| Subject: WTTS2 - 65 |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:08:51 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 65
By KT
Copyright June 25, 2000
Two-thirty a.m. Sabine woke abruptly to the sound of Nikita's screaming. She threw off her covers and moved swiftly down the hallway and entered her room. She laid her hands on Nikita's shoulders as her arms flailed and her back arched in terror, her breathing accelerated.
"Shhh, Nikita. It's me. It's Sabine." She spoke calmly, holding her down as the throes quieted. A moment later Nikita's eyes opened and she looked at Sabine without recognition. As her eyes began to focus, her breathing beginning to slow, she realized who was speaking, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Sabine," she whispered, "I... Michael..." She seemed confused. "He's not dead. We're all alive. Everything is... just fine." The tears escaped in streams down her face. Just fine, she thought. The bitterness strove to fight its way to the surface once again. She pushed it down, but her resisitance was weakening.
Sabine released her hold on Nikita. "I'll be right back." She returned with a glass of water and a tablet.
"Take this, mon enfant. It will help you sleep now." She cradled Nikita's head as she swallowed the tablet and sipped the water.
Nikita lay back and looked up at Sabine as the tears subsided. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Sabine hesitated. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Nikita slipped back into survival mode, her face a mask, shaking her head. She was afraid to close her eyes... afraid the nightmare of the shooting would return to haunt her. She loved Michael... so much that she had nearly given her life for him! But what was that life to be, now that she was... incapacitated? Michael loved her, but would he still want her if... Her voice broke as she asked Sabine the same question she had asked her mother.
"Sabine, what if I don't get better?"
Sabine's heart cracked a little, but she replied in the only way possible. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it. You must think only that you will be well. You must put all your energy toward your healing. To do otherwise will be to admit defeat. And between you, Roberta, and me, I will never let that happen."
The force of these heartfelt words hit Nikita hard. Sabine was looking deep into her eyes, deep into her soul. She dared speak her most dreaded concern.
"And what about... Michael?" Nikita's voice and eyes were filled with fear.
Sabine avoided answering directly. She knew she could not speak for Michael. "He was here tonight. He didn't ask me anything. He only wanted to see you."
Nikita's heart jumped. Michael here! She had been asleep. "And did he see me?"
"Yes."
"And did he say anything?"
"Only 'hi'". Sabine remembered how Michael was overcome with emotion as he'd entered the house.
"No, I mean about seeing me."
"I don't know. I fell asleep before he left. He must have been here for quite awhile."
Nikita suddenly pictured Michael sitting in the chair where Sabine now sat. She caught a faint remnant of his lingering scent. She looked about for his note. It had fallen to the floor with her book when the nightmare had overtaken her.
Sabine followed her look and picked up the items, placing them on the bed. She sat on the edge, letting Nikita gather her thoughts.
"Oh, Sabine. I've rehearsed the words again and again, but I just don't think I'm ready to face him yet." Her eyes pleaded. "Please, don't say anything if he calls."
Sabine pursed her lips in disapproval. She thought that honesty was always best, but she understood fear. "I can't promise you that, Nikita," she said sternly. "It compromises my every principal." Her tone lightened. "But I can promise you that I will do everything I can to help you. Now. Do you want to talk about your dream? Do you believe me when I say that I know it will help?" She was in nurse mode once again, but there was love and concern in her voice.
Nikita took a very deep breath as she stared back at Sabine. Courage, Nikita. Courage, she chanted silently. "Yes. I believe you. All right." She held back the new tears she felt welling up.
Sabine could see her discomfort. "It's all right, my dear. Just let everything out."
They cried and talked until the medicine took effect and Nikita slept once more, this time, without interruption. Exhausted, Sabine made her way back to the living room and sank back into a deep sleep, hopeful that things were at least moving in the proper direction.
* * * * * * * *
Michael woke slowly, his arm flung across the empty space next to him in the bed. He lay with eyes shut, a pang of longing in his heart. His body betrayed his aching desire as he stirred, his hips pressing into the featherbed as if to conjure Nikita beneath him. He rocked sensuously until he surrendered to his overwhelming physical need. His dreamy image of her faded as he came fully awake, rolling onto his back.
