Arienne scuttled through the closing door, trying not to get hit in the process. She was loaded down with her typical three ring, writing circus.

"Hey Trouble. Want the usual?"

Blowing a few stray strands of hair from her eyes, Arienne smiled at Roger. "Thanks Rog, you're a doll!" Turning to take her usual seat - while digging through her bag for her favorite pen - Arienne didn't notice until she was there that the booth was occupied.

The blonde who was sitting there seemed to be in deep thought as she contemplated what looked like a large cup of Chai, and Arienne backed away so as not to disturb her.

Taking the booth directly in front of the blonde, Arienne began situating all her writing paraphernalia. She was digging in the bottom of one of her bags - still looking for her pen - when Roger brought her au lait. She glanced up and smiled; about to say thanks, when she noticed that Roger was looking at the blonde with an expression very close to pity. "Roger?" Arienne said quietly.

Roger glanced back at Arienne and sighed. "I'm sorry, Trouble. Did you need anything else?"

Arienne dipped her finger in the Ready Whip that topped her au lait and said, "What's wrong?" Watching Roger's face, she could see that he was debating whether to misinterpret her question - pretending that she was asking about him - or answer her curiosity about the beautiful blonde that was so obviously troubled.

Roger blew out a breath and said softly, "I don't really know. She always seems a little sad when she comes in, but today is the worst I've seen. I can usually tease her enough to make her smile, but today," He shook is head, causing his curling gray hair to slide across his forehead. "I don't think she even saw or heard me. She just came in and sat down. I brought her usual out, but she didn't say anything. She's been there for the last twenty minutes and hasn't so much as moved except to take a couple of sips of that Chai and caress that cell phone."

For the first time, Arienne noticed the cell phone that lay on the blonde's table. Her index finger was tracing a line around the outside of it as if she was willing it to ring...or dreading it. "Thanks. Roger." Roger nodded and walked back to his counter.

Arienne shook her head and started shuffling through her things again. Locating her pen, she started editing one of the three stories she'd brought with her, and tried not to think about why the pretty blonde could be so worried. Just chalk it up to me being a writer, she thought, curiosity is in our nature. The thought that immediately followed was that she was trying to justify her nosiness. Shaking her head again, she focussed on her task.

She'd just gotten into the groove, and almost forgotten about the blonde when Roger's phone rang. Directly in front of her, Arienne heard some kind of silverware hit the table then the floor just before the sound of a jolted shuffle across vinyl seating. Glancing up, Arienne saw a fleeting panic cross the blonde's face before she closed her eyes and breathed again.

In that instant, remembering how jumpy she had been that first night she spoke to Michael after her nightmare, Arienne made a decision. Setting aside her pen and papers, she scooted out of her booth and walked up to the blonde who still had her eyes closed. "Excuse me, is there anything wrong?" The blonde's eyes flew open and she had the look of a cornered cat for a few seconds before her expression blanked. She said nothing. Arienne sighed. "Look, you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to. It wouldn't offend me. I just thought you looked like you needed a friendly ear."

Standing there for a few more seconds, Arienne began to believe this had been a mistake. She turned to go back to her table.

"Wait." It was almost inaudible.

Arienne almost missed it because it sounded more like "White" to her, but she turned and saw that the blonde was looking at her with large blue eyes that looked watery and a little red rimmed.

"Have a seat." A little louder this time.

Grabbing her au lait from her table, but leaving the rest, Arienne sat down across from the other woman. They looked at each other uncomfortably for a few moments before Arienne spoke. "Would you like to talk about it?"

The blonde breathed deeply before answering, "Not really," there was a lengthy pause and Arienne caught a distinct accent. English maybe? More likely Australian or New Zealand, she thought. "I just want to sit. Have a normal conversation. Drink my tea, and...breathe." She glanced down quickly as if to say how silly it all sounded - even to her.

Arienne smiled, "It's okay. I understand." Leaning forward Arienne's smile widened a little. "You know, a few weeks ago, I had been having nightmares. I came here when I couldn't sleep, and this man came in and, I don't know why, but I ended up telling him all about my nightmares." Her smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "It really helped just to have someone listen."

The blonde just looked at her before changing the subject. "So, what do you do?"

