TESTS
Nikita looked up and saw Darren walking down the dim charcoal gray corridor towards medlab, flowers in hand. She'd been going over a sim with Birkoff, and just chanced to look up. Not that Darren was easy to miss. He was beautiful, almost as much as Michael, just in a different way. He looked like darkness, but his personality was just the opposite.
She knew why he was going to medlab. She didn't know where he managed to get flowers though. He was still in closed quarters training - last night, earlier this morning - had been the first time he and Alexandra had been outside of Section One in close to two years. How he got the flowers was not her concern right now though. He was resourceful after all, he had to be. What she was concerned about was what he was about to do. What was going on in his head - and his heart - something he couldn't afford to have and survive here. Something she still wished she didn't have sometimes - and other times she thanked god hers was still intact.
" Darren," She said, strolling up next to him, hands tucked into her pockets, " Are you going to see Alex?."
Darren nodded, and grinned, " Yeah, What do you think?"
He was talking about the flowers. White roses.
" They're nice, how did you get them?"
He laughed, " I bought them - Michael just released me. I've got a pad and the whole nine yards. No more narrow section cot's for this man unless it's closed quarters standby!"
Nikita smiled and laughed a little, she could empathize. She searched for the right words. She knew Michael had said something to him about relationships in Section, when it was apparent he and Alexandra were close. But knowing Michael, he'd probably been polite but brief. He would have been very direct. Nikita remembered what it was like her first year in Section One, and she knew that a simple warning wouldn't be enough, not when your afraid of where you are, and what you have to do and what you've become.
She nodded slowly, still smiling, " They're lovely."
Darren watched her expression, and knew there was something she was having a hard time voicing.
" OK, 'Kita, what is it you're not saying - after two weeks, I know that expression," Darren told her, " That's one of things I like about you, you never hide things from us."
Nikita sighed, If he only knew what I have hidden, what I will have to hide . . .
" Did Michael . . . talk to you about . . . relationships?"
Darren closed his eyes and sighed, " We're good friends, nothing more, nothing less . . . Like you and Michael I suspect."
Nikita drew in a breath and prayed to god not, and at the same time, that it was true. She may not like the circumstances, what they had to do, but the feelings - the moments, made it worth it.
" Just, make sure that you can always back that claim - not to me, or Michael, but to the powers that be," Nikita warned him, and cast a glance up at the glass tower, where Operations and Michael were standing, over looking Section One.
Darren laughed, but it sounded forced, " Got it. - Care to join me?"
He offered his arm, she slipped her arm through his, and nodded up to Michael, who had turned his gaze on them.
Alexandra cursed every god and deity she could think of. She felt like she was hung over, and she was still alive, which was even worse. She'd spent the last day in and out of consciousness. She'd inhaled a lot of the gas, she'd been told. They were all having problems with the side effects. But the others weren't being given something to ease the nausea, they were suffering unassisted. Alexandra had been given something to ease the cramping in all her muscles, and the nausea, the end result being that she slept a lot. Apparently the gas did have some temporary side effects on the nervous system
She flexed her hand, looking at the IV again. She was going to look like an addict at the rate she was going. Yesterday - last night - somewhere in there, they'd switched hands for the IV. Darren, Nikita, even Michael had been by to see her, but none of them stayed long. They all had debriefings, reports to do . . . and then her visit with Madeline came. Operations was there for a while, and then he left. Madeline had stayed to pick at her brain. They are all very 'satisfied' with her performance. Satisfied? She should be given a god damned Emmy for the performance she gave!
" Everyone's reports are practically glowing Michael," Operations said, watching Nikita and Darren start down the hall, " Glowing reports are not the norm when new operatives start working in the field."
Michael felt a slight twinge when Nikita slipped her arm through Darrens, and it disappeared just as fast. They were both friendly, touchy people. But he always felt something when he saw Nikita with other men - playing a role, laughing with them . . . when she couldn't afford to flirt with him. She did sometimes though - teased him - when Operations and Madeline weren't hovering, when there were people around she felt she could trust. Michael didn't trust anyone - except Nikita. It was a known in section that they were good friends, a good team as partners. They knew the boundaries. What no one knew, what Michael hoped no one knew was that they were so much more. . . .
Operations made his comment about the reports, and Michael turned to look over at him, his blank mask in place, " They're both talented - they worked hard to earn approval from Billings, learned how to survive his temper."
Operations looked back out over the main floor of section, " This was an easy first assignment."
