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Subject: WTTS2 - 84


Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 22:24:48 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 84
By KT
Copyright January 6, 2001


As morning broke, the city realized that it was not going very far very fast. School was officially closed, buses weren't moving, cars were buried, no one was on their way to work, and the snow plows had their day cut out for them. It was a wonderfully silent morning.

Nikita's eyelids fluttered sleepily. She didn't feel very refreshed, a slight frown creasing her brow as she remembered. The dream had come to her again, just when she thought it was banished. Her body was restless with a strange vibration. She did, however, feel very safe and secure at the moment, as she realized that her entire backside was warmly ensconced against Michael. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening. They hadn't made love in the physical sense, though Michael had wanted to, but in the spiritual sense.

They had renewed their relationship on a whole different level, each admitting their deeper need for the other. Nikita was in awe of this kind of connection. She had never believed in true love. Music was the only thing that had ever given her an awareness of a higher plane of human spiritual existence. Her entire emotional world had been turned upside down, had been transformed by Michael's love.

In her heart, Nikita knew that she didn't really need Michael just to stay alive, and that rationally, he didn't need her either. Life would go on, as it had in the past, for each without the other. And perhaps the quality of that life would be wonderful, who could say?

No, she had pushed him away out of fear, not wanting to be the one who was rejected. "Do unto them, before they do unto you" had always been her standard operating procedure. Ultimate control... that was the key to never being hurt by a man ever again, made even more difficult by the events prior to and since the shooting. For the first time in her life, she had apologized for the way she had treated a man.

But more than that, for the first time in her life, a man had apologized to her for causing hurt. Nikita marveled at Michael's capacity for compassion. She felt even more alive than she had when she'd opened her dark secrets to his scrutiny. It was an unprecedented leap of faith for her. Nikita began to understand just how dead she had been inside, and how dangerous, how easy it had been for her to begin to slip back into that darkness.

But Michael hadn't let her slide. He had come to pull her back into the light. He had gifted her with words and caresses until she reaffirmed the words she had spoken to him many weeks ago in the heat of passion. Nikita's frown dissipated as she recalled how tenderly he had kissed her then, forgiveness flowing between them. He understood her pain. Truly, this was what life was for. To feel this alive.

Her reverie was interrupted by a faint streak of gray sneaking in the window, and she was struck by the uncanny quiet of the early morning. Nikita didn't want the night to end, didn't want the day to start, didn't want to go to work. She just wanted to rest and bask in this newness of spirit.

If only time could be suspended by a mere whim of one's will.

She attempted to go back to sleep, pulling the covers over her head to block the light. But it was not possible. Her mind continued to savor the sweetness of her reconciliation with Michael, and her heart offered up a tiny prayer of thanks. They had weathered so much in such a short time.

As she began to come fully awake, the low vibration in her started to rise, and Nikita vaguely realized that she...

Could feel Michael's legs against the backs of hers!

Her eyes flew wide open, and she lay in shock as she internally investigated, taking inventory of other sensations beginning to surface. She forced herself to breathe quietly, not quite knowing if she should dare to believe what she was feeling. The sharp, painful tingling she had felt before, like the pricks of a thousand needles, rose in her feet, then moved up her legs.

Nikita experimented as she lifted the covers. She closed her eyes as she prepared to perform the test, then took a deep breath and stared at her feet. She focused on her right foot, sending the message to her toes. As she watched, her big toe twitched, then the others moved as well. The same happened with her left foot. She carefully raised her arms above her head and stretched the full length of her body, feeling her legs straighten as the tingling increased.

Oh God. Please. Let this be for real.

Michael stirred behind her, reaching around, pulling her back against him, not quite awake. She felt his cheek tuck itself into the crook of her neck as his knees pushed hers forward and upward. He curled himself around her, reaching for the covers to cocoon them in their comforting warmth.

But Nikita was no longer thinking about Michael. The next sensation to flash through her mind was that she needed to go to the bathroom... Wow! Go to the bathroom!

Nikita carefully extricated herself from Michael's embrace, gathering her paraphernalia together. She sat up slowly and with her hands, draped her legs, one at a time, over the side of the bed. As her feet touched the floor, it felt as though their bottoms were pin cushions, thick and uneven. But she could feel the texture of the rug beneath her! This was for real!!

She watched as she made her toes wiggle, as she felt the prickly feeling continue to intensify. She laid her hands on the tops of her thighs and massaged the muscles. Warmth surged into her legs as the tactile sensation increased from moment to moment. Nikita wanted to stand up, but decided that she needed a minute, suddenly wary of the possibilities. She didn't want to let herself feel happy, only to be let down again if the tingling didn't last.

Michael woke the moment he felt Nikita move out of his grasp, but lay still, feigning sleep, watching her actions through shuttered eyes. If it was true, if what he had seen in the night was really happening, if her legs had really come back, then he didn't want to steal the moment from her. But if she needed his help, then he wanted to be there for her. He made a sleepy noise, keeping his eyes closed, breathing softly and settling into the bed.

Nikita glanced over her shoulder at Michael and reached out to sweep his unruly hair back behind his ear. She studied his handsome features as the waves immediately rolled back to their former position with total disregard for her attempt to discipline them.

"Michael..." Nikita's whisper was so soft that Michael thought he had imagined it. She turned away, missing the shadow of a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was all he could do to pretend to be asleep.

