| Subject: The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove Part Eleven |
Author:
Schnee
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Date Posted: 14:56:35 03/03/01 Sat
In reply to:
Schnee
's message, "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" on 14:10:08 03/03/01 Sat
Questions linger in my mind as I near the cottage. The long solitary walk has calmed me, allowing me to think more clearly. My feelings of anger are directed at myself as much as Nikita.
Why didn’t I see she was headed down the same path—the path of justifying one’s actions for a so-called greater good? Living within a lie. Split in two. Nikita’s deceit only affected people inside Section. Those that live with deception on a daily basis.
In my case it gets even grayer. If seducing and marrying an innocent young woman to get to her terrorist father wasn’t repugnant enough, I took it a step further by impregnating her to get closer to Section’s goal. It was at a time when striving for success no matter the cost meant everything to me.
Simone had tried to warn me. She had accepted my ‘marriage’. But she felt that producing a child as part of a cover was something I’d deeply regret. I brushed off her concerns thinking I could handle it. Simone never got to see just how right she was.
After Adam’s birth, the unfeeling hollow Section operative I was began opening his heart to a wee little baby. My child. My flesh and blood. Maybe the distance between my own father and I had given me the false sense that I too could keep that sort of distance from my son. That his birth would not affect me the way it did. But I was so wrong and unprepared for the array of emotions that swept over me. That day and each day thereafter.
I split myself in two in order to keep the goodness of my fairy tale life separate from the darkness of my section persona. I thought myself cunning enough to keep the two parts distinct and separate. I could not see how much of a struggle it would become.
Then, a young recruit entered Section around the same time. Nikita. In some ways I had become a parent to her as well. It was my responsibility to train her such that she could be a viable operative able to perform under orders. Her success reflected my own success. But her desire to find the goodness in my Section persona drew out the other half of me that I had tried so hard to keep hidden safely away.
My interest in her became more than professional. More intimate and personal. As the two women concurrently in my life, Nikita and Elena shared one thing in common—their innocence. But otherwise they were like night and day. While I cared for Elena, as the mother of my child, Nikita ignited my passion. Maybe because she reminded me of who I was once upon a time. Going up against authority to fight for what I believed to be just and right.
I laugh. Yet another example of my choosing the wrong path. While Rene’s ideals were noble, his building of bombs and use of those explosives against innocent people was very wrong. What Nikita did by following Madeline and Adrian was no different than my following Rene. If anything, I’m more at fault. I’m responsible for her transformation from street girl to cold Section operative, driving her to just do the job.
Like they say, watch out for what you wish for. Someday you may just get it.
I sigh as I grasp the door handle.
What do you say to the woman you love after showing her your contempt and disgust for what she’s done?
Especially when I’ve done much that is truly contemptible.
~~~~~
Opening the door I walk into deafening silence. I find the old sofa where I’d left a distraught Nikita to be empty. I’m not sure what I had expected. But I guess it wasn’t an empty cottage.
I venture in a little further, both curious and alert. The only noise I hear is the slight creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet. Well, that and my heart thudding against my chest. As I near the bathroom, I hear the small crunch of glass beneath the sole of my shoe. From the faint late day sunlight coming through the window, I can discern that the glass is from the mirror, shattered by a blunt force. I see spatters of blood along the edge of the sink and on the floor.
My concern, now heightened by the traces of blood along with the broken glass, pushes me toward the bedroom. Looking in the doorway, I spy Nikita lying still within the bed’s covers. As I fearfully step closer, the floorboard lets out a sigh. Nikita stirs ever so slightly, brushing her bound hand against the bedspread. I release a breath, finding relief with the sight of a sleeping Nikita. I look closer to see that the ad hoc bandage shows some seepage of blood. Gently sitting on the edge of the bed, I begin to silently watch her sleeping.
But sensing my presence, Nikita’s eyelids begin to flutter. My name escapes from her lips as her eyes look at me sleepily. My fingers lovingly brush the hair from her face, then, trace her cheek warm from resting on the pillow. Nikita’s bandaged hand catches mine lightly pressing my palm to her lips. She hoarsely whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Our eyes meet as no other words pass between us. With a tear threatening, Nikita finally breaks the silence.
“I didn’t think you would be back.”
“I just needed to think. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It…it was just more than I could have anticipated.” I reply, uncertain how to explain.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you for walking away. I probably deserve it. Actually I know I do.” Nikita says as she sits up in the bed.
I shake my head. “No. Living inside Section…surviving…inside Section has required us both to do things we otherwise find repulsive…things that are horrid and detestable. We just cling to the hope that the outcome is worth the price we pay. Only another person who’s lived it can truly understand.”
“Where do we go from here?” Nikita asks almost rhetorically.
“I don’t know. Where does Centre think you are?”
“I’m free. Well, as free as I can ever hope to be.” Nikita mutters before rubbing her eyes.
I look to her waiting for her to explain. As she looks up at me again she realizes I’m waiting for her to speak.
“My assignment was to discover the real Mr. Jones. Since it was very doubtful that it was Mick Schtoppel.” We share a smile before she continues.
