| Subject: Chapter 269 - Part 2 (end of chapter 269) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, December 04, 07:34:53am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Helmut looked over to her a moment later, sighing at her obvious sorrow; he used the intercom to thank the projectionist, as he helped her rise. Any conversation they might have about this would be better had far away from here.
She let herself be led once more, her mind reeling through the images she had just seen, drawing many conclusions. One of the many was that her husband had been downplaying his pain yet again--so many details suggesting it. While the cameras had placed the snow into artistic piles, that there was so much of it suggested that he was in a pretty brutal winter. And he had never even mentioned it; she had to sigh. She wasn't entirely aware that Michael had grown up in near-constant snow, had never really inquired about such details--but she did love him for his forbearance all the more. He was always so damn stoic, when it came to suffering on her behalf.
This wasn't the only disturbing detail, however--the few men she had seen with him causing her to worry. The first one who had spoken about him nearly scared her, despite his false cheer. That look in his eyes was something like a cross between Fanning's possessive hate and the man she had just unwillingly met, Enquist's, cheerful violence. He looked like the sort who could easily kill--who wanted to; she had to shudder. Perhaps she would be driven to such an act one of these days, but she certainly wasn't looking forward to it; something in her fell. But she didn't even want to ponder that this outcome might be inevitable now.
So much of this fear rested on her father's reaction, on whether he could ever get the point that she was not up for sale or auction--that she *would* kill him, before he could hurt her or her child. She didn't want to think about it, the truth too obvious. Despite the intensity of her recent showing, she couldn't believe that it would be that easy. He wasn't exactly the sort of man who ever got any point but his own.
She had to push such considerations quickly into the back of her mind, not ready to ponder them. Instead, she thought back to the newsreel, to the other men there. His commander, at least, seemed relatively sane--but she was beginning to fear that there was much she hadn't been told. The recruit who had mentioned her made her wonder. Perhaps his earlier mentioning of her "popularity" had hidden much more than she had imagined.
She didn't want to think into this truth, either, felt no sanity anymore; it was only Helmut's voice--trying to be cheerful--which drew her from the depths of her fears. "Did you like it?"
To her dismay, he seemed so eager to please--his gaze so worried, when she found it once more; she tried to smile, pulling herself together, seeing the truth. He had done this for her, had gotten a copy to show her--to give her some part of her husband back; she swallowed heavily, sorry for having been so lost in herself. "I loved it, Helmut," she smiled. "Thank you." She could nearly kick herself for not having been more grateful before.
He saw her real emotions, though, sighed deeply at her polite deceptions. While he understood that she was being kind to him, he had never asked for her thanks. She was a beautiful woman, in so many ways, deserved happiness of every sort; his sigh deepened, as he searched her sweet blue eyes. If only he were a different sort of man, he would probably be fighting Michael for possession of her at every turn.
It was fortunate that he wasn't, then, all their lives a little simpler for it. Still, he didn't seek gratitude, head shaking slightly. "What did you really think?"
Her eyes alone thanked him for his many kindnesses, but she wasn't certain how to answer--too many possibilities in her heart; she looked back to their path, as she pondered just one of them. "Do you think they were too dismissive? Will it hurt him?" She knew that the newsreels weren't likely to address him as the next great hero, given their determination to stand by America's noninterference policy, but still . . .
Mm. His sigh was her only answer for a moment, as he gathered his thoughts. "It's no worse than we expected. In fact, it's better, in many ways." She looked back to him, waiting for hope--and he realized yet again what a fatherly figure he had often been in her life; he learned to cherish it, continuing. "They made it clear that he's both well-liked and doing well. They reminded the audience of his love for you, as well." His head shook. "Given what they could have done, it's quite positive." All the couple's allies needed to do was their best to keep such love for the actor going. It was his best hope of protection from all those many variables which weren't the war itself.
She took a deep breath, trying to accept this fact--needing to. But she was silent just a second too long, drawing his notice, making him wonder. He didn't ask about her earlier confrontation with Jones, knew better than that. She needed to be happy, to gain what comfort she could--and they had already discussed as much as they could just now.
He already had plans to meet with Adrian later tonight, would have to include this latest turn in their discussion. But he also wanted to give the poor actress the night off, to leave her with something positive to focus on. Already, she was overtaxed, far overburdened; his gaze grew worried. In her state, especially, it wasn't good; his godfatherly fears went deep. If only for one night, he had to give her an opportunity at peace.
This had been his intention all along, his reason for coming to the studio today. Even before he had found her with her dreadful father, he had hoped that the newsreel could do just this; now, he wasn't so certain. His look showed his growing concern, his voice soft--as Fredericks trailed several steps behind them; the earlier question returned, in a slightly altered form. "What are you really thinking, Nikita?" It might aid him in helping her, if he knew.
Lord. Her heart thumped, the love overwhelming her, as she thought back to the newsreel; she had to sigh, trying to keep back the tears. "He was just so beautiful, Helmut." She swallowed heavily, wanting to cry. "I miss him so much."
His look gave her everything he wished he could, was pure, fatherly concern--his hand on her shoulder comforting. "I know." They all did, really--missed the actor's insights and determination and humor, as well as his absolute devotion to his many friends. And still, as he watched her, leading her back toward her car, he wished that he could give both Michael and his wife more--that he could promise a reunion; his sigh lingered. But he couldn't, not yet--too many obstacles before them. His gaze took her in so softly. He only hoped that he could give her more soon.
Until the time came when he could see them happily back together, he could promise only one thing--but he gave it with all his heart. "We'll look after you both," he whispered--and meant it, his determination quite deep. Nikita and her child *would* be well; the look showed all the intensity of his quiet love. And then, someday soon, she and her husband would be happily together again.
Extra note: I probably didn't get the whole tone of the newsreel right--and did an even worse job of trying to describe the whole thing. Sorry. I did my best, even if that might not be saying much.
[End of Part 269]
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