| Subject: Chapter 262 - Part 1 |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, November 06, 07:00:13am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Dreams in the Dark (262/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It was Sunday, a day of peace, of reflection--and, for once, she was experiencing it as such. While she might be entirely uncertain of the circumstances which were allowing her such a gift, she wasn't questioning. It was too wonderful to just be able to sit in peace with her thoughts to ponder over the possible reasons.
Nikita was smiling, as she sat quietly in the living room of her house--still happy to be back here once more. It had been over a week since the inclusion of Annie and Fredericks in her private life, since the day she had had to try to become used to their constant presence. However silent it was, even with them here, it was an odd sort of change--but their kindness to her had made everything quite simple, indeed.
She was more than grateful for this fact, was pleased to know that some part of her life was so relatively easy; it made the rest, all the struggles, so much less torturous. With their presence, she was taken care of, looked after--knew she was safe; she was still amazed by how quickly that shift had occurred. The silence they worked in, their efforts to be invisible in their duties, gave her a sense of solitude she needed, as well; it was wonderful--but nearly worried her. In just over a week, she had become so accustomed to their aid that she rarely even thought about them; there was a very small sigh. It appeared that she might be in far more danger of becoming the grand lady than she had ever feared before.
This anxiety existed within her--quite strongly, some days--but she was too calm to notice it entirely now, her eyes closing, where she sat on the sofa. The change from her usual state of constant fear was too lovely to question, would undoubtedly be all too brief; it always was. Her self-doubts would have to wait, then. She would return to them, once she was forced back into the pain of her true life again.
There was a small part of her which suspected that her new helpers didn't in any way question these changes, seeming all too happy with the solitude of their present life. Even if she hadn't yet consciously addressed such an idea, the pair seemed far less nervous these days, almost quietly contented. While it was certain that, once Nikita arrived at such an insight, she would inevitably worry that she was forcing them into such servile, stereotyped bliss, the calm which pervaded the house existed, nonetheless. While it lasted, they would all continue to enjoy.
It couldn't go on forever, of course--just the actress's life at the studio told her that. Although her ankle was finally nearly completely healed--Fredericks knew some sort of massage technique which had cleared away most of the rest of the pain--there were certainly enough enemies left outside to keep her worries sharp enough to hurt.
Still, these worries weren't quite with her now--even the doubts which had been all too intense in allowing her new bodyguard to touch her ankle finally having mostly healed. Not only was she unused to, and completely unwilling to face, the touch of strange men--just her romantic on-screen moments with Shears nearly unbearable--hers was also quite a divided personality. While she had always needed and craved the soft, gentle touch of those who cared for her, she was also quite skittish about allowing anyone to be so close; the reasons were all too obvious. When she had been a child, she had thought more than once that--if she were ever to lose one of her five senses--she would most want it to be the sense of touch which left her. She had simply been unable to imagine anything she could feel, any way that any man or woman could approach her, which wouldn't bring either intense hurt or nearly unbearable shame. Even if a part of her had wanted--more than she could ever have consciously expressed--to feel the hands of someone who cared about her touching her in ways she would actually like, she had never been able to imagine such a fantasy for long. It had seemed such an impossible delusion that it had never even occurred to her that such touch actually existed.
This tragic fact had only really ended with the love of the man who was now her husband, with the desire she had only experienced for the first time with him near. He certainly hadn't disappointed all those lingering needs. From the moment of that first, gentle kiss in her dressing room, through the four, almost impossibly-sweet, days of his introduction to all things sensual and intimate, he had taught her without doubt that touch was to be savored--that it could bring peace and comfort and love, in ways she had never been capable of imagining before him. To think of losing the ability to feel his hands on her now was the stuff of nightmares. He had made a seemingly impossible journey for her appear to be the easiest and most pleasurable of trips.
He had only ever been half-consciously aware of the challenge he had taken on, of course, all his tuition driven solely by his desire and love for her--but Nikita didn't think much into this, adoring him so thoroughly for his patience and caring. Still, it was all of his lessons which had made even the smallest touch of her bodyguard's hands on her ankle seem a sacrilege, which had made her cringe every second--and not just because of the initial moment of pain, when that injured part was touched. To even imagine any other man's hands on her had been the cause of more than one nightmare waking; something inside of her fell, her gaze open to stare sadly at the floor. She still felt a little guilty for having allowed it.
She knew that she had to get past this shame, however, knew that agreeing to such ministrations was not caused by desire--on either of their parts. If anything, Fredericks had appeared nearly terrified in touching her, seemed to have clamped a hard-acquired emotionless mask over his fears--or possibly even disgust--clearly just doing his duty. There had been nothing sensual or intimate in it, just the work of a bodyguard helping out his employer with a bit of first aid. But none of these facts made Nikita feel quite sane about it now.
