Chapter Two

Christine smiled to herself as she walked down the corridor, nodding in respectful acknowledgement when she passed a few of her colleagues. Luckily, no one stopped to chat about the inevitable announcement that was to happen in a few hours' time, for which she was extremely grateful, as she was already skittish and having a hard time controlling herself and keeping the raucous butterflies in her stomach at bay.

"Knock, knock," she said, her knuckles corresponding in turn, connecting with the wood of the open door to Raoul's small office. He looked up, and what was once a frown of puzzlement transformed immediately into a wide grin.

"Christine!" He stood and made his way over to her, maneuvering through the various boxes and crates and filing cabinets all piled high with papers that cluttered the already heavily cramped space. "This place is a mess, sorry." He closed the door and ushered her in, offering her the chair that sat in front of his desk.

"Oh, I don't mind, mine's not much better," she assured him, and took the seat, playing absentmindedly with her hair.

"You're nervous," he observed, sitting down again.

Immediately, Christine sprang up from the chair and took to pacing—a rather difficult task, considering the abundant obstacles that littered the floor. "Oh, Raoul, it's killing me… I'm not usually so nervous, you know that…"

He sighed and stood, approaching her warily, hesitantly blocking her path. "Christine…"

She looked up from the floor, her troubled blue eyes meeting his green. She drew a deep breath, and then another, attempting to relax. "I know, Raoul. I know."

He gathered her into his arms, holding her, smiling slightly as she buried her face against the crook in his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head lightly, inhaling her sweet scent, letting his fingers dally and play with a few of her blonde locks, so much more brilliant and golden than his own. "Everything will be fine, Little Lotte," he whispered in French, calling her by the pet name he liked to use for her. "Everything will be fine. Trust me."

She sighed, murmuring something into his shoulder.

"Je t'aime, ma petite," he said, and kissed the top of her head once more.

She smiled up at him, kissing him swiftly on the lips, his thin moustache tickling her.

"I know that this behavior is hardly professional," he said, speaking in English once more, clearly mocking the standards of public displays of affection, especially in the workplace. "But that's why I closed the door."

Christine laughed. "Oh, Raoul, whatever am I going to do with you? It most certainly will not do to have some sort of amateur comedian for my future husband."

"Ah, but of course not. I shall just have to turn professional then, will that be better?"

She laughed again, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling. "I'm afraid not, dearest. Besides, what would your mother think if you quit your steady job here and went off gallivanting about?"

He grinned. "'A most disgraceful state of affairs, indeed,'" he said, effecting his mother's rather high pitched voice that put Christine's nerves on edge. "'Most disgraceful; who would have thought it? We'll never live this down.'"

This sent her reeling into peals of light, hysterical laughter, and she had to hold tight to Raoul to keep from falling over. "You are ridiculous," she gasped. "I don't even know why I agreed to marry you in the first place."

"For that very reason, I believe," he replied. Once he was sure she was steady, he let her go, brushing her cheek tenderly with his fingers. "You should probably leave now, Christine; it won't do if I get fired because you were distracting me from my work."

"I…?" she raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's rich. You were the one who invited me here, Monsieur, remember?"

He feigned delayed comprehension. "Ah! So it was, so it was," he said, winking at her slyly. "I'll meet you for lunch."

"Do you promise?" asked Christine, her hand poised on the doorknob.

Raoul placed his left hand over his heart. "Upon my solemn vow of honor."

She smiled mischievously. "Oh, good." She paused, some of her gaiety noticeably fading away. "Wish me luck."

"And much more than luck," he replied with a gentle smile.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and with a lingering backward glance at her fiancé, she left the small office, crossing the threshold simultaneously into the corridor and into the future.

-----

"Ms. Daaé?" called one of the secretaries. "Mr. Brown will see you now."

Christine smiled at her as she went in; she was on a first name basis with the younger woman outside of work, but she knew that her position as junior secretary to the chairman mandated that she keep to formalities.

"Good luck," she whispered as Christine passed her desk and another employee opened the office door, showing Christine inside.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Daaé." The speaker sat in a large, rather high-backed chair, and he was facing the expansive window behind the desk instead of her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brown," she replied, trying to keep the waver she felt inside from manifesting in her voice, trying to suppress the feeling she had inside that made her simply want to curl up into a small ball and forget about this whole business altogether. "You…wished to see me?"

