| Subject: The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove Part Twelve |
Author:
Schnee
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Date Posted: 15:01:02 03/03/01 Sat
In reply to:
Schnee
's message, "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" on 14:10:08 03/03/01 Sat
Traveling these past few weeks, I find my tendency is to head toward the South of France. I’m uncertain why I’m drawn toward my homeland.
Familiarity, perhaps?
Despite having spent both my University years and my Section years in and around Paris, I now realize I never considered it home.
Sète. A port city not far from Marseilles. Not far from home. I can’t explain it. It just feels like a suitable place to stop. Nikita does not appear to mind as her eyes greedily gorge on the colorful Italian architecture in this island city of fishermen and boats. France’s own Venice. Minus the gondolas.
Turning to face me, Nikita’s face lights up with a smile. She weaves her arms around my waist as her lips meet mine. Caught in her impulsive kiss, my tongue seeks to taste her warm mouth. As she pulls away, I reach out to grasp her arms to keep her from moving. But her focus is no longer on me, as her cheeks turn a bright red. I turn my head in the direction she is looking.
Towering over a small elderly woman, her eyes look up at me with indignation, since we have nearly collided with her. I flash her a flirtatious smile as Nikita tries to pull me away. Finally, the woman lets out a laugh.
“If I were a few years younger, I’d give her a run for her money.” The woman muses in French as she winks at me.
I find myself grinning at her comment. My hand brushes her elbow as I move to follow Nikita. As she turns her head to see that I’m coming, I see that her cheeks are still flushed. Whether it was from embarrassment or from our kiss, I’m unsure. But I find myself trying to catch my breath I find her enchanting.
Reaching out, I take Nikita’s hand and grip it lightly with mine. Nikita squeezes my hand as she leads me to a bench facing the waterfront. As we sit facing the other, I start to study her facial expression sensing something not quite right. Then, Nikita’s eyes avert downward as her fingers remain entwined in mine. Slowly her crystal blue pools glance upward, meeting my focus. The whiteness of her teeth peeks through her soft red lips, as her nervous habit reappears.
Slowly she whispers, “Thank you.”
“Thank you? For what?”
“For taking a chance with me.” Nikita pauses. “I’m not sure I would have done the same had I been in your shoes. But then I’ve come to learn you are a stronger soul than I, Michael Samuelle.”
The touch of her fingertips against my brow and then my cheeks raises the yearning inside me. I detect she feels that yearning too, as her cheeks become flush again, before she releases a gentle laugh.
After a moment she shifts her position to lean against me, placing her arms around my neck. Instinctively, I begin to stroke the back of her head as I feel her breath on me. Looking closer at her eyes, I sense her weariness.
“Still not feeling well?” I ask realizing she has hidden it well. Why didn’t I sense it earlier?
“It kinda comes and goes. I can’t seem to shake this bug,” Nikita slowly admits.
“Maybe it would be best if you rest back at the hotel. You should have told me.” I lightly scold out of concern.
“But I really wanted to be outdoors enjoying this gorgeous day...with you. It’s so beautiful here. Everything. The boats. The buildings. Even the people. I thought I’d shake it after a bit. Besides, much of the time I feel okay. Being with you, it’s easy to just…forget. Michael, I’ll be fine. Really.” Her eyes plead with me to relent.
But my concern wins out over her pleading, as I decide it best we return to our hotel room. Nikita starts to object, but with my insistence and a kiss, I get my way.
~~~~~
I’m annoyed by his perception of my discomfort. I had hoped not to ruin this perfect day by being stuck in a sickbed. With that dizzying kiss and the thought of Michael sharing the bed I had consented to returning to the hotel. But with our arrival back, I see that he is taking on the role of nursemaid rather than lover. Damn.
Not him. Me.
Why can’t I rid myself of this bug? I feel ill if I eat. And I feel even more ill if I don’t eat at all. What night did we have those oysters? Was it last week already? Must be something else? Ahhh…the dangers of eating out while traveling.
“Jump under the covers.” Michael orders, lifting them.
“Yes, sir.” And here I was hoping for something more romantic. “Nothing like sweeping a girl off her feet. Where’s your bedside manner, Michael?” I crack as I slowly relent.
