| Subject: Chapter 251 - Part 2 (end of chapter 251) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, July 31, 07:00:34am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark" on Monday, May 01, 06:55:47am
It was this last fear which made her physically shake, visions of a future without hope impossible to deny. In most of her fantasies, the Allies were successful, as they had been in the Great War--as meaningless as all those sacrifices now seemed--her husband returning to her, safe and sound, after only a few months, maybe years, if she weren't as lucky. But what if that weren't true? Germany was anything but weak, at the moment, the Nazis' rapacity for land and carnage already becoming all-the-more clear. What if this war didn't turn out like the last one? What if we lost? The shudder moved through to her soul. If the Allies did, then it was probably worthless to worry; all her hopes would be meaningless. There was no chance of raising a happy, moral child, if there were only blood and hate for bread.
The tears were flowing a little faster now, the fears pounding at her. A world with Hitler in charge of it was a world without hope or meaning. Half the people she knew would already be labeled as unwanted--heaven only knew what happening to them then. All of little Adrian's godparents, as well as Susan and Peter, Elena and her children--all, for their various reasons, would be displaced. Only the ones she feared might remain--Bauer, Madeline, and the rest. But that wasn't a world anyone sane could survive in for long.
She realized that she was shivering terribly, her husband pulling up the covers more tightly around them, holding her fiercely close--but it wasn't a physical cold which shook her. No--it was a sudden realization, an understanding of what would be. In a world such as that, her husband wouldn't return. And that would mean that life for herself and her child would no longer be possible at all.
She saw this future before her here, reaching out to grasp her--bleak and unavoidable. As much as she wanted to pretend that everything would be alright, it just wasn't possible--more terrors grabbing for her. There could even still be a war on when her son was of draftable age, Nikita losing two of the men she loved to it; the shakes became harder. After all, no one said that war was quick. Or, at least, no one did who had any sense of reality.
Her husband's arms were so tight around her now, doing his best to soothe her; his hand was in her hair, touching her softly, his voice a warm, deep comfort. "Quiet. Ssh." He kissed her ear, the love tangible in his touch. "We'll get through it, Nikita. We'll be alright."
She wasn't certain she believed this, wasn't certain it was sane to. Still, she felt, in the way that he spoke, that--in some sense, at least--he believed. Maybe he had his doubts and fears--maybe he was just as scared as she was--but he wasn't letting them overcome him; she tried to resolve herself, holding him tightly, wanting to be strong. She would need to be, if she hoped to get through. Her most optimistic hope was that she would lose him only for months, not years, before he returned to her, relatively safe--if no doubt haunted by what he had had to endure; she tried to resolve herself, something inside her firming. She would just have to be willful enough to get through, until then.
She tried to focus on this goal, needed to believe in something this, relatively, good--realizing the truth. She couldn't think about the many "what if?"s--only some of which she had been pondering tonight. She would need to leave aside the question of her father's reaction to him, should he arrive back, safe and sound; she would have to ignore the possibilities of all of Madeline's demented plans for her and her child. She *had* to. If there were any hope of sanity, of forging ahead alone, she would have to be strong. And the strong didn't spend all their time fearful of what might be.
She was doing her best to emulate this ideal, wanted to be a woman he would be happy to return to. For the past few months, she had been only a clinging vine--and a pretty damp one, at that; she tried her best to stop the tears. Michael didn't need a weak little girl to protect; he needed his partner--as she needed him. She took a deep breath, trying to brace herself. They would both just have to do their best to survive.
He sighed, as he held her close, knowing her thoughts--wishing he could help her more. In truth, her fears were only as great as his own, if not actually far less intense. It was *his* responsibility to look after her, to shield and shelter her; it was part of being her partner. And, instead, he would be . . .
He couldn't finish this thought, the terror of it wracking--mind drawn sideways, into his constant love for her. It had taken him quite awhile to attempt to accept the reverse in return, but he mostly did now. She was the only one who could truly allay his fears, the only one he could open himself to completely; what Rene or Simone, his best friends before her, had known of him paled in comparison. Only she saw his true weaknesses; his sigh was quiet. And only she could love him, despite them all.
He adored her for this fact, was never certain how she managed it. If she needed someone to help her through her own terrors, that was only fair. The sole problem was the fact that he would soon no longer be here to hold up his end of the deal; his heart sank. He could only hope that they would both make it through, nonetheless.
It was this, as well as a thousand other, fears, which ravaged him--the fact that she was still in his arms, that she still loved him, his only real comfort. But soon, such respite would be a distant memory. God help him, once he was no longer by her side.
Nikita was convinced, at the moment, that she was the only one who needed her partner to such a depth, the only one who was so absolutely caught--but she was very wrong. As much as she needed his embrace, he needed to have her in his arms; as much as she ached to see his face, to hear his words, he ached to be able to share them with her. Being strong for her, even helping her through the traumas of these last few months, gave him a sense of self he had only recently realized had always been missing before. Discovering her--every part of her--was a solace like none other; his heart clenched at thoughts of the future. And it was a solace he would miss with every fiber of his being.
He tried to let her know this now, wanted her to understand that any weakness their love might symbolize was one both of them shared. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, Nikita. I don't know what the future will bring." His sigh was quiet; it was so difficult to find the right words. "I can survive, if I know you're alright." There was a silence for a moment, his voice dropping. "But I don't know how I'm going to survive without you in my arms."
This hadn't done it, hadn't begun to encompass all he felt--but that was impossible, anyway. Still, he realized just how inadequate it had been a moment later, when his dear wife looked up to him, her gaze so worried. She bit her lower lip for a moment in that way he found so unutterably endearing, before she finally spoke--the words cutting his heart. "You won't find anyone else?"
Lord. He had to close his eyes for a second, pulling himself together--trying to let her see the truth, his look so deep. "Even if I did," even if he were an utter fool, "it wouldn't help." His hand reached up, stroking her cheek, brushing so lightly along where the tears she had tried to hide had fallen; his gaze was enveloping, even as he feared his words were far too trite--the results of bad Hollywood scriptwriting. "There's no one else who can fill my heart."
He was convinced of how utterly incomplete--how ridiculous--the words were, but she only smiled at him, seeming to understand. It wasn't as though language could capture the depth of what existed between them anyway, the tenderness of the way they each filled each other's soul. But, somehow, her smile alone expressed it all, her own hand on his cheek--her gaze much stronger than before. "I love you, Michael." Her thumb traced down toward the corner of his mouth, her eyes so deep. "Come back to me soon."
He could only smile at this plea, the prayer taken straight from his heart. Still, his feelings couldn't really be conveyed--even the deeper words inadequate. "Believe in me." His gaze was adoring. "I love you."
They kissed then, a million fears filed away--for now. After all, it was Christmas, a time of new life and celebration. And, on this one, holiest of days, they would remember again that they could never be kept apart.
[End of Part 251]
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