Kristine is certainly not pleased. (Canon is Ibsen's A Doll's House)

[tolivefor]

Mundane:
 
I see I am bound to wait here (even though Nora would have been a better choice in my place). But if in the meanwhile I can find Krogstad again, it will be worth it, since we will be able to live together. And I don't want to be alone. You know that work has been my greatest and only happiness so far, but now I am alone and  working for oneself does not bring happiness.
We need each other.

Comments

[noshitstogive]

[It's ridiculous, but for a moment, Krogstad forgets how to breathe. Forgets that he ought to breathe or even that he exists, forgets how wretched this experience has been and how utterly out of place he feels. Because he knows that face he knows that voice, and the last time she had spoken, it had been a promise of renewal and of welcome of, a... a happiness he could hardly have believed in.

And is she here now. Is she truly here? He had once again set aside belief in such fortune, but now...]

Kristine.

[His voice falters, fading almost before he can complete her name. She looks like the Kristine he knows (dare he... almost, almost perhaps say his Kristine?), but he has heard enough of this place to know that nothing is to be trusted. There have been stories about seemingly familiar people who appeared without the expected memories or appearance, even with differing drives.

He forces himself to take a step forward and to veil his wariness. If she is not the woman he knows, he must maintain a strong front; never let them discover a fracture in the structure, never give them an easy route into tearing you from within. Lessons he has learned all too well, and much as he wishes to believe that this is Kristine (and he does, he truly does!), the situation is too strange, his own wounds too fresh.

This time, he speaks without faltering, even manages to clear his face of excess expression.] Mrs. Linde?

[tolivefor]

[It's not ridiculous, because when she hears his voice, Kristine's heart skips a beat.

And it beats faster when she sees him. It's him, it's him. It's Krogstad.

Since she barely knows of this place, she doesn't question any possibility beyond him being the very same Krogstad she left when her mundane decided to bring her here. They are here, together at last and she can allow herself a moment of true happiness.

Even though that happiness can barely be expressed in words, and is seen more in her expression as she approaches him]

Hello, Krogstad.

[And yet those two words mean so much more]

[noshitstogive]

[How do you know? How can you possibly know? Because her voice reaches him somewhere beyond calculation or even caution. Because however well he understands that this space is strange, however firmly he denies all positive fortune, he cannot quite believe that this is not the Kristine Linde he knows. Or knew, and had just begun to know again.

Take a chance, let it be. Tentatively, he reaches for her hands.]

It is you, then.

[tolivefor]

[Hers, on the other hand, reaffirms what she imagined.

It's him. And she will not deny herself that. That happiness.

So smiling, she takes his hands.]

And it's you.

[noshitstogive]

[At the reality of her touch, he finally allows himself to smile, could hardly hold back the expression if he had wished. There are no longer any doubts on this count; he knows only that against all expectations, she is here. That once again he has been spared the unceasing sting of loneliness.]

I am so pleased to see you.

[There are other thoughts, stumbling explanations for his hesitation, questions about how she had come here and when, about where she had been and what she had been doing. None of these can make their way to speech, however, and he simply beholds her, astonished and deeply relieved.]

[tolivefor]

[And that happiness is obviously shared. Her smile widens slightly. She's so glad to have him here. So glad that the shadow of loneliness didn't follow her closer.]

And so am I.

[And yet, she has many questions.]
Have you been alone here for long?

[noshitstogive]

[The sight of her own smile warms him further still, and for the moment he could almost forget that they are in this inexplicable world.]

No longer than I once became accustomed to. [He need not dwell on the hollowness of that time, the certainty that at last there was nothing even to grab hold of. Such is the case no longer, and he will not dampen the moment.]

And you? Where— ['When'? No, best stick with 'where'.] Where have you been? How have you been? You look— Well. Worn, but well. [It is close enough to the truth. She is welcome to his sight, lovely as she has ever been, but he cannot deny that the world has taken its toll. As it has with him. As it does with anyone who must live beyond pretense.]

[tolivefor]

[And she's glad he doesn't dampen it. There's no need to dwell on anything, but just enjoy the happiness, the fact that they are together. At last.]
I had left the Helmers and I was about to join you, but the door led me here instead of to the street. But to you in the end.
[She still smiles]
You look well too.