It was lonely here now without her, just as it had been on the bench at the lake. For the first time since Simone died, he felt lonely in his own bed. Michael sighed as his head turned and his eyes opened. Yes, the bed was still empty. He allowed himself to whisper Nikita's name into the air and reached out as if to caress her face, imagining her eyes close to his, so full of wonder and trust, soft and satiated by their love-making...
Michael rose quickly from the bed. He needed a cold shower. Now.
* * * * * * * *
Sabine rose early and found Michael's note on the kitchen table. It was folded, and had Nikita's name on it. She didn't open it, but took it back to Nikita's room. Nikita was still asleep, so Sabine set the note on the night table where she would find it when she awoke. She looked in on Roberta, who was awake and reading quietly. They exchanged smiles.
"I'll have your cuppa shortly."
"Thank you, Sabine. Is Nikita up?"
"Not yet. She needs as much rest as she can get right now. How are you?"
"Better thanks. But... I thought I heard a disturbance last night."
"Oh, it wasn't anything. Nikita just had a restless episode."
Roberta nodded and returned to her book.
Gwen arrived at the house and she and Sabine were sitting in the kitchen having tea, putting together a shopping list and planning some housecleaning activity. Both were worried about their charges, but knew that only time would change things. There was a knock at the door and Jamie let himself in.
"Good morning, ladies." He swept his hand through the air, making a graceful bow. They laughed. "I do hope I'm not too late for tea. Please, don't get up." Jamie noted Sabine's tired appearance as he hung his coat over the back of a kitchen chair. He poured himself a cup and sat, giving Sabine a look of scrutiny.
She ignored his penetrating gaze. "Good morning, Jamie. We were just forming a plan for the day. I have your duties all lined out."
"Why, thank you, Sabine." He pretended a sarcastic rebuttal. "But you know I can only stay for a half day. I have my other patients to attend to. Ah, just kidding. I'm yours for the whole day."
"How did we get so lucky?" she feigned sarcasm back. She got a grin out of him with that. "Now Jamie, Gwen and I have to run some errands. What I need from you is to attend to Roberta first. She should get up, if possible. If not, she'll need some massage. And a bath. A sponge bath will do. And I know she'd like you to read to her."
Jamie nodded. That sounded easy enough. "And Nikita?"
Sabine knew that Nikita would not be easy, given her present state of upset. But Jamie would find that out on his own. "She should have massage and physical therapy. I know you are very capable in these areas." She handed him the paper describing Nikita's program. "Read this over first. I'm sure you won't have any questions."
Jamie's face broke into a mischievous smile. "And does she need a sponge bath too?"
Sabine shot him a glare. "I'll take care of that when I return, if you please." Her face softened. She knew he was only teasing. "Besides, you might regret making the attempt."
"A bit feisty, is she?" he returned with a grin. Jamie studied Sabine. "And you, Madame? What do you need?"
"A good night's sleep, to begin with," she retorted. Sabine stood up. "We need to get going. Oh, and please, don't answer the phone. Let the machine do it." She and Gwen took their leave.
* * * * * * * *
It was the usual mid-morning lull at the Café de Marseilles, and Walter was disgruntled, as his prospective trainee hadn't shown up yesterday or today. When he called the number she'd given him, he got an automated message that the number had been disconnected. He was exasperated, talking to himself, when the bell tinkled gently as the door opened and in walked...
Walter's face lit up as his eyes beheld Sabine de Lac. She strode across the room and sat down at the counter. As their eyes met, he studied her face and saw the weary lines and worry behind her easy smile. He walked around and sat next to her.
"Bon jour, Madame," he said, knowing it would please her. He was rewarded by a flash of her lovely eyes.
"Bon jour, Monsieur," she answered, her heart doing a little flutter. Sabine shook herself. She needed to stay focused on her errand.