For some more than others . . . Michael thought, thinking of Alexandra and her comment about wanting to bathe in Lysol.
" I noticed that Nikita has put a lot of time into both of them, she still is," Operations added, watching for a reaction from Michael.
" She doesn't want to fail," Michael answered . . . she fails, you fail . . . " She's consulted me on several occasions, we've been working together."
He stood there, tolerating, waiting out the cool gaze Operations bestowed on him. He was used to it. He knew the game, the routine. It was one Michael had mastered year ago.
Operations turned his gaze back to the main floor below after a few more minutes, " We have intel that Armagassi's Wife, Sentiel Armagassi, will be at one of her favorite haunts tonight. What's special about this occasion is that she'll be passing a data disk on to a buyer."
Michael didn't show any surprise. But both he and Operations both knew that his wife was not the person who would normally be selling this data. She indulged in beauty salon's and health spa's only. She never got involved in her husbands research designs, let alone business.
" Do we know to who?" Michael asked, still maintaining the emotionless blank expression.
" No," Operations said, " We need that data disk, and we want Sentiel Armagassi and an ID on the buyer.
" I'll -"
" No. You won't at all," Operations said, looking back at Michael, an evil smile turning the corners of his thin lips up, " Darren will. I want to see him think on his feet."
Back in medlab . . .
Nikita watched the redhead's expression carefully as she and Darren walked through the door. The left corner of her lip curled up after a moment, as if smiling against her will, and her eye's lit up, locked on Darren, and what he'd brought her, " White roses? I'm wearing white, but this is not the occasion I had in mind!"
Darren laughed, and set the vase and roses on the service table, " Well, If I wait until that occasion, it just might be some other guy standing there with you."
Nikita knew she'd missed something.
" I get the feeling there is a story here?" Nikita said, sitting on the end of the bed.
Alexandra actually smiled, " Billings was gone for three days, on a mission, and we were self training for the duration, so after we'd put 12 hours in, we were all gabbing over dinner - something we rarely got to do, and got to talking about weddings of all things. I confessed to having a thing for white roses - when I younger and naive, I had planned to have a huge wedding when I met prince charming - there would be white roses everywhere."
Alexandra looked at Darren, " I somehow doubt I will ever really marry, but if I do, I expect my white roses."
Nikita felt a knot in her throat. Not so naive anymore, are we Alexandra . . .
" So, how are they treating you in here?" Darren asked her, " I here the food gets here on the cold side."
The redhead shrugged, " I can't keep it down right now, so I'm not trying actually."
Alexandra looked at Nikita, " However, if you brought me some cashew chicken - I would try really really hard."
" I'll do one better," Nikita told her, " You're going to be from closed quarters. When you get out of here, we'll have your cashew chicken in your apartment."
The redhead blinked, surprised, and looked over at Darren - as if he could confirm or deny this. Unlike Darren, who was so ready and willing to give his friendship and trust, Alexandra wasn't. Actually conversations about things not involving Section were rare with her.
" I was at mine last night," Darren told her, " It's a definite bachelors pad. One bedroom, deck, 3rd floor, secured entry way. Lots of light - which is a definite improvement from my place here."
They all laughed.
" You'll be glad to have quarters here when we spend 3 days on closed quarters standby for a mission." Nikita told them both, " It's nice to get away from the Oper - I mean tension."
They all laughed at the deliberate stutter.
" I was used to having plants," Alexandra told her, performing a pout Madeline would be proud of, " I haven't watered a plant in two years. I've been deprived!"
Michael was watching the exchange between the threesome from outside the etched glass doors. Nikita was laughing. She'd made friends with these two - and she needed friends. Alexandra lightened up a bit around Nikita and Darren - which was good. She was too young to be so darkly stoic, if she could just keep turning it on and off, it would serve her well. Darren needed to learn to reign in his emotions a little more, but he'd improved a lot of the last two weeks - and it had been a rough two weeks. When Michael was first out of close quarters training, just into supervised operative status, he was hot headed, told everyone who would listen exactly what he thought, and defied Operations every chance he got. But he'd learned how to handle things, himself, people in section, sometimes too well.
Michael opened the door, drawing everyone's attention, and walked slowly to the end of Alexandra's bed, " Is the gas wearing off?"
She nodded, " Yeah, a little too slow for me, I threatened to just walk out, but the bed in my quarters isn't as comfortable as this one is, so I figured I'd hang out here for a while longer."
Michael looked at Nikita, who shrugged, and shook her head, " I'll take care of that today - is there anything else Billings deprived you of? Blankets? Towels? Shower curtains?"
