London, England – Caustically Beautiful

He put his finger to his ear, speaking quickly into the mic inset in his cufflink, and turned on a heel to walk to the stage. The flash of the lights almost blinded the corner of his eye but he turned away from them to bend over and whisper in a blonde woman's ear. She tensed for a second before heaving a dramatic sigh and following him from the room thumping to the beat of the music making regular conversation impossible. A few people turned at their passing but he only spared them the cursory glance needed to ascertain they were no threat.

Once backstage, the blonde woman turned to face him while carefully avoiding someone moving a rack of clothes. "This is my show, Mr. Bates, and I intend to see it to its conclusion. Hence why I hosted it."

"I understand that, Ms. Smith, but I've been tasked with keeping you safe and that's what I intend to do." He brought his cuff to his mouth again. "Perimeter check. Confirm clearance before I return Ms. Smith to the show."

"This is bollocks." Ms. Smith shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "All of it. I don't even need you."

"Mr. Crawley disagrees."

"Mr. Crawley can get stuffed and so can you." She pointed. "I'm missing the show that'll prove I'm not mad as a hatter."

Mr. Bates snorted and tried to cover it. "Sorry ma'am."

"What, do you think I'm mad too?"

"That wasn't…" He gathered himself. "You're a designer, ma'am and you just referenced the milliners of your profession's ancestry. The hatters who-"

"Shut up." She waved him off, tapping her foot. "Are we fine to move back to where the show is actually going on?"

He gave her a tight smile before putting his finger to his ear again, nodding. "It's all clear ma'am."

"Did you catch my assassin?"

"We caught a rabid fan, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'. It makes me feel old."

"Whatever you prefer Ms. Smith." Mr. Bates opened a hand, "We can go back in, if you'd like to take your seat."

"You won't be joining me in there, will you?"

"I've got a static position in the corner but thank you for the offer."

"I wasn't..." She huffed. "Never mind."

They went back into the room, Mr. Bates following her with his eyes as she retook her seat. He noticed, again, the way some people's heads turned. More than that, he noted the stiffening of her shoulders as she retook her seat. The posture of someone attending a trial in a public forum where everyone thought them guilty.

Tucking his hand into the interior pocket of his jacket, Mr. Bates extracted his phone and texted quickly before lowering his hands. It only took a second for his phone to vibrate and he raised it to read the message. With a nod he tucked his phone away and turned his head on a revolving swivel over the obnoxiously loud room.

After the last model walked the catwalk, the lights rose slightly and the music died down enough for the collective applause to actually make a dent in the room's sound. Mr. Bates kept his eyes on the revolve over the room as he tried to take stock of everyone and everything at once. Once the applause died down a little, people at the fringes of the room moving and standing, he crossed the distance to be at Ms. Smith's side as she stood to shake hands with those formerly sitting on either side of her.

"Ms. Smith," He came to her elbow, keeping himself back from touching her, "Your car is almost ready."

"Perfect. It'll give me time to congratulate the models." She gave him a tight smile and Mr. Bates nodded as he followed her through the crowd toward the backstage again.

Once there, he stayed just a step behind her as she greeted and shook hands with all the models. Mr. Bates watched as her face softened and she genuinely brightened as she discussed with them the work and the clothing they wore. It was not until a voice chirped in his ear about the car that he interrupted the first true moment of happiness she seemed to have during the whole night.

"Your car's here, Ms. Smith."

"Oh Anna," One of the models, with flaming red hair plastered to her head with a shining lacquer, tried to hold her back. "Either ditch the hot bodyguard or bring him along. You've not been to a party with us in ages."

"Sorry Gwen." Anna extracted herself. "But Mr. Crawley's the one calling the shots these days and he's insisted that the bodyguard stays. No exceptions."

"Then, Mr. Guard," Gwen poked at Mr. Bates's chest. "What do you say? You up for a party? Does she have permission to be out after eleven?"

Mr. Bates smiled, "I'm sure, if Ms. Smith's up for it, then we can arrange for a visit to your party. But there are some security protocols we'll have to adhere to first."