"So, what can I do for you today?" Walter asked in his best proprietor's voice.
"I was wondering, Walter. There is something I need to discuss with you, but I want it to be just between us for now. Could you agree to that?"
"Of course." He felt elated that she would consider him a confidant.
Sabine was relieved that he was so accepting without asking questions. "It's about Nikita's mother. She has requested some special conditions regarding her passing, and I know that she doesn't have much money put away."
Walter waited, wondering where she was going with this. He knew from his conversations with Michael that Nikita had attended college on a scholarship, and that their family was not blessed with wealth. Sabine continued as he listened attentively.
"The hospice program pays for its expenses, but the recent events which have Nikita currently, uh, disabled, well... I was wondering... the money from the benefit concert... could some of it help pay for Roberta's brief hospital stay?"
Walter was excited. "Well, I don't see why not. It was Birkoff's plan all along that the money be used to get Roberta to accept treatment of some kind. Since that's not going to happen, then this might be a good way to use it." His eyes twinkled a bit into hers, but Sabine's expression remained serious.
"That's not all, Walter." Sabine paused a moment as she considered her next statement. "Roberta has requested that she be cremated, since she does not own a cemetery plot. We planned to discuss this with Nikita before all this craziness happened, but since the shooting, have not had the opportunity. It won't cost much, but I thought that some of the rest of the money might be used to cover these expenses. We'll need a suitable receptacle for the ashes as well."
Sabine waited, letting Walter take all this in. She watched as he thought about it.
Walter marvelled at how Sabine could discuss these difficult things so dispassionately, but he knew that she was a professional and had seen much death. Naturally she would have learned to be detached. It would be a matter of self-protection. He felt nothing but respect for her at this moment.
"I think your request is perfectly acceptable, and it certainly fulfills the requirements for the use of the money. I'll give Birkoff a call and let him know. He'll get back in touch with you." He reached out and tenderly took her hand in his, raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss.
Sabine blushed as she felt the warmth of the kiss, and her serious expression changed to one of joy and relief.
"Thank you, Walter. I just knew I could talk to you about this." She squeezed his hand and rose to leave, but he held onto her.
"You're welcome. But... At least let me make you a cup of espresso," he offered, selfishly not wanting her to go just yet.
Sabine read his motive. "I'd like that very much. But I can only visit for a few minutes more. I have other errands, and another nurse is covering for me today, so I don't want to take advantage. It would be inconsiderate."
Walter nodded, and set about making the coffee. What a woman!
* * * * * * * *
Nikita had awakened and tried to roll over in the bed. Her legs were like lead weights, but she managed to get her body sideways. As she lay feeling a bit frustrated, her eyes lit on Michael's note. She opened it gingerly and read.
"My love, you are so beautiful. Especially when you sleep. I have kept watch over you. I missed you as I sat by the lake last night. Until tomorrow, Michael." The end of the note was marked by tiny stars in the shape of the Big Dipper.
She whispered his name as she folded the note and set it back on the table, her stomach tightening with fear. How to tell him... Nikita searched her heart, but no inspiration was forthcoming. Her dilemma remained unsolved for the time being.
Nikita called out for Sabine. Footsteps came down the hall toward her door. She looked up expectantly, but her gaze was met by the startling blue eyes of Jamie Alexander. She felt instantly shy, pulling her covers up over her chest and shoulders. Jamie approached, a new waste bag in hand, as he checked her catheter.
Nikita hated this reminder of her condition. A frown drew her eyebrows together, and Jamie noted her expression through veiled eyes. She certainly was a good-looking woman, even when she was cross. He went about his business, speaking carelessly.
"Good morning Nikita."
She wanted to remain sullen, but his casual tone disarmed her. "Oh, hi Jamie."
"Would you care for some tea and breakfast?"
She responded with a bit of enthusiasm, feeling truly hungry for the first time since the surgery. "That would be lovely."
Nikita rolled back onto her pillow, hoisting herself with her arms until she was sitting upright, and smoothed the bedclothes in anticipation of a tray. But Jamie burst her bubble.