Before I slide my legs under, I carefully strip down my pants and disdainfully toss them across the room. I shrug my shoulders as his authoritarian stare holds firm. As he releases the covers atop me, I begin to cross my arms and give my best pout, before sticking my tongue at him.
“Sale gosse,” Michael mutters.
“What?” I laugh.
“I called you a brat.” He accentuates not only with his voice but with his facial expression as well.
“I am not.” I whine knowing full well that he’s right. I am being difficult. But so is he. Well, sort of.
As he turns away, I question his departure.
“Where are you going?” I really pour on the ‘woe is me’ look as he turns back toward me.
“Nowhere in particular.”
With a smirk, Michael casually sits on the bed beside me. His green eyes mocking me. And yet seducing me at the same time. He motions for me to move over as he slides in beside me. My temperature rises as his firm body moves in closer wrapping around me. Spooning with me.
“That better?”
“It’s a start.” I muse playfully.
“No. We’re not starting anything, Nikita. You need rest. I’m just going to lay here beside you. Help you relax.” Michael replies being the spoilsport.
Does he honestly think having him this close is going to help me to relax?
I wiggle from his grasp and roll to face him. Encountering his serious stare, I try to brush off his concern.
“I really am not feeling that bad.” I whisper.
Well, at least not bad enough to find him undesirable. My fingers stroke his chest as I try to break his firm resolve. He grasps my hand as it strays lower.
“Oh. So why is it you look pale and tired? And acting irritable as well? Not to mention, you have been living off soup and crackers for days.” Michael counters.
Okay. He’s got me there. So much for promising no more lies. I do feel like shit. But rather than dwelling on it, I wanted to soak in as much of the ambience as I could. Or at least, have my mind occupied by more pleasurable thoughts and feelings.
Feeling defeated, I make another face at him before turning over, surrendering to his orders. I really hate it when I’m sick. And I hate it even more when he’s right. But perhaps some rest will do me good.
~~~~~
Sleepily, I reach my arm over to find only an empty pillow. I groggily lift my head, peering around the room. Witnessing no sign of Michael, I strain to hear if he is even in the hotel room. Hearing only silence, I try to summon the strength to rise from the bed.
I feel the rough carpet beneath my bare feet, as I pull myself upright. My head feels woozy as the world spins around me. I remain upright as I lean against the bed, hoping to regain my orientation.
As my mind refocuses, I hear a rapping on a nearby door. My body tenses with caution and uncertainty, especially with Michael’s absence. Regaining my steadiness, I carefully move toward the door. With the peephole before me, I squint to see what is on the other side of the door. The jangling of keys fills the air as the hotel housekeeper fumbles with a large key ring before unlocking the door of the room across the way. Nothing unusual. I let out a sigh as I begin to wonder where Michael has disappeared. But then I spy a note on the table.
“Running an errand. Be back soon. Michael.”
An errand? For what? I find this very curious. The last time Michael left a note for me, he never returned. Instead I soon had Section operatives breaking into the farmhouse, scouring the place for the field router we had taken. Our freedom was an illusion. All an elaborate ploy to smoke out Zahlman.
But this time it’s real. At least I hope it is. I’m not sure I’ll ever trust this freedom completely. Section has forever tainted me, making distrust second nature. Not that I found it easy to trust before I landed inside Section. No, I’ve only really trusted few people in my life. And Michael is the only one I’d trust my life with.
Guilt resurfaces within me as I think of the last few months. How much my actions have cost our relationship. I’m amazed Michael still loves me despite it all. The naïve girl that was brought into Section and fought against the darkness is long since dead. As though I had put the bullet in her head myself.
And I’m not sure I like the woman that rose up in her place. A seasoned operative, cunning and resourceful, closed off emotionally to keep the pain and remorse at bay in order to survive the dark world of Section One. Now as I reinvent myself again, can I be a woman that can give herself unselfishly to another, both emotionally and spiritually? To love Michael the way he deserves—as deeply as he loves me.
I do love him. But sometimes my love feels inadequate. I can’t explain it. Perhaps it’s the loss of faith in myself. My humanity staring back at me. I once had faith that I was better than them. But now I know I could easily be my own worst enemy.
