Yorkshire, England – Reality

John squinted at the building for a moment before rounding the car to help Anna from the car. "Maybe I should've taken back the offer to have you pick the location."

"Already regretting it and we've not even stepped inside." Anna clicked her tongue at John. "How unadventurous of you."

"I can be adventurous." John gestured at the building, despite Anna not seeing the motion, "But when you take me to places that look like they might take my liver without my permission, I do get a little nervous."

"Then I guess you'll have to take my word for it." Anna extended her hand and John took hold, tucking it in the crook of his arm while her other hand kept her cane swinging forward. "And trust that I won't sell off your vital body parts or related organs."

"That's a comfort." John took another look around the area. "This reminds me of the first time I had a taco in the States."

"How so?"

"A friend of mine, who lives there, said he'd take me to the best taco place in LA."

"What were you doing in LA?"

"Obscenely boring medical conference. Anyway," John led them to the building and pushed the button for the door. "My friend drives me to this empty car lot, in a sketchy neighborhood, and gets out of the car. I'm worried he's about to make a black-market deal on my valuable organs, but he assures me that the best tacos in LA are all served out of food trucks before guiding across the lot to said truck."

"And was it the best taco in LA?"

"It was definitely one of the best tacos I had in LA and yes, all of the good ones were those I bought out of food trucks." John shrugged, "So I guess you never really know."

"I'm glad you can be a little open minded about this." Anna smiled as the door opened, "And don't worry, I won't let you be disappointed this time either."

"You say that like you've eaten a taco out of a food truck."

"You, sir, are talking to an artist. Of course I've eaten out of a food truck."

"Have you?"

"Of course." Anna huffed with a smile and leaned into John to bump his shoulder. "It's part and parcel for someone who wants to be an artist. You have to be pretentious about things that are standard while insisting you loved them when they weren't as popular. It's written in the contract they make you sign when you go to art school."

"Is that like the hipster agenda or something?"

"Or something." Anna smiled when John pulled them to a halt in the corridor. "What is it? Scared to continue?"

"Maybe but that's not why we've stopped." John craned his neck to see the possible doors. "I'm not sure which one of these suspicious looking doors is the one I want."

Anna gave a little laugh, "They're not suspicious."

"They're in a building that looks intentionally distressed so I'll suspect the Fire Marshall at any moment to shut us down and condemn the structure-"

"It's artistic."

"Hence my use of the term 'intentionally distressed'."

"It is a bit pretentious but it's the aesthetic."

"I'm starting to see that. However," John pointed, for his own benefit to give motion to his thoughts, "I still couldn't tell you which one of the doors will lead me to making a bigger fool of myself."

"It's the door with the dappled paint stains." Anna wrapped her hand a little tighter around John's arm, "And we're all fools in love."

John paused, his hand covering Anna's. "Is that what we're in?"

"Yes, because it's a process and we're still feeling it out with each other."

"We could feel it out in a different way in a different place."

"None of that." Anna swatted at his arm. "At least not here. You promised me a date and I fully intend to have that before any other rewards."

"We'll see what rewards there are if I make an ass of myself."

"You'd punish me for you looking bad?"

"It's not a punishment but a warning." John raised his knuckles to rap on the door, "If I'm too embarrassed my performance will suffer."

"Oh the fragile ego of men."

"We're soft, tender, and vulnerable souls." John grinned and leaned down to kiss Anna's cheek but stopped and almost shot to attention as the door opened.

"I find that to be true for most men." A rolling Scottish accent greeted him out of the mouth of a woman about Anna's height but with twenty years on her. "I've also found that we women tend to worry more about men's feelings than they do about ours. They're just not allowed to be as vulnerable in public as we are."

"Very true Mrs. Hughes." Anna leaned forward and Mrs. Hughes shifted to kiss both of her cheeks. "But John here is a rather emotional person."

"Don't worry," Mrs. Hughes extended her hand for John to shake. "I won't tell anyone your secret."

"There aren't many people to tell, even if you did." John shifted to try and sneak a look at the room behind Mrs. Hughes but the door and her position left it a mystery. "Although I will admit to being a little afraid of what might lay behind you."

Mrs. Hughes smiled and pushed the door open, stepping back to show John an empty space filled with metal shelves and art supplies. "Welcome to the Artistry."

