Disclaimer: I don't own the movie "Nikita" or the series "La Femme Nikita".
All of the characters in this story, with the exception of Karrah, are
owned by Warner Brothers. I'm just borrowing them . I swear I'll put them
back when I'm done. So please, don't sue me. Karrah is mine.
If anyone wants to re-post this story anywhere, please ask permission first.
Summary- Seymour Birkoff and a Section operative named Karrah have fallen in love. Her p.o.v. of his death and Operation's decision to bring in his twin brother. Based on the episodes after "Abort, Retry, Fail, Terminate".
Karrah ran down the farmilliar corridors of Section One, fighting back tears. Section One operatives weren't supposed to show emotions; not if they wanted to avoid cancellation.
She pulled her long, dark hair from its ponytail and gently tossed it. Seymour had always loved her hair. she bit down on her lip, trying to clear her mind of the memory.
A bright summer day, during downtime . A picnic in a park ... The kinds of things that normal people were supposed to have. Normal people. People who were on the outside; who weren't Section One agents ...
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. Seymour was gone. He had died less than an hour ago, in the room at the end of this hall. He had sacraficed himself in order to destroy his creation before it had killed everyone in Section. He was dead and gone; she knew that she could cry over him later.
Karrah glanced over at his station, and at the empty chair from which Seymour had guided her on so many missions. She saw Nikita sit down in it and run her hand along the panel; Nikita had always been close to him.
Walter walked up behind her, his voice echoing through the room. "It's going to be okay, Sugar."
She couldn't hear Nikita's response, but she saw her shake her head and get up, walking out of Section. Walter glanced over at her, and then moved off into his small supply room to try and fix the mess that Seymour's A.I. program had created. He knew that Karrah needed to be alone right now.
She walked over to the panel, gently running her fingers along the top. Taking a deep breath, she touched the back of the leather seat, briefly wondering who would be sitting in it the next time that she saw it before chasing the thought away. All that mattered were her memories. She wasn't sure that she would ever trust someone else to moniter her while she was on her missions but, damn it, she had no choice.
Karrah turned and walked towards the front door of Section, not glancing at the lonely, empty seat again. She knew that if she saw it, she'd break down right here instead of at home. She had just reached the door, when she heard Operation's voice over the intercomm. "Karrah, before you go, I'd like to see you in my office."
She glanced up at the windows of the perch, but he had turned on the privacy mode, the glass darkened. She took a deep breath and turned back, crossing the room and ascending the stairs to his office. She knocked and then walked in, seeing Operations behind his desk, and Madeline sitting on the dark leather sofa. She moved up to the desk, standing at attention. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Even to her, her voice sounded thick with grief.
He looked up at her. "Yes, I did." He swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about Birkoff; I know what he meant to you. If you still want your two months of down time, it's yours, as promised. You can also save it for later."
Karrah knew that she needed to keep herself busy right now. The two months of peace that she and Seymour had planned to spend together would turn into two weeks of hellish solitude without him. "I think that I'd prefer to wait sir."
Madeline walked up to her. "If you need to talk about this, you know where to find me."
Karrah fought back tears. "Yes, ma'am."
Operations spoke then, trying to erase any trace of emotion from his voice and failing. "You're dismissed."
Karrah merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned and walked out of the door, moving to a run down the stairs. She ran outside of Section One and leaned against the building, brushing a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her black turtleneck.
She was glad that she was Level Three, and that she could have quarters outside of Section. Another memory popped into her mind.
Michael slipped the key from his pocket and handed it to her. "Go upstairs; apartment number 9B."
"Why," She spat out bitterly. "Is this another mission?" She was so tired. She'd been in Section for over a year now; a full-fledged operative for over three months. She was getting sick and tired of being constantly under a microscope. Her tiny room . ha, cell was more like it . in Section One was constantly monitered, but at least there she could have a hot shower and get some sleep. She didn't think that she could take a second mission tonight.
Michael sighed, pressing the key into her hand. "Just go. Birkoff will explain everything."
"Seymour?" She blinked suprisingly. She and Seymour had been 'seeing each other', which meant basically sneaking around. They'd meet in a storage room, or in Walter's little alcove just to talk for a few brief moments. As close to dating as they could get; as a level one operative, she wasn't allowed down time outside of Section's walls . not without Michael trailing her every move. The boldest thing that they'd ever done was to hold hands underneath the table as they sat next to one another during the one briefing that she'd been allowed to attend. Relationships weren't necessarily forbidden in Section One, but they were discouraged . Severely discouraged.
