AN: Short piece that I wrote, well…about an hour ago. Tell me whether it's alright and please tell me if there are any mistakes, please let me know! My eyes are about to close and everything looks so misty and foggy….
The shy, coveted rays of the sun peeked tentatively through the roughly cut window and touched her creased, yellowed, eyelids. The figure on the opposite end of the bed, with a grumpy ugly look, abruptly turned onto his side and after finding a comfy pose, sighed happily in content. Within a few seconds, she stirred. Tired, and still restless, she shook off the last vestiges of sleep and clicked her eyes open. Warm, hazel eyes surveyed the dirty room, both faintly bemused and weary. She swiped at the corner of her eyes and stretched her back and legs straight.
Their small, dirty room was now bathed a warm, buttery, wholesome light. The entire room assumed a lighter, happier appearance under its glare. The dusty, rickety chair across the laden cot still the bore the ratty novel she had flicked through last night, lying open at some random, marked page. The candle holder next to the cot held the remains of last night's candle, now a puddle of cold, hard, blackened wax.
The woman finally slid off the bed and touched her feet onto the cold floor. She did not register the other figure or pay him any sort of attention, but got up off the cot with a resounding creak. With soft, silent footsteps, she agilely crossed the carpeted room.
A white flash at the corner of her eye registered at the back of her foggy mind. Damn. She slapped her hands to her face and covered her eyes, trying to rub, scratch or will the astonishing image from her mind. With a slow, rattling intake of breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and stepped back into the reflection of the mirror. When her heart had slowed just a little, she peeked uncertainly through her fingers.
Slivers of her slender, almond shaped eyes, both clear and delicate, stared defiantly back at her. If she was lucky, they sparkled an emerald green if they caught the light just right. When she finally allowed herself a crooked, half- smile, the corners of her eyes creased around the edges, allowing the framing of thick eyelashes around her eyes to brush eyelids.
Her bronzed, unblemished skin, so creamy and smooth; like a fresh pail of butter, glistened and glinted healthily in the sunlight behind the mirror.
Her silky, velvety tresses, both untainted and untouched, weaved like long ribbons over her shoulders and down to her waist in thick, seamless curls.
Her eyes moved lower still and she stopped her deliberate, careful survey.
Her heart picked up pace once again.
Slowly, and almost inexplicably, a smile spread across her face once more. Uncertainly maybe, but joyously as well, her hands reached up and moved to her swollen belly. With teary and saddened eyes, she looked back at the slumbering man lying on the bed and sighed. Maybe this time, it would be different.
AN: Okay, so if you didn't get that, this is Nikita basically thinking about how this baby Michael and her are going to have, will be different to Haley (Michael's deceased daughter). I'd imagine them to be living in a random village in Rio. The setting that is, for this fic.
Stupid and dumb, right? Just thought I'd give writing another go. Tell me if you didn't get it!
.Therisa.