Chapter Text
Home of Viktor Mironov.
May 3, 1889.
Anna Viktorovna Mironova.
Dear Anna,
I wish to express my appreciation for the recent invitation to your home and the delightful soiree. While you made light of your ability, I will reiterate that you play the piano beautifully. And though I may tease Korobeinikov in his fascination with your many talents, I, too, delight in the multitude of ways in which you grace us with your gifts. As exquisite as your artistry in music and portraiture is, it is a trifle compared to the compassion you evidence for everyone with whom you interact. The ease with which you display kindness, particularly to those whose actions are less than honorable, never fails to amaze and affect me deeply.
Your words at the cemetery have stayed with me, Anna. At your home, I reminded you of your desire to tell me something. Although you avoided continuing that conversation. I imagine that you would have imparted sentiments similar to those that you expressed in recent correspondence. For my part, I have failed entirely in my pledge to keep my distance. Perhaps I fear that someday I will regret failing to speak when I had the opportunity.
I am drawn to you, Anna Viktorovna. As recent events have shown, I am incapable of separating myself from you. At the same time, I am chagrined, for I know without a doubt that our alliance has plagued you with danger and condemnation. But that is only part of what defines our association, is it not? For there is the thrill of pursuit inherent in a criminal investigation and a shared understanding of the truth of things. It is odd, truly, for, on the surface, our perceptions of the world appear wholly antithetical. And, yet, I believe we both follow truth wherever it may lead and recognize the false constructions of society for what they are.
I will continue to seek your company. It would be folly to think I might do otherwise. But I also know myself well enough to envision times wherein I will forcefully and cruelly rebuff you. I will set my mind to protecting you, to saving you from becoming entangled with me - for as well as you are able to penetrate my defenses, Anna, you do not know everything of my past, of the regretful paths I have pursued. I will deserve all of the venom you can muster in those moments. As a salve, I offer you the truth of my affections. I care for you, Anna Viktorovna, more than I care to admit. Your wellbeing and happiness occupy an inordinate amount of my daily thoughts. No matter how I may act, I, in earnest, only wish for your happiness.
Yours faithfully,
Yakov Platonovich.