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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Fortress - 19. Chapter 19

There was stunned silence in the house when he told them. As usual, Brody's home had been overrun by all and sundry after the abortive vacation. Most of them still had time off and that meant they had little else to do but be there.

Will had been uncertain on how to broach the subject with his friends, and had been quiet since getting back from Toronto, sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee and staring vacantly out of the window.

Everyone in the house seemed to want to give him space, respecting the fact that he had been hit hard by the loss of a man Will had looked upon like a father. But that didn't trouble Will. He missed Robert intensely, but it was time, as the old man was wont to say, to get on with things.

He got up as Brody began to cook, moving out of the way of the mad Frenchman who had begun to bang pots and pans about preparing one of his culinary conquests--this time chicken had been selected for preparation.

Will retreated down to his computer in the basement. Putting his feet up on the edge of his desk he put some music on and tried to clear his head of all the conflicting emotions that had cluttered up his thinking. What did he want? Did he want to run for politics?

Robert's words "You can't live in my shadow forever..." rang in his ears as he sat staring blankly at his computer.

He glanced up as Andrew walked down the stairs. He got about halfway before he sat down facing Will across the basement. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked in concern.

"I will be," Will replied, wishing it was Marc instead who had come down. He suddenly found himself desiring the unconditional love that Marc offered to him, that light hand on the small of his back just to let him know he wasn't alone, "Is Marc upstairs?"

"He is," Andrew said, the light of hope in his eyes dimming a little realizing Will didn't want to turn to him. He stood up pushing his hair back from his eyes, "Should I go get him?"

Will looked up at Andrew standing there in the stairwell looking down at him, and he smiled at him, "You know I love you right? You're like a big brother to me; even when we were together, you always looked out for me."

Andrew smiled at him faintly, "I know, and you know how much I love you; if there is anything I can do to make you feel better..."

"You're already doing it," Will said, resting in his chair. "Thanks."

He knew that he would eventually have to talk to his friends, try to seek their advice in an effort to reach a decision, but he wanted to do so in his own way. It was like getting up before a crowd of people with only minutes to prepare a speech--devastating if done wrong.

Andrew just nodded to him as he went back upstairs, and moments later Marc was poking his head down quizzically, "'Sup?" he asked, coming down the stairs to take Andrew's place.

Will shifted in his seat to look over at the young man who had come to mean so much to him. "I wanted to talk to you first...before the others."

"Sounds serious," Marc said, tilting back his ball cap out of his eyes.

"It is," Will admitted folding his arms and glancing away. "I've been asked to run for office."

"Mister Avery's?" Marc asked, blinking a few times in surprise.

"The party desperately need the seat, and they think the combination of my familiarity with the voters and my..." he trailed off wondering again how to word it.

"Your what?" Marc asked, looking concerned.

"The fact that I am gay, in a primarily minority and gay riding will give them their best chance at winning," Will finished.

"Oh," Marc said with a puzzled look. "Are you going to accept?"

"I don't know," Will admitted.

Marc shrugged, "What's stopping you?"

Will thought about it. "I don't know," he had to admit. "I just never saw myself as a politician."

"You're intelligent," Marc said standing up and coming across to the desk, "dedicated and loyal to a fault... you'd be perfect for it except for the fact you're a lousy liar..."

* * *

"The problem solved itself," Hackett said, sitting across from Gravano in the businessman's office.

"How?" Gravano demanded angrily. He hadn't appreciated the changes that had been made in his construction schedule--forcing the concert site to be constructed first had forced Gravano to spend more money than he had planned and budgeted. He didn't like additional expenses--they were bad for business.

Hackett tossed the newspaper down on the desk and the headline was enough for Gravano to crack a smile. "This is a joke," he said picking it up. "You can't be serious..."

Hackett smiled smugly, "It looks like God was on our side this time."

Gravano glanced up at the ceiling of his office, mouthing a silent thank you as he looked back at Hackett. "Who's replacing him?" he tapped the photograph of Robert Avery.

"The young Secretary of State for multiculturalism, Jeremy Thorpe." Hackett smiled broadly, "He's young and not very bright...an ideal choice for us."

"It's not the minister I am worried about," Gravano said firmly, "it's that damn Carter."

"Thorpe is naming his own chief of staff; our dear Mister Carter is regrettably unemployed and will no longer cause us problems." Hackett's smile set as he contemplated taking a drink after the meeting to celebrate the end of yet another promising career.

Gravano nodded, thoughtfully tapping an envelope of photographs his private investigator had dug up for him. It seemed such a waste to have paid so much for something he would never use. He made to toss them away, but hesitated, instead pulling open a drawer and tossing them into that instead. You never knew when they would come in handy.

"All right, Hackett, it looks like we can go back to the old schedule; it's up to you to see that I am reimbursed for this... inconvenience." He smiled around the word. "I feel like celebrating," he stood up and walked around his desk. "Would you care to join me in a drink?"

