By Absinthe Additional Disclaimers: Ahem. We're adding some La Femme Nikita stuff in here, so I have to say that Section belongs to USA studios and maybe some French people, if they didn't sell the copyright. Chapter 11: Maia pulled on her tailored black duster, a garment recommended to her by Amanda as the absolute "essential to her fall wardrobe." Humming an old funeral dirge, Maia wandered aimlessly. She was planning on buying some fresh food to replace the frightening globs of mold that were stinking up her apartment. She had never felt comfortable in grocery stores, surrounded by wailing children and their impatient parents. Maia hadn't had much time lately to see the city, and she didn't regret that at all. The place reminded her of too many people that she would rather forget. Maia decided to follow a man in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt for a couple of blocks, and then she turned left and trailed a woman in black heels. She remembered pretending to stalk people when she was a kid. She hadn't been very good at it then, she was always trying to stay hidden, which made her presence painfully obvious to her "prey." Maia wished she could remember the words to that song she had stuck in her head. When she grew bored with her game, she stopped and looked around. She was standing in one of the ritzier districts judging by the rare book dealer and the gourmet food store that seemed to flourish there. Even the trees planted in the sidewalk were abnormally tall. Maia went inside the little food store and bought some strange foods that she had no intention of eating, but might make nice conversation pieces were she to actually take anyone home with her. Maia hated playing at this normality that her life did not possess. She was several blocks into the walk home when she heard the sound of a muffled gasp, and two feet scraping across cement. Whirling, Maia tossed her groceries onto the hood of a convenient car and followed the memory of the sound. She caught sight of disheveled strawberry blonde hair, and the back of a shaved head. Immediately recognizable was the unusual scar on the back of the would be attacker's neck. "Reggie!" Maia growled. The body hidden under several layers of ragged clothing tensed. He released his victim. The petite woman dodged away from him and ran. Reggie narrowed his eyes and took a step towards Maia. "Are you suicidal?" She asked, laughing maliciously. "You know I doan mean nuthing." He replied, raising his hands defensively. His bluff had been called. The dark woman blocking the way back onto the sidewalk had nearly killed him the last time he stood up to her. That was why he'd moved closer to the business district, to get away from her. Sneering, Maia told him to run. For a moment, his nostrils flared rebelliously. The left one was missing a sizable chunk where Maia had ripped a stud out of it at their last meeting. The moment passed, and Reggie turned and ran. Only when his echoing footsteps were faint did Maia turn her back on the pathetic thug. Reggie's victim's purse lay on the ground in a puddle of noxious fluid that was leaking out of the dumpster. Maia picked it up by the handle distastefully. Carrying it at arm's length, she was annoyed to discover that the woman had run off. Her grocery bags were gone too. Maia bought more food on the way back to her apartment. She dumped the damp contents of the woven cotton purse on the linoleum floor of her kitchen. Munching on a slice of cheese, she plucked a wallet made of eel skin out of the pile. She smiled at the picture on the driver's license. Sarah G. Covington had guileless, girlish features, green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. Maia laughed aloud at the pretentious, carved rosewood business card holder. Flicking it open, she slid a card out. They were all printed in gold and black ink on crumbly papyrus. Snickering still, she read the card perfunctorily. It was so cheesy. Without keys, Sarah was forced to take a taxi back to the gallery. She paid the fare with the 20 she always kept inside her shoe. She tried to pull herself together in the car. She hadn't gotten a look at her rescuer, and she had known better than to stick around to say thank you. She'd been mugged only once before, and had planned to take a self defense course, but there never seemed to be enough time. Sarah brushed past her assistant David, answering none of his questions. She called the police from the lounge in the back room and reported the incident. She would call her credit card companies once she got home. "Sarah?" David held out some towel wrapped ice cubes. "Your face." He added in explanation. Sarah took the proffered ice and locked herself in the bathroom. She was going to have a nice scrape down one side of her face and a hand sized bruise on her neck. She stuck her forehead under the tap, regrouping and slowing down. She was tired now that the initial fear had worn off. When she no longer felt like crying she pressed the ice to her neck and went back out into the gallery. The big, airy central room had a loft running round half the width of the building for sculpture displays and clear skylights far overhead to give things a more naturalistic feel and to feed the potted plants. Her purse sat on the front desk. David opened his mouth to tell her that a woman with black hair dropped it off. Sarah dashed for the door just as it was swinging shut. David closed his mouth when he realized she was gone. "Wait!" Sarah shouted, looking frantically in both directions at the dozens of people bustling past. A tall, lean woman in a black duster turned her head inquiringly. Sarah's jaw dropped. "Uh...Maia?" She gasped. Maia blanked her expression to conceal her surprise. "Yes?" "Would you...Would you like to come inside..for coffee?" Sarah stuttered, opening the heavy door as wide as it would go. Maia smiled and preceded the stranger inside. She had an hour until she was due at Section, and nothing else to do. She noticed the scrape and ice pack. Maia let herself be led into