AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hi All,
Welcome to my attempt at writing fanfiction! This is a story about Henrik Hanssen and one Anna Bartkiewicz, a character that came from somewhere inside my head. The story begins mid-season-14-ish, after Sahira has left but before George Binns has arrived. As I've said in the summary, I'm aiming for intelligent smut with plot and fluff and sexual tension, so it's rated M for later chapters. Oh, and the title comes from a beautiful Billie Holiday song. Have a listen for a better understanding of what I'm going for here!
That's about it, hope you enjoy it, don't forget to leave a review!
"Naked. They're all naked. Nakedy-naked. And that middle-aged, pot-bellied, sour-faced Head of the Antwerp Nephrological Research Institute who is looking at me with a mixture of scorn and pity is actually wearing a leopard-print thong."
Nope, wasn't helping. For crying out loud – 37 years old, one of UK's most promising biomedical engineers, head of a groundbreaking research project into kidney dialysis, generally competent human being, and still Anna Bartkiewicz was scared to death of public speaking. Individually, she could deal with each one of those scientific luminaries, directors of research institutes, corporate sponsors, lobbyists, and even politicians, being able to switch on the superficial charm honed by years of trying to get ahead in a notoriously male-dominated and underfunded field. But together, they blended into one homogenous, silent, frightening whole, threatening her with criticism, disapproval or, worst of all, boredom.
Objectively, Anna had nothing to worry about. She was presenting the results of her exceptionally successful research project on Peritoneal Dialysis machines that would dramatically improve the effectiveness of the procedure and thus the survival rates of kidney disease patients. The new design would be smart, and (that magic word!) cost-effective within a relatively short time span. And the highly prestigious Strasbourg Conference of the European Nephrological Research Foundation assembled in front of her was, by and large, keen to hear what she had to say.
But phobias will be phobias and, discretely wiping her sweaty palms on her smart suit trousers, Anna nervously stepped up to the lectern.
...
Half an hour later, the worst was over – she managed to field the questions from the floor with the right balance of scientific detail and "normal English" (the poor clueless darlings from the European Parliament had to cope somehow!), and even managed to fit in a joke in her response to the obligatory sceptical question from the fat institute director (who didn't even smile, the smug git). The time came for the last question, marking the wonderful point after which she could make a dignified exit and head for the balcony via the catering, for a well-deserved fag and a glass of champagne.
"Dr Bartkiewicz, I would like to congratulate you on what we would all agree is an exceptional achievement. Two questions – what would you consider to be the main research priority for biomedical engineering in the field of peritoneal disorders, and would it be at all possible to have your autograph on the new dialysis machine?"
There was no confusing the tall, lean frame, the deliciously articulate voice, or the amused twinkle in the eye. Professional countenance be damned, a huge smile spread across Anna's face.
"Well, Mr Hanssen, I am very glad you asked me that"…
...
The revelation that Mr Hanssen was also attending the Conference necessitated a brief detour to the ladies' room. Not bothering to explain to herself why a roomful of experts did not deserve a separate make-up check and one consultant surgeon did, Anna positioned herself in front of the bathroom mirror and cast an appraising glance at her reflection. Eyeliner – smudged, naturally; a strand of blond hair has escaped from the chignon – could probably leave it there, looks rather charming; slightly shiny nose – easily corrected. All in all, everything was in order. The really-rather-expensive-but-really-rather-worth-it trouser suit sat perfectly on her quite tall, long-limbed figure (and helpfully concealed the fact that it was about time she stopped skipping visits to the gym, now that the conference was almost out of the way), and the vintage amber pendant livened up the whole ensemble. It was a present from her Polish grandfather who had come over to England during the Second World War – one of the few things that remained of her Polish heritage, together with the exotic surname that no one of English woman born could cope with, some basic colloquial Polish that endeared her to numerous repairmen, and some excellent pierogi recipes.
Anna's face was not classically beautiful – the fashion industry did not lose a top model when she decided to spend her life running lab tests and fiddling with machinery – but it was an appealing and an interesting one, chiefly due to her large, intelligent green eyes that sparkled mischievously when something piqued her interest. All in all, she looked professional and competent but stylish and feminine – in other words, the perfect look for catching up with Henrik Hanssen.
They first met some fifteen years ago, when she had completed her MSc in Biomedical Engineering and was a fresh-faced trainee at the Charing Cross Hospital in London, and Hanssen was already a figure of some renown in the field of kidney disease. Despite the difference in age and in experience, they got along extremely well from the first day, sharing a keen intellect, the same dry, deadpan sense of humour and a certain alienation from their peers. Anna was bright and mature (in no small part thanks to a rather tragic family history) and was consequently bored by many of her age mates, preferring older company. It didn't help her social life that she was frequently impatient and irritable when other students couldn't keep up with her and, as a consequence, they left her to her own devices.
To Anna's observant eye, it was apparent from day one that Henrik Hanssen had the same problem. Aside from his carefully reserved demeanour that didn't invite conversation on topics other than the work at hand, he was too intelligent and quick-witted for his own good, and didn't hesitate to demonstrate the fact – resulting both in astronomical career advances and in Anna often being the witness of many of his colleagues visibly struggling to conceal their irritation. But together, they could be themselves, frequently going out to lunch to the local sushi café to talk not only about their work and their disciplines, but literature, politics, history, without having to limit themselves or tone down their erudition for the benefit of others. For Anna, there was true joy to be found in those moments when a witty remark or a particularly intelligent observation of hers made Hanssen's usually impenetrable expression soften with a smile and his eyes light up with mirth and admiration. Signs of praise and appreciation from this brilliant, reserved, faultlessly professional man were somehow more valuable to Anna than similar encouragement from her other superiors.
