| Subject: WTTS2 - 60 |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 20:51:00 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2" on 20:43:26 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 60
By KT
Copyright May 27, 2000
Nikita woke slowly, noting that she was no longer looking at the bright yellow walls of the recovery room. She still felt completely exhausted, as if she had never slept.
As she lay quietly staring at the ceiling, her conversations with Michael and the doctors buzzed in her head. She thought of the ardent and anxious look in Michael's eyes as they had met hers when she'd first opened them after the surgery. She remembered the kindly look on Dr. Herrington's face as he tried to be nice.
Nikita turned her head. Roberta was asleep in the bed on her left, and Gwen was dozing in a chair next to Roberta. It was quiet except for their soft breathing. She looked down at her feet. Funny, but it felt like her feet were normal, that her legs were fine. But try as she might, they did not move at her command. There was no physical discomfort. The drugs must be really good.
Temporary. They said it was only temporary. That the problem would go away with the healing. What did it matter who caused it, or why it happened? How would she continue now? Her career was barely off the ground, and her time with Michael was just......
"Oh, Michael..."
And her time with Roberta was closing in a little more each day.
Pain. Nikita closed her eyes and finally let the tears come, silently.
Hadn't she had enough sorrow, enough difficulty? Why was she being tested, over and over? Why had the Universe lifted her out of her despair, only to plunge her back into it more deeply than ever? Why had she ever thought that she deserved some happiness in this lifetime? How many more scars were needed before she was worthy?
Only one answer surfaced.
Trial by fire.
She had been spared. There must be something more.
Nikita took a deep breath and forced her pain and tears down into the depths of her being. Gwen roused in her chair and seeing that Nikita was awake, she rose and approached her bed. Nikita kept her expression carefully guarded as she greeted Gwen.
"We're so glad you're still with us," Gwen said, smiling into her eyes.
Nikita nodded. She should be feeling the same. After all, she was alive. Wasn't this the ultimate gift? Life?
An embryo of cynicism had begun to grow within her fertile sadness, mocking her with its unformed mouth... She felt it kick and stir, felt it filling her belly as its destructive presence sought to erode the progress her soul had made. No! She would never go back! She fought it with what strength she had, and it quieted as she concentrated on the moment and Gwen's concern.
"Me too," she responded, wanting to believe it. Civility was called for. "Thanks Gwen." Nikita looked around. "Where's Sabine?"
"Oh, she went for a cuppa. With Walter." Gwen's eyes twinkled a bit. "I think he's sweet on her. And I think she likes him too. Oh, and your friend Birkoff was here too. He had to leave for work. He seems nice."
Birkoff, here! And Walter!
"He is nice," she answered, a little encouraged. Nikita felt grateful as she realized that she was surrounded by those she loved most in the world. She looked over at Roberta.
"Um, Gwen, please, could you wake Mom up? I'd really like to talk to her. Alone. Would you mind? I... I don't mean to be rude..."
Gwen was a little perturbed, but observed how much effort it took for Nikita to speak and agreed. "Sure. I'll just go for a little walk," she responded, trying to keep her tone light. Her feelings were only slightly bruised. It was nothing.
"Thanks."
Gwen stroked Roberta's forehead gently as she came awake, giving her a quiet smile. "Your daughter wants you all to herself." She walked out, shutting the door discreetly behind her.
Roberta drank in her daughter with loving eyes.
Nikita returned her gaze with a serious look. It was time to talk.
* * * * * * * *
Michael sat in O'Brien's office writing down his eyewitness account of the shooting. As he relived the horror of it, every detail seemed even more intense. He stopped every few sentences to gather his thoughts, tormented by the image of Nikita falling slowly, as if gravity had been momentarily suspended. It had seemed like an eternity, though the entire crisis had occurred in just a few minutes.
Marcus came in and busied himself with his paperwork. At last Michael set down his pen, and looked up with haunted eyes. O'Brien felt for him.
"You're finished, then?" Michael nodded. "Good. Now for the hard part. You ready? We'll take my car. Paul Wolfe and Ms. Duprés will be meeting us there."
They headed down to the Cook County Morgue.
* * * * * * * *
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