| Subject: WTTS2 - 82 |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 22:03:11 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2 - More (splitting the thread *as requested by Sanlin*)" on 21:52:29 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 82
By KT
Copyright November 8, 2000
Nikita and Gray ended up at the Parthenon in Greektown. Gray was mesmerized by Nikita's sweet expressions and child-like appreciation of the delicious food. Their conversation turned more in-depth than it had been during their lunches, facilitated by the relaxed atmosphere and the leisurely pace of the meal. They talked freely about their life experiences. There was live music, and their wine glasses were never empty.
Slowly, Nikita's anxieties melted away and she found herself very nearly having fun for the first time since her release from the hospital. She had almost given up on the possibility. Things had been so intense with her unrelenting rehab schedule, and practice, and her return to work... this outing was turning out to be a welcome relief.
Nikita studied Gray from across the table. He was cute... not handsome, but nice looking, with bright blue eyes, unruly short blonde hair, and a boyish aspect to his angular features. His body was lissome, with a quality of hidden strength. She liked him. He was easy to be with. No pressure, no expectations...
"So, Nikita, what do you think?"
"About...?"
"I'd like you to meet my daughter Casey." Gray checked the time. Seven thirty. Still early.
"What, tonight?"
"Yes, well, it's Friday. I usually let her stay up a little later, since it's not a school night." They were nearly done eating. "And... I promised her she could meet you."
Nikita was about to say, "Without asking me?", but her expression softened as she was confronted by Gray's innocent smile. She cocked her head as she considered his request. It seemed harmless enough.
"All right."
"Great! Thanks..."
The bill came and Nikita insisted on paying her share, in spite of his protestations. They piled into his van and made their way south to Hyde Park. Gray lived on the twentieth floor of an old apartment building that had been turned into condominiums. Nikita was astonished to find that his apartment took up the entire floor. The view of the lake and the city lights was truly wonderful.
Gray's place was nothing like Michael's. No austerity here. Nikita was amused by the jumble of toys on the floor and the little piles of books and clothing strewn about. The contemporary furniture was well-used and comfortable looking. The walls were covered with drawings and photos of buildings. She moved to study them more closely.
"My Dad's architectural accomplishments."
Nikita was startled by Gray's voice next to her ear, and turned to face him. She was about to respond when they were interrupted by the sound of running feet.
"Papa!"
Gray lifted his pyjama-clad daughter easily as she began to climb onto his lap. He hugged her, smoothing her fly-away pale blonde hair, then settled her on his knee.
"Hello sweetness," he addressed her affectionately. "This is Nikita. Can you say hi and shake hands?"
Casey nodded and slid off of Gray's lap. She approached Nikita slowly, fascinated. She had obviously never seen a woman in a wheelchair. Knowledge dawned on her.
"You're just like my Papa," she beamed. She placed her small hand in Nikita's and smiled shyly.
Nikita was disarmed. She hadn't known quite what to expect. They shook hands solemnly.
More footsteps sounded as Casey's babysitter emerged from another room. Gray politely introduced her to Nikita, asking her if she could stay until he had taken Nikita home. The young girl nodded and disappeared back into the other room.
Gray was studying Nikita's reaction to Casey. "I'm really lucky to have Miranda babysit. She lives in the building, so it's very convenient."
Casey, Nikita discovered, was a kindred soul and a typical nearly-five year old, both playful and inquisitive. She brought out her papers and crayons and the three of them drew pictures of places and people. It turned into a game of sorts, each one telling a story about what they had drawn. The evening flew by as they challenged one another, their stories becoming more and more fanciful. Nikita found herself laughing as Casey carved a niche in her heart.
At last, Gray looked at his daughter with mock seriousness. "Ten o'clock. Time for bed, little one."
She pouted. "Do I have to?"
"You know the answer. Say good night to Nikita."
"Will you read me a story?" Casey was deliberately ignoring his directive.
"I think we've had all the stories we need for one night."
Casey sighed a tiny sigh as her china blue eyes shifted to their guest. "Good night, Nikita."
"Good night, Casey. Nice to meet you."
"You too." She turned and slowly shuffled off to her room, herded by Gray.
Nikita sat quietly while Gray tucked Casey in. Thoughts of Michael began to resurface - his distance had hurt her more deeply than she cared to admit - than she dared to admit - to herself. Even though it was she who had asked for some space and time to think, a part of her had prayed for him to protest her request. She had ached as she hung up the phone after their nightly conversations, more disappointed each day that he had only inquired about mundane things. She felt as though she was on a boat without anchor, drifting away from him... powerless to reverse her direction. Tonight, for a few hours at least, she had been able to escape.
"Penny for your thoughts." Gray's voice interrupted her musings.
She looked at him, her expression open as her thoughts flitted across her face. "I'm afraid that's about all they're worth at the moment."
Gray was disturbed by the flicker of sadness he saw in her eyes, and moved toward her. Nikita sat motionless as he approached. Her heart fluttered as she read his intent. She breathed softly, not sure what to do. He leaned to kiss her, drawn by an instinctive reaction to her vulnerability. As his lips brushed hers, Nikita closed her eyes, struggling with every fiber of her body to allow his exploration. She feared hurting his feelings by pulling away, and she feared the possibility that she might actually enjoy kissing him.
Gray was in turmoil. His attraction to Nikita was stronger than he had anticipated, and though he had promised her that there would be nothing between them, his daughter's positive chemistry with her had filled his heart with hope. He didn't know exactly where Nikita stood with Michael, and had refrained from asking her any direct questions about him. He hadn't seen any overt behavior between them during the past week at the Hall, and had come to the conclusion that the rumors were just rumors after all.