Michael smiled, something that she'd rarely seen her cold, distanced trainer do over the past year. "Do you think that you're the first two operatives to pair off?"
"I thought that we were being discreet ." She was so shocked that the insult that she felt at Michael's words was kept from her voice. She didn't like him already, and the way that he put it . 'Pair off' just seemed so blunt and cold. Like he was implying that she and Seymour wouldn't last . Karrah decided to be smart and keep the comments to herself. The last thing that she wanted was to piss off her trainer; Gods knew that he could make her life even more of a hell than it already was.
"That is unnecessary. Operations has decided to allow your relationship to continue; as Birkoff is not a field agent, it really poses no threat to Section. Go inside, apartment 9B. He will explain everything."
She just shook her head and walked inside, debating on pulling her gun. Michael hadn't said that she'd need it, but still . She pulled out her gun, taking the saftey off. Karrah didn't trust Michael; if he was lying, it wouldn't be the first time. She could usually read people, but Michael always seemed devoid of any emotion. She pointed it towards the floor and walked slowly down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.
She didn't run into anyone on her way up. She continued down the hallway, scanning the door numbers on the odd side of the hallway. She finally saw it at the end of the hallway. She slipped the key from her coat pocket, inserting it in the lock and twisting it. She opened the door as soon as it was unlocked and stood, gun up and ready.
Seymour was standing across the room, in front of a stove that was set in the black marble counter top. He looked over at her and smiled, unperturbed by the gun, as if finding a gun pointing at you was completely normal. In their line of work, it almost was. "Hey Kar."
She stepped inside, closing and locking the door, before putting away her gun. She smiled back at him, walking towards him. "Hey Seymour. So, I hear that the boss is gonna let us be a couple ."
"Yeah. Totally caught me off guard too. You look exhausted."He gestured towards one of the barstools that was on the counter on the opposite side of the stove.
She smiled gratefully and sat down, glancing around. The studio apartment was huge and done in black and dark reds. The look was very definatley gothic, a few different sized gargoyles strewn here or there as accents. A huge one crouched in the livingroom corner; it was about the size of a large dog. The windows were all covered in sumptuous drapes of a dark red velvet. A large, grapevine pentacle hung on one of the walls. As a kid she'd loved collecting gargoyles and other gothic stuff; it had always bugged her mother who loved rooms that were pink and flowery and frilly. She just couldn't remember Seymour telling her that he was into the whole goth look "Nice place you've got here . I love the gargoyles."
His smile broadened. "It's not mine."
"Then who's . " His smile told her everything. "You mean . ?"
"Yup, Kar. This place is yours. I asked Operations if I could redecorate it personally after he told me that he knew about us. You told me that you've always loved the goth look, and I know that you were pagan before you came to Section."
She smiled. "Thank you so much . This place is beautiful. Hey, I thought that level one operatives weren't allowed ."
"Surprise number two. Or should I say, level two?" Karrah just smiled, totally speechless. He went on. "Alright, I'm supposed to tell you a few things. Your codename is 'Satine'. If you're phone rings and you hear that, you're needed at Section. You can't let anyone know who you work for . if they ask, you work at that little bookstore-coffeeshop that's a few doors down. It's a Section outpost, so it's a safe cover. Just so it's credible, they want you to show up there a few times a week for a couple of hours. The briefcase on the coffetable has everything you'll need . birth certificate, liscence,credit cards . you know, everything that you'll need to get by. I have the only other copy of the door key . I can either keep it or give it you, whatever you want."
Karrah smiled. "Keep it; I have a feeling that you'll be over quite a bit ."
"Absolutely," Seymour said with a grin. "Why don't you go take a shower and get changed? Dinner'll be done in about twenty minutes."
The rest of the night had been absolutely wonderful. He'd lit candles around the room and dimmed the lights by the time she came back from her shower. They'd eaten dinner and talked until she nearly fell asleep, when he carried her to her bed and then let himself out.
