| Subject: Chapter 18 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 16:09:33 03/30/01 Fri
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
********************
One link snaps, and the whole chain falls apart.
Michael stood in the doorway, glancing down at the man he'd just cold-cocked. "Who's this?"
"M-M-Michael?"
He stepped over the prone body, flicked the gun out of her hand, and wrapped his arms around her. She took a deep breath and started to shake uncontrollably.
"When I left this morning you were fine," Michael said mildly. "Then I get a half-hysterical call from Milla saying you're ill. I come home a few hours later and you're holding up hotel guests and taking ..." he paused, looking at the medication on the bedside table, "probably too much pain medication. And something happened to your head."
Nikita snorted, then, unbelievably, she began to laugh.
"Nikita?" He felt of her scalp, trying to figure out what she'd done. "Did he hit you on the head? That's why you were trying to kill him?"
"N-n-no. He sewed me up. That's Sammy, Milla's friend."
"Oh?" Michael glanced behind him, but Sam was still out cold. "You didn't like his work?"
"No, it's not that -- oh, my God, Milla. Where is she?" Nikita pulled out of Michael's arms frantically.
"She's fine. She's in the kitchen making fettucine."
"I --" Nikita turned to the door, but Michael caught her.
"Nikita. She's fine. Who the devil did I just knock out?"
Instead of answering, Nikita picked up Sam's computer and thrust it at Michael. "He showed me this, and ... well, I kind of ... lost it, Michael. I don't know who he is."
Michael studied the picture. He remembered it had been a warm spring day. Snow was predicted for later that week, so they'd taken advantage of the good weather and had gone on a picnic. He'd given Elena a new camera for her birthday, and she'd set it for automatic so they could all be in the picture. The picnic things were spread out behind them: Michael with an arm around Elena's knee, Nikita sprawled on the ground beside them, Adam crouched next to her. Adam and Elena were smiling at the camera; he and Nikita looked a little ... grim. The following week, Michael had been killed.
Michael tossed the computer on the bed and squatted down, studying Sam's face, his hands, his build. Then he nodded decisively. "He's got a lot of Elena in him. But he looks a lot like my father, too."
"What?"
"His nose. See?" Michael traced the bridge of Sam's nose. "That's my dad's. And his hands are the same." Michael held up one of Sam's hands next to his. Same fingertips, same funny curve to the thumb. Then Michael patted him down and came up with the passport. "Adam Michael Samuelle Sanderson."
"What?" Nikita sank down on the bed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I just punched out my son." Michael stood up and his face lightened. "And I guess it means Elena remarried."
***********************
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