that?”

Michael’s heart was being torn out of his chest. Arrogant, selfish, male. He wanted to reach across the divide, tear down the barriers that had been erected between them, but didn’t know how. “I don’t want you in pain because of me,” he whispered.

Nikita slapped him. “How dare you say that! I’m in pain because I love you, and you should be honored by that! I feel filthy and disgusting because I don’t know why I slept with him, and I hate myself and I hate that you saw that, and I hate that you’re just sitting there, and I hate that your not screaming at me, and I hate that I…” before Nikita could finish, Michael’s mouth had found hers and he was crushing her with a kiss. She kissed him back ferociously, and pulled away. “That I… that you… that… you… that I know I would die without you.”

Michael stood and lifted Nikita by the arm to join him standing. He turned her body so she was facing him. “I am screaming inside,” he said, “and I’m angry, and it’s not fair, but… I love you, and…” Michael exhaled, his verdant eyes pleading with her to hear him, “…and…”

“What” she asked, fearfully.

Michael kissed her again, and pulled back. “And the only truth for me now is you.” His hand moved to her hair and he pushed several strands of it behind her ear, repeating the motions several times even after her hair was safely settled into place, his thumb running over the top edge of her ear’s sensitive skin. “Before I met you all I wanted was to know who killed Simone, my family. I was prepared to trade you for that information.” He paused, continuing to caress her ear. “Since I met you… all of that is not important.” He looked down at the ground and then into her eyes. “I want to live now, not for the past. I love you.” Michael enveloped Nikita in his arms and hugged her fiercely.

“Michael,” Nikita whispered into his ear, “I love you, and I want to make love to you every minute for the rest of my life, but right now….” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s all right,” he said, tormented by her pain. What horrors had this dredged up for her, what abuses had she relived. “Let me hold you for a while.” Michael took her hand and brought her to the bed. They lay down, and she nestled into the crook of his neck, lying on her side, her arm and leg arranged on him. Michael lay on his back, arms around her, protecting her, trying to heal her.

“Michael?” Nikita asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“It’s ok to let it out, you know,” she said.

Michael traced his fingers over her shoulder. “I’m afraid,” he admitted.

“Why?” she asked.

Michael’s emotions were as close to the surface as they had ever been. “If do,” he said, “I’ll lose my mind.”

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Replies:

  • Part 40 - language -- Repost Fairy, 15:34:11 05/03/02 Fri
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