John let out a breath and leaned down to whisper to Anna, "What have you gotten me into here?"

"What you asked for." Anna patted his arm and tugged him forward into the room.

"What do you mean what I asked for?"

"You wanted to learn how to do something artsy and you liked sculpting so I asked Mrs. Hughes here to help me teach you how to sculpt."

"Really?" John's jaw flexed as he tried to find something to say. "I… I'm flattered."

"Why?" Anna frowned, holding John's arm as her knee knocked against a stool and then lowered herself into the seat. "You asked for me to help you."

"It's…" John shrugged and took the stool next to hers. "It's not something that people usually do for me."

"Well I think that more people should do nice things for you." Anna collapsed her cane and tucked it beside her. "More people should do nice things for everyone."

"I can't disagree with that." John twisted in his seat to look around the room. "Did you reserve this whole thing for just us?"

"It's not exactly a reservation." Anna shrugged, "I just thought you'd want to do this in a bit more of a private setting."

"So I don't make a fool of myself?"

"So you can learn." Anna shook her head, "I told you, I don't care too much about people making fools of themselves in the learning process but I know that when people feel like a fool they stop themselves learning."

"That feels like you said the same thing."

"No," Anna held up a finger. "What I said is that I don't mind when people, as they're trying to learn, make fools of themselves. In those cases people aren't held back by their fears and they don't mind looking the fool and they will, inevitably, look the fool. We all do when we're not good at something and we're trying."

"That doesn't make trying sound like fun."

"And yet we have to." Anna took a breath, "Think about how toddlers learn to walk. They don't mind falling on their ass or bumping into things and it doesn't stop them learning how to walk. They are determined and that overcomes the impulse to gawk at failure and make us look the fools in it."

Anna smiled, almost to herself, in a sad way, "But when people let being foolish or looking foolish stop us from learning then we're only hampering ourselves. We can't expect to be the experts at anything and everything we try. Part of our growth comes in learning from failure and, sometimes, realizing we're not good at something. That's not a fault."

"You say that like I was afraid of trying something because I thought I'd look like an idiot." John took the apron Mrs. Hughes offered him.

"Isn't that exactly what you said to me in the corridor?"

"Doesn't mean I'm not wiling to make myself look like a fool in front of you."

"Then luck's on your side because I can't actually see you looking like a fool."

John eyed where Mrs. Hughes dug something out of a container at the other end of the room before leaning toward Anna and lowering his voice. "Do you wish you could see me look like a fool?"

"I am a little jealous that I can't actually see it but…" Anna shrugged, "Some things we're going to miss in life."

"Then I'll make sure I'm very loud when I inevitably screw this up so you can at least hear me being a fool."

"I'd appreciate that." Anna smiled as Mrs. Hughes dropped a hunk of clay on top of the table before her. "It's been some time since I threw pottery this way."

"It's back to basics for you then." Mrs. Hughes gave a little laugh before dropping a sizable chunk on the table before John. "And, for you, it's beginner's trial."

"It's certainly something." John eyed the clay before him. "Can I get a smaller chunk of clay? This is a bit intimidating."

"Any smaller and you'd waste it." Mrs. Hughes pushed over two pails of water and rolled up her sleeves. "Don't you worry John, I'll get you fighting fit on this soon enough."

"I welcome any and all help you've got to offer me in this Mrs. Hughes." John rolled up his sleeves to match her. "I'm your willing student."

"Then let's get to work."

Two hours later Anna had a few basic bits of pottery and John was, once again, crushing his creation back to a starting point. He let out a breath as Mrs. Hughes wiped at her forehead. "Well, it's an artform and it takes time to get right."

"Exactly how long is 'time' in this case?" John dunked his hands in the water, shook them, and set to trying to form the clay again.

"It's different with everyone." Mrs. Hughes checked the time. "Unfortunately, now isn't the time to continue your lessons. I've got to close up for the night or Mr. Carson'll worry that I've been set upon by the chavs in the neighborhood."

"It's sweet how he cares for you."

"It is." Mrs. Hughes took the clay from John's table and carried it back to a bin, throwing it inside before helping take Anna's creations toward the kiln. "But it can be frustrating when he fails to remember that I've lived longer alone than with another person and I managed alright on my own then."