" I'll make a list for you," Alexandra told her, " Nikita, don't bother - If I'm gonna have my own place soon, it's not a big deal."
" It will be when we have closed quarters stand by," Michael told her, " Darren, I have an assignment for you."
The room was silent for a moment. Nikita frowned, then quickly replaced it with a smile. She knew what was probably up.
Darren nodded, " Great - get better soon Red."
He squeezed her shoulder, and followed Michael out of medlab.
Nikita and Alexandra both watched them go, and Nikita turned back to Alexandra, " Now, tell me how you are doing, in here."
Nikita had pointed to her heart, " off the record of 'course."
Alexandra chuckled, " I didn't know 'off the record' existed in Section."
Nikita smiled, " Well, it technically doesn't, but I kinda like my own rules better, so I use them when I can."
Alexandra laughed with her, " I bet you and Operations but heads a lot."
" Often," Nikita told her, " I was surprised you got me as a trainer - I think it was as much a test for me as for you - and you were about to tell me how you are feeling inside."
Alexandra sighed. Nikita wasn't easily drawn off track.
" I didn't like it much, but I wasn't ready to off myself afterwards," Alexandra told her, Liar! You were too, but not for the reasons Nikita would think . . .
" I know Madeline was here to see you," Nikita told her, plucking at imaginary lint on the blanket, " How did it go?"
" It went - I don't like being analyzed, she knows it," Alexandra told her, and tried to stifle a yawn, and failed.
Nikita patted the redhead's arm, " I'll let you rest."
" Sorry Nikita - It's the drugs they gave me to ward off the neural effects of the gas," Alexandra told her.
Nikita had curled up in a chair in Michael's office, a laptop sitting on her legs, prepared to use the excuse that she needed some place quiet to work on the report, but didn't want to be to far from section, she did have material here right now after all.
She did work on the report too, but it would be relatively easy. It was just brushing up the finer points, grammar, spelling, making parts a bit clearer.
The door opened, and Michael stepped through, not surprised to see her.
" I decided to take over your office," Nikita announced, teasing him. She felt his fingers brush her cheek as he walked behind her, and around to face his computer.
Michael looked at her seriously, " Maybe you should have one of your own now."
Nikita shook her head, " I'm not ready to be that responsible!"
Michael smiled a bit, and sat back, " are you really working on a report?"
She nodded, " yeah, and waiting to here what you're sending Darren on."
Michael typed a bit on the key pad, his eyes darting from the screen to Nikita, " He has to retrieve a disk, a woman, and get us a good look at a buyer."
" By himself?" Nikita asked.
Michael nodded, and turned his screen around so Nikita could see the mission details.
" Operations wants to make sure he can think on his feet," Michael answered her. It was an important skill for operatives, " He's as ready as I can make him."
Nikita nodded, " He's ready - so what isn't he being told? A brick wall in his escape route?"
Michael closed his eye's. He'd hated that night. He'd loved her, even then, even if he hadn't know it.
" No brick walls, but Sentiel Armagassi won't fall at his feet either, and she'll probably have bodyguards all around. She's never been a seller before," Michael told her, " It doesn't look right."
Nikita wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, looking at the screen on the lap top, anywhere but at Michael. Her attempts to hid what she was thinking was futile though, he knew her. He knew what she was thinking.
" So he'll be totally alone?" she said, looking up at him through eyelashes and blond bangs.
" I'll be on periphery," Michael told her, " And you will be here. I want you to supervise a recruit who's trainer is out on assignment tonight."
She frowned, knowing he'd anticipated what she'd ask, what she'd think about doing. He wouldn't - couldn't let Nikita even up the odds for the new operative. Nikita wouldn't always be there so save him, just as Michael was not always able to be there to save her.
Madeline decided that dressing Darren for a mission would be pleasure in the future. He was a man who liked to dress well. He wasn't quite vane, but close. He'd asked for a the gold chain and matching earring, leaving behind the tie, asked what she thought of the open collar look instead. He'd discussed the merits of leaving his hair down, or pulling it back.
In the end, they'd left the tie behind, the hair down, and he'd walked out in a dark slacks and a dark blazer, and white silk shirt, a gun in the back of his waist band, along with an extra clip - but not before standing in front of the mirror, and reciting 'Bond, James Bond' and laughing at himself. When he walked out, Madeline hoped his realized this wasn't a game.
Later that night, she was satisfied that he knew this wasn't a game. He came back with his cloths torn and rumples, blood splattered on them, and him, disk and woman in hand, and he'd gotten several good pictures of their buyer before he had to kill him.
