A DOOR OPENS

By LORRAINE O.

The sensors must be wrong.

Nikita moved from her seat to come to Michael’s side, her blue eyes gazing in shock over his shoulder to the laptop.

His fingers flew over the keys, ever silent as he worked earnestly. After a moment, he pulled his hands from the keyboard, placing them palm down on the table on either side.

Nikita looked between his now still hands and back to the screen, her fears growing with each passing moment. Why did you stop? She whispered, unable to bring her voice up to its normal tone.

Michael reached up and pulled the earpiece from his ear, setting it down on the keyboard. There is no one to reach. He stated calmly, his eyes watching her as she pulled her gloves off and sink onto the bench seat opposite him.

Nikita blinked a few times taking in the full meaning of his words. Section is,,,,, gone?

Michael stared back at her, each knowing he didn’t need to answer her. Section was no more. Everyone they knew had simply gone up in a flash of fire and died. Section One no longer existed.

Nikita looked about the interior of the van, flabbergasted at the thought they and the van were the only tangible proof Section was ever here.

Michael returned his attention to the screen and began to type once again. Much to his shock, he and Nikita had not been reported as being out on a mission. Therefore, he knew Oversight must think that they had too, died in the explosion. They were free and the thought left him feeling for the first time in his life, weak-kneed.

Nikita pulled the brush thru the wet strands of hair, staring sightlessly into the mirror before her. The past week had been emotional for both of them, each coming to grips with the loss of their friends and the sudden fragile freedom they had for the first time in years. It was strange for both of them, each not truly trusting the situation for what it was. Believing they were actually free was hard to trust. There were so many ways in which Section messed with peoples’ heads and reeled them back in when they least expected it.

The sound of Michael returning with coffee brought her back with a start.

Nikita watched him enter the room in the mirror and smiled slightly as he approached. Setting the cup down on the dresser, Michael gave her shoulder a small squeeze, pausing for a brief moment to return her gaze in the mirror and then turn away.

Thank you. She murmured reaching for the coffee lifting it to her lips and enjoying the rich flavor. The room they had was comfortable, 2 hours out of the city and quiet. Nikita crossed her slender legs, the robe sliding back to reveal a tanned thigh in the dim light of the room.

Michael sat down on the edge of the bed after pulling his jacket off and adjusting his gun holstered against his underarm.

Must you wear that Michael? She asked sighing setting the cup back down on the dresser and returning to brushing out her hair.

Michael glanced down at the gun and back to her. For now… yes. He answered matter of factly. Picking up a panel he had saved from the van, he began to read its contents. He wasn’t comfortable with the ease in which things had happened. Section did indeed appear to be gone as he had gone back to investigate the night it happened. He had needed to see it with his own eyes. The entrance was destroyed, smoking from the massive fires deep below. Everything seemed authentic yet deep inside,, his alarms were ringing loud and clear. Perhaps it was the training he had endured for so long, the way of life he was forced to lead that didn’t allow him to accept what appeared to be true.

Nikita took another sip of her coffee and got to her feet, padding across the carpet with bare feet to sit by his side. So it’s gone for sure? She asked watching him study the endless pile of panels strewn about the large bed.

The entrance was destroyed. He answered pushing a few of the small buttons as he read on.

Nikita sighed, nodding slightly, her palms cupping the coffee cup. There’s something you’re not telling me Michael.. I can hear it in your voice.

He reacted the exact way she thought he would. He seemed to either not hear her or he blatantly ignored her comment.

Nikita wasn’t surprised and got to her feet, gazing out the window into the parking lot below. So what do we do now? She asked after awhile, turning back to face him, resting her bottom on the narrow window ledge.

Michael paused and looked up at her. For now,,,, live.

Well, I must admit, I am not surprised by either of them. They are doing exactly as I had predicted as per my report. Madeline smiled like a cat from behind the delicate china teacup as she and Operations sat in the Tower eating breakfast.

Spreading butter on a piece of warm bread, he inclined his head in resignation. Yes, you were correct as usual Madeline. Now bring them in. He crunched down on the bread, enjoying the fact he was eating for the first time in almost 24 hours.

Madeline placed the cup back on the glass top table, crossing her slender legs with casual ease. I am not so sure now is the right time. They still might report in to Oversight. It’s only been a week. I have a feeling things might turn.

Operations arched his eyebrow, casting her a skeptical look. Really?

Madeline smiled once again nodding. Michael is a level 5 operative…. It’s in his blood. He knows what life is for him as well as Nikita.

True,, but if he came to the scene as you say he did, what makes you think he believes the deception? What convinces him they are free for now?

Madeline laced her fingers together on her lap, looking very relaxed as she returned his curious gaze. That’s just it. He doesn’t believe and so he shouldn’t. I want to see how long it takes for him to realize his true place, what his destiny is.

And what might this destiny be? Operations asked leaning forward on the table, elbows now resting on the glass top table.

To be you,,, Operations.

