""It was not," Victor continued, "that I had fallen in love with you, not that. I was pleased and gratified to find that I should have inspired such an emotion in you -- I, who could not imagine successfully wooing a woman without the attractions of power and money to plead for me. I was genuinely moved by the magnitude of what you had done for me, and this was the best and most fitting way in which I could show my gratitude -- to marry you."
He continued, "I liked your wit, and admired your intelligence. I considered your other virtues and qualities, and judged to fit to be my wife and the mother of my heirs. I could contemplate sharing bed and board with you without repugnance- even with a marked degree of attraction.
"You loved me, and it would be pleasant to be loved. If I did not love you, I would care for you, I could be fond of you, and you would never know the difference. If I became attached to you -- well, that was a matter of brain secretions, the chemical action of neurohormones such as endorphins and oxytocin -- biology's way of ensuring that sex partners bond long enough to ensure that human children survive infancy.
"Or so I imagined, before this week -- before I even touched my hand to your cheek in a caress."
I waited, listening. He was building up to something, I could tell.
"That intellectual detachment did not last a week. It did not last four days -- it did not even last two. In vain, I struggled against admitting it to myself -- I have fallen in love with you. I may know in my head it is all a conspiracy of biology, the correct genetic strategy, an ennobleised instinct. Yet my heart insists that I love you."
I was feeling very shaky, like an electrical charge it passed through me, and tears are threatening to spill over out of my eyes and run down my cheeks. "Um-- would you mind repeating that?" I asked. He had never said it before, not in so many words.
"I love you." Victor said, in a soft, raspy, deep voice, like velvet or chocolate would sound, if they could speak. " I love you more deeply and intensely than I had ever imagined I could love anyone."
If we were living in a fairy tale -- which in some respects, we were -- comic books being very close to both mythology and fairy tales -- those would've been magic words that broke a spell.
Perhaps they were. The Doctor Doom who postured and posed over the pages of the worst written of the comic books would not have been capable of loving anyone, not even himself. Perhaps this was part of what I had always sought to do -- which was to separate our world from the created world of Marvel Comics. The essential message of the children's book, The Velveteen Rabbit, sprang to my mind: If you are truly loved, then you become Real -- and if it could happen to a stuffed toy, then why not to a fictional character? Wasn't Sherlock Holmes much more real than many people who had lived and died?
At that point, I had to fling myself into his embrace, blotting my streaming eyes on his shirt. "I'm not upset. I'm happy -- I just can't it express any other way."
He stroked my hair. "This goes beyond words, my dear—my wife, my love."
After a long moment spent nestled against his shoulder—he was just the perfect height for me, his shoulder was very conveniently placed, I felt a chuckle rumble in his chest. "I am very glad we are reconciled—as I have an inspiration concerning our honeymoon schedule which would be criminal to allow to go to waste. You will enjoy it immeasurably, I assure you. I will now tell you part of it. We will be going to Italy. However, the relevant issue is not where in Italy—but when."
"When? Tomorrow night, you mean?" I asked him.
"In one sense of time, yes. But do not forget the time machine."
"Ooooh!" I said. "Now I'm really intrigued! Ancient Rome?"
"No. I will say no more." He shook his head.
"Very well, then. I'm afraid I've soaked your shirt. You should take it off, lest you catch cold." I pulled it out of his pants as I spoke.
"The way in which you are caressing my back does not suggest that your chiefest concern is my health, although I admit I do not object—Why, then, ought I to remove my trousers?"
"I'm sure I can think of a reason--." I smiled.
TBC….