"Ooo, I do appreciate a man with a large vocabulary." Gwen ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Tell me, you have a name to go with all that 'suit and shades' image you've got going on here?"

"John." He extended a hand, shaking hers before turning to Anna. "We really should get going."

"Fine." Anna hugged Gwen, "I'll see what I can do about putting in an appearance. Wouldn't want to miss out on anything."

John nodded at all the models and took the lead out the rear doors to the alleyway where another man held a car door open. Anna climbed into the backseat and John joined her as the door shut. A moment later the car was driving away, almost unnoticed amongst the fancier vehicles leaving the front of the building.

"All of this is bollocks."

"Sorry?" John turned to her, his phone in his hand as he typed out a text message.

"I said 'all this is bollocks'. Honestly," Anna moved to the seat that faced him, pulling a bottle from the minibar to pour into a glass before drinking. "You'd think you needed hearing aid instead of the earpiece you've got."

"My apologies." John finished the message and sent it before facing Anna. "And I don't disagree with you but after what Mr. Crawley showed me-"

"Mr. Crawley just wants me to feel safe again so I'll design for him like I did before and it'll be like none of this ever happened." Anna waved her hand, carefully managing the liquid inside it before knocking more of it back. "How'd he hire you anyway?"

"We served together, in the Army. When he finished his commission I stayed on for a bit but we stayed in contact. When I couldn't serve any longer he offered me an introduction with the security firm I work for now. And…" John opened his hands to her. "The rest, as they say, is history."

"What, did you age out of the Army?" Anna snorted, finishing her glass and narrowing her eyes at the bottle before taking another few fingers of its contents. She stowed the bottle again as she relaxed back into her seat. "Do they do that to you? Age you out when you can't run the mile fast enough? Because you don't look old enough for that."

"I'm not." John tapped his right leg, a slightly hollow sound echoing through his trouser leg. "IED took most of this leg from me."

"Ouch."

"At the time, yes." John shrugged, "I was lucky they didn't damage the parts of me I actually liked."

"Are you the only one who likes them or…"

John smiled, "I should hope a few more people than me like them. I can't say I've got a massive following but they seem to've satisfied the few customers I've had."

"Few?" Anna snorted a laugh, finishing her second drink and leaving the cup in the holder over the minibar. "I think you're being polite and professional, Mr. Bates."

"I'm on duty, Ms. Smith."

"Do you like it?" When John frowned she waved a hand, "Being a PO, I mean. Is it everything you hoped and dreamed it'd be?"

"It's a good job and I'm good at it."

"Even if you're down a leg?"

John pursed his lips a moment before giving another shrug. "As partial as I was to my leg, even after I blew my knee and ruined my chances at a professional football career, I think it gives people a hell of a shock when the titanium and carbon fiber replacement I've got is bulletproof."

"People aren't usually shooting for your kneecaps."

"You'd be surprised what people think they can hit when they're firing at you." John tapped the center of his chest. "But, if you ever need to know, aim for center mass. It's the large target and you'll usually hit something hard enough to keep them down."

"I don't plan on using a gun any time soon."

"I hope not." John sighed, frowning when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out again and typed the response. "Although, if I knew the kind of Mother Hen Robert would be about this job I might've set firmer ground rules."

"He does like to fret doesn't he?" Anna massaged the bridge of her nose as she laid her head back on the seat. "He's just worried that everyone'll think I truly did suffer a psychotic break and set my workspace on fire last year."

John stopped, his eyes raising to Ana, and he slowly tucked his phone away. "Should I worry that you're the bigger danger to yourself, Ms. Smith?"

"No." Anna shook her head, putting a hand through her hair as she sat straighter. "I may've set fire to that building but I wasn't trying to kill myself. And it wasn't because I decided to jump off the deep end or anything."

"Then you risked insurance and lives to-"

"There was no one else in that building but me, okay, and I paid for the damages so anyone clucking about insurance can go feck themselves."