"I have a toast in mind," Hackett said, standing to join Gravano over at the small bar. "To shooting stars, they burn brightly..."

"But eventually fall," Gravano finished, draining his glass.

* * *

Alicia refilled his coffee mug as he blearily rubbed his eyes. He looked up from his desk at her gratefully. She didn't say anything, simply set the coffee pot aside and began to straighten the files on his desk, packing some of them away into cardboard boxes along with some of his possessions.

She was efficient, selecting binders and setting aside those that he wouldn't need, keeping herself busy waiting for him to say something to her.

He rubbed his temples, wondering what there was to say to her. He was moving out of his office to make way for the new chief of staff to the new minister. But she was his assistant, and with his unemployment, there was hers as well. A fact she no doubt expected, but she was waiting for him to say something.

He stared at her keeping busy and wondered what he would say? His friends had been shocked into silence when he had revealed what he had been asked to do, an uncomfortable silence that came with news they didn't quite know how to take. The fact that Will himself didn't quite know how to take the request that he consider running may have been the cause of that, but it didn't help him in reaching a decision.

"Alicia," Will began taking off his glasses and setting them on the desk beside his mug.

She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears as she had her arms around him. "You're the best boss I've ever had..." she said quietly as she clung onto him.

He smiled at her warmly. "I'm the only boss you've ever had," he pointed out. "But seriously, I..."

"I hope I'm not interrupting," a smooth voice said from the doorway, and Will looked up at the man standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He was in his early thirties, a glint in his eye and a firm smile on his face. Will stood up, Alicia still clinging to her embrace as he stuck out his hand to the charismatic man, "Minister Thorpe."

"William Carter," the Minister said enthusiastically. "There's a lot of buzz going around about you, glad I got a chance to meet you before you left."

"Had to stay and make sure you are settled in," Will replied disengaging his secretary's arms from about his neck. She sniffled again and sank into his recently vacated chair.

"Is she...?" the minister asked in concern.

"It's been a bit emotional around here," Will said as he guided the minister out into the main floor of the ministry. "Robert's office was over here..." he winced at his own faux pas, "I am sorry, your office now."

Thorpe nodded as he tapped Will's shoulder, "I understand, it's always hard in situations like this." He led the way into the office and took a look around him, pausing with his hands on his hips looking satisfied, "I think this should do perfectly; I take it you've been closing out all of Robert's effects?"

Will nodded. "It's ready for you today," Will said, feeling again the sense of loss as he looked about him. Life didn't stop because someone died, it still ground on, mercilessly.

"Speaking of vacancies," Thorpe said as he turned to Will. "Rumour has it you're considering filling Robert's riding seat."

"Thinking," Will admitted. "I haven't decided yet."

Thorpe gave him an appraising look, "If what people say about you is true, the Liberal Party couldn't have picked a better candidate. I look forward to seeing you at the next Caucus meeting."

"I haven't said yes yet," Will responded quietly.

"No?" Thorpe said. "Feeling too much like you're stepping into the old man's shoes?" Will realized Thorpe was adept at reading situations and people, something that no doubt helped him in his career.

"Something like that," Will admitted.

"Just look at it this way: who would the old man want stepping into his shoes, someone he trusted or some stranger?" Thorpe smiled as he tried the chair behind the desk, "Besides, do you have any better offers at the moment?" Thorpe looked up at Will expectantly.

Will frowned as he stared at the presumptuous politician, folding his arms firmly against his chest. "I'll think on it," he repeated.

"Not too long, the PM only pulls out an offer like that for a short time; you'd best say yes before he changes his mind."

Will sighed and turned from the room, returning to his own office where he grabbed his great coat down from the rack behind the door. Donning a heavy scarf, he pointed to the boxes. "Can you run those out to my house later?" he asked Alicia.

She looked up at her boss and nodded. "What do you want me to do with this?" she held up a bundle of envelopes.

"What are they?" Will asked, picking up his briefcase.

"Mail addressed to Robert Avery personally," she said. "I found it in the inbox."

Will contemplated it and sighed. "I'd best take it all," he said, stuffing the bundle into his briefcase and snapping the clasps shut. He paused to look at her, "Hey, chin up. You know you're not going to be unemployed for long."

"I don't want to work for just anyone," she said resolutely, getting up herself and walking out past him to her desk to get her coat.

Will sighed as he looked at her, and up at Lisa who, having seen them get ready to leave, was herself donning her coat and crossing to join them. Both of them looked depressed and he glanced at his watch and up at them both.

"Ok, I give up," he said with a dramatic sigh. "You both win. I'll do it."

Lisa broke out into a broad smile and gave him a hug. "I knew you would," she said proudly.

Alicia grinned, "Does this mean I'm not fired?"

Will sighed as he glanced over at Thorpe who was nodding from the doorway to Avery's office, "I guess I should call the Prime Minister."

Thorpe smiled and nodded as he returned to his office.

Copyright © 2011 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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