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Date Posted: 17:16:58 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Chapter 22 - Part 2
In reply to: KGilbert 's message, "Dreams in the Dark - Chapter 20 and forthcoming" on 17:00:21 05/03/02 Fri

The moment, the realization, was a terrible one--but there was just no way out. He was sitting there, shaking his head, his eyes closed--wondering how the hell he could ever hope to apologize for his liberties today, how he could hope to even keep her friendship after such a degradation--when he heard a knock on the door. He let out a heavy sigh, mentally damning whoever this was--wanting to simply be left alone to his despair. He just wasn't ready to face the world. "Yes?" he answered--his voice a soft growl.

His tone, however, didn't turn his visitor away. Rene opened the door, looking into him--and almost had to laugh, as he shut out the rest of the world behind them. Sadly, this was exactly what he had expected; he sighed quietly. If only he could have been proved wrong.

There was no reason to focus on this wish, though; it wouldn't make it come true. He pulled himself together, instead--bracing himself for what had to be done--before turning back to his old friend; he had reverted to French, as he so often did when they talked alone. "You look like hell."

Ah--what a surprise. Michael's eyes didn't leave the floor, his expression unchanged. "Thanks."

Hm. There was a small snort of a laugh in response, the designer shaking his head. Perfect. He had expected nothing different. Sometimes, his old friend was so predictable he could spit; he took a deep breath. But there was no changing him today--not without one hell of a fight; he braced himself further. He just hoped he was ready for the battle.

Rene crossed his arms in front of himself, leaning against the wall--prepared for what was to come. He knew very well everything that had happened--readied his opening salvo. "You're being an idiot. You do know this?"

Christ. It did no good. His visitor's tone was light, but it had no effect on the actor--his heart far too heavy; his mind turned to the reality behind the man's words, instead. Yes, he was, indeed. He had been a fool, could never be worthy of Nikita--had had no right whatsoever to what he had taken from her today; his soul sank even further. "Yes," he murmured--mostly to himself. It was almost nice to hear the truth.

No--this really was enough. The blond man took in a deep breath at this response--at the continued denials of his friend; he had to grip his arms more tightly to try to keep his control, trying again. "Do you really think she didn't enjoy that kiss? Do you think she's regretting it?"

The words had no effect, however; Michael just blinked. The very fact that everyone knew about it--that he had been so thoroughly indiscreet--just made everything worse. He sighed quietly. "She should."

The moment had come. There was something akin to an inner explosion happening in the designer; this was about all that he could take. He had seen his old friend's foolishness, his stubbornness, on many occasions--but he had rarely seen it flare up as badly as this. He gripped his arms more tightly before letting go--trying to keep from screaming. If he didn't break through to this man in a second . . .

He walked up to the actor, trying to keep himself from screaming, staring down at him; his eyes were burning. "Michel, look at me." The other man did, for a moment, before looking away once more; Rene shuddered, becoming furious--giving up on all kindness. He knew how to bring him out--and he was no longer willing to be polite. "Michel Samuel Tassé' . . ."

This got him the reaction he wanted; the green eyes burned him, as the actor's head snapped up, his body straightening. His voice was controlled menace--his former torment forgotten. "Don't."

Rene persisted, though, ignoring his look. "Michel Tassé', stop being a fool and agree to listen to me, or I swear to God . . ."

No--this was it. Michael was standing, his gaze now freezing the other man's--warning him further--his whole body shuddering with rage; he would take no more without violence. Michel Tassé' was dead; he had buried that part of him long ago--had done so gleefully, with nothing like remorse. He would never go back. If Rene knew anything about him, it was this. He wouldn't let him continue. His voice was quieter, more threatening. "Not--another--word."

Hm. Finally. This was more the reaction he was seeking. The designer raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes searching. "Ready to listen, then?"

Christ. It took the actor a moment--several, in fact; just that name, all the memories which accompanied it, were not easy to put away. His eyes bored deep into his companion, searching--but the anger finally began to burn away again, as they did. He could see the agreement in the man's gaze, after all, the promise not to speak that name again, not to give him the reminders of all he had left behind long ago, if he just listened--saw the plan which had brought them here. He took a deep breath, calming himself a little, nodding. He didn't like his old friend's approach, but he understood it. He would try.

Good. The blond man smiled, approving of this turn; it had certainly taken him long enough. While he would have loved to be able to help his old friend settle his many demons, he knew that wasn't going to happen just now; he had far too many current ones which needed attention. He held back his smile, too, his mind turning. Maybe, if they could just get him to start acting sensibly, the woman he so obviously adored could do the rest. Mmm.

He began his plan, then, questioning the actor--began to try to force him into facing his own motives. His voice was calm, as he took the first step, his gaze steady--knowing the man too well. "You kissed her."

Oh. Michael's heart ached--all the memories, all the truths, flooding back. He closed his eyes again, turning his head away, as he nodded. "Yes." If only he could say he hadn't.

Hm. Well, it was a start--if not much of one. Rene continued. "Why?"

Christ. Not this. He didn't want to think about it. The actor winced--a slight tic showing in his cheek; he only responded once the question was repeated--his voice flat. "Because I wanted her."