Karrah broke into a run again, heading towards her apartment. She let the exercise clear her mind of the memory, concentrating on each footstep rather than on her pain. All too soon she reached her apartment building and walked inside, unlocking her door and moving inside. She turned and locked it; she wasn't suicidal, not yet at any rate. She looked around the room, every part of it holding some memory of herself and Seymour.
She went into the bathroom. A hot bath was what she needed. Karrah flicked on the light and turned on the water, as hot as it could go, letting it start to fill up the huge, black marble bath tub. She and Seymour had always disagreed on the temperature of the water.
"Damn, Kar." Seymour whined after sticking his foot into the water and immediatley jerking it out. "You like the water too hot."
Karrah, already in the sud-filled tub, grinned, splashing water at him. "Seymour, you can be such a baby sometimes."
He tried unsuccessfully to look upset; they always playfully teased one another. Insetead, he relied on his best weapon. The helpless-puppy-dog look."Could you run a little bit of cold water in. please?"
"No. not the look."She sighed, turning on the cold water tap. "Not fair."
He laughed. "Well, I have to win sometimes, don't I?"
Karrah turned and punched the wall. She would not do this to herself. She wouldn't start crying.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Seymour's toothbrush in the cup next to hers. She picked up the bright blue and white toothbrush, running a finger over the bristles, tears starting to spill down her cheeks. He was really gone.
Karrah woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She picked it up without opening her eyes. "Yes?"
"Satine."
"On my way." She groaned softly, hanging up the cell phone. Seymour wasn't going to like this. Their two months of downtime was supposed to start today. Reality hit her. Karrah rolled over, not opening her eyes yet. She didn't want to see the empty half of the bed; Seymour's half. She reached out, feeling only cold, satin sheets and felt a tear roll down her cheek.
Karrah turned back over before opening her eyes. She wasn't ready to see that yet. She scooped up her glasses and got up, grabbing the first two outfits in her side of the clothset and hurrying into the livingroom.
The first outfit was a beautiful dress that she was going to wear on her first day of downtime. It was a pale, icy green that matched the color of her eyes. She draped that over the back of the couch and looked at the other outfit. This one was a pair of black leather pants, a black tanktop, and a black chenille zip-up sweater.
She dressed quickly, not even bothering with make-up, and left her apartment. She walked into Section and practically ran by Walter's station, not even stopping to say hello. They had always been known as the three Musketeers. Walter, Birkoff, and Kar. Always together unless she was out on a mission, or one of them had earned some down time. It would be too painful for her to see Walter right now.
Operations was standing on the other side of the room, near Seymour's station, and he gestured for her to come over. "Karrah, Birkoff always told us that you would be great at tactical; almost as good as he was. We need you to direct a mission."
"With all due respect, sir, I'm hardly qualified to."
"You'll be adequate for this mission. Sit." Seeing no other choice, she sat in Seymour's chair. Operations nodded. "Good. Now, all I need you to do is moniter for hostlies. There shouldn't be any, but I'd still like someone keeping an eye out." With that, he turned and walked back to the perch.
Several hours later, Karrah finally stood and stretched, the mission over. She hit the button on her comm. "Sir, the target has been aquired and the team is back."
"Excellent, I'll meet the team in a few minutes." His comm clicked off, and Karrah sunk back down into the chair. She sensed someone standing above her.
Karrah looked up into Walter's eyes. He cleared his throat. "I came over to see how you were doing."
"The mission's over-"
"C'mon, hun, you know I wasn't talking about the mission." He leaned foreward, "Take a look around, Kar. You aren't the only one hurting right now. We all miss him ."
"I'm sorry, Walt." She bit her lip. A single tear started down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. If she were to start crying, she knew that she'd mentally shut down and she couldn't afford to do that. Not here."I just need to be alone for now, ya know?"
"Yeah, I get that. Let me know when you feel like talking." She watched him walk away and then rose again, walking into the ladies' room. She took off her glasses and splashed cold water on her face, reaching for a paper towel. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like hell.
She dried her face off and put her glasses back on before walking back into the main room. She heard Walter softly say, "Oh my God." and glanced in the direction that everyone was staring in.
Karrah froze dead in her tracks. Standing on the other side of the room, in a pair of blue striped pajamas was Seymour's twin brother.
Author's notes- I think that this re-write is a bit better. It was really bugging me that I didn't really go into the memories in the first verson, because those are the only places that include one of my main characters.
