Carter's Fortress - 13. Chapter 13

Will walked through the Heritage department, hands thrust into the pockets of his charcoal gray trousers, the tails of his tweed jacket pushed back away from the pockets giving him a relaxed professorial appearance. Nowhere close to the reputation of stern taskmaster he had apparently been earning.

Will walked through the maze of cubicles, past desks and computers with pinch-nosed government employees furtively looking like they would rather be goofing off than doing work. Will had put a stop to that attitude in his department almost as soon as he had taken over.

They were now fully settled into the routine of running Heritage. Will had made some drastic changes to the way the department had been run, weeding out the employees that were causing problems and replacing them with solid candidates. Those that he couldn't outright fire for whatever reason, found themselves transferred to other departments such as Public Works. He ran a tight ship, too many years of working for Avery-Woods left him with a keen eye for management.

"Afternoon, Mister Carter," a couple of employees greeted him as he walked past, and he returned their nods. He was on his way to a meeting with his project leaders, but preferred to take his time and walk through the cubicles instead of coming down the other elevator. He knew all too well how important it was for a manager to be seen by the people that worked for him.

Alicia had dutifully equipped him for the meeting, tucking reports into a file folder for him to carry with him. And Will had noted again how efficient she had been in making sure everything was cross-referenced. He always appreciated that about her; she was always prepared and by that token he was always prepared as well.

He paused by the employee coffee maker, pouring himself a mug of coffee, pausing long enough for a couple of employees to walk past him as he stirred in some cream and sugar. It wasn't his favourite--office sludge had to be the most noxious stuff on the planet--but again it was important for his employees to see him drink the same coffee they did. It let them realize that he was approachable and not locked away in an ivory tower that so many managers hid in.

He walked into the conference room, a throwback to eighties functionality complete with the outdated swivel chairs and a projector stand. It reminded him how short-budgeted the offices were, yet more cost cuts for a white elephant.

He sat down, noting that most of the employees were already gathered and watching him as he took the head of the table and sat down. He reached into his pocket and drew out his glasses, slipping them on as he flipped open his file.

"Good afternoon, Campers," he said, folding his hands on the table before him. "Someone should bring me up to speed on our progress since our last meeting."

Old Jean Theriault looked up the table;"I've been talking with the National Art Gallery about hosting a concert set at the Exhibition site as early as March of next year." The wizened old man said it with a smile; his love of classical music was widely known, and he definitely brought culture to the group of civil servants that made up the Exhibition project group.

They were there to discuss the marketing plan for the early opening of the Exhibition Center. The small but dedicated staff had been given a month to come up with solid suggestions and book performances that would bring extra money into the center to offset its costs. Will had built it personally, ensuring he had selected people with varying tastes to reflect the diversity of people that were supposed to be attracted to the center.

Young Jane was one of the interns with a taste for modern pop. Bob was a former punk rocker turned bureaucrat who, if you looked closely, had a full tattoo on the back of his head that was cleverly disguised by his longer than average hair.

Samantha had worked for a major record label before immigrating to Canada from the States; her knowledge of the industry was proving to be an invaluable asset. She seemed to know everyone and there were rumours circling the water cooler that she had had a couple of affairs with famous stars back in the day.

Will tapped his pen on the edge of the file folder as he went over the new marketing budget, circling and making a few corrections as the members of the staff told him about their various different projects. It was looking set that they were actually going to be able to pull off the impossible, pending confirmation from Public Works that the site would be ready.

Their grand plan hinged on a total incompetent and his paranoid chief of staff. Will hated it, but sooner or later he would have to sit down with Hackett and get a definite yes or no on site progress. That would probably mean another trip to Toronto to walk through mud and slush.

It was the middle of November, the air had turned crisp and the gray, overcast sky threatened to dump a ton of snow down upon them at a moments notice. Will had forgotten how much rougher Ottawa winters were; in Toronto, Lake Ontario provided a natural shield against much of the bad weather, but Ottawa was more exposed and suffered for it.

A few days ago Will had accompanied Robert Avery down to Confederation Square, and the national war memorial there for Remembrance Day. It was a solemn affair where Will had stood beside his minister watching the procession of wreaths and remembering.

All gave some, some gave all. Like Will's own father, giving his life to ensure other peoples' freedoms.

He had remembered that stern countenance, the harsh lines of that uniform he had always worn, as well as the anger and the bitterness, followed by the pain of understanding that two people so different could never reconcile those differences no matter how much love was involved.

Robert had known how important Will held Remembrance Day; it was the pain of understanding losing his own father during another war of freedom. So many now only really knew of war through the news or from stories told to them by surviving veterans. So few had felt it reach in and touch their lives directly. The loss of Will's father had robbed him of any chance of making peace, just as it had robbed Robert of ever having his father proudly watch him become a minister of parliament. But both men's sacrifices had given their sons the chance to be who they could be.

Will's mind drifted absently as the events coordinators continued to discuss their plans, he nodded occasionally adding a few thoughts. But his mind was drifting now to the funeral a couple of years before where they had laid his father to rest.

* * *

It had been a cold and damp day in Halisham England; the rain had started sometime early in the morning, and the gray sky seemed to match the feelings the day shared with the people clustered around the freshly-turned earth. It wasn't a day for celebration; it was a day for mourning. Not to mourn that which had been lost, but to mourn instead that which never was.

Time had done little to heal most wounds, and the two halves of a shattered family stood on opposite sides of the simple stone. The rain came down more steadily now. Unity through sorrow; for William Carter, it was just another bitter regret of a past he could never reconcile.

There had never been a chance for that, and as the rain plastered the hair to his head he stared down at the earth and wondered if there had been any more that he could have done. But after ten years, there really had been nothing. He had tried, and every time that hand had been extended it had been slapped away.

