This idea came to me after watching Scandal one day; Olivia was helping some dude to get elected as governor or senator and she thought he was gay. She suggested that they find him a husband because she could sell that easily. So here's my take on a Bering and Wells political marriage AU. Tropes abound, and I don't care. :)
Helena Wells had fallen into the world of politics mostly by accident, rather than by design, but now she was committed to doing what she could to make a difference. The power was attractive; of course it was. But the main attraction for her was getting to a position where she was able to make the kind of difference she had always dreamed of making. The kind of position where she could make a difference in people's lives. She wanted to be the kind of person whose name ended up in the history books as the reason why the course of history was changed.
She was a realist. Part of being a politician was being in the public eye, but most of what the public saw was the illusion that the politician and their team projected. She knew that there would be things she would have to do; things she wouldn't want to do, to get to where she needed to be. She had never expected to be faced with this particular situation, however.
"You need to get married, HG. You need to find a good, honest woman and marry her. Your sexuality isn't a problem for most of the people we've polled; the philandering is the problem," Deb Stanley said from the other side of the huge conference table. They were in Deb's office in central Washington. The President's Chief of Staff, Arthur Nielsen, had sent Helena Deb's card, with a note that said "We want you to be her Successor. Deb will help – use her."
"You want me to get married? To whom? Just some random woman?" Helena asked incredulously.
"We have a list of possible candidates," Deb said, holding her hand out without looking. Her assistant passed a file to her smoothly, as if they'd rehearsed the move.
Helena stared.
"Is this a thing that people do? Have you done this before?"
She had thought she couldn't be surprised any more by what went on in Washington. Apparently she was wrong.
"More times than I care to tell you about," Deb said.
Helena huffed out a sharp breath. They were serious. They were actually serious.
"Charles didn't have to get married to get elected to the Senate," Helena said, frowning.
"Charles wasn't a philanderer. Charles didn't sleep with every model and actress that crossed his path. Charles didn't end up in every gossip magazine from here to Seattle. Charles has dated 2 women since he was elected to the Senate, and he is likely to marry Amanda, so far as I understand the situation. And Charles doesn't want to be President. Charles, in fact, cannot be President because he was born in London," Deb said pointedly.
"You're right," Helena sighed. "I've been a terrible trollop, I know. But do you really think I won't be elected as Governor as things stand?"
Both Deb and her assistant Sally nodded emphatically.
"Bugger," Helena said softly.
Deb slid the folder across the conference table and Helena caught it, leafing through it idly.
"So, what does this entail, then?" she asked.
"We interview all of these women," Deb said, indicating the folder with a jut of her eyebrow, "And we pick the right one, the one who wants what you want, which is for you to be elected Governor of California and then President of the United States. The one who will be the perfect match. And you have to keep it in your pants, Helena. No dalliances, no one night stands. Usually there is the expectation that the happy couple will agree to sleep together for at least as long as it takes to conceive a child; but in your case that's not necessary for conception so you can deal with that part however you and the lucky lady want. You will adopt a child after you've been together for six months to a year, or if your wife is amenable she can carry a child, and if things go well, you'll have another a year or two afterwards."
Helena took in a long breath, pursing her lips. Children? They were talking about children? She hadn't considered children; not since she'd lost her first child two weeks after her birth. Helena's relationship with her husband Nathan had faltered after Christina's death and Helena had never been interested in putting herself through that again. But she supposed that in the circumstances she needn't get attached to the child; her 'wife' could deal with the children while she got on with her career. Children were all very well but her ambitions involved the Presidency, not a family.
"Fine," she said, surprising herself perhaps as much as Deb Stanley. "Let's do it. Find me a wife."
She made her way back to her firm's Washington office, passing her employees in the halls, taking no notice of the startled nods and frightened looks her thunderous expression was attracting. She'd built her legal practice up from a one-room setup in California, without any help from her father or Charles, and now it was one of the largest firms in the US, with offices in twelve major cities, dealing with everything from divorces to worldwide tort cases. She herself was an acknowledged expert on Constitutional Law, and had advised the White House on more than one occasion, which is how she had come to meet the President, Irene Frederic. She would be sad to leave the day-to-day running of her small empire to Steve – running the firm was endlessly fascinating. But if she was elected Governor and then President as Irene Frederic apparently wanted, she could make a real difference. She could make history. All she had to do, it seemed, was get a wife.
She dumped her coat and bag on the sofa and called Steve immediately. He was in her office within moments.
"What's up, HG?" he said, settling his long body on the sofa after hanging up her coat and bag with a pointed look of disapproval.
