| Subject: WTTS2 - 85d (warning: NC-17) |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 22:39:31 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 85d (Warning: NC-17)
By KT
Copyright January 31, 2001
Sabine couldn't get Michael's remark out of her mind. "Finish this dance" he had said. She knew that he never made careless conversation. She began humming tunelessly as she finished serving breakfast to Roberta and Jamie.
Jamie cocked an eyebrow at Sabine. She never hummed. Something was up. "Thanks for the great service, Madame. Does the establishment allow tipping?"
She shot an unamused glance at him. "Oh, don't you worry, Jamie Alexander. I have plans for you. You can consider your debt paid as soon as you dig us out of this snowstorm." Her glance changed to a triumphant look. "You didn't think you were to get off easy, did you?"
Jamie loved sparring with her, and sighed in mock surrender. "I never do, do I?" He studied her further. "What is that catchy tune you're humming?" He knew Sabine couldn't sing, even in church. His zinger hit home, and he hastily ducked her half-hearted swat to the side of his head with her towel. He laughed out loud, his face beaming with satisfaction.
"Hrrrmph!" Sabine's brow furrowed as she attempted to contain her mirth. "And you can clean up this kitchen as well." As she tried hard to sound stern, she began to lose control, and laughter bubbled out of her.
Jamie rose and grabbed the towel from her hand, pushing her toward the table. "At your service, Mademe de Lac." He punctuated his theatrical outpouring with a sweeping bow. "Now, you finish your breakfast." He watched as Sabine sat and looked absently at the morning paper, sipping her cuppa. He resolved to find out the cause of her preoccupation as he set about cleaning. Work first. Talk later.
Roberta watched the two of them. She tried to laugh, but her effort only brought pain. She clutched her sides, trying unsuccessfully to repress the urge to cough. Rather than spoil the mood, she rose and walked to her room. Roberta sat down and reached for her oxygen and swallowed her meds. Her mind plunged into her personal hell.
What good was life when one couldn't even laugh without pain? How long could her spirit forge on in spite of her weakened condition? Regardless of Michael's presence, she needed to know that her daughter would not spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Her only regret would be not being able to hold her first grandchild. She would make Sabine promise to do that for her.
Roberta was rereading "The Thorn Birds" for the, well, she'd lost count how many times she'd read it. It spoke to her of familiar things, of home and family. She picked up the book and opened it, laying back against her bed pillow, but was unable to concentrate. Her eyes refused to focus. At last, she gave up, laying the book down in her lap. Reading was her dearest pastime, and now it seemed that even that was being taken away. Tears welled silently as her hands caressed her beloved book, and a weary sigh escaped her. 'Please God, leave me something,' she prayed in earnest.
A few minutes later, Sabine looked in to find Roberta asleep with the book open. Her breathing was so shallow that Sabine felt a moment of panic and sprang forward to check her pulse. Gently placing her fingers under the crease of her jaw, Sabine was relieved to feel Roberta's pulse, weak but steady. She looked down at her charge with the affection of a sister, her eyes sad and loving all at once.
Sabine returned to the kitchen, only to find that the fiend Jamie had abandoned the inside chores in favor of the snow shovel. She trekked to the living room and watched him through the window as he flung shovel after shovel from the walkway, but there was so much snow that his progress appeared to go at a snail's pace.
Sabine finished cleaning the kitchen and prepped for lunch and dinner. Michael's impatient but polite conversation still consumed her thoughts. She picked up the phone and dialed his number, but there was no answer. She left a message on his machine, feeling helplessly captive by her increasing curiosity and the lack of response. She knew they were there. Why weren't they answering? After all, they were snowed in too... the Hall was closed... they were together...
Sabine's eyes widened as the image of Michael and Nikita dancing became very real. Yes!! It must be true!! She must have gotten her legs back!!
Joy swept through her. This would be the best possible news for Roberta. Sabine knew that she was worried, that the waiting kept her going from day to day. She debated. Roberta should be told as soon as possible. But it became obvious that Michael and Nikita wanted to keep it a secret for the moment. She smiled to herself. All in good time. Let them have their day. They deserved it.
Sabine paused, reflecting on how this family had changed her, had given her hope when her reserves were low. It seemed that each time she went through the death of another, her own life was affirmed and expanded, as though she took that life into her and it somehow augmented her own. Perhaps she would live to be a hundred! It was good to see mother and daughter reconciled, holding the threads of their lives together in spite of their troubles. It was a constant reminder of the solitary life she'd chosen, and her own broken relationship with her daughter.
She often wondered if Nikita's father was still out there somewhere. Roberta didn't speak of him as though he were dead. And Nikita never spoke of him. Sabine lamented their loss. He would be their only other blood relative. Roberta had never requested for him to be notified of her condition, as was the usual procedure in terminal cases, and there had been no mention of any other siblings. Sabine wished she could try to find him, but she knew that she was not allowed to interfere in family matters.