a lounge behind the front desk. "David?" Sarah called, "Could you whip us up some cappuccino here?" Maia smiled again, "He didn't hurt you too badly did he?" she asked courteously when her hostess sat down next to her. Their eyes locked and something akin to a spark glowed between them. Maia broke the contact and examined the glossy leaves of a huge jade plant growing on the coffee table amid a welter of Vogue and Arts International magazines. The room was decorated in dark reds and shimmering golds and ornately carved cherry furniture. "No." Sarah replied, flustered. "Not really." She lowered her ice pack to reveal her trophy bruise. "Thank you for helping me." Maia nodded, "I was there, that's all." David showed up with two steaming mugs of Irish cream coffee. Sarah took the mugs from him and shooed him away. "My name is Sarah Covington." Sarah handed her guest a mug. Maia sipped the beverage dubiously. "Outside, you called me by my name. How did you know?" She asked tersely. "I wanted to talk to you about that. I've been wanting to talk to you about that for years." Sarah replied mysteriously, setting her mug down on a copy of Vogue. "Six years ago, a dozen paintings came into my possession. We usually deal in consignments, but we always keep an eye out for anything promising. Somehow or other, one of my employees purchased these paintings at a county auction in Trinity, South Carolina." Maia's lips twitched. "One of them was of you." Maia set aside her now too sweet drink. "Where are they?" The dark woman demanded. "Most of them sold very quickly. I still have your portrait though." Sarah watched the still face for any signs of a reaction. "I never saw it completed. Is it here? May I see it?" At least she finally got her work displayed in New York, just like she wanted. she thought. "I'm afraid it's not here right now. If you'd like, perhaps we could have dinner, and have a look at it? I'll cook." Sarah almost clapped her hands over her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd just made a pass at a total stranger; a woman, no less. But Maia didn't' really seem like a stranger. Maia smiled at the dismayed expression on the blonde's face. It can't hurt, and you haven't gone out in months. Maybe it will get Amanda off your back for once. Maia decided even as she accepted the invitation. The memories of that time spent in the heat of the south, of the pain and the passion washed over her mind. "Are you all right?" Sarah touched her guest's hand in concern at the distant look in those cerulean eyes. Maia jumped, barely restraining her reflex to defend herself from a possibly hostile touch. "I'm all right." Maia stood up suddenly, "But I have to leave." Sarah nodded and fumbled in her purse for a business card. She scribbled her home address on the back and handed it over to Maia who accepted it awkwardly and left before Sarah could say anything more. The art dealer watched Maia's lithe form retreat across the floor and out of the room. There was a hunted nervousness to the woman that was absent in her portrait. Sarah rode adrenaline high through the rest of the day. It seemed impossible that after 6 years of wondering and speculation, her search was at an end. There's something about that woman. Maia thought as she swept into Section. She went through the motions of interviewing her new trainees, and of privately meeting with each of the members of her team from the last mission to reaffirm their loyalty to her. She gave them each the same story, leaving each man and woman convinced that she was putting her life at risk by telling them the "truth" about Nadine's death. Maia played her part like the professional she was, but with each repetition, the weight of her knowledge grew greater. This is the last time. she told herself. These people don't deserve to be treated like fools. At first she'd enjoyed this sadistic game she played with her operative's souls and minds, but the game was no longer just fun. Maia couldn't view them as toys anymore, Nadine's murder was the spark that had at last ignited Maia's compassion. She who had once killed with glee, swum so easily through the bloody world she inhabited, was beginning to feel the pangs of remorse. "Maia." Maia turned to the source of the voice and forced herself to smile. "Hello Amanda." She said warily. Amanda, dressed somberly yet fashionably as was her custom, sashayed leisurely up the hallway. Her wild platinum hair was pulled back in a careful ponytail. "How've you been doing honey?" Amanda asked, so close the two women were nearly touching. Maia carefully weighed her response, and finally decided to say, "I'm all right. Nadine was a big loss though. She was good." "Yes. Yes she was. But that can be said of almost any of our agents." The blonde smiled, her expressions often verged on being maniacal. "They're all good, but Nadine was surprisingly stable. She reminded me a little of myself." Maia sighed. It was good for her to show a little bit of perturbation over the agent's death, but only a little, and it was necessarily short-lived. Maia knew how to play Amanda's charades. Or so she liked to think. "Ah. You performed well nevertheless." Amanda placed one of her deceptively soft hands on Maia's shoulder. The skinny blonde was nearly as tall as she was, though Maia was more voluptuous and powerful looking. Amanda was a hard woman. With a farewell nod of her head, Amanda stopped and let Maia continue on out the door without her. It was so easy to walk out that door, but it was a meaningless act. She couldn't simply leave the state, or the country and hope to be free. They would find her eventually. Even if she escaped them, she would never be able to relax for she would have to be constantly vigilant, and all people would be suspect. The only way out was to be dead to them. Or to destroy them. Maia snickered at the thought. Destroy Section, when it was allied to the government? Yeah, right. Back to chapter 10 Back to The Beginning Back to the fic page
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