Now comes the author's rant. This person submitted a negative review of the first version of this story, and it pissed me off. So this rant is for that person.
Okay, I just wanted to start by apologizing for my summary of my first post. Yes, I know that his name is Seymour Birkoff, but I write wrestling fanfics too, and the General Manager of RAW is Eric Bischoff. I had just finished a story that involved him when I wrote this story and I spazed. Also, I wanted to say that I never saw the movie "Nikita", and I started watching the re-runs of "La Femme Nikita" halfway through, so up until today's episode, I had no clue that "Josephine" was just used for Nikita. And, why am I going to waste my time posting it if no one is reading it? That's why I don't post when people don't review. If no one reads it, it's just a waste of space on the website. As for Walter calling her "Sugar"; hey, what can I say? I couldn't think of anything else at the time. I won't even grace the "Mary-Sue" slam with a comment; either you like my story, or you don't. I appreciate the review, but if all you have are negative comments, don't bother posting. All that accomplishes is getting me in a reaaally pissy mood and making me want to finish writing/posting this story even less. I mean, c'mon, this is my first "La Femme Nikita" fanfic. Cut me some slack here.
Well, I feel slightly better. Everyone, please post and lemme know what you think. Pretty pwease.? **uses the helpless-puppy-dog look**
Chris Jericho muse: **just randomly appears from the back of her mind** Yeah, what she said!
Author: **looks really confused** Jericho?! What the . You aren't even in this series, let alone this story!
Chris Jericho: I can be in any story that I want to. After all, I am the KING of the WORLD!!!
Author: But you're a wrestler.
Chris Jericho: **points to his "Fozzy" shirt** And a huge Rock Star.
Author: **shakes her head** Alright, that's about it .
Chris Jericho: No it's not. The KING of the WORLD isn't finished talking yet.
Author: Yes, yes you are . Anyways, people, please review. If you review, I promise to keep him out of my summaries .
Chris Jericho: **laughs** Yeah, suuuure she will . Hey, weren't you going to work on my story tonight?
Author: **sighs** Sorry to all of my readers, Jericho is such an attention hound. **pushes the now very indignant Jericho to the back of her mind** Damn muses. Well, thank you to everyone who stuck with me through that stupidity. I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Peace.
If anyone wants to re-post this story anywhere, please ask permission first.
Summary- Seymour Birkoff and a Section operative named Karrah have fallen in love. Her p.o.v. of his death and Operation's decision to bring in his twin brother. Based on the episodes after "Abort, Retry, Fail, Terminate".
Karrah ran down the farmilliar corridors of Section One, fighting back tears. Section One operatives weren't supposed to show emotions; not if they wanted to avoid cancellation.
She pulled her long, dark hair from its ponytail and gently tossed it. Seymour had always loved her hair. she bit down on her lip, trying to clear her mind of the memory.
A bright summer day, during downtime . A picnic in a park ... The kinds of things that normal people were supposed to have. Normal people. People who were on the outside; who weren't Section One agents ...
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. Seymour was gone. He had died less than an hour ago, in the room at the end of this hall. He had sacraficed himself in order to destroy his creation before it had killed everyone in Section. He was dead and gone; she knew that she could cry over him later.
Karrah glanced over at his station, and at the empty chair from which Seymour had guided her on so many missions. She saw Nikita sit down in it and run her hand along the panel; Nikita had always been close to him.
Walter walked up behind her, his voice echoing through the room. "It's going to be okay, Sugar."
She couldn't hear Nikita's response, but she saw her shake her head and get up, walking out of Section. Walter glanced over at her, and then moved off into his small supply room to try and fix the mess that Seymour's A.I. program had created. He knew that Karrah needed to be alone right now.
She walked over to the panel, gently running her fingers along the top. Taking a deep breath, she touched the back of the leather seat, briefly wondering who would be sitting in it the next time that she saw it before chasing the thought away. All that mattered were her memories. She wasn't sure that she would ever trust someone else to moniter her while she was on her missions but, damn it, she had no choice.
Karrah turned and walked towards the front door of Section, not glancing at the lonely, empty seat again. She knew that if she saw it, she'd break down right here instead of at home. She had just reached the door, when she heard Operation's voice over the intercomm. "Karrah, before you go, I'd like to see you in my office."
