| Subject: Chapter 274 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 274) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, March 07, 09:33:46pm
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
There was a long sigh, as Helmut reclined in his chair after this, wondering if he had gotten any of it right. It was entirely possible that he had said too much, that any potential censors would see right through it--and start to question why a Hollywood actress was shooting at an old man. Still, he had done what he could; the next sigh lingered. That was all anyone could ask of him now.
There was much left out of this missive, of course, but there was no avoiding that. So much of all these people's lives was not for public consumption. The rest would have to be read between the lines.
He had no doubt of the actor's ability to do such a thing, as his own partner came to him, his hand on the back of the chair, as he leaned over the banker to read the letter. Helmut waited, having no secrets. Still, he wasn't feeling particularly patient. Once he was certain the designer was nearly done, he prompted him. "Well?"
There was a smile. "Aside from simply saying, 'For Christ's sake, get home. Your wife just shot at an insane mobster and is dying for love of you,' you did the best you could." He gazed back at his partner, the smile growing. "And I think that's the first time you've ever referred to me as your wife."
The banker could see the humor here but was feeling far too worn down to respond appropriately. Instead, he grabbed Rene's collar gently and pulled him down, capturing his lips in a thorough and loving kiss. When he finally released him, the designer looked happily dazed; Helmut's eyes were almost grave. "There are at least a thousand things I could refer to you as." The look was nearly devouring. "But none of them will come close to telling you my feelings."
There was a second of silence, that thorough understanding they shared captured somewhere deep within their gaze. Finally, Rene smiled, his fingers grazing lightly over the hair at his partner's temple. "I love you, too," he grinned, before placing a tender kiss on the man's ear. And both of them were very grateful for the peace this truth gave them.
This peace wasn't to last forever, though--too many other fears accompanying their lives. They lingered there for only another moment, before Rene pulled away, propping himself against the desk at a little distance from his lover; the need for reassurance all the less-pleasant details of their lives gave them would have pulled them together, otherwise--destroying all possibility of further conversation, however pleasant the distraction. "So, how goes the diary?"
Lord. That broke the mood. Helmut let out a tremendous sigh, leaning back all the more heavily against the chair. "Slowly." And that alone was the reason why they weren't safe at all, quite yet.
His partner understood, nodding sadly. He pulled up a chair nearby, offering what he could. "Can I help?"
Helmut only snorted. "Have any talent at mimicking a madman's handwriting?"
The designer only shrugged, his own writing anything but pretty. "I once had a schoolmaster who said that I wrote like a convicted criminal." Helmut laughed, despite himself, his gaze falling, as Rene went on--more seriously this time. "How about Terry's contributions?"
This was about the only good news the businessman had lately, his nod still distant. "She's faster than I am with the forgery." Neither of them had any idea how she had acquired such a talent but were wise enough not to ask. "But Anna's handwriting gives her problems. She said that she had to redo an entire page yesterday, because she had mistaken, 'Grant. Dom. permission to have Stephanie' for 'Graft Comes promisingly. hate Stephanie.'" Rene looked at him a moment before laughing, forcing him to shrug slightly. "I suppose it does make about as much sense." At least as far as the producer was concerned.
This wasn't particularly encouraging news--especially since it suggested that his partners were only up to around the time of the accident which had destroyed the mind of Bauer's wife, as well as having taken the use of Dominic Pavel's legs. That was a few years ago now--probably even before Formitz had become part of the producer's life. Still, such a lag did make sense, the process necessarily slow. Anna could only secretly recopy--and Helmut and Terry could only forge--so much of the man's diary at a time, the process made all the harder by having to guess at what the original looked like, basing their copy only on other writings of the man; the sigh went deeper. And that said nothing at all of the peril of the final few steps.
The designer's arms were crossed over himself, his gaze somewhere across the room. "Do you think it'll be safe for Anna there, after she switches them?" It was always the change, followed by the revelation of the diary to Hedda, which was where the deeper danger came.