"OK. See you in the kitchen in a few minutes." He exited.
Nikita sulked. In the kitchen? Just how did he expect her to get there? Levitate? She glared as he returned with the wheelchair and positioned it next to her bed. Jamie looked directly at her.
"Your chariot, Mademoiselle."
He stood by as she struggled into the chair, her nightgown bunched up around her hips. Jamie stared briefly at her legs, noting their lovely length and shapely form. Nikita looked coldly at her legs as she leaned from side to side, supported by her strong arms, pulling the gown down to cover herself. She sighed as she reached over and hung the waste bag on the side of the chair.
As Nikita wheeled herself into the kitchen, she heard the phone ringing. Jamie ignored it. He heard her take in a little breath as she listened to the concerned male voice leaving a message. He cocked an eyebrow as he observed the wistful expression and slow flush that colored her face as the caller hung up. Why, she was in love! So that was the problem. Jamie's natural compassion was roused by her reaction. He resolved not to be so hard on her.
Nikita though, sighed in resignation. This was going to be one long day.
* * * * * * * *
Michael sat in his office trying to concentrate on his work, but all he could think about was Nikita. He had advised Paul and Madeleine that she had been released from the hospital and was being cared for at home by Sabine. He told them a little about his visit with her in the recovery room, and that from what he had seen, she had all her faculties intact.
Michael had called Roberta's, but the machine answered. He left a message, but so far, there had been no response. He had hoped that Nikita wanted to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to her. He regretted not waking her last night. He missed just looking into her eyes, connecting with her inner spirit, and feeding his own soul on the love he knew to be there.
Michael glanced at his watch. Sectional was scheduled for one o'clock. They were working on the ninth symphony of Beethoven, to be performed in a month. There were chorus rehearsals, and of course, the soloists. The strings had rigorous parts, and Michael anticipated long sessions. There was also an all-Mozart concert on the schedule, and those sectionals would be really demanding.
He sighed. So much to do. And right now, his heart wasn't in it.
Michael headed over to the Café for a bit of lunch before the brutal afternoon schedule kicked in. As he sat down at the counter, Michael caught Walter's eye and tried to put on a lighthearted smile. But Walter read his distress immediately. You didn't work with a person for over four years and not know something about their moods. He pretended not to notice.
"Hi, Michael. Say, you just missed Sabine. She stopped in for a chat."
Michael's spirits lifted for just a minute, and he eyed Walter with a knowing glance. "I think you like her more than you let on," he teased. He ordered his lunch and sat brooding.
Walter looked up at Michael as he set his food on the counter. "So, you're worried. What gives?"
"It's Nikita. I wrote her a note to call me yesterday at work, and another to let her know I had been to the house. I called her today, but the machine answered, so I left a message. She hasn't called me back. It's strange. I know she's there! I saw her last night." It was a tremendous relief to finally express his anxiety. "Did Sabine say anything to you about her?"
"No. Actually, she talked about Roberta. Said she wanted to use some of the funds from the benefit for her expenses. I told her that was just fine. She didn't say anything at all about Nikita." Walter leaned on his elbows. "It's kinda funny, now that you mention it. You'd think she'd have some news to tell. She didn't seem anxious to hang around too long either."
Walter got busy, and their conversation went unresolved. Michael finished his meal and headed back to the Hall. He made up his mind to go straight to Roberta's after work. It couldn't be too soon.
He was a demon at the sectional.
* * * * * * * *
Egran Petrosian was arrested as he emerged from his gallery. Marcus O'Brien was gratified by the astonished look on his face as he read him his rights, cuffed him, and stuffed him in the squad car. Petrosian protested loudly, but O'Brien and the assisting officer were totally oblivious to his ranting.
"You'll get your phone call and your lawyer just as soon as we get you down to the Lockup."
O'Brien's patience with this slime was stretched about as thin as it could get. Karen's confession had him dead to rights. And the evidence confirmed it. It would be a pleasure to put him away after all the years Petrosian had spent out-maneuvering the law with his slick alibis. Not this time.
