The Secret World of Benjamin Chiltern
(Yes, another AU and as usual featuring Lofty, but hopefully there'll be other characters that other readers might enjoy. I tend to write AU's because I don't know much about the medical profession, but I certainly do know about office politics.)
Ben Chiltern sighed as he checked his reflection in the mirror. He was clean, hair and teeth brushed to perfection, and had managed to co-ordinate his clothes. Putting on the horn-rimmed spectacles that he wished weren't necessary, he gave himself one last critical look. He'd pass… if only he weren't ten minutes late for the bus to Jordan's. Ben prayed for the bus to be late as he locked the door, then ran in a manner that would have made an Olympic athlete proud.
Only to see the bus pulling away from the stop already. Ben sprinted after it but the driver gave him the finger and drove on.
The trouble with Ben was that he was a dreamer. He loved to imagine himself in different situations. Every one of them featuring the object of his affections; Dylan Keogh, his Higher Executive Officer. He also liked making up stories about everybody he saw – take that young girl, her anorak pulled up against the wind and rain, her face so serious. She had reason to be; she was secretly Princess Lorette from a mid-European country. Her life had been threatened by her evil Uncle and she was hiding in the UK as a humble… er… Big Issue Seller! That was it. And that old lady shuffling along with her trolley, she was a white witch and could grant wishes… Ben suddenly realised that the second bus had not only arrived but had gone without him.
"You're late, Ben Chiltern" snapped his Executive Officer, Connie Beauchamp, who looked like a model and acted like a mean and bitter woman.
"We have a flexi system in force here, Connie, and Ben's within core time."
That was Dylan Keogh speaking. Connie blushed and glared at Ben. She'd take it out on Chiltern's hide later. Or at least his self- confidence.
Max, his colleague at Jordan's, shot Ben a look of sympathy, which Ben returned by way of a weak grin.
"You're on the call centre this afternoon, Ben. Working till six."
Ben sighed; he'd been hoping to get an early start from work so he could go to the library to borrow some more books on his favourite subject – fantasy art. Ben was good at drawing, though he would have said that his talent was just average.
"Six okay for you, Ben? You're not on the late rota" Dylan pointed out, looking at Connie.
"He might not be, but Jamie's off sick and somebody has to step in. And seeing as Ben's just condescended to come in, I really feel…"
"It's fine, honestly." Ben didn't want Dylan to have to put up with Connie's arguments.
He couldn't deny the feeling that went through him when Dylan spoke up for him, however. That was to be short-lived as Dylan went into his office, leaving Connie once more in charge.
"Ben, coffees, now. I want a black coffee and Mr Keogh will have milk and sugar."
Ben knew it was useless to argue that he wasn't the tea boy and everybody took it in turns.
We need a revolution in this place, he thought.
He was back in France during the revolution, and he had to guard the cell of doomed aristocrat, Dillane Le Roux, who was to be guillotined in the morning.
"Can I bring you anything? A final drink, maybe? A meal?"
"Ah, you are very kind to me, mon ami, but I need nothing. I am not afraid to die."
Ben looked across to where Constance La Haine, the most feared revolutionary since Robespierre, glared at him.
"I wish you didn't have to die!" Ben said fervently, knowing if La Haine had overheard him, he would be marked as a traitor. But she just sat reading documents and signing them with a stroke that suggested she was signing death-warrants.
"You mean this?" Le Roux whispered.
Ben nodded.
Le Roux whispered:
"Then tonight, when you bring my meal, slip the key to me. I shall do the rest. Then we shall leave France together, mon petit choux."
Ben nodded almost imperceptibly.
And said loudly for good measure:
"I cannot wait for tomorrow, when you will be beheaded, you ginger-headed scum."
"Strawberry blond scumb, dumb peasant" replied Le Roux.
But his eyes told a different story.
That evening, Ben all but threw the meal at Le Roux, knowing La Haine's eyes were on them both.
He mouthed:
"Under the bread."
Le Roux smiled as if he understood.
"When the Aristocrats are in power you will be tortured to death for your part in my execution" he said aloud.
His eyes promised Ben everything.
After midnight had struck, Ben waited by the cell.
"The scumbag prisoner wants fresh air. I shall take him out for a walk… past La Guillotine to show him what he will get tomorrow."
La Haine nodded tersely.
As they reached the door of the prison, a man on a large black horse said:
"Password?"
Le Roux smiled.
"La Ronde."
"Climb aboard, mon ami."
Le Roux grinned and jumped into the saddle. He looked down at Ben.
"Sorry, mon petit. Only room for one and I am a survivor. I hope it does not hurt too much when the mob behead you."
Then the horse was gone, leaving Ben's future in tatters.
And La Haine behind him with the barrel of a gun pressed into his neck.
Ben knelt and placed his head in the slot in the guillotine.
"I know I don't deserve to live" he began.
"Ben, for goodness sake, you only spilled coffee on my desk, don't be so nervous."
Ben was in the real world and Dylan Keogh was looking at him with, what? Pity?
Constance Beauchamp was looking at Ben as if she wanted to pass him his P45 on the spot.
I'm such a loser, even my daydreams end badly", he thought, sighing as he thought of the long wait till six o' clock and freedom.
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