Rene Courfeyrac

She'd gotten complacent.  That was true, she knew it was true, and she'd allowed it to happen anyway.   There had been enough years with no reminders of Section or the life she'd had before this place that she had started to think that part of her history really was a door that could be closed.  Her skills and her memories would never disappear, but the only code words that had been used recently had been from colleagues at the DFR, her waitresses, or occasionally Daisy if she wanted to come over to Nikita's place.  

She wasn't rushing out to tell anyone her history, of course.  There were a few people here who knew a limited number of details, but part of the door to her past being closed was not having to explain why exactly she had excellent aim with a piece of paper or liked sitting with a view of the windows and the exit.  She'd started to appreciate not lying to everyone she knew, or at least not having to be quite as careful about which truths she told.  She'd relaxed.  

And of course, that meant she'd been reminded of exactly what she'd left.  The reminder seemed innocent enough, just like a single word when the phone rang (Josephine).  There was a suit coat left draped over a chair in the coffee shop she liked to stop by now and then.  It was a black men's coat, and it looked like it was well-made.  Whoever left it would probably want it back, so she went over to get it and take it to the counter.  

Her hand had just touched it when she froze.   She knew this coat.  She knew this fabric.  She knew this smell.  It was a subtle, spicy cologne that she had never smelled on anyone here.  Michael Samuelle had liked it, though, and she'd appreciated it on him.   She picked the coat up and ran her hand down the inside.  There was a holster and pockets worked into the lining exactly where she would have expected them to be.  

The last time she'd seen this coat, she had been giving it back to Michael as he left her new apartment after the mission.  He'd given it to her to wear in the limo because she'd been shivering from a combination of adrenaline and cold, even in the warmth of the plush interior.   That was the contradiction of Michael -- he'd surprise her with a mission when she thought they were just celebrating, and then he'd give her his coat in the limo for comfort.   

She sat heavily in the chair next to the coat.   She'd gotten complacent, and now she was being reminded of Michael, of her past, of what she'd done and what she'd wanted to escape.    A part of her wanted to wrap the coat around her, and a part of her wanted to throw it in the sea.

She'd do neither.  For now, she'd do neither.  

[[Nikita has received a late 90s Gaultier suit jacket.  Despite being a little shaken, it’s not a bad time to say hello.]]