"You're not going to keep me in that infernal..."
"Save it, Petrosian." Marcus was striving to remain detached, but if the guy pushed him, he'd be glad to show him a little police 'hospitality'. There was tense silence for the rest of the ride.
A guard met them at the door and escorted them to the holding area. As they passed by Karen's cell, her uncle glared at her with a look that came straight from Hell.
"I warned you!" he hissed, with subdued outrage.
* * * * * * * *
Sabine and Gwen spent the rest of the day grocery shopping and making arrangements for Roberta. She had asked that they not discuss her plans with Nikita. She wanted to do that herself.
Jamie put Roberta through her regimen as Sabine had requested. He fixed lunch for them, and settled Roberta in for the afternoon. He then proceeded with Nikita's physical therapy. She dutifully performed all that was required of her, and was grateful for the massage therapy. Jamie was his usual cheery self, but nothing he said or did could bring Nikita out of her doldrums.
After the session, Nikita sat in her chair in the living room, staring at her piano. Music had always been her refuge, the place where her soul went to heal itself. But she didn't feel much like playing right now.
Jamie watched her from the kitchen, his heart going out to her, wishing there was more he could do. But he knew that only she could decide to fight for herself. Only she could decide that it was worth the effort. As he stood observing her, she turned and looked at him across the room. Her eyes fell as she struggled with her feelings.
Nikita moved to the stereo and chose a CD. As she wheeled herself into the kitchen, the strains of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 followed her, and her heart gave itself up to its lyrical soaring beauty. Jamie poured a cup of tea for each of them, and they sat in silence while the music worked its magic.
* * * * * * * *
Michael worked furiously as the rest of the afternoon flew by. He managed to get all his paperwork in order, and concluded his post-sectional critique with Paul Wolfe. At last, he couldn't wait another minute. He needed to see Nikita, to make sure she was all right. He grabbed his jacket and helmet and took off for Roberta's.
As he pulled up to the house, he noted the strange car parked in front. He bounded up the porch steps and knocked at the door, once again letting himself in without waiting for an answer. He stepped into the living room, tossing his things on the couch, and heard the sounds of the second movement of the Rachmaninoff floating out of the stereo. Michael smiled as he heard Nikita's voice.
"Sabine? Is that you? Jamie has been waiting for you and Gwen..."
"Jamie?" he thought, "who is Jamie?" Michael heard a strange sound, and Nikita appeared, wheeling herself into the room. He stared, completely immobilized, as his eyes widened and his heart pounded hard. She stopped dead as her eyes met Michael's, her hands moving to cover her mouth as she gasped with surprise. Time ceased to flow as they held each other's gaze. Slowly, a silent plea for forgiveness overtook her features, then her head dropped forward in shame.
Nikita's voice was incredibly soft. "Oh, Michael. I..."
"Shhh..."
She felt his hands cradle her face as he knelt beside the chair. His warm lips met hers in a searching kiss. She held back, then circled her arms around his shoulders, unable to fight the devotion and desperation in the kiss. Her eyes closed as she surrendered to his tender assault. His senses reeled as he breathed her in, his heart suspended in his chest.
Now he knew why she hadn't called.
Jamie exited the kitchen in alarm to check on Nikita. He came to an abrupt halt as he beheld the lovers, then quietly retreated, not wanting to disturb them. He needn't have worried. They never heard him come or go.
Michael pulled back and looked deeply into Nikita's eyes. They didn't speak. He took hold of her chair and pushed it down the hall to her room. He reached under her, gathering her in his arms, and carried her to her bed, careful of the tubing. He laid her down and closed the door. His shoes came off, and he stretched out next to her, taking her into his embrace as he battled with his emotions. After a moment, her arms tightened around him.
"Please Michael. Just hold me."
He felt her warm breath on his ear as he buried his face against her shorn hair. They lay listening to the last of the concerto, drifting into sleep together, undisturbed by nightmares or longing, bound by forces greater than either of them had ever known.
* * * * * * * *
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