She let out an epic sigh, hating that she was drawing the attention of her new staff but unable to repress her doubts. What made it all far worse was that she couldn't even tell Michael about it, could think of no way to phrase it in a letter to him which wouldn't seem quite questionable to any other readers. If he had been here, he would have known that there was nothing to the guard's aid. But, if he had been here, it would have been himself alone who would have soothed her pain.
She had to shake her head slightly, needing to clear out these worrisome thoughts; they weren't helping her. She was just lucky that her ankle seemed better now, that her life at home--at least--seemed safer; her heart seemed to sink. Because little which happened at the studio these days was at all encouraging.
She shook her head again, refused to think into any of these truths, not wanting to depress herself--not on her one day of peace. She wouldn't even let herself question why she had been allowed it, why this sudden bit of mercy had been given--Madeline usually distinctly lacking in such a quality. No. Today, she would think about the good things; she managed a smile. There wasn't usually enough time for that in the world outside.
Her hand went to one of these lovely thoughts, to the, rather large, emerald-cut diamond on its gold chain--to the birthday present her husband had somehow managed to give her, the smile deepening. She had discovered it, once she was finally home again, Helmut coming by to deliver the piece--Michael having made arrangements before he left. While the banker had missed her actual birthday by a day, the cause for the omission had been clear enough--their friend waiting until she was settled comfortably in her home once more, knowing that she wasn't in any shape to celebrate before then. He had been right; she looked down at it, smiling. And she was so very grateful to both of them for their kindness.
It was, in the end, her one real birthday present--most of her friends only sending her belated, if heartfelt, love. The only other attempt which had been made was Susan's, the young woman having knitted a pair of blue and white baby booties for her. Even if the gift was still several months early for its real recipient, it had been a lovely gesture, one she cherished. And she had seen so clearly, in the other actress's eyes, the belief that her child would soon be well and with them to enjoy the gift.
This one present had almost meant the most to her, Susan's--mostly silent--support becoming a major source of comfort, lately. She kept the booties on her bedside table to try to encourage herself, whenever life seemed hardest. Hopefully, in just a few months, she would see her child, happy and well, wearing them, her husband beside her to share her joy; a shudder ran through her, as the images grew dark. She just prayed they wouldn't, one day soon, be left beside her, as she grew old and unstable--serving as a tragic sort of reminder of everything which hadn't been.
She had to take a very deep breath to keep from suddenly crying at this fear--not wanting to alarm her new employees, suddenly realizing one of their greatest gifts to her. All their skills aside, it was perhaps one of the pair's biggest benefits: she had to keep herself calm and stable to avoid alarming them; her smile deepened. It was a benefit, she now understood, which every parent came to depend on.
Her new aides weren't exactly childlike--their constant care of her often implying just the opposite in their relationship--but their presence did help calm her fears, even when it was only because she forced herself to keep the terrors in line, for their sake. All was well there, then. There had even been almost no public reaction to their presence, anyone who knew about them simply shrugging at a star's need to have help. Rosa, too--after a brief conversation with Nikita that first night--had agreed that such aid was a benefit, seemed pleased that the actress had gotten it; Nikita was still happy for their talk. Her husband's long-time maid seemed only too glad to see her real employer's wife so healthy and well-looked-after. The actress even suspected that the woman was a little in love with the man, if only in a distant--and almost maternal--way. She had seemed grateful to be kept on, to still be part of the household. And, from whatever hints she had managed to gather, she and Annie seemed to be becoming quite friendly as well.
All of these facts made Nikita's life much easier now, her fingers stroking over Michael's present once more. It had come along with a rather sweet card, reminding her of his love; her heart filled. Even in his hell, he had remembered her. That alone--baubles aside--meant everything.
It had been a lovely gesture, then, one she cherished. But it was actually the size of his gift which she found daunting, the necklace rather formidable; she looked down at what she could see of it, smiling. Still, she supposed that he had gotten Helmut to choose such a gift both for personal and public reasons. Having to be away, he had needed something extravagant, wanted her to know that he remembered her--and, for the public, the statement was all too clear. She was his; she almost laughed. It was a bit of possessiveness which she didn't mind at all.
Her fingers were tracing over her last letter from her husband, her mind still on this thought, as Fredericks walked by her unnoticed--going to get the mail. Had her husband's need to keep her close ever endangered or smothered her, it would undoubtedly have led to many a fight between them. But, given the way their lives were now, she appreciated every reminder of his love. If he could, he would create a world which existed for only the two of them; the adoration warmed her. And it was truths such as these which kept her wholly sane, in these long days of separation.
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