A/N: Just a little oneshot to help me get past writer's block. Contains femmeslash ( for lack of a better word), don't like, don't read.
"The latest scandal to erupt in Washington D.C. touches upon Secretary of State Katherine Tudor's personal life as her husband, Senator Henry Tudor, stands accused of misusing state funds to keep the love child he fathered with mistress Elizabeth Blount secret..."
The measured voice of the news anchor trailed off into the darkness of the Secretary of State's office, only the light from the television illuminating the impassive face of Katherine Tudor, her slender fingers nursed the drink before her on the massive oak desk that she sat behind, her grip tightening on the glass as the news anchor's words rang incessantly in her ears. They wrapped themselves around her heart, squeezing tight. A heavy sigh escaped from her lips.
Katherine wasn't one to drown her sorrows in alcohol. Indeed she rarely drank at all, but the occasion seemed to call for it as the glossy headlines of various tabloid magazines stared back at her from their pile on her desk, taunting her. Her husband's handsome face was splashed all over the cover, next to pictures of a slender, pretty blonde. Elizabeth Blount, she assumed. His mistress and the mother of his illegitimate child. A bitter laugh escaped from her throat, the hollow sound echoed around the empty office in the State Department. If one listened carefully traces of pain could be subtly detected in the vibrations of the sharp sound, the only betrayal of Katherine's true emotions.
This wasn't Henry's first indiscretion. There had been others. But cold shoulders, angry tears, and whispered repentances had erased those sins. None of those fleeting affairs had produced a child or political scandal that threatened a public trial, however. This mistake crossed a fine line that Katherine wasn't sure she could tolerate. The Secretary of State tore her blue eyes away from the magazines, bringing her drink up to her lips and sipping. Her eyes closed as the alcohol burned down her throat, the warmth of the sensation did nothing to melt the ice that had settled in her heart.
Where did they go wrong? They had been so happy in the beginning, their love producing their beautiful daughter Mary, who was the pearl of her parents' world. Now in the ruins of their marriage there was nothing but an empty apartment, that had once been alive with laughter and love. When Henry was there, which was frequently becoming a rare sight, between them there was only coldness and the tension of unspoken words and silence. A silence so deep and wide, stretching wider and wider, until it threatened to engulf them both until they were drowning in that quiet, cold ocean that had become their life. Katherine sensed his resentment at her success. She had risen high in President Wolsey's administration, while her husband remained a mere State Senator. He tried to hide it behind a wide smile but it radiated off of him in waves whenever she was in his presence, which wasn't frequently as her position required frequent travel and that too had weighed on the already shaky foundations of her marriage.
Tears threatened to fall down her fair face as these dark thoughts swirled around her mind until the sudden interruption of a soft, melodic voice stayed their course, and the polite, dignified mask slipped back on, as if it had never left.
"Madame Secretary." The thick carpet had muffled the heeled approach of the brunette. Katherine lifted her eyes to meet those of Anne Boleyn, her chief of staff.
"Anne," she paused, "What are you still doing here? It's almost midnight."
The young woman's piercing dark eyes sized her up, taking her in before they softened.
"I could ask you the same thing, Katherine." But there was no need to as the answer was right in front of her eyes. They strayed to the tabloids closed on the desk and to the drink in Katherine's hand.
Katherine liked to think she was a hard woman to read but Anne's searching gaze left her feeling exposed, vulnerable, almost naked, as if the young brunette could read the secrets of her soul. It unnerved her.
Anne took a seat across from her after a moment, uninvited, the movement full of elegance and grace. Effortless, natural. She was the daughter of an English diplomat who had settled in the United States long ago and a French mother, and Katherine had no doubt that her natural sophistication was inherited from said mother. Anne was still looking at her, as if bidding her time.
Katherine looked away from that gaze, uncomfortable, and the two women lapsed into silence. It was a silence altogether different from the stiff, suffocating silence of her marriage. It was patient, gentle, unexpectant. Almost comforting.
"Why do you stay?" Anne knew Katherine wasn't happy in her marriage. She had seen her boss, her friend, the woman she was in love with, put on her politician's mask countless times, almost as easily as she slipped on the pearls dangling around her neck. She had seen her head held high, her dignified composure, dressed in her immaculate suit, her armor against the world, in the face of her husband's recent scandal and the public humiliation he put her through. Katherine Tudor wore power and authority almost as well as grace and dignity. Indeed, there was an almost regal air to her as if she was born to be a Queen.
"Love. Once I thought that was enough, but now I'm not so sure," came her short reply, her voice cracking slightly at the end. Katherine kept a certain emotional distance from her employees but Anne Boleyn was different. There was no need to pretend with her.
Katherine was cracking under the mask she wore so consummately and Anne wondered when she would reach breaking point. Then, looking at her, she realized she already had.
"You deserve better," she said softly, looking away from her, a sad half-smile playing upon her lips. Katherine could detect the bitterness in her tone, as if she was saying that what she deserved was her. At that what little self control she still possessed slipped from her grasp and a sob escaped from her lips, drawing Anne's attention. The sobs kept coming, wracking her frame as the glass slipped from her hands and shattered onto the desk, the shards flying in every direction. They resembled the state of her life, her heart.
She felt a pair of warm arms enveloping her and turned into Anne's comforting embrace, and maybe the alcohol had gone to Katherine's head because she found herself capturing Anne's lips with her own. The brunette was caught off guard but soon responded, deepening the kiss and bringing her arms around Katherine tighter.
Katherine knew this was wrong, this could never be. Her mind was screaming that she was still married, that kissing Anne went against her fiercely held principles but she found herself not caring as she got lost in the feeling of Anne's warm lips against her own. If this was so wrong, then why did it feel so right?
And in the morning when the divorce papers were served she would find Anne's eyes and there would be a silent understanding there. The mask had finally cracked to reveal the lonely woman underneath and there was hope for them both.