"We all forget how capable someone is on their own when we're with them." John stood, helping take the clay-dappled water pails to the large barn sink to dump them at Mrs. Hughes' guidance. "We want to think no one could survive without us so we serve a purpose in their life."

"What a dismal outlook." John stopped, twisting to see Mrs. Hughes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we should all exist as our own person. We are incomplete people but we shouldn't ever be so incomplete that we require another person to make us whole. What a criminal act of us to subject someone else to the interminable task of making us whole."

"What do you suggest instead?"

"That we all endeavor to be complete people on our own who then want to aid someone else in their course of self-actualization." Mrs. Hughes shrugged, "Mr. Carson makes us whole but in the same way we're whole together. I was whole before I met him and then I became another kind of whole when we came together. It's another level of wholeness that can't be accomplished alone and certainly can't be accomplished if one wasn't whole to begin with."

"Then you think the idea of romance as a method of completion isn't wise?"

"It's not healthy. It's possessive and small-minded." Mrs. Hughes folded up the aprons. "To be complete, John, means that you are yourself. Requiring another person to make you whole means you're not yourself. You've become part of them and forced them to lend themselves to you. Both sides deserve more than that."

"Maybe they do." John rubbed at his hands before holding them up. "Do I use the same sink to get the clay off my arms or…"

"Right there." Mrs. Hughes pointed and John shifted to apply the soap as Mrs. Hughes joined him. "But I think you knew that already."

"I'm not a total idiot." John lowered his voice, "I was curious if you'd be amenable to a proposal of mine."

"I'm a married woman John."

"Very funny." John snorted as Mrs. Hughes laughed to herself. "I mean… If I wanted more lessons to get better at sculpting."

"If you're hoping for a discount because of present company I'll have to pop that bubble for you right now."

"I wasn't hoping for any special treatment."

"Good, because you won't get it." Mrs. Hughes took a breath, "But I'd be willing to give you some one-on-one time if you wanted to get better."

"I do."

"To impress Anna?"

"Partly." John cringed, "I… I do want to impress her, maybe, but it's more that I want to get to know her."

"You seem to know her very well already."

"I want to better know this part of her." John motioned to himself. "I'm not an innately artistic person but I feel there's a depth to Anna that's only accessible through better understanding how to do art."

"There's your first problem." John frowned as Mrs. Hughes continued, "You don't 'do' art, John. You make it."

"Will you help me make art then?"

"I'll teach you what I can. As far as whether or not you make art and the art you make… that's up to you dear boy." Mrs. Hughes patted his shoulder, "But I'll teach you what you're willing to learn."

"It's much appreciated."

"I will say this though, before you embark on your quest for artistry." John raised his eyebrows, wiping his hands dry. "If you're doing it to try and impress Anna, I don't think you need to worry too much on that account."

"No?"

"No." Mrs. Hughes smiled as she shook her head, "She likes you very much already."

"It's lucky because I like her already too."

John finished helping Mrs. Hughes pack away the equipment and retrieved Anna, guiding her back to the car. As he helped her in, Anna's fingers firmed on his to stop him. "Did you have a good time?"

"Well I didn't lose an organ I wanted to keep so…" Anna pushed at him and laughed with John as he smiled. "I did. I had an excellent time."

"I'm glad." Anna settled in her seat and waited for John to join her in the car. "I'm… I'm impressed."

"Because I made a fool of myself."

"Because you were willing to." Anna leaned toward him. "I've not had many people willing to make a fool with me. Or for me, for that matter."

"And that makes me special?"

"More than you know."

John leaned forward and put his lips on Anna's, waiting until she returned the kiss to press deeper. They broke after a moment, his fingers caressing her cheek. "And I meant what I said in there, about doing this for me. I've not had anyone willing to help me step out of my shell or make that kind of effort for me before."

"Then I'm glad we could both do something for each other that no one's done before." Anna kissed John again, pressing toward him before pulling back. "Now I'd like you to take me back to yours so we can do other things that other people haven't done before."

"Yes ma'am."

London, England – Caustically Beautiful

"No, no, no." Anna crumpled another paper and threw it toward the overflowing wastepaper basket. "It's not right. None of it's right."