" I do have one complaint," he said as Sentiel Armagassi was lead away.
Operation's head whipped around, Michael looked up, but his expression was blank, and Madeline simply raised her eyebrows, expecting him to complain about not being told about the guards, about the danger to innocents. So like Nikita . . .
" James Bond always got the good looking women," Darren said, " And I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole if I didn't have to."
Darren took a deep breath, " I was trying to lighten the mod - I would never presume it to be game."
" You can go home now," Madeline said, dismissing him.
Darren was reasonably sure there weren't any cameras in the shower in his quarters at Section, and he was in a hurry to wash the blood off of him. He'd never been covered in blood before. It was in his hair, his mouth, on his skin and soaked through the clothing. It tasted like copper, smelled acrid somehow. It was sticky like nothing else he'd ever felt, and when he stood in the scalding hot water, his skin hurt from how hard he'd scrubbed, he heaved over and puked, because he thought back over the evening. He'd never killed anyone like that before. His crime, the deed that earned his death sentence in the real world, his life sentence to Section One - had been much more distant.
He heaved until his stomach was empty, dressed in his own cloths -no, he reminded himself, not his own - but street cloths that section had provided. He rinsed out his mouth. That was when he heard the knock at the door.
" C'min," he called, pulling on his shirt.
Nikita stepped through the door, her fingers twirling around a strand of hair, trying to appear casual, " How did it go?"
He took a deep breath, " Fine."
" Fine?" she repeated, asking him.
" Yeah," he said, " I got the disk, the target, left a big mess behind, but I guess that happens sometimes."
He saw sympathy in her blue eye's, or maybe empathy, so much more open and readable than a darker blue set, which were in medlab down the hall.
" I'm gonna head on home, I'm beat," he said, " You'll give Red my number, right?"
Nikita nodded, " Of course."
" We're going to burn through him in months," Nikita said, walking into Michael's office. She was angry, and needed to vent. She had just witnessed an open feeling person shut her out, and even though he'd been through a rough time the last two years, he'd readily accepted her as a mentor and friend.
Michael didn't look up at her. He was familiar with this routine and Nikita. She couldn't vent her spleen on Operations or Madeline. One would yell at her and threaten her, the other profile her. Birkhoff and Walter would listen, but their perspective was different. It was Michael she came to for comfort, even when he couldn't give it to her. For all she tolerated and endured for him, through him because of Section One, he'd resigned himself to feeling the brunt of her anger when it first hit. With what she'd provided for him - helping him retain what was left of his soul, he figured it was a fair trade.
" You survived," Michael answered.
" I almost didn't," Nikita told him, " I wouldn't have - it you hadn't protected me for so long."
And I'll still protect you, when I can, when you let me . . . .He thought to himself
" I don't know if I did you any favors Nikita," Michael told her, sitting back in his chair, " the hardest thing to do, as a trainer, is to not get attached to the material, and we still do."
She shook her head, and looked out the his window, onto the darkened central floor of Section, " I guess it will be her turn next."
Michael know who she was speaking of. A redhead, down the hall, who hadn't blinked when she'd been told she'd be knocked out and temporarily hospitalized when she would have to inhale nerve gas on an assignment.
" It will," Michael told her, " She's better equipped."
Nikita looked at Michael, " She hides it better, like you, but we both know what price she'll pay for that."
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, and said softly " I will try to come by tonight."
Nikita laughed, " I'm not trying to make you feel guilty Michael - and you need to sleep."
" I'll sleep." he answered. Tomarrow, tonight I need you Nikita, I could almost damn you for teaching me to feel again . . .
The both slept, but it wasn't in her bed or his, or in a hotel someplace, away from the prying eye's of section. It was on transport back to section. Nikita had woken up to the phone ringing and hearing 'Josephine', in Michael's soft French accented voice. They'd flown across the globe hours later, dressed up in gowns and tuxes, and prevented a terrorist attack at a diplomatic party in Europe. The whole evening had gone very slow actually. Even taking out the terrorists had gone rather smoothly and they'd done it with minimal exposure. A waiter had stumbled upon them, and Michael had ordered that there be no witnesses. He'd given her the kill order, and she'd hesitated, but barely. She'd gotten back on the transport, her arms wrapped tightly around her, as if to shut out what she'd just done, and sat by herself towards the back. Michael was pleased and worried at the same time. Pleased because she'd done what was necessary, but he was worried, because he knew that each innocent life cost her a piece of her heart. And it was becoming more and more automatic for her just to obey orders. Not so long ago, she wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger.