John bit the inside of his cheek. "Robert didn't give me details, Ms. Smith, but he did tell me there were some concerns expressed about you being a danger to yourself."

Anna pushed back her sleeves and showed off her arms. "As you can see, I'm as unbroken of alabaster skin as I was yesterday and the day before that and the year before that. I'm not a risk for self-harm."

"Then why burn down your studio?"

"I needed a fresh start." Anna shrugged. "The refiner's fire purifies metals after all. I though the same could happen in my studio."

"And did it?"

Anna gave him a look. "Did they give you a degree in psychiatry with that carbon fiber leg? Or was that something you earned on your own?"

"I read it in school."

"Before the Army?" John nodded and Anna gave another shrug. "You saw the show. Everyone was cautiously optimistic and I think the reports on it will be 'tentatively ambitious and calculated in its carefully creeping optimism'… If I heard the woman two people down from me right as she read her notes to herself."

"You've got good ears."

"And eyes in the back of my head." Anna tapped her temple. "This industry teaches you to watch everywhere for the people just waiting to slit your throat and take your reputation for themselves."

"You've been in the industry a long time."

"If you're going to ask my age-"

"Not to be rude, Ms. Smith, but I grew up to my mother buying magazines with your face on them when you were a model. I know how old you are." John winced, "And I had a very big crush on you when I was a teenager."

"How flattering." Anna leaned forward, her elbows on her knees so the barest hints of lines at the corners of her eyes showed in the unforgiving light of the back of the car. "And what did your teenage self do with those magazines?"

"Not anything I'd professionally admit."

"I'll take that compliment too." Anna sat back, eyeing him. "If I were ten years younger and you… Maybe five years older, I'd fire you so I could try and get you on a nice date with enough dinner, dancing, and drinking to convince you back to mine."

"I don't think you'd have to convince me that hard." John chewed the inside of his cheek again before continuing. "And I don't think age would be a factor."

"You'd take this, as it is?" Anna gestured to herself and John nodded.

"Age, in my limited experience, is just a number." John shrugged, "But your profession is about appearances so I guess the bigger question would be what trend you'd set with someone as obviously dashing as myself putting the rest of your paramours to shame… Or what people would think I do for a living."

"Nice suit and an earpiece, it's obvious." Anna made a face, "But if they decided to think you were a model I was seducing or a professional escort I don't think I'd dissuade them. Leave the audience thirsty for more details and all."

"It might hurt your other image."

"My other…" Anna gave a laugh, "Right, the lobby."

"It is why Mr. Crawley hired me."

"He's 'Mr. Crawley' again?" Anna leaned forward, "What, is he listening now?"

"He's a man with a reputation."

"And if me burning out a studio in his building didn't ruin it then me being half-hearted about working as his lobbyist won't." Anna frowned, "I don't even like the job. There's nothing for me to do but shake hands and smile for cameras."

"Not to be rude but-"

"It's what I did as a model in a broad sense, Mr. Bates but it's not the same." Anna sighed, her body drooping slightly. "But none of them really like me anyway."

"You're sure about that?"

Anna nodded, "I've seen the way they look at me and jump apart when I walk by." She pointed at John, her fingers fiddling with the glass on the bar again before leaving it. "I'm sure you don't like me any better than the rest of them do."

"I like you just fine, Ms. Smith."

"Because you used to pull yourself off to pictures of me in magazines?"

John cringed, "No. Because you're blunt. You know what you want and you'll get it by almost any and most of all means possible." He shrugged, "It could be that you're looking for people to backbite and so you bite first."

"You think I bite first?"

"I've been your bodyguard for enough time now to notice how you speak to the people around you." John almost bit his tongue but continued. "Maybe if you were kinder to your employees they'd trust you more and like you better."

Anna's fingers firmed on the rim of the glass as she leaned forward, her voice lowering. "I don't pay you to make comments about my life."

"To be fair, Ms. Smith, you're not the one paying me."