"We've tried-"

"Stop." Anna held up a hand, cutting off the artist mid-sentence. "I know what we've tried and I know what we've done. I've been at this long enough to know every little detail of the runs that've made headlines for the last twenty years. And given that I also know that we're running the wrong track for this."

"We can't-"

"You're right, we can't. Not like this." Anna took a breath and gave the woman a tight smile. "It's not your fault. If we're not hitting our targets or reaching the vision then that's on me and I'm sorry my directions have been insufficient."

"It's not that Ms. Smith. It's-"

"No." Anna cut off the woman again. "Unless you've a solution and not another problem I'd rather we not wind our way around the carousel again. Am I clear?"

The woman nodded and looked at the others. They shrugged or failed to meet her gaze. When Anna waited a moment longer and no one spoke she cracked her neck and closed her eyes.

Taking a breath, Anna pointed to the door. "Out. Everyone out. Take the rest of the day and come back tomorrow. We've used up all the creative air in here and we need to start fresh when we've refilled our tanks. Take the time to clear your minds, get some inspiration from whatever sources you deem necessary, and come back ready to work in the morning."

Everyone looked at one another a moment before gathering their things and filing out the door. John noted their mutterings but heard nothing traitorous or inflammatory. Most of the comments were leveled with a note of exhaustion or frustration and even some conciliatory comments from desk mates. None of them mentioned Anna or seemed aimed at her so he allowed his shoulders to relax.

After they all left he turned to where Anna paced in the open space of the room. Noting the determination of her pace and the way she shook her head as she seemed to occasionally mutter to herself, John bit at his lip. Waiting for another moment to pass, ensuring that no one came back for something they forgot or were still out in the corridor, John took a breath and went to speak.

"It may not be mine to say, but I think you might've been a bit harsh with them."

"I… maybe."

"But not as harsh as you're being on yourself." John gave a shrug when Anna could only give a blank stare. "You hold yourself to a high standard, which is admirable, but you have just come off another line launch and I don't think you've given yourself enough credit for what you've already accomplished."

"Then you don't know me very well if you think I would be satisfied with only accomplishing part of a goal."

"You won't take pride in what you've already done?"

"Not until it's over." Anna nodded in his direction but only half acknowledging his presence as her chewed the end of her thumb. "But you're right, I've pushed them too hard and too fast and I'm seeing the results. Two lines back-to-back is ridiculous."

"But not so ridiculous that you didn't think it was possible."

"Sometimes you don't realize how stupid something is until you actually try to do it." Anna sighed, "If I were twenty, even fifteen years younger I could call it the arrogance and hubris of youth but at my age, with my experience, it's plain old stupidity."

"Because you're willing to try it?"

"Because I thought I could make it work and it's not because I'm fresh out of ideas."

"I thought you were full of them." John frowned, "You were all a rush with that notebook after the Sampson interview."

"The scribblings in the car?" Anna scoffed, "That was nothing. Like Tolkien writing out 'In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit' and then thinking he wrote the rest of the book that evening."

"Ah." John nodded, "I think I get that. In a very broad way given that I've no creative bone in my body."

"Everyone's got some creativity in their body."

"Not me." John shrugged, "But not everyone is owed creativity. And maybe what I lack can go to someone else. Maybe you'll get it."

"Is that how that works?"

"Maybe." John shrugged again, berating himself a little when he was done with the motion for its repetitiveness. "But what I've confidence in, even without knowing a thing about creativity, is that you'll manage this."

"That's an awful lot of confidence."

"You're an awfully big deal." John gave a grin to Anna's eyeroll. "The ideas will flow again. You've not stayed relevant this long by being anything less than an expert in your field. Perhaps even one of the visionaries in your field."

"You say that like I'm Hugo Boss or something."

John frowned, "Not Coco Chanel?"

"I've no interest in emulating, even in part, a Nazi sympathizer so no, not Coco Chanel." Anna took another breath, "But it's part and parcel of the trade I guess."

"Being compared to Coco Chanel?"

"Hoping your ideas will flow again when you've had a success and you want to stay relevant." Anna shrugged, barely paying John any mind as her pacing continued. "But it's… They're not the right ideas. Maybe for another line or another theme but not this one and I need… I want to make… This line needs to be something different than what I'm seeing. Than what they're making right now."