"I'm getting married," she said, deadpan, and then laughed as his face turned from surprise to confusion to anger.
"You met someone and you didn't tell me?" he gasped, hand on his chest, looking every bit the outraged queen. It only made her laugh harder.
"I haven't met her yet," she said, taking a second to buzz her assistant in to get them some coffee.
"What?" Steve asked, his eyes narrowing comically in confusion. Steve had been her best friend since she'd first opened her offices in DC. He was the first attorney she hired, and she trusted him implicitly.
She explained the situation to him, frowning the whole time in displeasure, and he sat back, rubbing his scalp and breathing in slowly.
"Wow. Just… wow. Are you sure you want to do this, HG?" he said, his face twisted in concern. His eyes were sparkling blue and so sincere – one of the many reasons why she loved him so dearly.
"I'm fairly sure I don't," she said, sighing. "But I'm not sure I have a choice, if I want to win this election."
"Do you want to win it that badly?" Steve asked, his eyebrows raised.
"I think I do," she said, slowly. "Yes. I want this. I've been working towards this, Steve. I could really make a difference. I could be President."
"I know, but it just seems…" he trailed off.
"Distasteful? Dishonest? Yes, I know," she said. "I know it sounds like a soundbite, Steve. But I really do want to make a difference. There is so much that I could do, as Governor, and later, as President, if things worked out."
"I know, Helena. I know you mean it. I just hope it's worth it," he said, taking a sip of the coffee her assistant had delivered without Helena even noticing.
The following morning, Deb Stanley came to visit her at her office, with her assistant in tow.
"Well, Helena, we've narrowed it down to these two prospective candidates. Myka Bering and Giselle Katz. Both daughters of Washington royalty – Warren Bering, the Speaker of the House, and Jacob Katz, the Communications Director."
Deb handed her two files this time. Helena had read up briefly on the details of these candidates and others, but had read nothing to interest her in either of these women. Myka Bering was a schoolteacher, and Giselle Katz was a socialite and raised money for rich people's charities. Helena had met both of the women's fathers at one point or another.
"I didn't like the sound of either of these, Deb," Helena complained, dropping the files on the desk. "What makes you think they're more suitable than any of the others?"
Deb smiled at her, leaning forward and putting a hand on Helena's knee.
"I know your type, Helena. Both of these ladies are your type. The others – there was nothing special about them. Have a look at the pictures."
"All right," Helena said, leaning back. "Let's get on with this, then."
Deb gestured towards the folders and Helena lifted them, opening the first one, which belonged to Giselle. The girl really was stunning – shoulder length red-gold hair, ice blue eyes, flawless skin. The information on her was a little depressing, however. It appeared that she was just a vapid socialite. She would be fun for one night, perhaps two. But wife material?
She put down Giselle's file and lifted the other. Myka Bering, 29, previously married to a Secret Service Agent working on her father's detail. She too was very attractive, but in a very different way. She was tall and willowy with bright green eyes, curly brown hair and a wonderfully genuine smile. Her husband, Sam Martino, had saved the Speaker's life from an assassination attempt and took a bullet, dying later in hospital from his wounds. The newly widowed schoolteacher moved from Colorado to Washington to be closer to her family after her husband's death. She worked at an elementary school and volunteered at an old people's home, reading to the residents. She sounded like a very nice person, and a complete bore. Helena dropped her file on the desk.
"Neither of these women appeal to me, Deb. What is it you think they bring to the party, so to speak?" Helena asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs idly. She would have to start wearing skirts rather than her customary trouser suits, or so Claudia said. She wasn't terribly happy about that, either.
"Giselle's father would be a great ally. He has the ear of the press and of the President. He likes you and has been very supportive of your campaign thus far. Giselle herself is a little empty-headed, from what we've been able to discern, but she seems like the type who would be happy to play arm-candy and spend your money. Myka Bering's father is the Speaker. He holds tremendous power, and if you get on his good side, you are virtually guaranteed VP at least after President Frederic finishes out her second term. Myka herself might be a better prospect in terms of an actual partner – she is bright and motivated and seems like a do-gooder. So it depends what you think would be better for you in the long term."
Helena chewed on her lip thoughtfully.
"Okay. So what now?"
"We bring them both in, we explain the process, and we find out if they're interested – after they sign several binding non-disclosure agreements. So even if they don't want to go ahead with it, they can't tell anyone without risking a serious financial penalty. If all that goes well, you meet them and make your choice."
Helena nodded.