The kiss was tentative. Nikita felt Gray's warmth and gentleness. He moved to draw her in more deeply...
Nikita caught her breath as her eyes flew open and she pulled back. "Gray... I'm sorry but..." She brought her gaze up to his, her voice low and raspy, her words coming slowly. "I can't do this." She saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, and was subdued by a pang of regret.
Gray turned away in a useless attempt to hide his reaction, gathering his courage to take her rejection at face value. Silence reigned for a weighty minute.
"What is it?" he ventured at last.
"It's... nothing that can be helped." She reached out and took both of his hands in hers. "We... we have the start of a great friendship here. Your daughter, she's wonderful. She deserves to have someone who can take care of her. You deserve to have someone who loves you... and her." Nikita swallowed as she continued. "I'm not... I can't be that person."
Gray was quiet, his eyes riveted to Nikita's. The warmth of her hands was most distracting, and he held them tighter. He took a deep breath.
"Are you sure?"
His question startled her. She squeezed his hands back.
"No, but..."
"Then won't you give me some time? Try to find out?"
Nikita pulled her hands from his and rested them on either side of his face. She shook her head as a melancholy smile graced her lips. Leaning toward him, she placed a chaste and delicate kiss on his mouth, then drew back. Her eyes had become liquid blue. Gray caught his breath once more as her inner and outer beauty tugged at his heart. He raised his hands and placed them over hers, interlacing their fingers. Nikita took heart and continued.
"And have you be hurt in the end? No, Gray. I like you too much."
Nikita was surprised at how gently she was able to speak. Somewhere inside her, her deep love for Michael made it easier to be completely honest with Gray. This was something totally new for her - being able to say 'no' without lashing out, without anger, without going into self-protection mode. Nikita mentally blessed Michael for this gift he had unwittingly given her. Whether they were together or not, she was forever changed.
Nikita watched as Gray struggled with her words. He let go of her hands, then placed a soft kiss on the end of her nose. His eyes closed briefly as he inhaled her scent, knowing that it would haunt him later. Anger and respect battled within him. He had never met anyone like her. She had told him truth because she liked him. Disappointment that there would never be more than friendship between them surfaced as well, but he didn't want the evening to end on a sour note.
"I like you, too," he whispered, as he let her see his feelings.
Nikita didn't want to take this any further. "That's good. It will make working together so much easier. And Gray, thank you for all you've done for me this past week. I really appreciate all your help." She suddenly smiled as she let go of his hands.
"It's Michael you have to thank for that," he replied, watching to see her reaction. "Come to think of it, I should thank him myself for introducing us."
Nikita gave a short laugh, but kept her emotions guarded. The last thing she wanted to do now was to compromise Michael, or set Gray and Michael at odds with each other.
"Yes, well..." She was at a loss to reply to that.
Gray grabbed their coats. "Let's get you home, shall we?"
* * * * * * * *
At the Wirth residence, Michael was inwardly glad to be reconnected with this "family", feeling welcomed by the food and conversation. He was also uncomfortable, knowing that his actions had pushed Nikita further away instead of drawing her closer. Fearing judgment was not a natural part of his life, but he did hold Roberta's and Sabine's opinions of him in high regard.
"We've missed you, Michael," Roberta said, giving Michael a rather pointed stare as she passed him his plate.
"I'm sorry. I've been..."
Michael's apology trailed away as he thought of all the things he'd been doing to keep his mind off the current state of his relationship with Nikita. Rationalizing really didn't accomplish anything. A pang of guilt tweaked his gut as Jamie's fresh words of reproach still echoed in his ears. It was true. He was as much to blame as she for their separation.
Sabine caught his eye quicker than he was able to mask his distress. Her kind look invited him to talk, but his face went blank a moment later. She had seen that look on Michael's face before, and knew better than to attempt to draw him out. Instead, she spoke carefully.
"It's all right, mon enfant. You need not explain to us if you do not wish to."
Sabine shot a warning glance at Roberta, shaking her head imperceptibly, as she sensed a rebuttal coming. Roberta's mouth froze open, then shut, her face reflecting her frustration, and she sulked quietly. After several minutes, she gave up, deciding that discretion was probably the better choice. Sabine was a good influence on her implusiveness. And Michael, after all, was her guest.
Conversation turned more casual as talk turned to the ins and outs of their daily lives. Michael breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes, the importance of little things provided mental respite from bigger worries. It was a more or less Zen concept, one that he used frequently in his workouts to clear the cares of the day away. Nikita's name remained unmentioned. His mind relaxed but his heart ached sorely.
After dinner, the Scrabble box appeared, and Jamie and Roberta teamed up against Gwen and Sabine, leaving Michael a single third player. Jamie and Roberta proved to be unbeatable, and the losing team whined and moaned.
Michael, in spite of English being his second language, was a formidable opponent, his score taking second place. He found himself somewhat refreshed by the diversion of the game, but as the evening wore on, the obvious absence of Nikita began to work its effect on him. He checked his watch. Ten o'clock, and she still hadn't returned. He was irritated. Seemed excessive for just a dinner date. His heart contracted as he realized that he most likely would not see her this night.
Gwen excused herself and Jamie took his leave as well, giving Michael a quietly sympathetic look. Roberta was all in, and Michael helped Sabine settle her in for the night. He thanked them for dinner, then gathered his things as Sabine saw him to the door. He turned to her, his eyes shadowed, as he allowed his feelings of disappointment to surface momentarily.
Sabine placed a hand on Michael's arm. No words of comfort rose in her throat as her eyes connected with his. She bid him a simple good night. Michael thanked her with a nod, then took off for home.
Sabine left the porch light on and went to bed.
* * * * * * * *
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