A Moment of Weakness for Magda

[Erik Lehnsherr]

A Moment of Weakness
Tag Magda Eisenhardt

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Everything's gonna be all right

Magda felt the bed jerk, and she opened her eyes. Turning over, and sitting up she looked at the man sleeping next to her as his body tensed and his hand moved out to ward off something. "Erik?" She asked softly, and things in the hotel room began to move. "Erik." She called his name a little louder, with worry in her tone.

He said something in Polish that she only half understood, but it was enough to know that his dreams were about the horrible things they'd done to him int he camps. His mother murdered, Shaw's horrible training ways. Families dying in the masses. Moving closer to him, Magda put her body over his, and whispered softly in his ear in Polish. "Erik, you're safe. I have you. You're safe now." It weighed on Erik that he hadn't found Shaw, and this horrible man was still in the world, doing this to others maybe. He'd never had this type of dream while she'd been with him, but she wondered if this was the first time. "You're safe. I love you. Dream better things, love." She softly told him, little kisses on his temple.

Rockabye, rockabye, rockabye, bye, bye

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Tag: Magda Eisenhardt
Note: Better layout coming soon!

Peace

WAS NEVER AN OPTION

Nightmares were not uncommon for Erik, but it had been a while since he'd had one. Certainly not when he had been with Magda. As he often recognized, her presence had a calming effect on him. A peace that her company granted him. One he always felt impossible to obtain. But the true extent of it would not be felt until Shaw was dead. And that, was what plagued his mind tonight. Memories of the camps. Of being so helpless as the bullet shot through the air. A bullet that he should have been able to stop. A bullet that senselessly killed his mother. And the torture that ensued after that. He could still feel the waves of the pain that shot through his body.

The screams. The sounds of others screaming as he lay on the table, only imagining the worst, knowing there were no limits to the cruelty of the soldiers at the camps. And too many of them thrived. Too many lived without being accountable for their actions. His mind remembered the faces of all those that were brought into the room. The mockery. The enjoyment found in their power over others. In torturing others. Erik felt his breath shorten, his hand slightly raising of its own mind. Things around the room starting to shake. The furniture, the contents upon the dresser, the hangers in the closet. Everything. His words of pleading to not do it anymore; something else he despised. That at one point, he had pleaded with them to stop. How many others had begged?

Only to be met with laughter. Yet there was a sudden voice that seemed to be pulling him out. A warmth that washed over him. Touches upon his skin. It took but a few additional moments for his hand to lower, for the pain to stop surging through his body -- even if it was only psychologically. His eyes shot open with a gasp, as if the wind had been knocked out of him from the magnitude of the nightmare. But it didn't take long to see -- and feel -- Magda there. Comforting him. Reassuring him. It was the only thing that prevented him from shooting up in shock. From items flying about around him.

No. This time he had woken up far more . . . calmly then before. If such a word could even be used. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe back the trauma. His arms moved around her, holding her close to him. Holding onto that peace that she always gave him. Basking in each touch she offered to lull him from sleep. To bring him back to this conscious world and remind him . . . that they were not in the camps. That they were safe. That they were together. And it was all he could hold onto right now. She was all he could hold on to.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Everything's gonna be all right

Magda kept her face tilted into his and places light kisses over his skin as he slowly seemed to wake and pull her deeper into his embrace. She didn't look up to see if things still moved or if he sat them down. She didn't look up to see if his eyes were opened or if they were still closed. She kept her face near her, letting her skin touch his. Her nose trail his skin as she held him to her.

Her voice was soft, as he grew still. Without looking at his face she knew he was hearing her, in his heart if not in his dreams. Her fingers kept brushing his hair back from his face, slowly and softly. While the gesture was motherly in a way, the rest of her pressing into him was not. "You're alright, my love." She whispered in Polish, before she began a soft reassuring and soothing hum. She didn't so much sing, as she did whisper in melodic words, an old Polish song of comfort.

Rockabye, rockabye, rockabye, bye, bye

_{Erik Lehnsherr}