"Fine. Contact me when you have some news, then."
Deb stood, shaking Helena's hand before leaving briskly with Sally in her wake. Helena took a deep breath and got on with her day.
The following week blurred by in a string of meetings designed to make the handover of leadership smooth and difficulty-free. It was, however, not. As always, when people are involved, she thought, they will make life as difficult as possible. She was beginning the election campaign for real the following week, and was not looking forward to it one bit. Dealing with the press wasn't her favourite part of her current job, and it would be a large part of her new one, should she be lucky enough to be elected. This case with her idiot client would be her last, with any luck, as a practicing attorney. It wasn't exactly a memorable last case but at least it was over quickly, allowing her to tie up loose ends and get ready for her move back to California. She had been splitting her time between California and Washington for years in preparation for running for the Gubernatorial elections, since one had to be a resident of California for at least four years in order to run for Governor.
Deb called her on the Friday of that last week, asking her to come over to her offices to meet the prospective candidates. Helena went to see Steve on her way out.
"How do I look?" she asked, flipping her hair coquettishly at Steve and fluttering her eyelashes.
"You look hot, HG. As always. Are you really worried about how you look to the women who you're arranging to marry for political gain?" he asked sceptically.
"I'm vain, I know," she said, laughing. "But I don't want to meet them looking awful. This woman could be with me for the rest of my political life. I don't want to start off on the wrong footing."
He nodded. "I guess." He sighed, loudly, rubbing his scalp.
"What is it, Steve?"
"You really want to do this, Helena? Are you sure?" he asked. His concern was plain; he was worried for her. She sat next to him and put her hand on his arm.
"It'll be okay, love. What's the worst that could happen?"
"What's the worst…? Have you thought about this? Like, really thought about it? What if she's an awful human being? What if you meet the love of your life the day after you get married to this political wife of yours? This is a mistake, HG," he said plaintively.
"I… I hadn't really thought about it, Steve. I'm not looking for the love of my life, you know that. I don't want that. I haven't wanted that since Christina died and Nate left," she said, looking out of his window at the view of the Capitol building.
He shook his head.
"Well maybe you should, Helena. Maybe it's time to let yourself heal from that, to move on, to have a life," he said, his voice soft and sympathetic. He'd met her just after Nate left, five months after Christina died. She was a wreck for a long time, only just able to function in anything other than a strictly professional environment. He had brought her back to herself, and she always took his advice seriously.
"I understand your concern, Steve. But right now I don't care about any of that. I decided to focus on my career. I don't want the complication of emotional attachments."
He breathed in deeply.
"Okay, Helena. Okay. I love you, and I support you. I want you to be happy, that's all."
He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and smiled at her.
"So, go get your girl. I want to meet her, okay?"
She nodded and squeezed his hand before leaving. She, too, hoped this wasn't a mistake.
When she arrived at Deb's office, Deb's assistant Sally showed her to a side office and left her with some coffee and pastries. She picked at a croissant aimlessly for a few moments until Deb joined her.
"So, Helena. I have interviewed both candidates. They're both articulate, intelligent women and are willing to meet with you to discuss the possibility of a political marriage, at least. The rest is up to you."
Helena looked at her for a long moment.
"Okay. Let's do this," she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Giselle Katz was the first candidate to come through. She was beautiful - looking very much like a younger and taller Amy Adams - well-spoken and articulate, and plainly interested in Helena. Her pupils dilated as Helena crossed her legs, and her eyes fell to the gaping neckline of Helena's shirt, which was unbuttoned, as usual, just about as far as she could manage within the bounds of decency.
They chatted for a few moments before Giselle began to show her true colours.
"You are quite the prize," Giselle said, laughing a delicate, tinkling laugh as she surveyed Helena covetously.
"Is that how you think of me?" Helena murmured, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.
"Of course," Giselle said, smiling. "Isn't that the only way to think of this? As a contest, with you as the prize?"
Helena shrugged slightly, still watching closely.
"Some people would be concerned with compatibility, or with love, even," she said, to see what reaction that would bring. Giselle's face changed for an instant to a mixture of triumph and contempt, before seamlessly returning to her bland smile of a moment before. She thought that Helena was an easy target.
"I am open to love, of course," Giselle said, leaning forward to put her hand on Helena's arm for a moment, not too long. "I think we can all hope for love, can't we, Miss Wells?"
Helena regarded her for a moment with a smile.
"Indeed we can. Thank you, Miss Katz. I think I know everything I need to," Helena said with a smile, standing and offering her hand. Giselle stood, shaking Helena's hand with both of hers, allowing her fingers to linger on Helena's wrist for an extra moment.