“By pushing forward the time of my evaluation, it was hoped that upon completion, I would be given access to Centre and its true leader. My end game—to flush out the real Mr. Jones. Instead it was not I who deceived him, but the other way around. He used me to flush out Madeline and Adrian. He suspected all along.”
I nod as past events and motivations become clearer. Her feigned cooperation with Red Cell, her escape from Section, and our capture was all part of getting the evaluation pushed forward. But if she betrayed Centre, why is she alive? And free? Sensing the perplexed look on my face, Nikita continues.
“The trip to Monaco gave Mr. Jones and the true leader of Centre time to find Madeline and Adrian’s location. With that detail taken care of I was lured in and brought to Centre. A phone call was made to the two women indicating that they had fallen into his trap and that their mole was to be cancelled. But instead of death, I received audience with the real Mr. Jones.”
Still perplexed I can’t help but notice the excited look on her face. I only hope she hasn’t accepted any more deals with the devil.
“Even after hearing his voice, I still couldn’t believe my eyes. All this time the man behind the scenes was someone near and dear to us.”
The word ‘who’ is pursed on my lips as I wait in anticipation.
“It’s Walter.”
~~~~~
I listen to her soft breathing as she sleeps beside me. Where she is exhausted after purging her soul, my mind replays it all, trying to analyze and understand all that has happened.
I do not doubt that she has told me everything as I see the tired and worried lines of her face easing with rest. I’m just not sure what to make of it all. Adrian played me for a fool once again. The feigned after effects of the Gelman Process lulled me into a false sense of security, as I left her in the care of the convalescence home. As for Madeline, I’m not surprised she faked her death, but the reality that she had been cooperating with Adrian is shocking by comparison.
But what has affected me the most is the revelation of Walter’s position in Centre. As much as I tried to keep my motivations hidden inside Section, other than Simone and Nikita, Walter was the one person I allowed a glimpse of what was inside the cold shell. He in turn would put his two cents in from time to time. Sometimes it was simply a few words to lift my spirits. Words of encouragement. Other times he’d inject his opinion whether I welcomed it or not. Especially in regards to Nikita in the later years.
Walter was the one always at ease, looking on the brighter side of things. The one face that always remained the same within Section, other than the upper management. But to think all that time he was way up at the top. Above Madeline and Operations. It shakes all my beliefs about the man. But not my respect for him.
I lift the worn photograph from the nightstand, examining it with the warm glow of candlelight. The eyes, the nose, even the light freckles, all traits Nikita shares with this man. Her father. A Section operative, long before I ever arrived at Section One. Where it was my own actions that landed me inside Section, it was that which she had no control over—her parentage—that led her to Section One. She was as innocent as she always claimed.
My gut twists with the thought that this could ever happen to Adam. I wonder if Nick Blythe ever thought about the child he would never know. Did he ever suspect that Section could potentially find and take his child? Or was that not a concern since he never knew his child. He never saw those first steps. Heard those first words. Was that a blessing or a curse?
I cannot erase the image of Adam smiling up at me as I tucked him into bed. Nor the sound of his voice saying ‘I love you Daddy.’ As much as the memory warms me, it chills me at the same time. Haunting me. Hurting me.
In a strange way, Nikita is not much different from Adam. A person caught up in circumstances not of their choosing. The only difference being Nikita is no longer a child, but very much a woman.
As I try to settle down beside her to give sleep another chance, Nikita stirs from her slumber. Her blue eyes try to adjust to the dim candlelight of the room as she props herself up on her elbow to look at me.
“So it wasn’t a dream? You really are here.” Nikita whispers. “Did you get some rest?” Her last question is punctuated by a large yawn.
“Not much.” I shrug. Hearing a large growl from Nikita’s stomach, I surmise, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry.”
Nikita gives a relaxed smile. “I can’t believe I slept so long. How late is it?”
“Almost 10 pm. You slept nearly 3 hours.”
Her eyes widen. “I guess I was exhausted.”
I glide my fingers against her warm cheek. “A lot has happened in the past few days.”
Nikita timidly nods. “I hope not too much.”
I’m not sure of what answer to give her. Has too much happened? I’m uncertain. But our connection is too deep to walk away without giving our relationship another try. However I do have one stipulation.
“No more lies.” I state gently but firmly, holding eye contact.
With a serious look and her eyes returning my stare, Nikita shakes her head slowly as the words pass from her lips. “No more lies. No more secrets.”
A promise I truly hope we can both keep.
“We better get you some food.” I state as her stomach reiterates her hunger.
“Not many places open this late. Not out here, anyway. Maybe we can find a tavern or something.”
“I have a few rations in the Pathfinder,” I offer. “It’s not fine cuisine, but will hold us over until we find something better along the way.”
“Along the way?” Nikita asks hesitantly. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever the road takes us.” I answer as Nikita’s features show her intrigue at my last statement.
“Are you referring to your travel plans or…us?” Nikita asks with some hesitation.
I think for a second before replying, “Both.”
~~~~~
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