Michael’s eyes popped open, staring out into the dark room as he sat up feeling uncomfortable. His skin was cold and clammy, his legs caught up in the sheets alongside those of the still sleeping Nikita. Lifting both hands, he pushed his long unruly hair from his face, bending his head back and letting out a long silent breath.

Carefully as to not awaken her, he managed to move out from under the now constrictive sheets and padded nude to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he then turned on the light, squinting in the brightness. Turning on the water faucet, he let the water run for a moment to get cold. While he waited, he stared at his reflection in the mirror wanting to jump out of his skin. It was as if a tingling sensation was hounding him, refusing to let him relax.

Rubbing one tired eye, he reached for the cheap plastic glass provided by the motel and let it fill under the running water. Lifting it, he drank deeply, trying to quench his thirst. After his third cupful, Michael set it down and splashed the water over his face, shivering under its sudden cooling effect. Water dripped from his now lightly stubbled chin landing on his hard chest, slowly dripping down over his stomach. Reaching for a towel, he patted his chin dry and carelessly swiped the towel over the wet rivulets down his front.

His mind wandered back to the supposed disaster scene that was once Section. It looked real enough but there was a nagging feeling that something was amiss wouldn’t let go. A part of him wanted to believe, to think they were free, yet there was a part of him, a bigger part that said otherwise. The part of him that was Section. He thought of the sleeping Nikita in the bed on the other side of the door, the woman he loved more then anything and how she would feel if they had to return to section. He knew he would adjust, but could she? It had taken her so long to get where she was after 3 yrs in Section and that was with a lot of his help. She would have been but a dormant file in their abeyance files by now if he hadn’t.

Placing the damp towel on the rack, Michael turned off the light and opened the bathroom door once again.

Michael, what’s wrong? Her sleepy voice coming from the bed startled him slightly as he sat down, his back to her.

Nothing. Go back to sleep. He whispered turning his head slightly as he pulled the covers back so he could lie back once again.

Nikita turned onto her side, facing him and laid her head on his chest, one arm draping sleepily over his stomach. He hated lying to her, hated it more then anything but knew he would have to tell her in the morning of his suspicions. For now, he would give the only gift he could… the gift of sleep for one more night. It was the least he could do he thought to himself as he lay staring up at the ceiling above.

Nikita awoke to the loud clatter of panels falling to the floor and an obviously embarrassed Michael trying to stop what was left of the pile from going as well. Holding the sheets up against her chest,

Nikita rubbed her eye and yawned. I would have preferred a kiss thank you. She smiled at him as he knelt down, his attention focused on the panels at his feet.

Sorry. He replied in a hushed tone, his long hair falling uncharacteristically forward, hiding his handsome profile from her.

Nikita knew there was something on his mind as it wasn’t like him to be clumsy. Clumsy is what gets one killed in their line of work.

Michael. Nikita yawned out his name as she swung her legs out from under the covers, pushing back the mass of unruly blonde tangles from her face. What’s wrong? She asked pulling at her twisted tank top around straight as she padded over to him, kneeling down to help pick up the last of the panels.

Michael accepted the panel she held out to him and stood upright, walking away from her silently.

Nikita sighed knowing he was going to be his usual infuriating self even now and stood up as well. I really hate it when you get like this Michael… we aren’t in Section anymore if you haven’t noticed.. Must you act out the perfect operative routine?

Michael placed the panels in a bag along with a few spare guns and ammo, zipping it up noisily before turning to answer her. We will always be in Section.

I don’t think I like what you’re trying to say. Nikita gave him a serious look, any sleepiness all but forgotten now.

Michael pulled the bag from the desk and set it down by the door alongside another bag. Get dressed. We have to go.

Michael began walking about the room,, looking for any signs that they in particular had stayed there.

Nikita hesitated for a moment knowing he meant what he said. Swallowing back a growing sense of unease, she picked up her pants, slipping them on as she bounced her way to the bathroom. Closing the door after her, she sat down on the toilet, relieving herself, trying to control the nervous flutter in her stomach. Grabbing her hair in a bunch, she hurriedly put it in a loose bun, and then hauled her pants back up. Splashing soap and water on her hands and face, she quickly dried off as she reopened the door to retrieve her discarded sweater from last night.

Michael had just finished up sweeping the room and was now pulling his own hair back into his classic battle hair mode.

Nikita tucked in the sweater and took her jacket from his outstretched hand. To her surprise, he handed her a gun, waiting for her to take it. Nikita looked down at it and then back up to his face, unwilling to take it. Seeing her hesitation,

Michael pulled her by the hand towards him, placing the gun into it with his other. Her clear blue eyes looked into his; a profound sense of sadness came over her face. We aren’t free are we Michael?

Bringing his hand up to touch her eyebrow, Michael gazed back at her with his own brilliant green eyes, shaking his head slightly. No, and we never will be.

(c) 2000 vthomas@carolina.rr.com