I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
Or wooden legs.
In the Absence of Light, Darkness Prevails
The First of Many
When she finally let go of Massimo's neck, Elsa wiped her tears away.
And resumed staring in astonished wonder at her new legs and feet, now modestly stockinged below her healed stumps.
Massimo gazed at her, enjoyed her amazement for a moment longer. Then he made a 'wait' gesture with one hand and reached under the bed for what he had concealed there days before as she slept.
A new pair of ladies' dress shoes. They were red, with three inch, solid heels. The leather was stylishly cut in a zigzag pattern across the top and three buckles waited to secure them to their new owner.
They were simple and attractive.
And would never pinch her feet.
Because her feet were now wooden.
"Oh, Massimo, they are lovely!" she exclaimed in wonder.
And paused then, glancing furtively around at the small, cluttered dwelling.
Her tone was a jest when she spoke. Mostly.
"What other women's apparel do you have stashed away around here?"
He chuckled at her as he secured the shoes on her new feet.
"This is the entirety of my collection, cara mia. And I would be amiss not to say that the ladies who owned the boutique were most intrigued by me."
He withdrew his hands then and she looked.
They look . . . real. They look like feet. They look like my feet.
And she smiled still further.
At the shoes. At her feet. At him.
And then Massimo spoke.
"And now, cara mia, it is time for you to walk."
At these new words, Elsa felt a mixture of emotions swirl within her.
Walk?
Her?
She had not walked in so long.
And she, she felt . . . she felt . . .
Exultation that she could once again move on her own two legs.
Trepidation that she would fail.
And gratefulness to even be able to consider it at all.
She must have looked stricken and fearful because Massimo gifted her with his calm smile once again and offered her his hands.
"Have no fear, Elsa. I will hold you up."
She looked into his eyes and saw that he would.
So she nodded and he helped her position her body on the edge of the bed and place her new feet in her new red shoes in a stable position on the floor.
And there she sat.
Wanting to rise and walk.
Desiring it deeply.
And fearing she was not ready.
He waited patiently for her to gather her courage.
And then waited some more.
Finally, she took a deep breath and began to tremulously rise.
He took most of her weight, releasing her hands and wrapping his arms protectively around her. She, in turn, clutched his shoulders with nervous hands and pushed her stumps against the padded cushions of her wooden legs.
And gasped as the pressure set in on her stumps. He took more of her weight, almost all of it, as her body left the bed and became completely vertical for the first time in months.
Massimo held her in his arms and she stood, Elsa, on her own two legs. The legs Massimo Dolcefino had created just for her.
Her mouth hung open in a shocked, disbelieving expression. Not the coy, demure poise of a refined lady. Or the calculating, pretentious sneer of a dominatrix whore.
Just a woman. Granted a most miraculous gift.
The gift of legs.
And walking.
"There, cara mia. You are standing now."
He slowly relinquished her weight to her, little by little so that she could truly experience the feeling of standing on her new wooden legs.
He kept his hands around her waist, balancing her, ready to catch her in an instant if she lost her footing. He also peered deep into her face to see her reaction to her legs.
He wanted to see her anger and misery melt away like frost before the spring sun.
He wanted see her let go of her sorrow and be free.
But Elsa stood very silent and rigid and tight.
She was standing, finally standing.
She knew it was mostly him enabling her to do so. She knew she was weak. She knew she was unbalanced and uncoordinated.
And she didn't care.
Because she was standing.
And Massimo wanted her to have more.
"Come, to the sunlight, Elsa. To the world."
He wanted her to walk to the balcony.
"N-n-no," she stammered in sudden fear. "It is so far away! And . . . I will fall over the edge!"
He did not reprimand her for her lack of faith in him. He did not invalidate her feelings by telling her not to be afraid.
Massimo simply held her up in his arms and encouraged her.
"To the door then, yes? We will dance it. Together."
He held her close to him for her security and set his back to their destination.
And counted in his low, melodic rumble.
"Uno . . . due . . . tre."
He moved his left leg back a small step and she slid her right leg forward slightly, feeling cumbersome and heavy and ungainly with nearly no equilibrium at all.
Except for that given to her by the man with the sketches of salt in his pepper hair holding her up.
"Very good, Elsa," he murmured, a gentle smile upon his face. "Again."
This time he moved his right leg back and she followed with her clumsy left leg.
She kept her eyes on him, feeling slightly dizzy, never daring to look around, never daring to glance away from his dark, warm eyes.
And so it was that they made their way across the space together, slowly, so slowly. Her uncertain and hesitant. And him, confident and calm, never looking away from her.
Her face was strained and taut with concentration and anxiety that she might fall.
It almost appeared that she was glaring at him, though she was not.
But when she felt warmth on her arm, she blinked heavily, as if returning from a dream, and looked around.
They were standing in a shaft of sunlight.
In the doorway to the balcony.
And the entire world.
Massimo rotated them slowly so that she could turn her head and look out at the vista before them.
When she did, she beheld the grey, dull world.
Exactly the same.
Only now awash with beauty and promise.
And then another miracle happened.
She began to giggle, deep in throat. Giggle like a little girl in the sunlit field chasing brightly colored butterflies flitting to and fro.
She released a shaking hand from his shoulder, in danger of losing her balance completely, and clamped it over her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter.
It did not work.
Elsa stood, her blond hair a curled mess, Massimo's white button up shirt hanging halfway to her knees, and his maroon cardigan hanging half off her shoulder. Fancy red shoes strapped to a pair of fake, wooden legs swathed in pale stockings.
And she giggled.
In rapture and delight.
And Massimo Dolcefino, the simple carpenter, beheld the face of an angel.
An angel, freed from her Earthly shackles, flying on zephyrs of lightest air up toward the open expanse of Heaven.
And it was he, he, who held her up and made it possible.
He, in his love and devotion and constancy, had made it so.
Okay, hope this wasn't too cheesy but I couldn't resist. And hey, Elsa isn't the shrew here that she is later and they really deserve some sweetness in my opinion. ;D
So thanks to brigid1318, MaverickPaxaPunch, GG, my mystery guest, and Foreverglfan88 for your enthusiastic reviews!