Author's Note: This is a gift for my wife, as she's a big fan of Trevor Goodchild's. The insertion of her character into the story is a treat for her, and is intended to offset the end scene of 'Chronophasia', to an extent.
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me, MTV. I'm not making any money on this, and I don't even think you are, anymore.
PART TWO
Perspicacity
The next morning, the two sit at their dining room table. They each have a cup of coffee and a section of "The Bregna Sentinel." Trevor idly notes that this day does not seem to be turning out very weather-friendly
"Are we still going away this weekend?" Ana asks him suddenly, setting down her section of paper…the comics, he notes.
One of Trevor's blond eyebrows arches.
"Yes." He says. "I have no intention of keeping you housebound one more weekend."
"But you're still not going to tell me where it is?"
"No. I'm not." He sees that she is looking at him reproachfully and he thrusts his chin out in defiance. "It's a surprise, Ana." He tells her. "You'll just have to wait."
"Humph." She replies and goes back to the paper.
Trevor surveys her a moment longer, a small smile on his face, then shakes out his own section of the newspaper again only to be interrupted by the crackle of static over the nearest intercom. There are times (more often, as of late) when he wishes for nothing more than to be left alone…to not be in charge of it all.
All citizens of Bregna are monitored constantly, himself included; and it's his fault that things are done this way. His policy of 'the new openness', while certainly a unique and rather courageous political move, had bitten him in the ass, as the saying goes. It's one thing to want to prove to the world that he has no secrets…it's quite another to have to do it continually.
He lowers the paper and raises his voice.
"What is it?" He demands, more sharply than he had intended.
"Chairman Goodchild, I'm sorry to interrupt you so early, sir, but Councilman Drage is in your office ahead of schedule. Should I tell him to wait, or will you see him early?"
Ana glances up and sees the look on Trevor's face is cold enough to freeze lava. He is an orderly man and he keeps a very orderly schedule. One from which he seldom deviates.
She reaches over and gives his hand a sympathetic squeeze, and he visibly relaxes.
"I'll be there in 15 minutes, Vandik. Bring him some tea, or something to that effect, would you?"
"Yes, sir. I will. And I'll relay the message."
The underlying static snaps out and Trevor sighs.
"I'm sorry, Ana." He says. "I didn't anticipate this."
"It's all right." She tells him, squeezing his hand again. "Poor sweetheart."
Trevor presses the backs of her knuckles to his lips, then rises and saunters toward their bedroom. He is already half dressed. All it will take is a quick comb of the hair, a buttoning of the shirt and the shrugging on of a jacket and he will be fit for the public eye.
On the one hand, she doesn't mind this sort of thing. She knew what she was getting into as soon as she'd discovered he was a politician. These sorts of interruptions are to be expected. On the other hand, however, unnecessary time away from him is just that. She doesn't like being separated from him when she doesn't really have to be.
Not only that, but it's rude and tacky of this 'Drage' to show up for a meeting a whole hour early.
Ultimately, though, she is unmoved by the whole thing and returns to her reading. Trevor emerges from their bedroom about five minutes later and kisses her goodbye.
The kiss lingers a moment, as if he is unwilling to go, but they separate eventually and he stalks out the door, his irritation apparent in his stride.
Again, she goes back to her paper and is content to read it for the next ten minutes, or so. A stealthy, furtive knock at the door to their quarters causes her to look up in surprise. The servants don't knock. They come and go as little more than backdrops to the scenery. Trevor's aides don't knock like that at all. They rap on the door with a kind of curt professionalism only the military can spawn. So who is it, then, knocking at their door like a mouse trying to steal food?
(Con't.)
Perspicacity
"She's really quite something, isn't she Vandik?" Trevor asks his personal aide as they both take a moment to watch his wife-to-be on the surveillance monitors.
"Yes, sir. She is." Vandik replies.
Trevor's pale blue eyes slide over his underling briefly, striving to detect any falsehood, and Vandik holds his breath. Though the he was being honest, Chairman Goodchild sometimes displays a bent of paranoia that makes Vandik nervous.
