[AUTHOR'S NOTE: THANKS TO SUPER BETA READER JDRAGONFIRE29 FOR HELPING ME TACKLE THOSE PESKY GRAMMAR ISSUES.]

Chapter 13 – Day 11

"And if you look over at the mirror, you'll see what looks like a child's finger prints and the profile of a woman's face. We believe this is the ghostly impression of Sara Woodruff and her two daughters, who were poisoned by the family slave Chloe."

Their young tour guide couldn't be more than 15 years old, sporting long bangs he kept flinging back with a toss of his head. It's hard to believe in the haunted history yarn he's trying to spin when he looked like he should belong in a boy band. "If you follow me to the veranda…"

Nikita looked over at her companion who gave her a bland knowing look. She started cracking up and asked: "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Yes."

They separated from the group and walked outside to the courtyard. The grounds were serene with colorful Crepe Myrtles, the namesake of the Myrtles Plantation, brightening up the place. They made their way to the little snack bar and purchased cups of coffee and sat down at one of the many patio tables.

They quietly sipped their coffees as Nikita looked over her cup at Michael. He had accommodated her request to play tourist without complaint. They were close to Baton Rouge and Nikita gave into a sudden urge to tour the various plantations dotting the area.

They had already toured Oak alley, one of the largest plantation homes in the area. The large house was surrounded by acres of well manicured gardens and grounds with an impressive Oak Trees lined walkway leading to the house. They had a quiet picnic in the garden adjacent to the house and just enjoyed each other's company without the specter of Section looming over them.

Michael gave in to her excited suggestion to come to the Myrtles Plantation after brochures had touted it as one of the most haunted house in the U.S. Of course the impact of such a claim was lessoned once they met their tour guide, who was obviously still in high school and recited the tales like he was reciting from a book.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have dragged you here."

He magnanimously replied: "It's nice here."

"It's hard to believe people live like this with a large house and servants. I certainly never dreamt anything like this could be possible when I was growing up."

Michael didn't respond as he silently sipped his coffee. A thought occurred to her and she blurted it out before thinking it through: "What's was your childhood like?"

He paused with his coffee half way up to his mouth as he stared at her in surprise. He sat the cup down on the table and asked cautiously: "What do you want to know?"

She was surprised that Michael was willing to share his past with her. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "Well, for one thing, where were you born?"

"Marseilles."

"What did your parents do while they were still alive?"

"My father was an engineer and my mother was a music teacher."

"Did she teach you to play the cello?"

"Yes, amongst other things."

"What else do you play?"

"Piano and guitar."

Nikita remembered there was a piano in the house he shared with Elena. She had assumed Elena was the musician of the family. She should have realized once she found him playing the cello after the blood cover mission was over that the piano was his.

"Are you any good with the other instruments?"

He hesitated for a moment before admitting reluctantly: "I thought about pursuing a music degree."

She considered him thoughtfully for a long moment. She had always thought he had the air of a poet and artist. He certainly seemed comfortable playing the role whenever it was demanded of him as part of a mission. She had always thought it was because he was such a chameleon. Now she wondered if Madeline had written the profiles to suit him and what he must have been like before Section.

"Any other hidden talents I should know about? You're not also a painter or poet, are you?"

The corner of his lips quirked up in amusement at her exasperated tone: "No."

"Good. I'm starting to feel extremely lacking in the talent department."

"There's nothing lacking about you."

Nikita smiled at him and teased: "Your compliment overwhelms me."

He quirked his eyebrows in amusement and didn't respond back. She leaned close and kissed him in thanks before settling back in her chair. "Will you play for me sometimes, Michael?"

"If you like."

She smiled in response: "Ready to go?"

"Sure." He stood up and offered his hand. She took his proffered hand and they walked toward the motorcycle. She had the urge to never let him go and asking him to run away with her. She knew it was a selfish need since it would mean their certain deaths when discovered. Michael had risked his life time and again to keep her alive. It was almost time for her repay the debt.

They got to the motorcycle and left the plantation. She held tight to Michael's waist, leaning against his broad back and closed her eyes, uselessly dreaming of what could have been.