He'd woken her when they'd reached section again, and she'd only nodded, and managed a half hearted smile without saying much to him, other than that she'd be up to debrief in a moment, she wanted to check on something.
He watched her head towards medlab, but he knew what she sought wouldn't be there. By now, she'd been released.
Nikita was agitated when she walked into debriefing. Madeline's office was decorated and arranged to be soothing, calming. Nikita rarely felt calm when she was here. She'd learned the hard way, too many times. But it wasn't the mission they'd just had that made her agitated. Their mission had gone off without a hitch. Alexandra was not in medlab, and the attendant present did not know where she was. It wasn't until Madeline dismissed her that she asked about Alexandra's whereabouts.
" She's in Seattle," Madeline told her, " on a mission with Richard."
Nikita paled, but only for a moment, " can I ask -"
" No, you cannot," Madeline answered, sternly, and looking towards Michael, dismissing the blonde.
" How am I supposed to be an effective trainer of I don't know what my material is doing?" Nikita demanded. She wasn't agitated anymore, she was angry. Alexandra was her material, her responsibility.
" She's being supervised by another operative, who has far more training experience than you, they're expected to return later Tomarrow morning," Madeline answered, sternly.
Nikita walked out, her chin up, pissed, but she held her tongue.
Madeline turned her gaze on Michael, " She's become attached."
" She was told to become Alexandra's friend, and get her through the rape, it would be difficult to not get attached to a friend," Michael answered calmly, " Nikita's . . . humanity - is her greatest strength - and she's learning to not let it be a weakness."
Section was deserted, save for the skeleton crew it maintained over night. She wandered around, hoping for a glimpse of Walter, but he was no where to be found. Walter was always a good source of information. He was always as honest as he could be with her, and he told her when he couldn't be, which was more than she got from even Michael some times. Michael conveniently didn't tell her things, manipulated her. It didn't matter to Nikita that he was under orders, that he did it to protect her. When she was calm and rational, she could almost understand it. But this was not one of those moments.
She gave up her search, and headed back to her apartment, to slide into her own bed. She knew better than to hope that Michael would come over later that night. He'd be up all night with reports, debriefing, planning.
Sleep usually came easily to her, but not tonight. She tossed and turned, her mind racing in a hundred different directions. What was it that Michael thought about when someone else had his new material. Would he be worried - would he have been able to save her four and a half years ago if she'd not gotten away in the garbage chute? Did they really have anything to worry about between Darren and Alexandra - couldn't they just tell them to be discreet? Could they keep it outside of section? She and Michael did - or rather Michael did, he reminded her often. Could the trust them that much? What if . . . .
By five am, Nikita gave up trying to sleep. She got up, got dressed, boiled water for tea, and stood on her patio to watch the city wake up. Streaks of pinks, blues and Lavenders painted the sky brilliantly where the sun would rise, but somehow Nikita didn't feel as bright and lighthearted this morning as she had others. Rainbows, weather they were painted in sunsets or sunrises, or simply colors of fractured light in the rain, had always been a good omen for her. How naive I still am . . .
" Birkhoff," Michael said, setting a back of oreos down next to the young man, " How is Richards mission in Seattle going?"
Birkhoff took the bag, and looked over at Michael, and keyed up a transmission for the older man to see. Birkhoff knew he'd just been bribed with junkfood, but he also knew that if Michael had asked, without a bag of oreos for good measure, he'd have still shown him the transmissions. He knew that Michael knew that too. I can't be bought with money, but if we're talking junk food, or computer games . . .
" So far so good it seems," Birkhoff told him, and keyed the transmission closed again, " Can't keep those open for too long."
Michael stood up, and surveyed the room as it started to come to life as everyone's morning started. He spotted Nikita over at Walters station, flirting outrageously, pumping the older man for information. She turned and looked in his direction for a moment, her gaze almost a glare, and Michael flinched inwardly, wondering what he'd done this time.
" Ouch," Birkhoff said, " What did you do?"
Michael looked blankly at Birkhoff and Nikita, and turned, and headed off to his office, without answering. Birkhoff shrugged and turned back to listening in on international communications. With Michael, it was probably what he didn't do, and since it was Nikita that was pissed, it could have been any number of things.