I rub my eyes as tears begin to slip from them. Perhaps it’s not my body that needs to be nursed back to health, but instead, my soul.
I feel helpless as the warm tears stream from my eyes as I’m not sure how they started, nor if they’ll stop.
What’s wrong with me?
The sound of a key entering the lock interrupts my sobs. Moving out of sight, I press my body against the wall. Swallowing my tears, I hear familiar footsteps as my heightened senses ease.
~~~~~~
My eyes meet a pair of wet swollen ones before they quickly avert away. Nikita slowly seats herself atop the rumpled bedcovers. I had hoped to find her still asleep, but the tears concern me more.
I sit on the bed facing her, taking her chin in my hand. My thumb traces her skin back and forth.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She swallows hard. The sadness in her eyes grips me, as I feel the pain of her soul.
“Well, why are you crying?” I gently whisper trying to maintain eye contact. She thinks for a moment before answering.
“No reason.” She sniffles as she wipes her eyes with her sleeve.
Reaching over to the nightstand I grab a handful of tissues and offer them to Nikita. After blowing her nose a few times, Nikita starts to say something but then thinks better of it. She blows her nose once more with disgust before trying again.
“I…I don’t know why. I just started crying and couldn’t …stop.” Nikita’s voice cracks as she appears on the verge of more tears.
I carefully wrap my arms around her and pat her hair in a soothing motion. In my heart, I already know what’s the cause of these tears. But I’m uncertain if she’s aware of the signs that are so obvious to me.
Pulling away, Nikita begins to scold herself.
“I need to stop blubbering like this. Feeling sorry for myself. You probably needed to get away from…from me and my mood swings.” Nikita sobs again.
Her eyes catch sight of the brown paper bag that I set beside me on the bed.
“Did some shopping?” She asks struggling to change the topic.
“ Yes, for you.”
Her eyes widen as a smile begins to surface despite her teary eyes. However, as she opens the bag to reveal its contents her expression changes to puzzlement.
“ A home pregnancy test?”
Her question confirms my suspicion. She’s unaware of what her own body is telling her. I suppress my amusement at the irony of the situation.
“The thought hasn’t occurred to you?”
“Nooo…. I’m not late.” But I see her mind twisting around the concept, evaluating it.
“And the Morning Sickness?”
“Morning Sickness? My sickness isn’t restricted to mornings.”
I can’t help but laugh at both her naïveté and directness. But I realize Section only added to the isolation that began with her mother’s neglect throughout her childhood. She lacked both the female companionship and camaraderie that would have instilled in her such knowledge.
“Humor me.” I reply placing the box in her hands.
Nikita holds it with uncertainty as she looks back up at me while biting her lip.
“Go ahead.” I gently urge.
Her hesitation is written in all her movements as she begins toward the bathroom. As she looks back one last time, I give her another nod of approval.
Only with Nikita’s departure, do I become aware of the heavy beating of my heart. It’s only now I realize that I’ve been so focused on Nikita’s feelings and emotions that I haven’t considered my own.
~~~~~
A baby.
Something so intangible, so unthinkable while we were inside Section. Not simply because of the possible leverage a blood relation could hold as a weakness. No, it ran deeper than that. We were assassins living in the world of the dead, killing to survive another day. A world without freedom. Or hope.
Yes, I became a parent. But because they decided it was necessary for the mission profile. Under orders, I brought a child into the world, without fully understanding the ramifications of that action. Adam opened up emotions I never knew existed. Emotions I could not shut out with the walls I had become adept at building.
As Mentz shot me before Elena’s eyes, part of me died with that bullet. I was resigned to lose my parental rights, resigned to lose my connection with my son. I had no choice but to leave Adam in order for him to have any chance at a life. A life without his father, but a life nonetheless.
What are my feelings as I stand on the threshold of another chance at fatherhood?
Is this a chance for redemption? Am I seeking to replace the boy I lost?
No.
I crumple the empty brown paper bag, clutching it with my fist. I close my eyes as I whisper the word ‘no’ again. I reopen them as I roll the balled-up paper between my hands before tossing into the wastebasket.
No other child could replace Adam in my heart. My first son. My greatest joy and deepest guilt.