"I hope to hear from you soon," she said, walking out of the room with a coquettish glance back over her shoulder.
Helena sat back down in her chair as the door closed, sighing at the empty room. She didn't know what she should have expected, but there were a hundred Giselles to be found in every bar in DC. Gold-diggers or power-hungry; it didn't matter. Giselle was not the one for this… arrangement.
Deb stuck her head through the door.
"Are you ready for Myka, HG?"
"Yes, send her in," Helena said with a weary smile.
Myka Bering was a different kettle of fish entirely. She was tall, striking, with a firm handshake and a soft smile. Her eyes widened momentarily when she entered the room, but other than that Helena couldn't get much of a read on her.
"So, Ms Bering, tell me about yourself," Helena said, watching the younger woman closely. There were five years between them in age; sometimes that was nothing, and sometimes it was a gulf that couldn't be overcome.
Myka stretched out her long legs in front of her, clasping her hands in her lap as she collected her thoughts.
"Well, I'm a schoolteacher as I think you know. Elementary school." Her face lit up. "I love teaching – the kids are amazing. They give me something new to laugh at every day."
Helena smiled at her, slightly transfixed by Myka's lopsided grin and obvious enthusiasm.
"So you're doing what you love?"
"I do love it. I'm not sure it's the only thing I could ever love – I kind of fell into it, but I really do love it." Myka said, with a lopsided smile.
"So what made you agree to see me? Since, if you agreed to this proposition, you would have to eventually leave your job, perhaps for good?"
Myka frowned.
"Honestly, I thought it could be something we discussed. I wouldn't want to give up teaching, at least not permanently. I would take time away for election campaigns if necessary, but I was hoping to continue teaching for a while at least."
Helena lifted an eyebrow.
"The First Lady teaching elementary school?"
Myka snorted.
"What?" Helena asked.
"First Lady? They're expecting you to get that far? When I thought you were a man, I believed it. But there's no way they'll elect a lesbian as President."
Helena's eyebrow went up, this time in a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
"Tell me, Myka, are you one of those unfortunates who believe that homosexuality is the root of all evil?"
Those who knew Helena called this her Iron Fist tone – all velvety and smooth on the outside, and hard and bruising underneath. Myka did not react to it, just continued to smile.
"No, I'm most certainly not. But my Dad and his cronies? Hell yes. You might get in as Governor of California, I don't doubt you can do that, but the Presidency? They'd never stand for it. And they'd only be the ones in your own party. The other side – they would tear you to pieces."
She wasn't saying it to be cruel, Helena could tell. She simply believed that it wasn't going to happen.
"Well, clearly you're not afraid to speak your mind, Miss Bering."
"Call me Myka," she said, with a half-smile.
"Myka, then. Clearly you're not afraid to speak your mind, and you don't think I have any chance at the Presidency."
Myka shook her head, a little regretfully.
"So why are you here?"
"Honestly, because I was curious. I wanted to see this guy who thought I was a good match for him, a First Lady for the future President."
"You never considered that it would be a woman?" Helena asked, archly.
"No," Myka said, colouring slightly. "It didn't even occur to me."
"Interesting," Helena said, narrowing her eyes slightly as she watched Myka carefully.
"In what way?" Myka asked.
"I am surprised that you're so… conventional, in your thinking."
"I am not conventional – but I also don't think it's going to work, so that's probably why it never occurred to me," Myka said, looking slightly flustered and verging on annoyed.
"Well, I suppose it's just as well we got that out of the way," Helena said, standing suddenly and holding out her hand with a polite smile on her face.
"What?" Myka asked, surprised.
"I mean, it's just as well we cleared that up. My search for a suitable wife will have to go on," she said, slightly dramatically.
Myka stood, looking definitely annoyed now.
"So because I don't think people are going to vote for a gay President, that's it? You're not interested?" Myka demanded, towering over Helena in her heels.
Helena smiled, a little smugly.
"It's very clear that you're not suitable, Miss Bering. I am looking for a partner, not a cardboard cut-out like that other girl." (Helena herself hadn't realised that was what she wanted until that moment.) "We'd be spending a lot of time together, and I don't need to bring someone along on this ride who doesn't even believe in me."
She was looking up at Myka but she had perfected, over the years, the art of dealing with people who were taller than her and making them feel too tall.
Myka looked at her for a moment, her head cocked to one side.
"Maybe you could convince me."
Helena smiled.