| Subject: The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove60 (old numbering--new chapter) |
Author:
Schnee
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Date Posted: 07:10:39 03/04/01 Sun
In reply to:
Schnee
's message, "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" on 14:10:08 03/03/01 Sat
I watch with interest as Nikita climbs into the Pathfinder. As I turn the ignition, I see she has strapped herself in without a word.
“Everything okay?” I ask as fear sneaks up on me out of nowhere.
“Yeah. There’s no doubt about it. I’m definitely pregnant,” Nikita says with a sigh. “The doctor said that everything is normal.” Her lips quiver as I’m certain the word seems as foreign to her as it does to me. What is normal? The moment we each arrived inside Section, nothing about our lives could ever be seen as normal.
I nod with understanding. As my grip loosens on the steering wheel, I detect a feeling of relief within me. Was I really nervous?
But my attention is turned back to Nikita as I note her unusual silence. I shift my focus from the road briefly to gaze at Nikita’s pale face. From the distant look in her eyes, I sense that she’s still struggling with her emotions. It’s not a cold distance but rather I interpret it as her need for solitude to look within. Any bit of denial she had allowed herself is now gone, with a physician confirming the diagnosis.
She is not alone in her inner reflection. Perhaps it’s not just the pregnancy that has me nervous. I continue to question my choice of destination. I’ve not returned to Marseilles since my ‘death.’ Despite all the places I’ve journeyed to while a Section operative, I’ve somehow managed to stay clear of my home. I guess there has always been the possibility that someone from my past would recognize me. Actually that possibility may still exist. But it is not the fear of being identified that bothers me.
Am I more fearful of what I will find there or of what I may not find at all? Is it closure I seek?
I breathe a sigh as I consider taking the next road, bypassing Marseilles completely. But running from my past will not help me face our future. I remind myself that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Maintaining our route to Marseilles, I can only try to ready myself for what lies ahead.
Eventually our silent reflection is breeched by Nikita fiddling with the radio. Music interrupted by static. Then, an announcer’s voice fills the air followed by more music. A frown purses on Nikita’s lips as she finally mutters.
“Can’t find a decent thing on here. We’ll need to pick up some tunes. It’s gonna take me forever to replace my entire collection.”
A smile slips across my face, as see a hint of spunk returning to my Nikita. It’s that spark of life that will sustain her and allow her to flourish. That survival instinct I detected in her that first day in the White Room. The raw energy I found myself attracted to like a moth to a flame.
Finally, she settles for something upbeat and leans back into her seat.
“I wish we could have stayed in Sète longer. The little I did see was beautiful.” Nikita muses. “Where are we off to now?”
“You’ll see. I answer remaining mysterious.
Her eyebrows arch, as I’m certain her curiosity is piqued. Nikita opens her mouth to speak, but then she says nothing and instead studies me with her crystal blue eyes.
Perhaps I should tell her, but I long to see her expression as she sees the beauty of Marseilles for the first time.
~~~~~
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