ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.


Nikita sauntered down the immaculate white halls to the heart of the Section, if it could be called a heart. Her heels clicked on the cold floor and she nodded a hello to Walter as she stood past him. Purposefully, she yanked open the double doors and entered Madeline's chambers. Madeline watched her from the railing where she stood. Nikita removed her cat's eye sunglasses and looked around. She had wildly paired faux green snake skin pants with a fuschia satin tank. Somehow, flamboyance worked for Nikita. ^She's rebellious. She thinks that by wearing something so obviously *her* that she can be different than us, set apart from us.^ Madeline smiled at her own reserved attire and descended the stairs.

Nikita plopped into a chair and looked up through her eyelashes with a look that said 'We've gone through this before. It won't change me.' Madeline sat slowly and gracefully, the perfect subtle rebuke to Nikita's childish demeanor.

"I've noticed, Nikita."

"Noticed *what*? Nikita asked, suspiciously.

"Your attitude. You are reclusive, withdrawn and moody." she sighed before continuing. "I know what he meant to you."

"Do you?" Nikita asked coldy.

Madeline smiled, noting Michael's ability to deflect with questions in Nikita.

"You must forget him, Nikita. Your effectiveness must not be compromised." Nikita pursed her lips and nodded.

"He will heal. And so will you." Madeline's brown eyes were firm. Nikita's eyes stung with tears as she recalled Gray. Madleine noted the progress. Nikita knew she had to get out before she broke down.

"Is that all?" She asked angrily, looking away.

"For now," Madeline emphasized. Nikita flipped down her sunglasses and stood. Madeline sat back and watched her disappear behind the closing doors.

************************************

The sultry violin of Leila Josefowicz glided from Nikita's speakers. She stood in front of her French doors, crying. Snow blanketed everything and glimmered like daimonds. The edges of the clouds blurred into the edges of the nearly colorless sky. A sharp knock on the door disturbed her thoughts.

Hastily wiping her tears away, she leaned up to peer through the peekhole. It was Micheal. She unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He noticed her red eyes and sloppy clothes. It was unusual to see her in sweat pants, even working out. He raised his eyebrows and went to sit down.

"So, Micheal what brings you here?" She asked, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"What song is this?" He asked. She sighed, realizing he was evading her.

"'Moon over Bourbon Street.'" She sat down across from him.

"It's beautiful." He looked at her with that even, guarded gaze.

He reached across the distance between them and grabbed her hand.

"What's this?" Michaela didn't answer. Instead, he leaned over, inches from her lips, his breath warm. Nikita stood up, quickly.

"What's wrong?"

"Why this? Why *now*?" Nikita eyed him warily.

"Why not?" He neared her again and she backed up.

"I don't understand."

"What's to understand? why fight?" Her reached out and gently grabbed her elbows, pulling her to him. She let him wrap her in his arms. With a deep sigh, she let her head fall onto his shoulder. She began to cry.

************************

Nikita looked up through her bangs over to where Michael was buying coffee. A cup of coffee was like a safety step for them. Every time they drew close, they got coffee. It had become a signal from Michael. Michael walked slowly to the table, holding the two mugs, whose steam unfurled lazily into the air. He handed one to Nikita who smiled, the smile that seemed to melt the ice in his heart.

"Tell me." Michael insisted.

"Oh, it's nothing. Life in the Section is getting to me again." She blew on the coffee to cool it.

"I can offer you advice if you tell me." Michael pressed. Nikita did not want to tell him she was thinking of Gray again, of the engagement ring he had left in her flat when she kicked him out.

"Just be my friend," she suggested, shrugging her shoulders as if to disqualify the implications of her offer.

"I have been." Michael countered.

"I just don't want to be alone." With a shock, she realised it was true. She *was* lonely. Michael reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

"I'm not going anywhere." she smiled gratefully as he lifted his coffee, never taking his green eyes form hers.

*************************************************

Micheal stirred the sauce that simmered over her stove. He was making her dinner. He closed the refrigerator, looking breifly at the ugly collage she had made there. He smiled at it and continued silently stirring.

Nikita was in her room, changing out of her slumy sweats. She could feel her sadness lifting. she drew on jeans and a pale blue sweater. she yanked a brush through her hair and took a deep breath. She would make this anything more thatn it already was.

As she bounded down the stairs, a knock on her door broke the silence of her apartment. "I'll get it." she said. Carla was on the other side of the door, hands hooked in her overalls.

"Hey!" Carla smiled as the door swung open. "What smells so good?"

"Oh...nothing." Nikita knew inviting Carla for dinner would make Micheal merely a friend, sending her away would make him a lover. she decided to let Micheal choose. He shook his head. No. Send her away."

"Look, Carla, I have company. Can I call you tomorrow?" Carla grinned and craned her head, trying to see who was there.

"*Company*?" Carla grinned.

"Caarrla." Nikita moaned.

"OK, Nik, see you tomorrow." Carla turned for her apartment as Nikita shut the door.

Nikita decided to put on some music. She set the CD on the track she wanted and let it play.

"That's pretty. What is it?" asked Micheal.

"Expression of Loneliness."

Micheal carried the spaghetti into the living room and served Nikita.

"Who was at the door?"

"My neighbor, Carla" she twirled long, saucy noodles around her fork. he nodded.

"Isn't she 'company'?" He asked, referring to her loneliness.

"Can't talk to her about the Section." He nodded swirling spaghetti with his fork.

"So what is it?" He pressed.

"This is good." He sighed.

"Nikita..."

"It's nothing I can't handle. I just wanted to be with someone."

"Nikita, how long do you need to be with someone?" He asked frankly.

"Don't know. 'Till I feel...happy." She shoved noodles into her mouth. Her lips were covered with sauce. Michael loved to watch her eat. She always gobbled everything down with relish. She loved food.

"May I ask if I need a toothbrush?" She looked puzzled and he smiled. She grinned, he rarely smiled widely. He looked like a little boy.

"You always need a toothbrush." Then,she realized how that had sounded.

"I mean, after you eat." He smiled, catching her meaning and began to eat again. He stopped and stared at her. Noodles were hanging out of her mouth. She looked up, intense eyes like an animal's guarding its food. He remebered how feline her movements were. She slowly slurped the noodles in, still staring at him. He put down his fork and moved purposefully toward her. Her touched her cheek with his hand and looked into her eyes. He ate the sauce off of her lips and began kissing her. Gray left her mind and all her thoughts and memories were for Michael.

Finis (the end)


BACK TO SAVED AUTHORS G-H

BACK TO SAVED AUTHORS MAIN INDEX

LFN STORYBOARD ARCHIVES MAIN PAGE

LFN LINKS PAGE