| Subject: Chapter 276 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, March 19, 06:56:43am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
Extra warning: I'm rating this 16 and above for some mild bad language and sexual thoughts.
Dreams in the Dark (276/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It was to Michael's relief--and his lingering torment--to discover the letters waiting for him on his cot, when he returned to the barracks. The way he snatched them up suggested more a greedy child than a suave actor, but he had no thoughts for appearances; his heart pounded, as he saw that one, at least, was from his wife. Thank God. He sat down, tearing into it instantly. He would have to hurry, if he hoped to read and respond before lights out--and he had no intention of being held back from her for another instant longer.
He didn't even see his comrades or hear their greetings, his gaze intent on the letter before him. His eager eyes read:
My beloved Michael,
I'm sorry there's been a delay in my responding to you. Various things have happened here. Let me try to tell you about them now.
I met up unexpectedly with the man who wishes to plan my future. I was just leaving the studio, when I found his car waiting. He introduced me to someone he wanted me to know more about--but I assure you that I wasn't the least bit interested. I showed him that in the most obvious terms. My only wish was that I had allowed Fredericks to lead me away, as he wanted. I see now that that would have been the wiser path.
I don't really know where this is going to lead, but it does frighten me a little. I've even discovered that my new companions have made some significant sacrifices in order to look after me. I admit that, when I'm alone, as I am now, I feel rather frightened about the future. I do wish you were with me again.
I'm sorry to sound so needy for you--but the last day's fears aren't the only reason my need for you seems to have grown so intense lately. Helmut showed me your newsreel, and Rene your last letter to him. Seeing you on the screen, reading your words on the page, made me absolutely ache to have you back by my side. I don't know how I'm going to live, until I can be with you once again.
I think I've had a bit of a revelation, as well. Sitting in that screening room, watching your newsreel, I felt so very distant from you--so much more the little girl who used to escape to the picture show than the woman who's now your wife. All I could do was watch and wonder how you were, what your thoughts were. I felt very much like any fan, dreaming of her favorite star. Dear God. Do tell me that I haven't dreamed this whole relationship up. I'm very much afraid that I might one day wake up in some asylum to be told that you and little Adrian are just some delusion I have. I can't bear the thought of never having you at all.
I know I've told you these fears before, and I apologize for boring you with my many weaknesses again. On to my realization. That came when I was reading your letter to Rene. You sounded so needy and desperate for me, like you'd go mad being without me, and the only thing I could think was how much I wanted you back--how I didn't give a damn about anything else in the world, so long as I have you. Remember how I used to fear that I would disappear, when we married? I'm not certain it matters to me anymore. I'll be more than content to not exist alone--so long as you're by my side and love me. I'd happily be anything you pleased, so long as I'm yours.
Dear God, I know this sounds pathetic. I'm sorry. I'm probably not the woman you married anymore. I'm just some little milksop who can't seem to exist without you. Still, I'm *your* little milksop. Is that any sort of consolation?
Sorry. That was a very weak attempt at humor. And I'm really putting on a much braver front for the entire world to see. I still smile in public, as though I give a damn about anything except you. My response to the gentleman I mentioned earlier was pretty definite, as well. It's just you who knows--and who's stuck with--the weak little nothing that I am, when I'm alone.
Dear God, I miss you. It's driving me mad--as this letter probably shows only too well. I miss everything, from the stately, confident face you show the world to the insane passion you love me with. Of course, as much as I miss your presence and tenderness in every possible way, it's probably the latter I miss the most. It's hard to sleep, thinking of you. Our bed is about a thousand sizes too big without you beside me. Dear God. *I miss you.*
This isn't all of my pathetic position lately, though. I feel as big as a house. If you don't feel absolute disgust when you finally see me, it will be a miracle. You'll probably only touch me out of kindness. But I want so much more than that.
I'm sorry that this is such a pathetic letter. I'm sorry *I'm* so pathetic. I do assure you that you're the only one to truly see it. I know how to make a *very* good showing for the world. Poor you to have deal with me like this.
I love you,
Nikita
He was shaking by the time he finished, was ready to run all the way back to America and show her exactly how pathetic she *wasn't*. He was absolutely aching to write his response, when he remembered the other letter, looked at it in surprise to see that it came from Helmut. As much as he burned, he would have to read it first. Clearly, there were details that Nikita hadn't told him yet.
He opened it, scanning it quickly to pick up the pertinent facts--not intensely devouring every word in the way he had his wife's. Still, what he discovered gave him both hope and terror; he moved quickly to get the stationery he needed. Then, as much as he craved responding to his lover, he made himself write out his short response to his friend. After that, he could devote the rest of his evening to his wife.
His letter to the banker read:
Helmut,
Thank you for the offer and for looking after her. Still, are you mad? *Of course* I want to come see her, even if it's for the briefest of moments. Thank you for helping me with the plans.
The premiere is a good idea, as well. I want to be there with her when it opens, and our presence together is what both of us need.
As to not telling Nikita, I think that's a good idea, too. You're right. She's far too fragile right now to take the disappointment, if anything keeps me from coming. Just look after her and try to encourage her generally. She needs it far more than she's letting on.
I'm sorry this is so short. I've just received a letter from Nikita, as well. I'm certain you understand my need to answer her in more depth.
Thank you for the update on what's been happening there--and thank you for looking after my wife. Thank your own wife and our friends, too. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to find a way to give you my gratitude enough.
Gratefully,
Michael
It wasn't good enough, really--was far too short, especially when compared with all the information the man had given in return. Still, Nikita's letter was far more pressing--and, as he knew quite well, Helmut was certain to understand.
Michael was grateful to the man for the extra insight he had provided into recent events, was horrified to realize that Nikita had actually shot at her father; a smile grew, as he finished preparing the first envelope and turned to the letter for his wife. But that was his beloved all over. Whatever her many protests, she was far stronger than she ever realized.
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