| Subject: WTTS2 - 62 |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 20:54:37 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 62
By KT
Copyright June 10, 2000
Gwen sat uneasily in the deep quiet of Room 112. This was harder than she thought it would be.
Roberta lay agonizing over the news her daughter had just imparted to her. Unable to walk! It was as if all her dear dreams were disintegrating, and the personal hope she'd held for Nikita - that she fulfill her musical ambitions and perhaps find a life mate in Michael - was dissolving rapidly. She was powerless. She wanted to cry, but felt that she had to be strong for Nikita. What an irony!
Nikita stared into space, at a loss for the words to comfort her mother. She'd told her it was only a temporary condition, but the shock and pity she'd seen on Roberta's face was just too much.
"Why? Why did this have to happen now?" she thought, trying to keep her despondency in check. This was the very last thing her Mom needed at this already difficult time. Nikita searched her heart, but only silence answered.
The door opened and Sabine and the doctors entered. Gwen looked up expectantly. Sabine gazed intently at Nikita. Her voice was firm.
"I believe we have something we all need to discuss." She gave her a moment. "Mon enfant?"
Nikita took a deep breath and prayed at the same time. This was not her favorite "music" to be facing.
* * * * * * * *
After the session at the morgue, Michael spent the rest of his Sunday afternoon with Paul and Madeleine at the Hall. There was no way they would be able to keep the events out of the news. They mapped out a publicity strategy to attempt to minimize the impact of the facts of the shooting and the discovery of Zalman's remains.
He wanted to return to the hospital and be with Nikita, and it was all Michael could do to focus on the task at hand. Every time there was a lull in the conversation, his thoughts would shift to the sight of her as she lay unconscious in the recovery room. Even his beloved martial arts training wasn't helping. Recounting the incidents and thinking of the horror of Zalman's demise just made things worse. Finally he looked at his colleagues and confessed.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't concentrate on this any longer. Would it be all right if I excused myself?"
Madeleine gave him a direct stare. "We really need your input on this, Michael, especially since you've been so closely implicated with both Karen and Jaime." Her voice was a bit colder than she had intended. She had been repulsed by Zalman's gruesome death, but not having been present at the Wirth's, couldn't know how close Michael had come to being shot by Karen.
Paul however was keenly connected to Michael's dilemma. His heart went out to the younger man, and he allowed his deep affection to surface briefly. "Madeleine, please. I think we should give Michael some breathing room here. He has been through quite a lot in the past twenty-four hours." He nodded his approval. "Go ahead, Michael. We'll see you tomorrow."
Michael gave Paul a grateful look, but his face remained serious. "Thank you."
After Michael left, they stood facing each other, energy crackling between them.
"Madeleine," Paul's voice was ominous, "are you completely heartless? What were you thinking? This is Michael! And we need to show some compassion. If we lose him now, it will be a long road back. He's come so far. I won't have you pushing him like that without reason."
Madeleine flinched as Paul's reprimand hit her. Her resentment factor went up a notch, but she kept her expression neutral. "Of course, Paul. Sorry." Her apology was minimal. For once, she was weary of their verbal sparring.
"Now, we need to work on updating our personnel background files. Everyone will go through a second screening. And we're going to set up a new personal history questionnaire for job applicants. Much more thorough. We need to ensure that this will never happen again."
* * * * * * * *
Gwen was stunned at Nikita's news, but held her peace. Her concern was mainly for Roberta's welfare, and now she understood the dead silence she had faced when she returned from her walk. Roberta however appeared to be holding up bravely. Sabine spoke out.
"So, do we have a plan?" She looked all round. "Nikita, you'll stay in hospital until the doctors feel you're stable and regaining strength. Perhaps three to five days?" The doctors confirmed this. "And Roberta will stay here with you." Sabine smiled as though she had a secret she was bursting to tell.
Nikita had said nothing since relaying her news. Now she was curious. "And then?"
"And then, you both go home! The doctors have given their permission for me to administer your physical therapy program, and I'll be staying with you on a twenty-four hour basis. We'll have what little equipment we need brought in, and we will begin our healing journey all together." Sabine seemed very pleased with this arrangement.
She turned to Gwen, her voice softening. "Gwen, you will be a part of this as well. We will be relying on you for our meals and helping to keep the household running smoothly. Nothing very different from what you've already been doing. We need you, my dear, so very much."