The task of walking to the bathroom became her sole focus. Nikita supported her weight with her arms as she leaned forward and balanced her body over her legs. She kept her knees bent and felt her muscles flex, silently thanking Sabine and Jamie for their diligent physical therapy. As she gained her balance, she slowly righted her body, rising to her full height, breathing unsteadily as she started to feel giddy with the joy of the moment.

Yesss! She was actually standing up!! It was glorious!!!

Nikita took the tentative first step. It worked! She took another, then another, slowly, deliberately, moving with care as each step took complete concentration to maintain balance. The bottoms of her feet still felt as though stuffed with cotton. She entered the bath and steeled herself. Sabine had explained how to remove the catheter, and had warned her that it might be painful. But she didn't care. The tubes and bags that had become a way of life were about to become extraneous matter. She winced. There! It was done!

Nikita turned, a little too quickly, to place the bags in the bathtub, and lost her balance as her knees buckled. She let out a short scream as she fell heavily, hitting her head on the edge of the sink. Her body relaxed as she lost consciousness, landing in a twisted heap on the cold tile floor.

Michael lay still, thrilled at the sight of Nikita walking, willing himself not to follow her, but sat up instantly at the sound of her scream. When he heard the solid 'thud' of her body hitting the floor, he quickly moved from the bed and into the bath. He knelt next to her prone form. A nasty bump was beginning to rise above her right eye. He determined that she was breathing normally, then scooped her up, returning her to the bed.

As he laid her down, he realized that she no longer had her catheter and bags! Michael returned to the bath and saw where she had set them in the tub. Then he went to the kitchen and put some ice in a plastic bag, wrapping it in a dish towel. He returned to the bed and placed the ice against Nikita's pale forehead. She stirred and moaned, then opened her eyes. Michael's were very close and very worried.

"Good morning," he said softly, thickly. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," she returned, answering his concern. Nikita reached her hand toward him and he traced her palm with his fingers, lacing them into hers as their palms pressed together. "What happened?"

"You fell." He leaned forward. A very quiet "Shhh" escaped him just before he pressed his mouth against hers in a simple lingering kiss. When he pulled back, their eyes connected, barely containing their joy at the momentous event that had just taken place.

"Michael I..."

"I know."

"Michael... I..." she stated with some urgency, "I really have to go... to the bathroom!" She burst out laughing. "Now!"

"Oh. Of course." Michael's capacity for dignity was a work of art.

The seriousness of the moment was broken, and his eyes softened as he helped her to her feet and into the bath. Nikita leaned against him for support, glad to accept his help. He settled her on the commode, then departed, leaving her with a warning that she call for him if she needed any further assistance.

"Oh, I think I can handle this part on my own," she replied with a short laugh.

Nikita emerged from the bath to find Michael standing at the window looking out on the snowy morning. She moved toward him, and he turned to stare at her meted progress, his expression tense with contained emotion.

"Is everything OK?" he asked.

"It's fine," she replied as she reached his side.

"Merely... fine?"

"It's more than fine. It's... Oh, Michael..." She stopped, truly at a loss for words. She leaned against him as his arm rounded her shoulders, turning her into his embrace. Nikita's tears fell softly as she pressed her face against his chest. Michael said nothing, only held her until her crying subsided and he felt her relax against him.

Nikita shifted her eyes to the outside world. They widened in amazement at the sight below. There was so much snow! Nothing, but nothing, was moving. She knew that Michael's bike was buried out there somewhere. She turned her face to his, thinking out loud.

"Looks like it's at least three or four feet deep. Too bad we're not school kids."

Her sense of humor was rising with her happiness. Her eyes were on his, but his were on her lips. As he bent to kiss her, the phone rang. Michael left Nikita at the window and sat on the bed as he answered.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Michael." Madeleine's voice was cool and clear.

"Madeleine. Good morning. Sorry, but I'm running a bit late today."

Michael heard the very odd sound of a what he would have called a chuckle, had it come from anyone other than his orchestra manager. Nikita walked slowly toward him, and he helped her to sit. He reached around her and pulled the comforter over them.

"So is the rest of the world, it would seem." Madeleine actually sounded amused. "That's exactly what I'm calling about. Paul called me very early this morning. He's stranded, and so are George and Adrian. Since no public transportation is moving as yet, we've made an executive decision. Michael, the Hall will be closed today. If some of the players do make it downtown, it will be a minor miracle. We think we'll be able to reach everyone, though. So far, everyone we've called has been home except for... Nikita."

Michael looked solemnly at the woman next to him. "I'll be happy to tell her that she has the day off." He waited while the silence on the other end of the line ended with the sound of Madeleine's throat clearing. Nikita's eyes lit up as she realized that her wish was about to be granted.

"Yes, well, thank you." Michael had thrown Madeleine off balance, but she recovered quickly. "And of course everyone will be paid for the day. This is certainly beyond anyone's control."

"Of course. Thank you." They both knew very well that their union contract assured the musicians of being paid in the event of just such a circumstance, especially since it was the decision of the Symphony administration. Michael signed off. As he turned to Nikita, he saw her staring at her legs. She looked up with a lopsided grin.

"I can finally walk, and we can't even leave the house." Her voice was filled with awe as it dropped to a whisper... "I can walk, Michael..." then raised in a shout... "I can walk!" She sat up straight. "I need to call my mother."

Michael nodded, a wicked gleam gathering in his eyes as he reached for her.

"Later."

* * * * * * * *

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