He should have been bitter, but there was no room inside for that. There was only the sadness of understanding why the man under that fresh sod could never accept him for who he was. There was no room in the Major's army for him.

Andrew stood beside him, a constant presence in his life; they had their rough patches -- all relationships went through them -- but his knight had stood beside him through the past ten years, sheltering and protecting him, and showering him with the love he had never been able to get from his family.

It had been about six months before he had met Marc, and Will had no one else to call. Andrew had dropped everything and been on the next plane to Toronto with Peter, there to support Will. Even though their relationship was at an end, their love endured. Will always knew that Andrew would be there for him no matter what, and vice versa, that was what love was about.

Ordinarily in a moment like that he would let Andrew comfort him, draw strength from the rock in his life; but right there and then it was the final time he would face the Major, and he had to do it standing alone. Andrew, as always, respected his stubborn need to be independent.

For the other young man with them there was only the memory of a man in uniform charging to the rescue of a little boy. Not caring that he was gay, only that he was someone's little boy, and that he reminded him of Will. Little Peter had never gotten a chance to thank the man personally, but he too stood a little ways off dressed in a black suit staring down at the grave of a man that had come to his rescue because he was defenseless.

Will's eyes travelled up to his sister, a vibrant young woman now nearly fourteen, wearing a beautiful black dress. She looked at her mother whose eyes narrowed at him. Some bitterness never died. But Lucy wasn't about to let that poison her love for her brother, as she slipped from her mother's side and went round to him.

He pulled her against him, staring down at the stone, feeling her drawing strength from him. Two survivors of their own war, but there had been casualties along the way; pride and confidence had fallen early in the struggle. But there was no doubt now; they were both free.

Major David Carter had died a hero to his country, leading his men into Basra to liberate it from a dictator's grasp. There was so much debate over the right to do so, that people had over looked the individual acts of heroism that brought the best out in people. The Major had died a hero, saving his men from an ambush, fighting for another country to gain the freedoms he had dedicated his life to protecting.

The irony wasn't lost on William Carter, his son. Even though the stubborn old man would never have admitted it, those freedoms of equality he had fought to bring to other people extended to his own family. In a way, in death, he was the hero he had never been in life.

William finally turned away, as Andrew came forward to embrace him, and the tears Will had steadfastly refused to cry finally came forth at that point. He held onto the two people that loved him unconditionally, returning that love to them.

* * *

Will was pulled back to the present by a question; he glanced down at the reports in front of him and frowned, he hadn't intended to allow himself to become that distracted and he reprimanded himself for it.

"I have a music promoter in mind," he said, flipping through his papers and pulling out Brody's business card. "This is a friend of mine, but he has a lot of connections to the music industry and should be able to put together some proposals."

Jane took the card first, grinning as she recognized the name, "You know Brody Levesque?"

"We went to high school together," Will replied, getting up and collecting his papers. "He should be able to help you put some big names on the concert bill. If that's everything?" He looked about the room, noting that no one had anything else to say and nodded, walking back towards the elevator.

He was comfortably tucked away in his office tapping away on his computer when Alicia dramatically flopped into the seat across from him.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" he asked, looking over the rims of his glasses, continuing to work to update his files after the meeting.

She sighed loudly as she curled her feet up under her in the chair. "I'm on a break," she declared with a smile.

"I see," Will said in amusement. "And I take it I authorized this break, did I?"

"Mmhmm," she said looking up and out of his window over the river at Parliament Hill beyond.

Will shook his head, wondering again at the strange relationship between them. She got away with blue murder purely because she was so damned good at her job. When you found a person who could keep you on your toes as well as make you smile, you had to put up with the occasional bout of bone idleness.

"I take I'm getting my own coffee then," he said getting up.

"Since you're going that way," Alicia said with a sly smile. "You do owe me."

Will rolled his eyes, "Yes Ma'am, will there be anything else today?"

"Oh, one of the doughnuts would also be good," she said cheekily.

Will shook his head wandering through to the outer office, noting that the receptionist had gone home for the day, and most of the rest of the employees weren't far behind them. He shrugged to himself as he went behind the broad reception desk and set about mixing a mug of coffee for himself. While everyone ordinarily knocked off about four thirty, Will liked to stay an extra hour and finish up.

"Excuse me." A woman's voice caused him to turn around, and he blinked at the decidedly short-statured woman looking uncomfortable holding a manila envelope. She was well-dressed and seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

"Can I help you?" Will said, setting his mug aside and smiling at her warmly.

"Yes," she said, her Quebecois accent rich and thick as she stepped forward. "I want you to give this to the minister."

Will accepted the envelope, plainly addressed and glanced up at her, "Ok, I can see that he gets it."

She bobbed her head a few times in thanks and was gone again, leaving Will to stare in puzzlement at the envelope in his hands. It was unusual for people to hand deliver mail, especially in a secure building. He dismissed it as probably someone missing interdepartmental mail and sending their secretary before she went home.

He tucked the envelope under his arm, collected two mugs of coffee and returned to his office, setting down the mugs and tossing the envelope into his inbox as he sat down to return to his work.

"Looking forward to your vacation?" Alicia asked, wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee gratefully.

Will looked up, "I'm leaving tonight; we're heading out to the cabin and spending the week."

"Good," Alicia said as she got up and left the office, returning a few minutes with a brand new cell phone which she set down on the desk. "The minister asked me to get you this."

Will picked up the small device and flipped it open rolling his eyes; if he took the thing with him it wouldn't be much of a vacation. It would defeat the entire purpose of going to the middle of nowhere to forget about work when work was simply a phone call away.

"Remind me to thank him," Will murmured, slipping it into the pocket of his tweed jacket and downing his coffee.