She glanced up at the windows of the perch, but he had turned on the privacy mode, the glass darkened. She took a deep breath and turned back, crossing the room and ascending the stairs to his office. She knocked and then walked in, seeing Operations behind his desk, and Madeline sitting on the dark leather sofa. She moved up to the desk, standing at attention. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Even to her, her voice sounded thick with grief.
He looked up at her. "Yes, I did." He swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about Birkoff; I know what he meant to you. If you still want your two months of down time, it's yours, as promised. You can also save it for later."
Karrah knew that she needed to keep herself busy right now. The two months of peace that she and Seymour had planned to spend together would turn into two weeks of hellish solitude without him. "I think that I'd prefer to wait sir."
Madeline walked up to her. "If you need to talk about this, you know where to find me."
Karrah fought back tears. "Yes, ma'am."
Operations spoke then, trying to erase any trace of emotion from his voice and failing. "You're dismissed."
Karrah merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned and walked out of the door, moving to a run down the stairs. She ran outside of Section One and leaned against the building, brushing a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her black turtleneck.
She was glad that she was Level Three, and that she could have quarters outside of Section. Another memory popped into her mind.
Michael slipped the key from his pocket and handed it to her. "Go upstairs; apartment number 9B."
"Why," She spat out bitterly. "Is this another mission?" She was so tired. She'd been in Section for over a year now; a full-fledged operative for over three months. She was getting sick and tired of being constantly under a microscope. Her tiny room . ha, cell was more like it . in Section One was constantly monitered, but at least there she could have a hot shower and get some sleep. She didn't think that she could take a second mission tonight.
Michael sighed, pressing the key into her hand. "Just go. Birkoff will explain everything."
"Seymour?" She blinked suprisingly. She and Seymour had been 'seeing each other', which meant basically sneaking around. They'd meet in a storage room, or in Walter's little alcove just to talk for a few brief moments. As close to dating as they could get; as a level one operative, she wasn't allowed down time outside of Section's walls . not without Michael trailing her every move. The boldest thing that they'd ever done was to hold hands underneath the table as they sat next to one another during the one briefing that she'd been allowed to attend. Relationships weren't necessarily forbidden in Section One, but they were discouraged . Severely discouraged.
Michael smiled, something that she'd rarely seen her cold, distanced trainer do over the past year. "Do you think that you're the first two operatives to pair off?"
"I thought that we were being discreet ." She was so shocked that the insult that she felt at Michael's words was kept from her voice. She didn't like him already, and the way that he put it . 'Pair off' just seemed so blunt and cold. Like he was implying that she and Seymour wouldn't last . Karrah decided to be smart and keep the comments to herself. The last thing that she wanted was to piss off her trainer; Gods knew that he could make her life even more of a hell than it already was.
"That is unnecessary. Operations has decided to allow your relationship to continue; as Birkoff is not a field agent, it really poses no threat to Section. Go inside, apartment 9B. He will explain everything."
She just shook her head and walked inside, debating on pulling her gun. Michael hadn't said that she'd need it, but still . She pulled out her gun, taking the saftey off. Karrah didn't trust Michael; if he was lying, it wouldn't be the first time. She could usually read people, but Michael always seemed devoid of any emotion. She pointed it towards the floor and walked slowly down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.
She didn't run into anyone on her way up. She continued down the hallway, scanning the door numbers on the odd side of the hallway. She finally saw it at the end of the hallway. She slipped the key from her coat pocket, inserting it in the lock and twisting it. She opened the door as soon as it was unlocked and stood, gun up and ready.
Seymour was standing across the room, in front of a stove that was set in the black marble counter top. He looked over at her and smiled, unperturbed by the gun, as if finding a gun pointing at you was completely normal. In their line of work, it almost was. "Hey Kar."
She stepped inside, closing and locking the door, before putting away her gun. She smiled back at him, walking towards him. "Hey Seymour. So, I hear that the boss is gonna let us be a couple ."
"Yeah. Totally caught me off guard too. You look exhausted."He gestured towards one of the barstools that was on the counter on the opposite side of the stove.