Inevitably, there were certain rumours going around concerning their relationship, but for both of them there was a certain line that was not to be crossed. Anna was going through a difficult period – a secret and disastrous affair with her married supervisor was getting more complicated by the day – and Hanssen's immaculate gentlemanly behaviour ruled out any suspicion as to the nature of his intentions.
They stayed in touch after her placement ended and she moved on to better pastures, going where her career took her: first Boston and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, then Switzerland -where she met Mike, and now Strasbourg - where she eventually divorced him and where she had been working on this project for the past 6 years. Throughout this time, she kept running into Hanssen at various conferences, seminars and workshops, whenever their spheres of competence overlapped, and was always very happy to see him. When the discussions became tedious and the scientific egos too oppressive, they could rely on each other for company to escape to the nearest sushi restaurant in whatever city they were in, share a bottle of wine (Henrik's knowledge of and taste in wine was impeccable) and enjoy some sane conversation for a change. Some years ago, the tone of their discussions acquired the faintest hint of flirtation – which Anna had unexpectedly found to her liking – but while they had inched closer to it, the line that was there since the early days of their acquaintance remained uncrossed. This time it has been a while since they had seen each other – some three of four years – and Anna was excited to spend the evening in his company.
...
Downstairs, the proceedings had moved on to the networking stage of the evening. This being Strasbourg, the home of the European Parliament, the "networking" mainly entailed particularly ambitious scientists seeking out the corporations to charmlessly hassle them for funding, getting more obnoxious with every glass of champagne, and the politicians seeking out the relevant scientists who could potentially provide some credibility to whatever items were on their agenda under the title of "Health". Anna did not have the faintest desire to be a part of either stream and so, having enjoyed her cigarette on the balcony and accepted a flute of champagne from a pleasantly good-looking waiter, she sought out a few familiar faces among the scientist bunch and settled into a gentle, undemanding discussion about EU health policy, consisting of the usual platitudes.
As she turned her head towards the window to admire the sight of a cobbled Strasbourg street on a delightfully warm June evening, she noticed Hanssen heading towards her through the crowd. As always, he was wearing an exceptionally well cut suit (Anna couldn't help noticing that the light blue of his shirt looked very good on him), his dark hair had a few specks of silver and his eyes were smiling at her through the metallic frames of his glasses. He was striding confidently towards her, promptly getting rid of those who tried to start a conversation with him with a polite smile that clearly communicated the message "how lovely to see you, I am rather busy, please make yourself scarce".
"Mr Hanssen! What a lovely surprise!"
"Dr Bartkiewicz! What on earth is a brilliantly successful scientist such as yourself doing in a dreary place like this?"
How typical of Hanssen to differentiate himself from almost all of her professional contacts and make the effort to pronounce her surname perfectly. Anna was never sure if he did it out of his passion for accuracy or as a special mark of respect towards her.
"Oh, I'm just here for the canapés and the inflated sense of self-importance."
"I'll have to disappoint you, I'm afraid – it might be rather late for that. I saw some colleagues from St Bartholomew's rushing towards the trays with the speed normally reserved for patients suffering a heart attack."
They stood facing each other for a moment, until a smile broke Hanssen's carefully composed expression.
"My deepest and most sincere congratulations, Anna. This is a well-deserved triumph!"
He leaned down to kiss her lightly on both cheeks, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, his lips barely touching the skin, letting Anna catch a faint smell of his sandalwood-scented aftershave.
"As I'm sure you're aware, the organisers of the Strasbourg Conference are extremely selective in whom they invite to speak. I thought your presentation was excellent."
"Thank you very much Henrik, praise from the Dark Master of British Nephrology is praise indeed! And thank you for asking that question at the end. I was beginning to fear that no one cared about my opinion on research priorities!"
"Well, I did have an unpleasant suspicion that no one was going to ask you. It is a distressing trait of most of the gentlemen assembled here - the greater the career successes, the greater the egos. Rare is the successful scientist who could tolerate being told what they ought to be doing, not to mention being advised by…"
"…a young female engineer?"
"Quite. Shameful but true. In any case, I am most glad to hear that we agree on the fact that…"
Hanssen and Anna launched into a detailed discussion on scientific priorities and government policies ("and never the twain shall meet", Hanssen remarked wryly), falling back into their familiar pattern of conversation. Anna was particularly keen to know what was going on back in Britain – there was only so much one could glean from the newspapers – and whether things really were as bad as they seemed. She was about to ask this question when a thought occurred to her.
"Henrik?"
"Yes?"
"I believe that this is meant to be the networking part of the evening."
Hanssen looked taken aback for a moment, evidently rushing to the assumption that Anna wished to move on to talk to someone else, until he saw where she was going with this.
"And we, Dr Bartkiewicz, seem to be networking exclusively with each other. Besides," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm sorry to say that Professor Akkerman appears to have had one glass of champagne too many."
Anna turned around to catch the surly director of the Antwerp Nephrological Research Institute whom she had previously attempted to picture in a leopard-print thong clearly returning the favour as he stared unashamedly at her arse.
"I think you may be right there. In other news, Monsieur Dupont, whom you have rightly exposed as a pompous cretin at the last Copenhagen Symposium, is heading in our direction" said Anna, nodding towards a short, broad-shouldered man marching towards them across the room with a murderous expression on his face.
Hanssen's eyebrows shot up in mock embarrassment. "Are you suggesting we go and network somewhere else?"
"I certainly am. I know a nice Japanese restaurant not far from here with a view of the Cathedral."
"Anna, it is as if you read my mind." A smile tugged at the corners of Hanssen's mouth as he extended his arm, inviting Anna to proceed in front of him.
