| Subject: Chapter 271 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Wednesday, February 21, 07:23:09am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Extra warning: I'm rating this 16 and above for mild bad language.
Dreams in the Dark (271/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
The meeting continued after that, but Nikita wasn't made part of it for long. For one thing, she was far too tired; it was clear to everyone just how much the stress of the day had taken out of her. For another, much of the group's discussions with Anna were private--the actress far safer, the less she knew. Especially after an encounter such as she had already endured that evening, there *was* such a thing as strategic retreat.
It was with this thought that Rene led her away from the others, allowing Helmut and the female couple who lived with them to finish up with Anna on their own. Not only did he fear overtaxing Nikita in her current condition, but he also suspected that she had questions she could not ask in front of the newcomer. It was far better to give her her chance in peace.
It was a sign of just how far the relationship between the designer and Helmut had come, of course, that he was willing to leave the situation in his partner's hands. But the banker's jealousy had waned, his contrition quite thorough; Rene nearly smiled, thinking of his many, tender ways of showing it. He was more than capable of looking after all of them now.
The designer wouldn't leave him alone in this difficult task for long, but there were other places he needed to be, at the moment. Nikita proved this, her look almost suspicious--starting just as he thought she might; it seemed that he was learning her ways rather well. "Who is she?" she asked confidentially, when they were far enough away to ensure they wouldn't be overheard. Of course, had Michael not already known the answer, it was the sort of question the actor would also be likely to ask--although, depending on his mood, he might well have broached it entirely in front of her.
Rene smiled at this notion, missing the man again--in all his occasional brusqueness; his eyes were cheerful, as he took in the actor's wife. If anything, his old friend had softened after meeting her, didn't have as much of a tendency--except where there was real danger--to treat all those around him with cool distance; his smile deepened, as he gazed into her. He wondered whether she had any real idea of the changes in the man, of what a miracle she had wrought. Before--at least, in all of Michael's Hollywood days, those after the debacle with Elena--his social interactions were few, and usually ordered by the studio. He had rarely even wined and dined his bed partners, as far as the designer could tell, his offers polite but straightforward. The only possible exception to this was Simone--although Rene knew he might well be imagining too much, even there; he nearly shook his head. Since the guilt of the actor's unintentional fathering of Adam--and a million times more since the tragedy of Simone's publicly-unacknowledged murder--he had been almost wholly unapproachable; his eyes bore in. If only this woman had any idea of what she was capable of.
He suspected that she had none at all, however--had no way to, really. He had heard a little about Michael's iceberg demeanor with her in the earliest days of their acquaintance--but even then there had seemed to be a difference; Rene had seen it even in his, then limited, interactions with the man. It was as though--for the first time since their early days in New York--some hope had been born within him. As much as the actor had tried not to acknowledge the fact, his reawakening to life had been too apparent to miss.
These thoughts flashed by, the sum of them building through all the days he had known the actress. And it had also been Nikita's favorable, loving influence, he was certain, which had allowed him to reestablish his old connection with his friend. Had she not come along, their disagreement just before Simone's untimely death might well have distanced them for good; the smile began. But this one woman had brought life back to all of them, instead.
It was this fact, the unknowing influence her hopefulness and inherent decency brought to them, which made them all orbit around her--he was certain. Not that she seemed to understand it herself; the smile lingered. But the naturalness of her appeal was all part of her charm.
These thoughts were brief, were the background of many he had had for sometime now. It took him only a second to bring himself back to her question, hoping to allay some of her fears; she didn't deserve those. "Anna was my last wife." He saw her eyes widen, his smile deepening. "It was a helpful arrangement for us both, at the time."
Nikita blinked once, but she wasn't stupid enough not to understand his meanings. Hollywood, especially, was full of real couples no one could acknowledge--and entirely fake ones everyone did--was a sort of outsized reflection of the world beyond it. Still, one question did bother her. "But you left her?" Given the way the newcomer had looked at him, the reverse seemed impossible. And there was clearly a story on the other side of that.
His smile was a touch sad now, but he did try to explain. "I couldn't force her to keep pretending. It wasn't fair."
She didn't ask to whom; it would have been too rude a way to put her thoughts--despite what she had observed. She searched for a better way to address them--and found that rudeness was probably the only way to go; her look showed her reluctance. "But she ended up with Bauer . . ." She didn't want to finish the sentence.
Rene winced, not needing her to. It was an accusation he had made of himself at least a thousand times. His gaze trailed along the carpet, as he tried to find a way to express himself--barely noticing how instantly he opened himself to her; whether as an extension of his faith in her husband or because of her natural goodness, he couldn't be sure. "I didn't foresee that." The wince greatened, the guilt still so deep, as he explained the woman's actions. "But she has debts . . ." He managed to look back up to his companion, sighing quietly. "She doesn't want to work for him, but he's turned her into his errand girl." When she seemed slightly skeptical of this limited description, his gaze firmed. "She just does his dirty work around the fringes."
Nikita could only hope this was all--for the woman's sake, as well as their own. "And she wants out," she put together. It wasn't a difficult assumption for anyone who knew Bauer.
He nodded at her insight, looking pained. "We're trying to find one." He didn't want to tell her their plans, didn't wish to endanger her further--moving his words on. "Until then, she has to do what she does." Something inside him cringed. And he would have to deal with the guilt of having allowed it.
Helmut had talked this truth over with him a thousand times, had tried to dissuade him from blaming himself. Her words, too, went entirely against his train of thought--never for a second believing that he wasn't on Anna's side--her surprise showing quietly. "You're defending her."
Lord. He gazed back, sighing as he did so. "That's rather the point. If I had, she wouldn't be working for him in the first place."
It was an accusation, more than anything else, but she wasn't entirely certain who it was aimed at; she sighed quietly, backing down--not meaning to bring him pain--quietly pointing out the obvious. "She's a grown woman. It's not your responsibility to look after her." There was a wince a second later, as she realized the truth, gaze falling. "Or me, for that matter."
No. He could see her guilt growing, wouldn't allow it. Whatever his own failings, he wouldn't let her blame herself. Her doubts about Anna were justified, given how little she knew of the woman--and what she did know of the man who controlled her life. Her guilt over being looked after so thoroughly was displaced, as well. Had she been perfectly safe, no enemies worse than the public's generally fickle nature to worry about, they wouldn't have been keeping her under such close watch. It was hardly her fault that her father was insane, Madeline cold-hearted and half-crazy with jealousy, and a variety of others either wishing for her failure or her body--in the most lurid and sadistic ways; his sigh was quiet. It all came with being so distinct, with shining so brightly--even long before Premier's publicity men had done their best to ballyhoo her; his gaze sank in. There were just too many people on earth who hated to see anyone with either individuality or a soul.
This truth had always been a dreadful one, was utterly unavoidable. Still, he smiled at her--knowing what she didn't; his hand touched her arm gently, leading her along. "Come with me." He had something to show her which would answer her last worry, at least.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 