Mm--close but not exact. The designer pressed further, trying another tack. "Is that bad?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Lord. The tic returned, the green eyes looking more gray at the moment--a deep sadness somewhere within them; he still wasn't focusing on his friend, couldn't bear to. He only repeated the complex truth. "She's an innocent."

Hm. Rene shrugged, not seeing the point entirely. After all, with the fire which burnt between this pair . . . "We all were once. There's always a first time." And he was quite certain the man could make it very memorable for both the ingénue and himself.

Oh. Please, no. The tic became more profound, as these words pierced straight through to the actor's heart--a very old, very painful memory coming back to him like a fury, taunting him for all he had done. He didn't speak, but his eyes said everything--the horror fresh once more; his heart squeezed tight. If only it had never happened at all.

Ah. The blond man sighed, his own heart sinking some. He understood a little of his friend's pain at last, saw where this went back to--even if he wasn't at all convinced that the man should hold back entirely now. Still, the torment of those memories would probably never quite dim for the actor, even made sense of his long-established taste for experienced women--which the blond man had never thought through in any depth before--but he supposed that was beside the point. His voice was soft, coaxing--his eyes sad. "Are you still blaming yourself for that?"

This didn't net him the reaction he had wanted, however; the green eyes blazed again, as they met his--doing their best to burn them both. The actor's voice was rough. "There's no one else to blame."

Christ. This was impossible--and wasn't getting any easier. Rene dropped his head into his hand, shaking it a little, before he looked up once more, a sadness settling within him. This was going to be a longer conversation than he had predicted--unfortunately. He supposed he should settle in.

He turned away at last, then, finding a chair, and began to make himself relatively comfortable, as he looked into the man--knowing he had to wait this out. There was another small sigh, before he began, his eyes truthful. "You're wrong, you know. There's no one to blame at all." Michael's eyes blazed at him again, before he went on--but he was used to that; he reiterated the facts. "She was willing; you were both young. Things happened." He shook his head, remembering too well. "It's all much too long ago to keep beating yourself for it now."

No. He couldn't accept. Michael shook his head, his eyes closed for a moment, before he too took a seat--seeing that he couldn't rid himself of the designer easily. While he knew that Rene was telling him the truth as he saw it, that didn't change what had happened. He closed his eyes again, before he refocused on the floor, the memories still terrible, as he thought through the man's words. "And Adam?" He sighed, looking up to him. The boy was far more than just a "thing."

God. The designer almost wanted to wince, but stopped himself; it wouldn't help the man's mood. Still, it was a difficult moment. The actor's illegitimate son had always been a half-taboo subject between them, one too painful to his old friend for him to ever willingly mention. He hated that it had come up now--especially given the point he needed to make here; he sighed, trying, nonetheless. "He's safe. He's happy. He has a family." He shrugged, trying to be dismissive. "What more could any child need?"

Mm. The auburn man shook his head, hating it all. Something in his soul was burning again. "A father."

Ah--this argument. Rene plucked up his courage, hoping not to upset the man even further; still, the truth was the truth. "He has one." Perhaps not the one who had sired him, but a father, nonetheless--one who loved him dearly. To his mind, it was infinitely preferable to the horrors of the loveless marriage which would have ensued between his friend and Adam's mother, had they been foolish enough to follow that path. Elena, for all her sweetness, had just never been the man's match.

Christ. There was a deep sigh, as Michael looked to the floor once more--all of this knowledge sinking into him, as well. He knew it all, of course--had understood it for sometime--but none of it had ever really made him feel any better, hadn't gotten rid of the guilt; his voice grew softer, the fears rising straight from his soul. "I can't do that to her as well, Rene." He closed his eyes in pain at the very thought, shaking his head. "I can't ruin her like that."

No--he couldn't be serious. Despite the designer's best efforts, there was a small snort--his eyes widening, as his astonishment rose. Yes, he could understand why the man might shy away from virgins again--could see the fears which they would bring with them. But this . . . "You can't be serious." The actor's eyes raised to him, showing him that he was, and the designer snorted again, amazed. It was too much. "You cannot think that would all happen again."

He didn't get the reaction he wanted, though--sadly; the actor just shrugged, looking down, while Rene held back his sigh, his mind turning through the facts here. It certainly wasn't like virgins were the only women capable of getting pregnant, after all--as more recent, tragic events had proven; he shook off the tormenting thought, needing to focus. Still, he could see why the man was scarred, even if he didn't like it. If only there were some way to get him through this . . .

He tried another path, his voice soft--looking for a way around the man's defenses. "Michel." The man's eyes raised to him reluctantly. "Just because you kissed her doesn't mean you're suddenly going to ravish her." His look became more ironic. "And it certainly doesn't mean that she's unhappy with what you did." It took no experience with women at all to know that.

Huh. The actor sighed, half-taking this in; he did want to believe. Still, . . . "She deserves better."

No--that didn't sound right. Rene's eyes bored in. "Better than you?"

Michael shrugged, his heart sinking further. "Better than what I can give her."

Ah--that was the real problem. The designer smiled. Well, at least he knew where to go from here . . .

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Replies:

  • Chapter 22 - Part 3 (end of chapter 22) -- Repost Fairy, 17:19:17 05/03/02 Fri
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