A tall, brown skinned man hurried down the snowy Chicago street and blew on his hands to keep them warm. Pulling a faded newspaper clip from his overcoat pocket, he checked the address of Mr. Paris's political office. 225 West Street was just ahead on the left. He sprinted down the sidewalk and grasped the knob cursing the cold metal that stuck to his bare hand.

A small bell chimed as he entered and a young teenage boy rushed up to him with a clipboard. "Hey! Welcome to Senator Paris's office. Can I sign you up as a volunteer?"

The man looked at the young boy and said, "And your name is?"

"Burt."

"Burt, my name is Joe Miller and you can sign me up later if I like what Mr. Paris has to say about being our State Senator."

"Oh, Mr. Paris is a shoo-in. Everyone already knows he'll win. You can mark the date. November 16th, 1950. Mr. Paris will be holding his acceptance speech in the evening."

"I see." Joe looked around the small room and noticed a podium set up in front of a mob of newspaper reporters. Off to the side was a small table with a few chairs set around it where a small woman sat lettering campaign posters. "Excuse me."

He walked over to the woman and laid his hat down. "Good Evening."

A petite redhead woman with pale skin and a smattering of freckles across her nose looked up. She pointed a finger across the room. "Good Evening. Reporters are over there."

Joe pulled out a chair and sat down. "Well then it's a good thing I'm not one so I can stay here with you."

Her blue eyes coolly appraised him. "And you are?"

He extended his hand. "Captain Joe Miller. It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Miss..."

"Captain?"

"Airforce. Retired, of course, after the war."

"Of course."

Joe picked up the poster. A sketch of Sam Paris's likeness was being added next to his catchy campaign slogan. With a whistle, he said, "You do very nice work. Very talented."

She took the poster back and laid it down. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Fiancé?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

He tapped the drawing. "You seem to know your subject quite well. Fiancé or just a starry eyed dame?"

Her face darkened as she sat back and crossed her arms. "That's none of your business, Mr. Miller."

"Captain," he corrected.

"Our war is over. I don't think that title quite fits you anymore."

Joe grinned. "Maybe not. But it's what all my friends call me. And what do they call you?"

"You and I are not friends. And the title of Captain only belongs on someone who still has a ship."

A tall blonde man matching the description of the poster image walked up and looked down at Joe. "Is there a problem, Kathryn?"

She smirked at Joe. "Nothing I can't handle."

Joe stood up and offered his hand. "Mr. Paris. Captain Joe Miller."

Sam took the offered hand and held it tight. "Captain, is it? Well, out of respect for our returning service men I won't do you the courtesy of throwing you out myself. I'll just kindly ask you to leave."

Joe pulled his hand away and took out the newspaper clipping. "This here says this event is open to the public. Come and meet your future State Senator."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You've met me. Now get out."

Joe slowly took off his coat and sat back down in the chair. "Actually, I think I'll stay. Unless you really want to give the press corps a show. I'm sure it will make for a much more interesting article than the fluff piece you're about to give them."

Sam's fists clenched and Kathryn jumped up and grabbed his arm. "Sam, please. Just ignore him."

"Easily done." He kicked the leg of Joe's chair and headed to the podium.

"Was that necessary? Tell me. Do you insult everyone you meet or just the important people?"

"Only the self-important people. I have been nothing but nice to you because I like you. Your fiancé, not so much."

"Sam's not my fiancé."

"Oh no?" Joe tapped the poster. "You sure about that? The two of you seem to know one another real well."

"Who are you?"

"I've already told you…"

Kathryn put her hands on her hips. "What do you do?"

"Oh." Joe rose and pulled out a business card from his lapel. "I am in advertising. Jackson and Malloy. Biggest agency in town."

Kathryn fingered the card. "I've heard of them. Why are you here? Treating Sam like that was not the way to win over a potential client."

"Yes, well, I'm sure the Paris family has their needs well taken care of already. Old money always does."

Kathryn smiled. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Well, Mr. Miller, perhaps you're not very acquainted with your owners but Sam's father and Mr. Jackson are very good friends."

"Yes, yes they are."

"So you know if I report you to Mr. Jackson, about how long do you think you'll still be employed there?"

Joe chuckled. "A dame is going to sell me out, huh?"

Kathryn smiled. "This one will. No one treats my family like this."

"Family? And here you keep telling me there is nothing between you and this one." He jerked a thumb in Sam's direction.

Kathryn's face grew somber. "There isn't." She threw his card back and returned to her chair. "If you will kindly leave now, please."

"And miss the show? It's going to be a major headline."

Her blue eyes returned to his dark ones. "What headline? What show?"

"Thank you all for coming tonight." Sam approached the podium. "It warms my heart to see such a turnout for my candidacy."

A reporter stepped forward with a pad and pencil. "Yeah, Paris, forget your ticket to the legislature. What about this here story that came across the wires today about your old man taking bribes from the government during the war and using them to finance his own companies and yours?"

A murmur went through the room as Sam put his hands up. "I, um, I'm afraid I have no idea to what you are referring. Paris Brewery and SP Steel operate completely independently from my father's corporations."

"Does that mean you ain't involved in his illegal activity?" the reporter asked.

"My father has done nothing illegal and my family will sue anyone who says otherwise."

"Including the federal courts? Washington says indictments are being handed down tomorrow."

Sam looked at his handlers and the reporters jockeyed for space as they tossed questions and demanded answers on the breaking story.

Joe looked over at Kathryn who was in obvious shock at the scene. "Good thing you're not marrying him. That would have been a short engagement, huh?"

Kathryn shook her head. "This isn't right. Sam would never be involved in anything like this."

Joe laughed. "Yeah, a Paris in trouble with the Feds. I can't even count how many times his old man has skated on charges." He rose and drew on his coat. "Don't worry. I'm sure a lot of money will exchange hands and the Paris reputation will be as pristine as ever." He picked up the poster. "Won't be in time for the election though. It's a shame. You do good work."

She snatched it away and pointed to the door. "Get out!"

Joe picked up his hat and pushed his business card back to her. "If Sam isn't involved with his father's activities and wants to rehab his company's images before they go bankrupt, call me. The best offense is for Sam to distance himself as soon as possible from his father. From what I hear around town, that's something he's been dying to do for a long time just because of growing instances like this. I'm his man. I know what it's like to be a rebel. And I'm Jackson's top ad rep which means I'm damn good about what I do." He winked. "If I can help and you know I can, please call me, Miss…."

She picked up the business card and looked over at Sam. "Janeway. Kathryn Janeway."

"Miss Janeway." He took her hand and kissed it. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Kathryn. Til we meet again, soon."