It wasn't reports he worked on as Michael sat down in front of his computer, but he had one pulled up. He needed to think. He was tired, but there was so much to do. He couldn't criticize Nikita for getting attached to either one of them. Not after all he'd done. He still questioned the wisdom - or lack of wisdom, in allowing himself and Nikita to be more than mere acquaintances, let alone lovers, secretly - he hoped it was secret, outside of section. Had it been Michael's decision, he would not have chosen Nikita to train Alexandra. Yes, they could share an understanding about certain things, but Nikita had a need to take care of people - a need she almost couldn't control sometimes. Section was asking her to make decisions about them, knowing there were things she would never consider - like cancellation because they wouldn't be able to handle the stress. On the other hand, Alexandra had been a good choice for Nikita to cut her trainers teeth on. She would grow to make a good operative. She had the ability to just do the job, no matter what she felt. Nikita was already predicting she'd lose herself to section, and Michael knew she was right. She would not allow herself an anchor to ground herself.
" Can I at least take a shower?" Alexandra's voice could be heard, " I just need 20 minutes, I've got gray matter that isn't mine in my hair for Christ sakes!"
Nikita grimaced, and saw Michael come from another hallway. He'd heard the comment too, but his emotionless mask was in place. They both rounded the corner, and Richards ordered her up to debriefing any way.
" We will be able to observe from Operations office," Michael told her.
Nikita wondered how many of her debriefings Michael had been present for. It shouldn't have surprised her though.
he followed him up, and he keyed something in, and they got a full front view of the redhead, standing stiffly in front of Madelines desk. Her dress was tattered, her hair a mess, makeup smeared, blood was splattered, and something matted in her hair. Nikita knew what it was and shuddered. She just might have gone insane had it been herself on one of her first missions.
Madeline questioned her about what happened from start to finish, in minute detail about when they grabbed their target, including what Alexandra did once their target had his head blown off, onto her. Alexandra simply answered that she returned fire, searched the body, blew the handcuff chain apart with her gun, took the briefcase that was handcuffed to the dead mans wrist, and left quickly. She had no desire to meet anyone from housekeeping.
Nikita was dead tired, but her mind was racing, and she wouldn't be able to sleep - again, so she'd curled up in one of her overstuffed chairs with a mug of soothing herbal tea, put in a CD of ocean sounds, and turned on the gas fireplace and dimmed the lights.
She'd taken Alexandra to her apartment early that afternoon. It was similar to hers, open, airy, lots of natural light - great for plants. It has been decorated modern but not garish. One bedroom of course, living room, dining room, kitchenette and storage closet, bathroom right next to the bedroom, a deck with a view of the city lights at night.
She'd smiled, said she'd liked it, and started to go through everything. Closets, cabinets, tested out the chairs and bed. Nikita had gone over her Id with her. She was now Alexandra O'Rourke, her passport showed she was an American citizen. She'd been to Ireland, and London. He had a drivers license, checking and savings, and credit cards.
" If anyone asks, you're between jobs - taking some time to think things through," Nikita told her, " and you don't work for section."
She was excited, elated, and then, suddenly, she'd calmed. It was as if someone had pulled the plug. When Nikita had asked what was wrong, she'd said she was fine. That was an answer she was used to getting from Michael.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and Nikita's mind was brought back to her own apartment. She knew who that would be. Carla wouldn't knock on her door this late. Michael knocked once, and if she didn't answer, he let himself in.
She got up, and looked through the peephole, and found him glancing down the hall. Always on guard . . .
She opened the door, and stepped back, " I wasn't expecting you, I thought you'd be swimming in reports."
" Do you want me to go?" he asked, setting a bottle of wine on the counter. He knew she'd say no, but he had to ask.
" No, of course not," she answered, " Michael, you know your always welcome . . . well, almost always."
She laughed, " My temper tantrum is over."
He smiled a bit, and cupped her cheek, " Training is never easy."
She watched as he brought two wine glasses from the cupboard, poured wine into them, and carried them over to the coffee table in front of her sofa, and sat down in the middle of it.
She followed him over, sitting down next to him, and leaned into him when his arm slipped around her shoulders.
" This whole three weeks has been a test," Nikita said, " Section was testing me, to see if I could train her, someone like you, testing you to see how much you'd do for me, testing both of us to see how attached we would get, and testing them. How can we tell them that they can't have what we both wanted and denied ourselves for so long?"
Michael was silent for a moment, " Are you willing to risk their lives - and hope they can be as discreet and careful - as we have to be?"
Nikita sighed deeply. She'd known the answer before she'd asked the question.
The end
By Kimberly Email address: kcoluc97589@aol.com
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