"Yes, indeed, I did," he replied, swiveling his chair around so that he might face her. She, having never actually seen the chairman before, had been expecting a man of considerable height and build, but in all reality the figure sitting at the desk seemed to have been positively swallowed whole by the enormous chair in which he sat, his round spectacles sitting precariously on the bridge of his large nose, made to seem even larger by the high forehead and receding hairline. "I'm sure you are no doubt aware of the decision I am making today."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I am aware of the situation, Mr. Brown."

"So respectful, I love to see that in an employee," he remarked, and she flashed a small, hesitant smile, unsure whether or not she should have. "Tell me, Christine—might I call you Christine? Tell me, Christine: what do you enjoy most about your position here? I was examining your resume, and it is clearly evident that you could be working at a University; why with us?"

"When I was studying at university, I didn't appreciate the fact that faculty politics always got in the way of research; and, though I could be working as an assistant or even an instructor, any research I might happen to conduct during my stay there would, I know, be not regarded as highly as, say, the research of a male colleague. I also would, no doubt, be mandated to teach, and, if I may be entirely frank with you, Mr. Brown, I detest public speaking."

Brown grinned. "That was very eloquent for someone who professes to not enjoying speaking publicly."

"Thank you, sir."

He sighed, leaning heavily against the back of his chair. "Ms. Daaé, are you aware of the position I currently find myself in?"

"Sir?"

He hesitated, trying to hide the fact by adjusting his glasses, but Christine found that the nervous movement only served to heighten her awareness of his anxiety. "Well, you were frank with me, so I suppose I can return the favor. Christine, I don't believe you are aware of how badly I want to assign you to this expedition."

Her eyes widened and she had to suppress her reactionary gasp. "I…I'm speechless," she confessed, rather breathless.

"However, there are obvious ramifications to consider when making this choice…"

There was a sudden sinking feeling in her middle, like her legs had completely disappeared and her stomach had fallen out of her—a feeling that was far from pleasant and something she knew that she never again wanted to experience. "I'm not sure I understand, Mr. Brown."

"Allow me to put it more plainly: if I assign you as the lead for this expedition, you, Ms. Daaé, you would be the first woman in the long history of this private research firm to hold such a position." He picked up a pen from his desk and began fiddling with it nervously, her eyes watching him steadily, her face betraying a vague sense of disappointment, but nothing more. "Certainly you must understand that I—and the company—would be under intense scrutiny from the media and public eye."

If her exterior expression was relatively mild and ambiguous, inside, Christine was raging. How dare she not be granted this position because of her gender! This was exactly the thing she had been worried about from the start, and now for this man to fulfill her hopes and desires by letting her know how he was inclined to decide, and then tearing her elation and excitement to shreds only a few moments later, telling her what she had been putting up with ever since she had decided to attend university almost ten years previous… It made her want to scream and throw her hands up in pure and utter frustration.

She drew a deep breath quietly, hoping he would fail to notice. "Mr. Brown," she said. "If you appoint me to this expedition, I swear I will never allow for any chance of negative publicity or press. I will do everything within my power to make sure everything runs smoothly over there, and that once we return our findings will be processed, recorded, and published quickly and efficiently." She put her hands behind her back, crossing her fingers, hoping he would consider her plea.

He grinned. "That, Christine, was exactly what I wanted to hear. Congratulations, Ms. Daaé, you've got yourself a team."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Brown, thank you so much," she exclaimed, unable to contain her enthusiasm and delight. He stood and she shook his hand vigorously. "I promise I won't disappoint you."

"I should hope not," he replied good-naturedly. "I'll have the papers on your desk by tomorrow morning, and before the week is out the rest of your team members should be assigned. You'll be off to New Guinea within the month."

"I look forward to it, sir. Again, thank you."

He inclined his head towards her with a slight smile, a sign that she could leave. "Take the rest of the day off, Ms. Daaé," he called after her. "I'd say you have earned it."

-----

The first place she headed once she left Brown was to go find Raoul to tell him the news, but he was not in his office, and her acquaintances in that particular department reported that he hadn't been seen since after the lunch break. Concerned, though too elated to think about the matter too intensely, she quickly returned to her joint office, only to find that Doctor Flynn was gone as well. Exceedingly puzzled, yet not letting it put a damper on her renewed spirits, she bolted to her desk, and picked up the receiver, dialing zero to reach the company's private switchboard.

"Hello, operator? Could you connect to this number, please? It's an outside line, yes." She bounced on the balls of her feet impatiently waiting to hear the ring on the other end of the line; it seemed to take longer to connect than usual, and by the time Meg picked up the phone in their shared apartment sounding a little sleepy and disoriented, Christine was about ready to burst.

"Meg!" she about shouted. "Meg, guess what! I got the position, Meg, I'm going to Papua!"