| Subject: Chapter 265 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 265) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, November 15, 07:02:12am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Any possible damage Michael's enemy might have intended with the outside world was mostly undone in those moments--only vague memories tainting the crew's minds. They set up shots of Elkins and Col. Simmons, then, Henry strangely unwilling to get on camera to support the man--each of the others praising Samuelle in his own way, the crew moving ahead with their assignment. It was only the actor himself who feared the outcome of all this, his heart still pounding. Because, if such ideas traveled back to Mr. Jones . . .
He didn't want to think into this possibility, terrified of where publicized tales of his--or, even worse, Nikita's--adultery might lead; Hedda certainly wouldn't care that they were untrue. He was only broken from the horrified reflections by Henry moving closer to him. Both of them were well outside of camera or microphone range, but Sikes' voice was still quite soft--not entirely aware of such details, his focus elsewhere. "Why did he think that telling everyone you were Canadian would hurt you? It's not like he suddenly said you were German."
This finally caught Michael's attention, bringing it back from many of his fears--some of them still wrapped up entirely in what Ackerman would try next--his gaze focusing in on the man. Sikes had claimed more than once to be from Alberta--but this was one suspicion too far; Michael smiled slightly, amazed no one else seemed to have noticed. "You're American." Henry looked worried, seemed about to deny it. "That story you told earlier was about your mother, too." His gaze moved in. "You're half-Jewish."
The new pilot's gaze fell away, seeming to hope that--if he were looking at the ground--the actor couldn't read his eyes. "I don't know what you mean." It was the proverbial ostrich's approach to danger. If he denied it existed long enough, it couldn't hurt him.
Michael moved a little closer, just to be certain that the conversation was left between the two of them; he still appeared to be watching the camera crew nonchalantly, as though he weren't saying a single word. "It's not an accusation. Being Catholic and of French lineage in this country is seen much the same way." His head shook slightly. "Even if I wanted to judge you, I have no ground to do it from."
Sikes listened to him quietly, but his heart was pounding, debating his chances with a confession. From the start, he had been afraid--certainly more so, once the cameras had shown up, knowing the consequences of being caught here; still, he did finally give in. "I'm 16, too," he whispered. If the man were going to be a confidant, he might as well tell him everything.
"I know," Michael replied quietly, gaining the young man's surprised eyes. He didn't ask the reasons why Henry had joined up. After what had happened following his father's religion being discovered, it was all too clear why he would want to go fight as many Nazis as possible.
The actor took another pathway, then, still curious--gazing distantly over the filming. "What happened to your mother?" There was only a pause in response. "Is she alright?"
The sigh which leaked out of Sikes was painfully long, was followed by many difficult seconds of silence. It took a lot to finally answer. "She's been institutionalized in Iowa." His laugh held no humor at all. "They found her in a dime store somewhere, arguing with a clerk over why her quilt should get first prize."
This could potentially have been told as an amusing story; Ackerman certainly would have presented it that way. Still, for Sikes, it was merely a terrible revelation, his words moving on, before the other man could offer any sympathy. "Don't get me wrong. She wasn't a perfect person." He knew he was referring to her as though she were dead, but--given the chances that she would ever recover--it made sense to him. "She ruled that guild with an iron fist, kept out at least three women because she suspected that they might have Jewish blood. She wasn't a saint--or the world's greatest mother." His words slowed, look saddened. "But . . ."
Michael finished for him. "No one deserves that fate." It would be nice if everyone just learned to be decent, without all the pain.
He realized in the next second that he had picked up this philosophy from his wife; the thought made him miss her so much that it was nearly a physical ache. He had to take a deep breath to be able to hear what Henry was saying, knowingly changing the subject. "I still don't see why Ackerman hates you." He shook his head. "Why French?" It was all a little strange to him--as though he hated him for having green eyes alone.
To his surprise, Michael only laughed softly. "And if he'd said that I was really half-colored and passing?" Sikes looked even more amazed, the question striking its target, as the man explained a deeper truth to him. "No country's prejudices make sense outside of them, Henry." It was the first time he had really said the man's name, making the younger recruit feel strangely proud. "Why Jews? Why Catholics? Why any group?" His head shook again before focusing back on his companion. "Prejudices aren't logical. They have to be taught from birth."
The young man nodded, beginning to see his new friend's point. While he had never quite taken part in his mother's anti-Semitism--fortunately, as it turned out--he had been taught to look down on anyone of a darker race; now, he wondered whether he should rethink, seeing how meaningless it all was. His sigh was deep. If only his mother could have realized that, as well.
His head shook slowly, as he started to understand these facts a bit more completely; it took him awhile to speak again, leaving the internal change to begin somewhere deep within. "You understand why there wasn't much reason for me to stay."
The actor did, on several different levels, opening himself further. Whatever his difficulties, Sikes had already shown himself as a man to be trusted--more than once; whatever had just been revealed didn't seem likely to stop that. "I ran away from home when I was 16, as well. I've never been back." Henry was staring at him, a little amazed. "I don't even know what my family's been doing in all that time."
These confessions moved on, the younger recruit drawn in yet again--both men declaring their solidarity through them. The dim admiration Sikes had had when he first met the actor was now deepening into something far more profound, making him want to open himself to the older man. "I have a sister who's living with my aunt now." His gaze moved back to the crew, Elkins finishing up his praises of the actor. "I don't want her to see where I am." If she knew, they would order him home--and then he couldn't get some small portion of revenge for all of them.
Michael understood this, nodding--recruiting the young man to his side for reasons which were both expedient and altruistic, wanting to be a better example for him, if that were possible. "I have a sister, too," Michael nodded; his sigh was lengthy. "I worry for her."
Sikes mirrored all the man's actions, his voice quiet. "Me, too." But there was little more to be said about this now.
The pair's confessions were interrupted by the return of Elkins, flushed with pride from his victory against Ackerman. He now saw Michael as the standard bearer for all things Nikita. Despite Eric's childhood dislike of all Catholics and anything even mildly French, he had sided with him--probably permanently--because of it.
This transition made perfect sense to the fanatical man, wasn't even noticed enough by him to be commented on. If Nikita knew her husband's background and still loved him, then he could tolerate it, too. All that mattered was that they saw her safe.
His voice was nearly a disturbance for the cameras, but Michael's look warned it softer. "Do you think that was enough?" he finished at last--in a rather bad stage whisper. He almost looked like a puppy waiting for praise.
He was a slightly mangy one, of course, but Michael smiled at him kindly--cultivating his help, needing more friends than enemies. Henry, he had something in common with, felt some real sympathy for. But Eric . . .
He knew that the man could be dangerous, that it wouldn't take much to change him into an enemy. "You did very well," he smiled--giving the recruit the praise he needed. If only it helped them to protect his beloved now.
"I hope it's enough," Sikes whispered beside him, for his ears alone--and Michael's sigh deepened, joining the hope. Even with his wife's newfound determination, with all the help she could find, having Jones for an enemy was always a deadly danger. Without even her husband around to protect her . . .
He forced himself to let this fear go, tried to focus on his own duties--knowing the truth. He had to do well here, had to survive. He had to be good enough to fulfill his bargain, to be allowed to, one day soon, return home unscathed. Then, when he was reunited with his beloved, he alone would be her protector; his eyes burned quietly. And God help anyone who tried to harm her at all.
[End of Part 265]
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