"Then I'll make sure Mr. Crawley won't pay you to make comments about my life."

"No one else will. They're too scared of you."

"Then they're the smart ones."

"Or because they're the terrified ones." John put up his hands in surrender. "It's possible that they could be convinced to like you if you're likeable."

"It's better to be feared than loved."

"That's not how the quote goes."

"IT's misquoted enough to be attributed that way." Anna's fingers flexed to release the glass but John noted the lines on her fingertips. "If you can arrange it, I want to go to the party Gwen's hosting tonight. Would that interrupt my curfew so terribly?"

"You don't have a curfew Ms. Smith."

"Then we're going?"

"Give me the address and we'll get two people there. They'll scope the place and get a lay of the land before giving us their assessment. If they think it's all clear then we'll go on in. But not before."

"Fine." Anna interlaced her fingers on her lap, her body tense. "But I know that you're not here for my safety from frightening fans."

"No?"

"No." She let out a breath, a slight bit of tension releasing from her shoulders. "You're here because Mr. Crawley doesn't trust me. You said it yourself."

"I'm here as a bodyguard, Ms. Smith, whatever that requires."

"And if I'm a bigger danger to myself than anyone out there?" Anna pointed at the window and John studied her a moment before responding.

"Then that's your choice." John moved to the edge of the seat as the car slowed. "But I'm here to work for you, Ms. Smith, in whatever that may require."

"Oh goodie." She accepted his hand as he stepped out of the car and joined him on the pavement. "I can't wait to have you at my beck and call more than I already do."

"My pleasure Ms. Smith."

"And I didn't even have to give you a magazine." She gave him a tight smile and John sighed as he followed her into the building.

Yorkshire, England – Reality

John frowned, lowering the book. "Do you always read things like this?"

"When you can't see anymore, you read just about anything." Anna leaned over her potter's wheel, her fingers carefully moving through the wet clay to shape it. One ear held an earbud and she turned her head to focus on the instructions only she could hear as her hands and fingers carefully manipulated the wet clay. "Movies aren't the same anymore."

"I could see why not." John stopped himself, snorting. "Sorry."

"I understand metaphors, John. It's not insulting." Anna continued, "But yeah, it kind of takes the fun out of a visual medium when you can't see. But books… those have always been about vividly hallucinating as you take in the words so it's not changed. Despite all else that has, books are the same."

"They've always been a favorite pastime of mine." John checked the book again. "Can't say I'm into this one though."

"What? Don't like the 'younger-man, older-woman' of it?"

"I don't mind a Mrs. Robinson myself," John shrugged, holding the book. "She jut feels very acidic. As a character. As if you're not supposed to like her."

"If I told you it's one in a long list of dramatic retellings of 'Beauty and the Beast' would that make it better?" Anna let the wheel go for another minute, wiping her hands before adding more water and continuing.

"I thought the Beast was male."

"It's a retelling."

"Oh." John made a face, "I still don't quite… I don't know. Maybe it's male prejudice in me but I prefer the female characters that you want to root for. I don't really feel like rooting for her."

"But she intrigues you?"

"Sure. I mean she's obviously got some kind of dramatic trauma and it'll tease out slowly before…" John paused, "This isn't a romance novel, is it?"

"How'd you mean?"

"I'm not going to be reading out sex scenes to you, am I?"

"If you're worried that I might be too young and virginal to understand them then you've got another thing coming."

"It's more my discomfort than anyone's lack of experience." John marked the page and set the book aside. "I just don't feel comfortable reading aloud someone's description of sex. It feels intrusive."

"They're fictional characters. They don't really exist."

"Then I don't want to read it aloud because I'm uncomfortable."

"About sex?"

"More about the idea of sharing the moment with someone in a… Clinical way."

Anna paused, pushing back from the wheel as it slowed. She put her hand out, grabbed the barn sink, and lifted herself to pivot and wash her hands there. "I can understand that. As long as you're not covering for a lack of experience."

"Please." John put a hand to her chest. "I was propositioned by a patient once."