Gwen glanced at Roberta, who was sending her an approving look. "Thank you. You know I'm happy to help."
Dr. Spence looked pointedly at Nikita. "We'll allow Sabine to take charge of your rehabilitation program, Nikita. We feel that she will be more than competent. We understand that your mother is under hospice care, and that she wishes to return home as soon as possible. What we really need to hear from you is that you intend to fully cooperate with Sabine, or we will keep you here. Can you assure us that you will be compliant?"
Dr. Herrington interjected firmly. "Sabine has been instructed to let us know if any problems or obstacles occur that can't be handled in the home. If they arise and persist, we will have you back here pronto."
Nikita knew that the doctors meant business. "I promise. I'll be good. Really." She tried, but couldn't disguise her lack of enthusiasm.
The doctors left and dinner arrived. Nikita was still on IV fluids, but was encouraged by Sabine to take some clear liquids. She didn't really have an appetite, but tried to eat to please her Mom and Sabine. All she could think of were all the people who had to be told about her condition and the effect it would have on the Symphony... Paul Wolfe... Madeleine... Adrian... and......
Michael.
* * * * * * * *
Egran Petrosian entered the stuffy interrogation room at the County Lockup, followed by his lawyer Gerald Price. As they sat across the table from Karen, Detective O'Brien and the guard exited. They would observe from the next room, but without the benefit of audio surveillance. This conversation was deemed confidential.
Petrosian and Price had been fully briefed on the shooting incident and the discovery of Jaime Zalman's body at the Hall. They had read Michael's eyewitness account, and knew that the other witnesses were to give their testimony in the morning. Karen was listless, her hands fidgeting nervously in the cuffs. She'd been without drugs for over eight hours, and was dangerously close to her edge.
"Well, my dear," Petrosian's tone was frigid, "it seems you have got yourself into something that even I can't get you out of."
Price was emotionally detached. He turned on his tape recorder. "Miss Kent. I need your complete cooperation. I'm going to ask you some questions and I need you to answer with total honesty. Otherwise, I won't be able to help you."
"Help me?" She mocked him with a sarcastic laugh. "What for?" Her eyes were dull.
As Karen revealed the details of Zalman's captivity and murder, Price went into mild shock. He began to feel ill as he realized that this woman didn't care whether she lived or died. He duly recorded her entire confession, knowing that sentencing would not be lenient. This was truly cold-blooded pre-meditated murder.
Price turned off his tape recorder. He looked at Karen without pity. She was as good as dead. He gathered his things to go. For now, he would recommend that Karen be held at the Cook County Jail until arraignment. He turned to his client.
"Egran?"
"Just a moment. I'd like a private word with my niece."
Price nodded. "I'll tell the guard." He slipped out, closing the door. Even the stale air of the hallway seemed fresh in comparison to the interior of that room. O'Brien was waiting. Price nodded to him.
"Full confession. All on tape. I'll get the transcription to you asap."
Marcus exhaled audibly. This ought to be a fascinating read. "Thank you."
Inside, Petrosian was menacing Karen with his parting words, speaking very slowly and deliberately. "If you so much as breathe my name in connection with your outrageous crimes, you'll wish you had never been born."
"You call that a threat?" She already wished it.
* * * * * * * *
Michael rushed back to Weiss, but was too late. Visiting hours were over. He left a note, making the nurse at the Intensive Care desk promise five times that she would see that Nikita received it.
He drove his bike down to the lake and trod to his favorite bench. He sat watching the water rise and fall in its age-old rhythm, the glassy surface darkening as the very last of the sun's molten streaks faded. The wind was calm for a change, and the stars were just beginning to twinkle in the unusually clear evening sky. He looked up, studying the Big Dipper, and Orion, and the Pleiades. He stared at the North Star, thinking how calm the heavens looked in comparison to the turmoil down below.
It was lonely here without Nikita. So many nights he'd sat on this bench and never felt lonely. And now... Michael closed his eyes and images that he held of her in his mind played loose and lovely - her smile, her compassion, her exquisite intensity when she played. Her sorrow, her fear. Her trust. All gifts freely given. All gifts lovingly bestowed.
Michael gave thanks for the presence of Sabine and the friendship of Gwen and Birkoff, and the concern of Walter. He felt reluctant tears steal down his cheeks as he finally let go and softly cried his relief. She was alive. That was all that mattered. They would get through this. Together.
* * * * * * * *
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