"Oh, uh, I'm a writer actually. Short stories mostly...I've been able to live off my submissions without a regular job. Though I suppose some might call me a starving artist."

"What do you write about?"

Arienne was taken back for a moment: she'd heard that question before. "Well, mostly my stories revolve around strong women. Whether the emotion is love, humor, or sorrow, I try to make sure my women characters are women that I would want to be friends with, you know what I mean?"

The blonde gave a breathy partial laugh. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

They were quiet for a moment, each taking sips of their respective drinks, both still a little uncomfortable with the situation. "So, what about you?" asked Arienne.

"I...I'm in...security."

Arienne didn't know quite what to say, as the blonde spoke with such finality. "Security?"

The blonde sat up a little straighter, "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?" It was said in a friendly voice, but the message was clear...no job talk.

Arienne took the hint gracefully, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I just started talking and didn't think about it." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Arienne."

The blonde looked at the proffered hand for a moment before shaking it. "Nikita."

Everything within Arienne froze. How many "Nikita's" could there be? Could this be Michael's Nikita? To cover her thoughts, Arienne said conversationally, "That's an unusual name."

"I never really thought about it. I suppose it is." Nikita smiled a little and took another sip of her tea.

They were both quiet, a little uncomfortable again. Arienne wondered if she should bring up Michael's name before deciding against it. He had said she was hiding something from him: perhaps they still weren't on good terms.

Roger came back over with new drinks for both of them. "These are on the house ladies. Gotta keep my best customers happy."

Nikita smiled a little and Arienne said, "Thanks Doll."

Before Roger turned away, he said, "Oh, hey Trouble, Michael was here the other day. He asked how you were doing. I told him you were into everything as usual."

Roger cackled as he turned away, and Arienne gave a sickly laugh, not sure if she wanted to slink under the table or cry. She'd seen Nikita give a small jerk at the sound of his name and could see now, out of the corner of her eye, that Nikita was staring at her.

"Who's Michael? Ex-boyfriend?" The question sounded innocent, but there was intensity beneath the words, that bellied the offhanded tone.

Arienne sought to rectify the situation immediately. "Oh, no! He's just a man I met here about two months ago. I told you that I had been having nightmares? Well, he is the man that I talked to. He really helped me...told me that he has nightmares too sometimes." Arienne smiled softly at the memory. "But his aren't so bad anymore."

Nikita leaned forward as if to drink in every word. "You care about him a lot. Don't you?"

Arienne looked surprised - about to deny it - but then she sighed. "Well, I guess I care about him as much as you can care about a person you've only met twice." She shook her head at the wonder of it, "I don't know. We seemed to just click from the start."

"What does he look like?"

Was that underlying dread? Arienne was afraid she hadn't made clear, the relationship she had with Michael. "He's kind of tall, longish, curly red-brown hair, green eyes, athletic...always wears black."

Nikita leaned back in her seat. She looked defeated.

Arienne leaned forward to press home a point that she wasn't sure she should get into. She was pretty sure that Michael and Nikita's relationship had more layers than an onion. "You know, I asked him why his nightmares had gotten better." Nikita looked up - not really all that interested. "He wouldn't tell me. I don't think he would even have admitted it to himself if I hadn't brought it up." Arienne smiled a little and lowered her voice as if to divulge a great secret: then she dropped her bomb. "He's in love."

Nikita's eyes darted up to Arienne's face. She couldn't say anything.

Arienne smiled again. "Wow, look at the time! I really have to get going. It was really nice talking to you, Nikita." As she spoke, Arienne got up and shoved all her things into her bag. "Maybe I'll see you around. Bye." Arienne caught a fleeting look of bewilderment, despair, and hope as she turned to head out the door. Suddenly she stopped. She didn't want to leave Nikita with those last words. She didn't want her to go on wondering.

Making a decision, Arienne turned back to Nikita who was looking a little lost. With her free hand, she reached out and took The blonde's cold fingers in hers. "He loves you, Nikita." Nikita looked up and Arienne almost cried out at the naked pain that pooled in the eyes that burned a blowtorch flame blue. "Trust in that." Impulsively, Arienne gave Nikita's cold fingers a hard kiss and walked away.

End

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