| Subject: Chapter 9 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 20:13:06 03/29/01 Thu
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
*************
God takes with one hand and gives with the other.
Michael sat back in his chair, enjoying the sight of the two women he loved most chatting about Milla's trip home.
It was late, and they were the only people on the patio. Small oil lamps flickered at empty tables which were topped with fluttering umbrellas, casting long shifting shadows across the pavement. Here and there were lemon trees in huge pots. They used the patio as a sort of extended reception area, since the weather was usually fair and people came to Sorrento to see the outdoors. Tonight, the sea was calm and dark and the sky was cloudy. They might have rain tomorrow, Michael thought, and he checked his watch. Nearly midnight. Ought to get the ladies in bed ...
But he couldn't quite tear them away from their conversation. Milla hadn't been home for a year; he and Nikita had made a quick trip to Morocco and she'd met them for a long weekend, and another time Michael had been in Cairo on business, but this was the first time in a long time that she was planning on staying longer than a few days. Always she wanted to get back to work. To look for tomb paintings, though why she thought the stuccos in Egypt were better than the ones in Italy was beyond him. Couldn't she have worked at Herculenium or Pompeii?
Maybe he could ask one of the museum curators to hire her on ...
But no. That wouldn't be right and it would make Milla furious. Not to mention Nikita. These days, he tried to lie as little as possible. It made his life a lot easier and certainly made things smoother with Nikita.
She smiled at something Milla said, and without looking at Michael, she slid her hand across the table and linked it with his. He absently rubbed a thumb across her knuckles and she gave his hand a squeeze.
Sometimes -- not often -- but sometimes on nights like this, when he was content and enjoying his family, he thought of his other family. The one he'd abandoned. Elena and Adam. And he wondered if they were half as happy as he was.
He hoped so. God, he hoped so.
Michael brushed a kiss across Nikita's hand and she turned to him, her eyes questioning. Then she smiled -- I know what you're thinking, Michael, and I love you anyway -- and she said out loud, "Does that mean you're ready for us to all go to bed?"
"It's getting late," Michael said, and Milla yawned.
"Can someone help me make up my bed?" Milla asked, waving her bandaged hand in the air.
"I will," Michael decided.
He and Nikita got Milla settled down in her own room, then leisurely returned to the patio. Michael drank the last of his wine and leaned against the balustrade, looking out to the sea. Nikita came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her sharp chin on his shoulder. Michael reached up and caressed her cheek, then rested his arms against hers. "I'm a very lucky man."
He felt Nikita smile into his neck, but she didn't say anything.
"Sometimes," Michael said slowly, "I still wonder why."
"You know what they say, Michael. ‘God takes with one hand and gives with the other.'"
"What do you mean?"
"My mother used to say it all the time. She meant that when things don't turn out the way you think they ought to, there's a reason and you shouldn't worry about it. Maybe you don't have Elena and Adam. But you've got me and Milla."
"I wouldn't trade you for anything."
"Well, that's a relief," Nikita said, softening the sarcasm with a smile. "Particularly since you're stuck with me. Forever."
"Good." Michael turned around and kissed her hard, circling strong arms around her. "How do you feel?"
"A little ... squashed," Nikita gasped, and Michael's grip relaxed a bit.
"Sorry. Nikita ..." He pulled away, studying her face. "How do you feel?"
"All right." She couldn't meet his eyes, and he tilted her chin up a bit.
"Still achey?"
"A little," she admitted. "I hate taking cold baths, but afterwards it seems like it helps with the swelling."
"Have you been taking your medication?"
"Some."
"Nikita ..."
"I take it when I need it, Michael," she snapped. She frowned, rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm still feeling some aftershocks. I'll be fine tomorrow."
"Mmmm." Michael folded her close and finally felt her relax against him. "Tomorrow I'll call Klaus and ask him if he can take the meeting in Madrid."
"But that's next week, isn't it? I'll be fine by then."
"I don't like leaving you alone. And I'd like to spend as much time with Milla as I can."
"Well ... it's up to you, of course," Nikita said, absently rubbing his chest. "But you've been working with the people in Madrid for months. Wouldn't you like to wrap up the deal?"
"I would, but I'd rather stay with you if you need me."
"The Madrid deal is big," Nikita said slowly, her hand resting over his heart. "Surely I'll be fine by next week. And I probably won't have another attack for a couple of weeks, don't you think? I'm sure I'll be all right alone."
Michael sighed. "We'll see."
"You sound like you're humoring me," Nikita said, sounding suspicious.
"Believe me, I don't feel very humorous right now."
"What do you feel?"
"Frustrated. Angry. I hate it that this is happening. I hate it that no one seems to know what it is. I hate it that it's you and not me."
"Well, I hate it too," Nikita grinned up at him ruefully. "But maybe in a few weeks the test results will be in and they can start treating me instead of just drugging me up on pain killers and anti-inflammatories."
"Maybe."
Nikita kissed him, then rubbed her cheek against his, curling her fingers around his neck. "Don't feel guilty, Michael. I couldn't bear it."
Michael was silent.
"Please, Michael? It's just ... luck that this is me, and not you. Please don't feel guilty about it. Just help me through it."
Michael sighed. Nikita rested gently in his arms. He closed his eyes and felt their breath moving in unison, a trick their bodies learned eons ago in Section. He felt her warm skin pressing against his, her hair tickling his neck, the fabric of her clothes warm with her body heat. "Nikita, I'll do anything. You know that. Even if I have to --" He stopped abruptly. Even if I have to track down old Section personnel to figure out what the hell is making this happen to you.
"Even if you have to what? Find someone from Section to go through our old files?" Nikita stiffened in his arms and he could feel her heart start to pound. "Michael, no. I'd rather die than bring Section here. Promise me you won't contact anyone. I won't have Milla exposed to anything that might --"
"Nikita, I would never put you or Milla in danger. I won't do anything without your permission."
He felt her relax again, and she said, "Besides, it might not even be anything from Section."
Michael sighed again. "At least we know it's not cancer."
Nikita kissed him again and this time her arms linked around his waist. Michael turned his head and looked out over the flat black sea, one hand tracing Nikita's backbone as she shivered and drew closer. "Cold?"
"Just thinking about Section," she mumbled. "Sometimes it seems so far away. And sometimes, like tonight ..."
"It seems very close. I know."
Silence. The breeze ruffled the leaves of the lemon trees and underneath them the sea was like black glass, still and inky, reflecting the moon like a mirror. Nikita sighed again and kissed Michael's neck. Then one hand meandered down his chest and Michael sucked in his breath as she neared his belt buckle. Nikita leaned back, smiled warmly at him and tugged his hips closer.
"Let's go to bed," Michael suggested, as if it were his idea.
"Will you make mad, passionate love to me?" Nikita asked curiously.
"As mad and passionate as is possible with Milla in the next room."
"That's the only bad part about her coming home."
"We will be very quiet," Michael whispered, kissing her again. "Agreed?"
"Mmmm ..." Nikita melted into him. "Quiet. Right."
************
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