She smiled gratefully and sat down, glancing around. The studio apartment was huge and done in black and dark reds. The look was very definatley gothic, a few different sized gargoyles strewn here or there as accents. A huge one crouched in the livingroom corner; it was about the size of a large dog. The windows were all covered in sumptuous drapes of a dark red velvet. A large, grapevine pentacle hung on one of the walls. As a kid she'd loved collecting gargoyles and other gothic stuff; it had always bugged her mother who loved rooms that were pink and flowery and frilly. She just couldn't remember Seymour telling her that he was into the whole goth look "Nice place you've got here . I love the gargoyles."
His smile broadened. "It's not mine."
"Then who's . " His smile told her everything. "You mean . ?"
"Yup, Kar. This place is yours. I asked Operations if I could redecorate it personally after he told me that he knew about us. You told me that you've always loved the goth look, and I know that you were pagan before you came to Section."
She smiled. "Thank you so much . This place is beautiful. Hey, I thought that level one operatives weren't allowed ."
"Surprise number two. Or should I say, level two?" Karrah just smiled, totally speechless. He went on. "Alright, I'm supposed to tell you a few things. Your codename is 'Satine'. If you're phone rings and you hear that, you're needed at Section. You can't let anyone know who you work for . if they ask, you work at that little bookstore-coffeeshop that's a few doors down. It's a Section outpost, so it's a safe cover. Just so it's credible, they want you to show up there a few times a week for a couple of hours. The briefcase on the coffetable has everything you'll need . birth certificate, liscence,credit cards . you know, everything that you'll need to get by. I have the only other copy of the door key . I can either keep it or give it you, whatever you want."
Karrah smiled. "Keep it; I have a feeling that you'll be over quite a bit ."
"Absolutely," Seymour said with a grin. "Why don't you go take a shower and get changed? Dinner'll be done in about twenty minutes."
The rest of the night had been absolutely wonderful. He'd lit candles around the room and dimmed the lights by the time she came back from her shower. They'd eaten dinner and talked until she nearly fell asleep, when he carried her to her bed and then let himself out.
Karrah broke into a run again, heading towards her apartment. She let the exercise clear her mind of the memory, concentrating on each footstep rather than on her pain. All too soon she reached her apartment building and walked inside, unlocking her door and moving inside. She turned and locked it; she wasn't suicidal, not yet at any rate. She looked around the room, every part of it holding some memory of herself and Seymour.
She went into the bathroom. A hot bath was what she needed. Karrah flicked on the light and turned on the water, as hot as it could go, letting it start to fill up the huge, black marble bath tub. She and Seymour had always disagreed on the temperature of the water.
"Damn, Kar." Seymour whined after sticking his foot into the water and immediatley jerking it out. "You like the water too hot."
Karrah, already in the sud-filled tub, grinned, splashing water at him. "Seymour, you can be such a baby sometimes."
He tried unsuccessfully to look upset; they always playfully teased one another. Insetead, he relied on his best weapon. The helpless-puppy-dog look."Could you run a little bit of cold water in. please?"
"No. not the look."She sighed, turning on the cold water tap. "Not fair."
He laughed. "Well, I have to win sometimes, don't I?"
Karrah turned and punched the wall. She would not do this to herself. She wouldn't start crying.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Seymour's toothbrush in the cup next to hers. She picked up the bright blue and white toothbrush, running a finger over the bristles, tears starting to spill down her cheeks. He was really gone.
Karrah woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She picked it up without opening her eyes. "Yes?"
"Satine."
"On my way." She groaned softly, hanging up the cell phone. Seymour wasn't going to like this. Their two months of downtime was supposed to start today. Reality hit her. Karrah rolled over, not opening her eyes yet. She didn't want to see the empty half of the bed; Seymour's half. She reached out, feeling only cold, satin sheets and felt a tear roll down her cheek.
Karrah turned back over before opening her eyes. She wasn't ready to see that yet. She scooped up her glasses and got up, grabbing the first two outfits in her side of the clothset and hurrying into the livingroom.
The first outfit was a beautiful dress that she was going to wear on her first day of downtime. It was a pale, icy green that matched the color of her eyes. She draped that over the back of the couch and looked at the other outfit. This one was a pair of black leather pants, a black tanktop, and a black chenille zip-up sweater.
She dressed quickly, not even bothering with make-up, and left her apartment. She walked into Section and practically ran by Walter's station, not even stopping to say hello. They had always been known as the three Musketeers. Walter, Birkoff, and Kar. Always together unless she was out on a mission, or one of them had earned some down time. It would be too painful for her to see Walter right now.