She stopped and put her palms on her temples before pushing back to hold her head. "We've just got to get all the other ideas out to shift through for the right ones. No two ways about it. We've got to sift out the rubbish to find the gold in there."

"Is that all that's bothering you?"

"What?" Anna turned to John, almost as if noticing him for the first time.

"Is that all that's bothering you or are you worried about the hearing tomorrow?"

"I… maybe." Anna waved off the comment. "It's all jumbling up so who knows."

"Maybe or maybe," John risked a step to intercept Anna's rut in the floor. "You want to jumble it up because you don't want to face what battles you've planned on both fronts and both of them scare you."

"Obviously." Anna puffed out her cheeks and then blew out a stream of air. "I'm nervous that I've hedged all my bets on being a person who fights against the labels thrown at me and when I need to have something that shows it's worth all the shit I've swallowed and all the hits I've taken, I'll come up empty."

"You think you'll come up empty?"

"I'm afraid of coming up empty."

John chewed the inside of his cheek. After a moment he flexed his jaw and spoke. "But is that what you're really afraid of?"

"I can't have more than one valid fear at a time?" Anna snorted, "And yes, it is what I'm really afraid of. My reputation is on the line here."

Anna shifted in place for another moment before throwing up her hands. "And I'm nervous about tomorrow. I'm nervous that I'll balk and fail Coul again. I'm nervous that I'll make myself the object of intense scrutiny and that boy… young man, will suffer. I'm afraid that by helping him I might be hurting him by bringing a lot of attention to what is, legal constraints aside, a personal matter. After my stunt on Simply Sampson there's not only a lot of pressure but an awful lot of scrutiny. Scrutiny that, while uncomfortable, would be fine if directed only at me and my upcoming line but if it's directed at Coul and his family and his case…"

Anna threw up her hands again, "I poorly timed this. I should've held my tongue and just swallowed the shit until I could tie up my personal life."

"Things happen the way they're supposed to." John reached out and put a hand on Anna's shoulder. "I think you're more than equal to the tasks ahead. Difficult as they may be, you're made of sterner stuff than you think."

"Am I?" Anna shook her head, "I've spent an awful lot of time having people treat me as if I'm made of tissue paper and I think I've started to believe them."

"A woman made of tissue paper wouldn't be trying to do what you're doing." John strolled over to the wastebasket and uncrumpled some of the drawings in there. "There are good ideas here. It'd be a shame to toss them in the rubbish when there's more to be done with them."

"Not where this project's concerned."

"But for the next one or the one after that." John kicked gently at the basket, "There's a phrase they tell us, when we're working in investigations, that you shouldn't get tunnel vision. It blinds you to everything else that might be ahead or behind. You lose focus and it distracts you from other possible threats."

"Do I need to be on the lookout for possible threats?"

"I think you need to step back, like your employees, and realize that maybe your vision's clouded because you're so laser focused on the end result you want that you've blinded yourself to other possible opportunities."

"Like a change in my whole line?"

"No, like an openness to possible directions that could be there for you in the future." John picked up the basket and put it on Anna's table. "I think you could benefit from giving yourself a break. More than the one night you're giving to your team."

"How much time?"

"However much it takes for you to unblind yourself." John stepped back from the desk, "I believe, personally, that you'd do better if you at least left off until after the hearing. Then you're only focusing on one thing at a time and you're not twisting yourself up in knots at both ends."

"I only need twisting at one end at a time then?"

"We're all twisted up at one end at some point." John reached for a chair and sat. "That's part of life, Ms. Smith."

"Do not tell me that you just called me 'Ms. Smith'."

"What else am I supposed to call you?"

"I'd like you to call me 'Anna'." She moved to stand in front of John. "And I'd also like it if you helped me work out some of the twists I've got."

"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow and almost held his breath as Anna put her hands on his shoulders. "And how would I do that?"

"I'm sure, Mr. Bates," Anna perched herself on his lap, "That you've some ideas in that department and you can help me lose some of my tunnel vision."

"I'll only say this then," John his hands on the arms of the chair, "If you're sure, then this isn't a temporary thing. This will be our way forward."

Anna put her hands on his cheeks and leaned to put her lips just over his. "Then let this be the way forward."