Lord. That was a question the banker didn't even want to ask. He clung to his hopes, instead--doing his damnedest not to remember poor Sandra's body, as Premier had used it for simple, gruesome advertising at the premiere of Michael and Nikita's most recent film. "We'll get her out of there soon enough. With the journal gone and her debts paid, she can go into the church, as she wants." His look was distant, a little desperate. "We just have to get by until then."
This step, however, was almost the most frightening. For months now, they had strung Bauer along, had allowed Anna to stay in the demented man's house, praying that she would continue to survive the experience, that the producer wouldn't suddenly decide to give her to Formitz just for fun; Helmut felt the shudder rock him, refusing to even ponder the possibility. No. They would make it--all of them. They just had to get enough of the diary forged to make a switch seem plausible first.
It was the wait which was killing them, though--the fears which grew with it. More than once, they had thought about simply stealing the diary, without a substitute, in hopes that they could get it to Hedda fast enough to be of some use. But there were too many pitfalls inherent in such a plan--Bauer apparently quite fond of looking back over the dreadful thing. If he found it gone, he would know their intentions, could easily move to stop them; the deep shudder returned. And the living arrangements of Helmut and all of his companions were *far* too vulnerable to bear any public scrutiny at all.
It was imperative, then, that they have their time--enough to ensure that Bauer knew that any further moves against them would be deadly. After all, the diary also included his graft of Murrin. It was possible that it was so small-scale that the gangster simply didn't care--but their hope was that the detail would scare the producer enough to stay silent, after he had already been exposed to Hedda.
This was a small hope, admittedly--didn't bear too much scrutiny--but it was the best they had, just now. All they could do was continue to string along the producer, allowing him to savor the pain of his supposedly forthcoming victory, as they did their damnedest to finish out their task. It was the best option any of them could think up. But it did, admittedly, take quite a bit of faith to believe that they would all come through it unharmed.
Helmut blinked once, refusing to admit all the inherent dangers of their plan, still seeing little other way. Direct attacks on the producer would only encourage the same. Subtlety--and time--were really their only hopes.
There was still one truth he had never fully become used to, however--and that was the question of why Bauer even kept the dreaded journal; it indicted him of probably a dozen actual crimes--and at least a million other moral ones. Still, he supposed the man's ego had never been much of a secret. And dreadful people did seem to enjoy lingering in the rosy memories of their many degradations.
The banker had to shake his head, coming out of these thoughts willfully, trying to let his fears go; they wouldn't help any of them. Instead, he let his mind turn, back to the always vexed question of Anna herself. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to her, his former jealousy long discarded, but his curiosity remained; his gaze moved to his partner, his smile showing that he meant no harm. "Had you been so inclined, would you have married Anna for love?"
The question took Rene by surprise, but he could see that his partner's curiosity was no longer based on jealousy; he met his smile, his gaze wandering again, as he pondered it. "No." There was a sigh. "I'd have married Simone, if she'd have had me." When Helmut looked wondering, he smiled back at him. "She really was the most extraordinary woman."
His lover sighed at the sadness in Rene's eyes, the pain he shared with his old friend over not being able to save the woman. And he also saw that it was partly this which caused the designer's fierce loyalty to Anna, his need not to see her fall, too. Or, at least, not any further than life had pushed her from the first.
He nodded at the man, smiling, as Rene returned the question. "And you?" It was only to the banker's amazement to find that he knew the answer instantly.
"I'd have taken Nikita," he smiled--the look broadening, as he thought into it. "Assuming I could have tempted her at all."
This brought a laugh to both of them, Rene voicing their shared thought--his focus back on the wall. "It's a good thing we have each other." His gaze returned affectionately. "Michael would have killed us both, otherwise."
They laughed over this idea, but the look faded a second later--both of them thinking into the actor. The man could be truly obsessive, when it came to someone he wanted; a joint fear shook them. They could only hope that, with their help, he was able to be back to the woman he so desired soon. That--and the fruition of their plans--were the only ways toward safety for all of them now.
[End of Part 274]
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