Her musings were interrupted by a large snowman stamping his boots on the front porch. Jamie's impending entrance stirred her into action, and she prepared a fresh pot of tea. He came in and sat down, his face flushed from exertion. He noticed immediately the change in her demeanor.
"All right, Sabine. Something's happened, and I want to know what it is."
Their eyes locked. She never could keep a secret from him. Sabine spoke tentatively, quite on the edge of her emotions.
"Well, from what I gather, our pianist is... how shall I put it?... back on her feet. Oh, Jamie..."
Slow wonder overtook Jamie's features. "Sabine..."
He rose and gathered Sabine in his arms. Her head rested against his chest, and his large hand stroked her hair as she wept quietly from joy. Jamie kissed the top of her head as he held her. She always delighted so intensely in the happiness of others. His great love and admiration for this woman welled within him, but he said nothing. After a minute, she pulled away and they sat. Jamie reached for her hands and squeezed them affectionately.
"How wonderful! You spoke with Nikita?"
"No. Well, yes, but I didn't really get a chance to talk to her. Michael interrupted us... it was something he said... and something in his voice... I don't know. He didn't say it in so many words. It came to me after he hung up."
Jamie got the picture. "So you haven't mentioned it to Roberta yet."
"No. I thought I would wait for confirmation first. I just telephoned, but the machine answered."
"Well that doesn't surprise me."
Sabine very nearly blushed as Jamie's meaning took hold. She nodded. "The Hall is closed and they have the day off. No doubt they needed it. Things were tense, what with Nikita's frustrations and the incident with Gray. I am glad they have some time to themselves to talk and work things out."
Jamie gave Sabine a very wide grin. "Talk. Right. Work things out. Yes... well... if I were in Michael's shoes, which I sincerely hope he is not wearing at the moment, I'd be working things out. Most definitely." He poured the tea and downed two cups quickly. "Well, back to work. You're such a slave driver, mon Sabine."
"Thanks, Jamie. For digging us out. For..." Her eyes told him everything.
"No problem." His impudence evaporated as his eyes answered hers. He returned to his task. But Sabine just sat, alone with her thoughts.
* * * * * * * *
Morning moved slowly toward midday. Nikita lay on her side, watching as Michael slept peacefully. They were both so tired, so emotionally exhausted from their trials since the shooting. Her body felt drained, her legs shaky. Her eyes roamed over her lover's face, so beautiful, so serene in repose. Oh, what you do to me, Michael. She was still feeling awestruck by the erotic beauty of their lovemaking, how no act was too intimate between them, by the power they wrought over each other, and by the truth of her statement.
It was, as yet, difficult for her to confess it, except in moments of deepest passion. She was grateful that he didn't pressure her to be more vocal. She inched her face toward his and touched the tip of his nose with hers. Her eyes closed as she inhaled the scent of sex that lingered on his skin. She stretched her legs for the sheer joy of it, then turned over and tucked herself back against Michael, pressing the bottoms of her feet against the tops of his.
Her action brought him half awake, and he reached around and drew her close, pressing light kisses on her shoulder, then her neck, then her ear. His knees pushed hers forward as he curled around her.
"So... Nikita..." Michael was unable to hide the rough catch in his voice.
Nikita turned her head. "What?"
Michael was silent. Nikita turned until they were face to face. Michael searched for her hands and interlaced his fingers with hers. His eyes were a storm in the midst of the sea of calm on his face. His voice was soft and low as he confided to her.
"I didn't know how much I missed you until I got you back."
Nikita stared at him. She could read his heart in his eyes. It finally dawned on her that he had been afraid of losing her, that it hadn't been just an idle remark about Gray. It never occurred to her that he wouldn't be strong enough to live without her. His strength was what she loved most about him. Well, that and a few other things... A smile broke over her face.
"I didn't miss you. Not for a minute," she teased him with mock cruelty, tightening her fingers around his. Her eyes focused on his mouth, noting the faint lines of a smile.
"Really," he responded casually, stepping into her game. "Not even for a second?" Michael felt her hands break free from his, then flutter across his belly and lower. Her fingers stroked him ever so lightly, and he felt himself stiffen under her feathery touch. Nikita's lips were pushing softly against his as his palms covered the mounds of her breasts.
Her words were warm against his mouth. "No, Michael. I didn't miss you for a minute, or even a second... Only for... a lifetime." She raised her eyes to his as she spoke. His heart raced.
Her kiss was sweet, her tongue probing, meeting his... His fingertips stroked up and down her back, then caressed her bottom, slipping between her legs to tease and test. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Michael noticed that there wasn't any music playing. Then Nikita turned the kiss wild, rousing him without mercy.
Michael rolled her onto her back, kissing her deeply, his fingers opening her to him. One exploratory digit plunged deep and felt the moisture still thick from their previous session. His eyes glinted with ferocity. He pushed himself inside her until he could push no further. There was nothing gentle about it. Nikita's eyes were half-closed as she gave herself up to his ruthless entrance with a groan.
"Missing me now?" he whispered. Then he bent his head to hers, without giving her time to answer. A 'lifetime' indeed...
* * * * * * * *
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