"Did she fancy you?"

"I think she had dementia but she tried to lead me back to her room." He gave a little laugh at the memory. "Thought I was quite the catch and wanted to show me off to her friends before having her way with me in a hospital bed."

"Would she have surivived?"

"It might interest you to know that the elderly, despite their naps in the daytime, do still have sex." John lifted himself off the stool, stretching. "The risk of it killing them is greater but they still do it."

"I guess if you're dying anyway might as well go out with a bang." Anna laughed to herself, drying her hands before stepping back to the wheel. "What a way to go."

"I'd rather go in my sleep. Not as a victim of a Viagra orgy."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They had those, at one of the nursing homes I worked at in my residency." John watched Anna's face shift between interest, disgust, and an almost sick expression. "But if I had to die in a way that wasn't my sleep, I might not mind going out after a nice round of sex. Just to leave on a high note."

"For you."

"I take umbrage at that."

"So do a host of unfulfilled women." Anna lifted her work carefully onto the table and reached out a hand to find the laser scanner she used before slotting the work inside it. "But you've probably seen When Harry Met Sally."

"If I haven't then I know what you're talking about." John checked his watch. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't have a special diet like your other two charges."

"No but I do have to take a sample of your blood and I want to make sure I'm not sticking you to many times to find a vein that'll dribble blood."

"I drink more than enough water." Anna closed the scanner and wiped her hands again before following the grain of the table to bring her to John's side where she stuck out her left arm. "This one please. And be gentle with me."

"I'm no phlebotomist but I am good enough to draw blood." John grabbed his bag, bringing it onto his stool as he noticed Bernie raising his head from his paws in the corner. "He's not going to mind that I'm sticking you with a needle is he?"

"I doubt it." Anna relaxed her arm on the table, only wincing slightly as the needle found the vein in her inner arm. "He's been in more than a few doctor's offices."

"He's certainly well-behaved enough for it." John drew the blood easily and removed the needle quickly before placing a cotton ball in the crook of Anna's arm. He bent her elbow and she lifted it with her other hand. "You're a pro at this too."

"This isn't my first rodeo either."

"I wouldn't think so." John carefully labeled the vial and slipped it into a biohazard bag. "But I think you might still be anemic."

"You can tell that from my blood?"

"From your diet." John checked his watch again. "The two Missus Crawleys will be up soon if you wanted to join us on the afternoon stroll."

"Bernie could use a good stretch of his legs." Anna snapped her fingers and Bernie immediately perked up, padding to her side. "And he likes being out with Carl."

John almost slapped himself on the forehead. "I can't believe I'm that dense."

"What?"

"It makes perfect sense." John pointed at Bernie, despite Anna not seeing the action. "Bernie, since you're a sculptor."

"Very good Nurse Bates. Bravo." Anna spoke a word in Italian and Bernie gave a short yip. "Mr. Carson was kind enough to let me choose the names."

"I have to be honest, I don't understand Carl though. Other than him being a painter I don't see it."

Anna laughed, "That's kind of the point."

"What is?"

"Have you seen any Carl Bloch's paintings, John?" Anna found her glassed and cane on the table leading the way from the room as John gathered his things to follow her.

"A few. They're almost standard depictions of Jesus and His miracles."

"Then you've not noticed that in each of Bloch's paintings he included someone staring at the audience? An avatar to invite the viewer to participate on a personal level with the scene. A way for them to engage with the context so Christ could show them the actions Himself."

John nodded, following Anna down the stairs. "Then, since Carl's the guard dog, he's the one viewing the audience."

"You are just as smart as you sound, John." Anna reached the hall, putting on her sunglasses before unfolding her cane. "If you want to wake the grandmothers then I'll wait for you here. Wouldn't want to interrupt their beauty rest myself."

"I'd almost be tempted to call you a coward for that." John put his bag in the hall. "But I understand it."

"I'll be here when you get back." Anna leaned on her cane. "I've got nowhere else to be and nothing else to do."

"I'm flattered by the company all the same."