Satisfied with the soldier's honesty, Trevor picks up the cup of tea that is ready for him and waits for Vandik to open the door to his office.
Watching Chairman Goodchild enter the office, Vandik reflects that, all things considered, he is pleased with his position. Many people don't like working closely with Goodchild, but Vandik has no problems with the man. As both a political leader and an overseer, the Chairman is tough, but fair. His rules are strict, but if one remembers, respects and follows them, there are no problems. Perhaps the biggest problem that others have with Trevor Goodchild is that he doesn't suffer fools gladly. However, Vandik considers this a flaw with those who can't measure up, not in the Chairman himself.
He glances at his monitors, taking a moment to watch Chairman Goodchild's fiancée. She is a beautiful woman, he thinks. Exotic, sexy, smart and dangerous somehow. It's an excellent combination and he never tires of observing her.
She is reading her paper; the entertainment section, it looks like. He's noticed that she has an affinity for the arts. She sings, dances, paints, acts and writes poetry, all with great skill according to Chairman Goodchild. Though Vandik has not been lucky enough to see any of her written work, he's watched her dance and act, and he's heard her sing, and even seen a couple of her paintings. She's just divine…
She looks up abruptly from her newspaper, her eyes narrowed at the door. Frowning, Vandik leans forward and adjusts the volume on his speakers and he also hears a light, anxious rapping on her door.
(Con't.)
Perspicacity
Ana crosses to the door, feeling troubled. Things in Bregna are not normally spontaneous or unplanned. At least, not for people in Trevor's position. Neither citizens nor other politicians just decide to visit on a whim…
She opens the door with confidence. If the visitor is an assassin of some sort, Ana intends to go down fighting.
However, the person outside is no assassin. He's only a boy.
She thinks he looks about 12, and is going to grow up to be good looking in the way that made male fashion models where she is from. He is blond (of course…almost everyone in Bregna is blond. And if they're not blond as Valkyries, they have hair in varying shades of red and light brown.) and has the kind of hybrid pretty/handsome appearance that so many girls just fall for. His eyes are very blue and he reminds of her achingly of her friend Johnny, whom she doubts she'll ever see again.
"I have a message for you." The boy says, holding out a piece of paper. "And I'm supposed to tell you that, if you agree to what the note says, leave a reply stuck to the third pillar on your balcony at this time tomorrow."
Ana glares at the boy more harshly than she means to, but still…she doesn't like this kind of intrigue. That the fools doing this are using a small boy as a buffer doesn't exactly please her, either.
"And if I don't agree?" She asks him, tone like ice.
He shrugs, making it obvious that he has no idea what's going on and is just hired help.
She glances at the note, and then looks at the boy in his dirty t-shirt and blue jeans.
"Thanks." She tells him and holds out a couple of bills for him. She is still learning Breen currency, but is sure she's given him a fair amount of money. The smile that lights up her face tells her she's right and the boy turns and sprints off before she can ask him any questions.
Angry and a little disgusted, she turns back inside, slamming the door closed behind her.
Ana takes a moment to compose herself, then retreats back to the breakfast nook and her comics, clutching the boy's message in her hand. She is not mindful of the cameras tracking her movements. It's only Vandik who is watching her, and nothing has transpired that she wishes to hide from him.
She unfolds the little scroll of paper and utters an involuntary laugh. It's written in Breen, a language she has not yet mastered. The irony of this is that she will need Trevor to read this to her, so that she can understand the message contained within…and she has no doubt that Trevor is the subject of the note, as she's sure she can read his name. She is also able to make out simple words such as 'the' and 'day', but that's all.
With a sigh, she lays the scroll aside and looks up at the camera closest to her, knowing that Vandik will be watching (and listening).
"Funny," she says, "that Councilor Drage just happened to arrive a whole hour early, and this note just happened to arrive after Trevor left, isn't it, Fjorin?"
In the control room, Fjorin Vandik nods, though she can't see it. He had just been thinking the same thing. He hesitates a moment, then depresses the intercom button.
"Yes, ma'am." He replies. "It is."
He sees Ana nod back at him over the monitor.