But with this child, I am afforded another chance to love. Another chance to teach and show a pair of innocent eyes both the joys and trials of life.
Do I still have it in me? Do I still carry a capacity to love? To see the world through the eyes of an innocent child again?
And Nikita? Does she?
Is it that she can’t see the clues that stand before her or has she blinded herself to the possibility as a means of coping?
I feel at a loss for I was unable to protect her from the harsh environment of Section. Unable to protect her delicate balance of morality and innocence. Just as I was unable to prevent Adam from losing his father. In spite of my precise and controlling nature, I have yet to find a way to stop the inevitable from happening. I’m still cloaked in my humanity despite my longing to shed my weakness and failures.
Now that we are, dare I say free? Yes, now that we are free, do we hold the ability to nurture and care for a child, in addition to finding the way to maintain our fragile relationship. Battered and bruised not by the forces outside ourselves but from within.
Perhaps if our relationship were on more solid ground, I would not feel these doubts. But as it stands, our trust is fragile, pieced together with care. Will a child this soon strengthen the bonds or cause further stress splintering our feelings forever?
Am I just torturing myself for no reason? Perhaps there is no child. Perhaps I’m the one who is having trouble seeing reality.
Through Adam, I formed a connection Elena. Not of love, but of respect and adoration. A connection that cannot be severed by words or actions. Do I yearn for such a connection with Nikita? To prevent another episode where Nikita turns to me proclaiming she never loved me?
My throat goes dry as that painful scene replays in my mind. Will I ever be able to forget that day? Or can we move forward despite that image and those words? I’m not certain. But my heart bids me to try. These last few weeks have softened the sharp edges those words etched. Each moment, each word, each touch and glance, soothing the wounds.
And now the possibility of a child. Not something we planned or even considered. But in spite of that, I see before us a chance to heal and grow together. Or at the very least a reminder of the precious gift of life. As the minutes tick away, I desperately cling to that small glimmer of hope having lived so long without any.
~~~~~
I press my cheek against the cool metal of the doorframe as I can only wait as the seconds tick past. These feel like the longest minutes of my life, as I’m uncertain if I long for or dread the answer I await. My gaze turns toward the footsteps I hear approaching. His green eyes appear softer, more sympathetic than those I’d known in Section.
I answer his unspoken question, “About 2 more minutes.”
I feel the urge to read the directions again, certain that I somehow screwed this up. What if it comes up positive? Could I really be pregnant?
I feel dizzy with the thought as I look at my watch again. Michael moves closer entering my space. Gripping my shoulders, his lips soften my knitted brow with a delicate kiss. As he steps back we hold the stare, saying nothing and everything at the same time. Finally I break the silence.
“When you bought the test…” I pause. “Did you think, well, I mean, hope that I was pregnant?”
My question hangs in the air. Seeming clumsy and awkward, I wish I could take it back. I begin to twirl my dull hair around my finger nervously. He doesn’t answer me, but his eyes speak loudly as I can only understand.
I sense he feels as conflicted as I do. We’ve only just begun down this road of rediscovery, working to bring back the trust in our relationship. Our freedom is young and untested. What if I am wrong to trust all the Walter revealed? What if we are sought out? Captured even? How can I bring a child into a world filled with such dangerous uncertainty?
I cast my glance down at my watch and swallow hard as what has seemed like forever has now past. Gazing at Michael’s reassuring green eyes one last time, I release a sigh knowing the answer we seek may change our lives forever. Am I ready? Are we ready?
As I eye the test panel lying on the vanity, I see the answer staring at me. My mouth can’t form the words as they are stuck in my throat. Mutely, I nod my head. With a few steps, I find comfort in his embrace, as his lips take mine. After a moment I ease my lips from his, catching sight of the stray tear running from his eye. I feel choked by the intensity of my emotions as I lean forward to bury my head into his chest.
My mind races as I consider how the future could have been dramatically different if Michael hadn’t pursued me, seeking out Centre’s location in order to find me. Alone and pregnant. Hollow with guilt. My future could have been not unlike my Mother’s existence. I grip Michael tighter as I feel grateful for Fate’s mercy. For Michael’s mercy.
I may be pregnant, but I’m not alone.
~~~~~
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