Operations was standing on the other side of the room, near Seymour's station, and he gestured for her to come over. "Karrah, Birkoff always told us that you would be great at tactical; almost as good as he was. We need you to direct a mission."
"With all due respect, sir, I'm hardly qualified to."
"You'll be adequate for this mission. Sit." Seeing no other choice, she sat in Seymour's chair. Operations nodded. "Good. Now, all I need you to do is moniter for hostlies. There shouldn't be any, but I'd still like someone keeping an eye out." With that, he turned and walked back to the perch.
Several hours later, Karrah finally stood and stretched, the mission over. She hit the button on her comm. "Sir, the target has been aquired and the team is back."
"Excellent, I'll meet the team in a few minutes." His comm clicked off, and Karrah sunk back down into the chair. She sensed someone standing above her.
Karrah looked up into Walter's eyes. He cleared his throat. "I came over to see how you were doing."
"The mission's over-"
"C'mon, hun, you know I wasn't talking about the mission." He leaned foreward, "Take a look around, Kar. You aren't the only one hurting right now. We all miss him ."
"I'm sorry, Walt." She bit her lip. A single tear started down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. If she were to start crying, she knew that she'd mentally shut down and she couldn't afford to do that. Not here."I just need to be alone for now, ya know?"
"Yeah, I get that. Let me know when you feel like talking." She watched him walk away and then rose again, walking into the ladies' room. She took off her glasses and splashed cold water on her face, reaching for a paper towel. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like hell.
She dried her face off and put her glasses back on before walking back into the main room. She heard Walter softly say, "Oh my God." and glanced in the direction that everyone was staring in.
Karrah froze dead in her tracks. Standing on the other side of the room, in a pair of blue striped pajamas was Seymour's twin brother.
Author's notes- I think that this re-write is a bit better. It was really bugging me that I didn't really go into the memories in the first verson, because those are the only places that include one of my main characters.
Now comes the author's rant. This person submitted a negative review of the first version of this story, and it pissed me off. So this rant is for that person.
Okay, I just wanted to start by apologizing for my summary of my first post. Yes, I know that his name is Seymour Birkoff, but I write wrestling fanfics too, and the General Manager of RAW is Eric Bischoff. I had just finished a story that involved him when I wrote this story and I spazed. Also, I wanted to say that I never saw the movie "Nikita", and I started watching the re-runs of "La Femme Nikita" halfway through, so up until today's episode, I had no clue that "Josephine" was just used for Nikita. And, why am I going to waste my time posting it if no one is reading it? That's why I don't post when people don't review. If no one reads it, it's just a waste of space on the website. As for Walter calling her "Sugar"; hey, what can I say? I couldn't think of anything else at the time. I won't even grace the "Mary-Sue" slam with a comment; either you like my story, or you don't. I appreciate the review, but if all you have are negative comments, don't bother posting. All that accomplishes is getting me in a reaaally pissy mood and making me want to finish writing/posting this story even less. I mean, c'mon, this is my first "La Femme Nikita" fanfic. Cut me some slack here.
Well, I feel slightly better. Everyone, please post and lemme know what you think. Pretty pwease.? **uses the helpless-puppy-dog look**
Chris Jericho muse: **just randomly appears from the back of her mind** Yeah, what she said!
Author: **looks really confused** Jericho?! What the . You aren't even in this series, let alone this story!
Chris Jericho: I can be in any story that I want to. After all, I am the KING of the WORLD!!!
Author: But you're a wrestler.
Chris Jericho: **points to his "Fozzy" shirt** And a huge Rock Star.
Author: **shakes her head** Alright, that's about it .
Chris Jericho: No it's not. The KING of the WORLD isn't finished talking yet.
Author: Yes, yes you are . Anyways, people, please review. If you review, I promise to keep him out of my summaries .
Chris Jericho: **laughs** Yeah, suuuure she will . Hey, weren't you going to work on my story tonight?
Author: **sighs** Sorry to all of my readers, Jericho is such an attention hound. **pushes the now very indignant Jericho to the back of her mind** Damn muses. Well, thank you to everyone who stuck with me through that stupidity. I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Peace.