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Date Posted: 02:37:11 05/28/02 Tue
Author: Leigh
Subject: Re: Holiday, 63
In reply to: Leigh 's message, "Holiday" on 00:38:20 05/28/02 Tue

**

By the time the sun had risen, Madeline, Paul, Birkoff and Michael were on board Section’s private jet and on their way down to Aruba. Paul sat silently toward the front of the plane, next to the window, staring out at the clouds. The attending doctor had updated him on Nikita’s condition and informed him that she had not yet regained consciousness. Though he did not say it aloud, Paul was numb with grief. “Dear Lord,” he prayed, “don’t let anything happen to her. Please don’t take her from us.”

The first years of their marriage he and Madeline had tried to have children but they seemed unable to conceive. They saw specialists and went through several tests and procedures; in the end, seeing the toll trying to conceive was having on Madeline, they had decided to adopt.

Paul had been hesitant, not certain that he could love a child that was not biologically his. But from the first time they placed her in his arms he had fallen in love with her. She was so tiny, so utterly helpless in the world and he had felt his heart fill with love for her. He still recalled how she had opened her eyes, her face scrunching up against the bright light of the hospital where they had gone to pick her up, and she had gazed about with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

“She’s looking at me,” he’d said to Madeline. A smile lit his face and he felt an incredible joy. He didn’t care that the nurse said she couldn’t yet see. In his heart, he was convinced his daughter was looking at him. “Hello,” he’d said to her, bending to kiss her brow. His heart had belonged to her ever since.

And now, Paul thought, as he continued to stare at the window, now his daughter was fighting for her life and he was frustrated that he was so far away from her.

Nikita was nearly two years old when Madeline discovered she was pregnant. They had been prepared to accept that Nikita would be their only child but when they learned they were expecting, their joy had been doubled. Paul had felt as if he was the luckiest man on Earth. No success he achieved in Section ever equaled the joy his children and wife brought him. They were his world and everything he did afterward was with their best interest at heart. It had taken him a while to accept that Birkoff didn’t want to be part of Section, that he was more interested in computers, but Paul was satisfied in knowing that at least his son had the financial backing to do whatever it was that he wanted.

With Nikita it was a slightly different story. She’d always been curious about the business. As a young girl she had enjoyed coming to his office and would pretend to be him. “Look, Daddy,” she’d say, kneeling on his chair behind his desk and grinning at him. “I work like you.”

Over the years Paul had always taken it for granted that Nikita would take over the company when he and Madeline stepped down, but now, with this sudden turn of events he suddenly realized how fragile life was and how little control he had over it. “This isn’t right, he thought, his anger flaring, “a child isn’t suppose to die before his parent.”

Madeline, seeing her husband’s frustration, reached over and placed a comforting hand up on his thigh. Paul turned, her touch rousing him out of his thoughts. His eyes met hers. “She’ll be alright,” Madeline said to him, and Paul nodded once before turning back to the window.

Madeline took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In her heart she was just as worried as Paul but she refused to believe that anything bad would happen to Nikita. It couldn’t; she simply would not allow it.

Toward the back of the plane, Birkoff was pacing nervously back and forth. He’d been at home working on a software design when the phone rang. He didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working and had the phone hooked up to the answering machine. When he’d heard his father’s voice though, something in it had told him there was trouble. He’d dropped everything and left the apartment to rush over to the airport to meet them. He didn’t even realize until he got there that he didn’t have anything with him; no extra clothes, no passport, only his license. Luckily his mother, knowing how absent minded he could get sometimes, had brought his birth certificate along. He wished now that he had taken the time to bring his laptop with him. At least that would have given him something to do and keep his mind on.

Madeline, seeing him, walking back and forth, stood and went to him. “Did you even sleep last night?” she asked, noting his rumpled appearance.

Birkoff smiled sheepishly. “I’m okay, mom.”

Madeline smiled back at him. “You were up all night again working, weren’t you?” she sighed. She led him to a chair and pushed him gently into it. “Get some sleep, darling. We’ve still got a couple of hours before we get there.”

He nodded, agreeing though he didn’t feel he could sleep.

Madeline left him and went over to where Michael sat staring out the window and she sat down next to him. He turned to acknowledge her and she saw the depth of his love for Nikita in his eyes. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Michael answered. He couldn’t begin to tell her the horror he was feeling. Once, long ago, he’d been in another situation like this. He’d received a call saying that Simone had been in an accident; the car she’d been driving had been broadsided by a drunk driver. She had died before he even reached the hospital.

When Michael had received Madeline’s call that morning, he’d felt as if he’d been thrown back in time. The room had seemed to spin around him and he didn’t even hear Madeline calling his name over the phone. She was saying that because of his gallery opening the next night, he should stay in New York and she would call him to let him know how Nikita was doing.

“No,” he’d said. “I have to see her.”

Now they were all on their way to Aruba and Michael could only sit and think of the rift he’d allowed to come between Nikita and him. So what if Nikita hadn’t told him who Stephen was? What did that matter? He’d allowed his jealousy to dictate his emotions that day she’d called. Hearing her voice in his mind, she’d seemed so happy when she called to ask if he wanted to meet for dinner and he’d been cold with her.

Michael turned away from Madeline’s gaze and stared back at the window so that she wouldn’t see the pain and sorrow in his eyes. He didn't think he'd be able to go on if he lost her now.

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