| Subject: Chapter 26 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 13:44:47 04/02/01 Mon
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
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Take things one day at a time.
Nikita reached over to pick up her hairbrush. It tumbled from her fingers and bounced off the floor.
Cursing softly, she leaned down to pick it up. It was only 8 o'clock, but she'd already had a wretched morning. She'd tripped getting out of bed, fetching up against the dresser. It didn't hurt much at the time, but now she had a goose-egg on her forehead that was starting to smart. She'd tripped again over the bathroom rug. She nearly fell in the shower and the soap kept slipping out of her hands. She kept dropping things: the toothbrush, her lipstick, her comb, they all slipped out of her fingers like they'd been coated with oil.
Nikita slowly rose, hairbrush held awkwardly in her hand. She frowned at her face in the mirror. She reached out and ran her fingertips over her cheeks. It was the strangest sensation. Her face felt her fingertips, but her fingertips didn't feel her face. She looked down at her feet and slid her sandals on. She felt the straps slip over her skin, but she couldn't feel the soles of her feet against the leather interior. When she wriggled her toes, it was as if she was watching someone else's foot.
"Michael?"
"Mmmm?" He reached down to tie his shoe, flicking the lace away from a very interested cat who was hiding under the bed.
Nikita slowly went to him and ran her fingers through his hair, frowning.
"Something wrong?" Michael asked.
"I don't ... I can't seem to feel anything with my fingers. It's like I'm wearing gloves or something."
Michael pressed a kiss into her palm. "Feel that?"
"Y-yes."
He kissed each fingertip. "This?"
"Do it again," she said, frightened. He obeyed, and she shook her head. "It doesn't feel right."
Michael tugged her down to his lap, flipped off a sandal and ran his fingernail up the sole of her foot. She swallowed and shook her head. He fitted her sandal on and she didn't move for a minute. "Michael?" she whispered.
Instead of answering, he set her on her feet, kissed her bruised forehead and took her hand. "What if it gets worse?" she asked, still whispering. "What if I can't feel anything? What if I can't feel you?"
Michael wiped away her tears, kissed her again and said quietly, "That's a lot of ‘what ifs.' Remember how we got through one day at a time in Section?"
She nodded.
"That's what we'll do now. One day at a time, Nikita. You can do that."
"I can do that," she said shakily. She looked down at their linked hands. "I hate being so needy."
"You don't like me to take care of you?"
"I'm a burden."
"Tell you what: I'll take care of you this time. You can take care of me next time."
Some of the old spark lit her eyes. "It's a deal, Samuelle. Want to shake on it?"
"A kiss is better," he decided.
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