Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (1/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:09:16 UTC
(Chapter 8 is here! Horry. Just to remind- this is a 20 minutes into the future kind-a of an AU, as said. Political or diplomatic- all events from about a decade before Tomasz is born an on are purely fictional.)
____
These days, Tomasz found himself thinking of his office as no less than sanctuary. A sanctuary with no reporters, no bustling cameramen, no microphones shoved in his face, a small bubble of peace in all this mess. In the last few days he's been interviewed over and over, repeatedly asked so many questions to which the answer was either obvious or meaningless, and survived. He was surprised to find that he could speak competently to a crowd and, in a strange case of reverse stage fright- it came to him more naturally whenever more people were involved. But it was still wrecking his nerves quite a bit and in his office, thank God, he was safe and sound and busy doing his job. Just what he needed to ease his mind, for some reason. It made him feel important, like he was helping with something, and it made him feel better.
He took his time going through the papers he received- something about a party member going to make a public announcement regarding the party's will to reform the law of information security, something the press is sure going to like. After all, was their main agenda not about cleaner politics, and wouldn't bringing out some dirt about financial affairs of certain important government personnel really be a big part of it? It will be hard to pass in the parliament… but that wasn't his responsibility, as he wasn't even close to being ranked that high in the list.
After looking over the statement and rephrasing in a way that sounded less antagonizing ("seriously, who writes this? It sounds like a threat to invade Russia!"), it came to his mind that a cup of coffee could really do him good right now. He still felt slightly uncomfortable asking someone else to make his coffee for him. Only a few weeks before he was down making coffee for himself and everybody around in floor 1, and the mentality tends to stick - so down to the first floor it was for Tomasz.
He took the stairs, enjoying the fine sensation of moving his muscles after sitting on his behind for unnecessarily long periods of time, receiving a quick "hi Firley bye Firley we'll talk!" from Gofer, who, as always, moved very competently with too many cups of coffee on a tray in his hand, not spilling a single drop and still managing to look like a bumbling idiot. Tomasz couldn't help but smile whenever Gofer was around doing his usual work, and with a smile he entered the first floor coffee room. The coffee room was as crowded as it always was. The coffee machine- oh my, it was finally working- was making its usual groggity-gurgle noises and bringing blessed coffee to the offices.
"Firely! Good morning! Looking sharp in that suit!" Alicja, noticeably cheerful, welcomed him after a few moments, holding a fat pile of newspapers in her hands. "Look, look! The weekly is all about the festival! They even have a picture of you in it- look, look!" She shoved one of the weekend's magazine's into his hands- "look! Page twenty one! They took a photo of you while you were talking with one of the Lithuanian organizers- It's funny- you look so much like each other! Take a look-! Come on, come on!"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (2/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:10:49 UTC
While doubting Alicja drinking coffee while so bubbly was a good idea, he did look for the article. The magazine was filled with pictures- most of people more important then he or the guys who did the battle recreation… okay, so Alicja was off by a page, but there it was.
The picture wasn't even labeled. But their faces were shown clearly. It must have been taken right before they parted- because it caught the Lithuanian just as he pulled his hair back so it won't bother him when he puts on the helmet.
He looked at the picture again. The resemblance was a little uncanny.
"-Hi, Alicja-" he looked at the bubbly woman, who turned to him with a cup of fresh coffee- "Can I borrow it?"
"Sure, why not! I'll send gofer to get it later if anyone else wants to have a look!"
Tomasz nodded to her, and picked up the magazine with his coffee. His heart raced. He wasn't that dense. He was mistaken for Lorinaitisnaitis a few times that day- but now that he could see it with his own eyes- they looked, and he held in a happy, hopeful sound that climbed up his chest- related.
He just wanted to study the picture more. It could be just coincidence. It happened before. He had that annoying generic look, the look indistinguishable from a crowd of one hundred other green-eyed brunets. It could be just his inner child feeding him sick, unrealistic delusions, too willing to find out even a little bit more about whatever family he may have out there. He assumes he was being foolish. But it could be real. Maybe this time it was the real thing? He wasn't going to let the chance slip.
(Lost battles, Tomasz would always say to himself, were his field of expertise. Too willing to look for chances, too desperate to give up.)
"And here I go on another wild goose chase, no?" he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him.
He shut himself in his office and opened the magazine with a pondering heart, torn between excitement and that voice in his head telling him he was raising his hopes more than is good for him. But miracles happen, and he was a believer since he could remember and it could happen. Just this once he could have his turn, no?
Biting his lips, he looked carefully, and the more he looked- the more the triumph in his chest grew. At some point it even roared. The jaw line was just the same, eye color was off maybe by a shade. Different eyelid shape, though. The cheekbones were similar- his more rounded, and his hair might have been a bit lighter- but blame that on the haircut.
Their looks matched too much for this to be mere coincidence, it had to mean something… and he was part-Lithuanian, wasn't he? He had to contact this person somehow. For his own peace of mind.
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (3/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:12:28 UTC
But how could he contact Laurinaitis? It took him a moment to realize it was pretty obvious- he could just ask someone around. Somebody must know who to contact in the Lithuanian embassy, and from there it would be easy to get at least an e-mail.
___
A few hours later, he discovered it was a lot harder than he thought. He just didn't bring into consideration the fact that contacting someone important (and it looked like Laurinaitis was quite important indeed)- should have been difficult to anyone who wasn't supposed to, i.e. anyone who wasn't that important, e.g. Tomasz Firley.
He asked, but he only got the same numbers in the embassy, who again and again told him to call to the ministry, were he was (not rudely, but quite fiercely) told they could not share the information with him. And no one he knew in the office had access to such information… and asking one of the real bigwigs would raise unwanted questions…
It took him three whole days to realize the answer was there from the very beginning. It took another "Łukasiewicz story" to fresh up his memory. It looked like he wasn't getting along so well with the prime minister- and was quite vocal about it. He never caught a glimpse of one of the famous arguments- but the whole building knew about them. It made a lot of people wonder why the hell Łukasiewicz wasn't getting the pink slip - especially Alicja. He worked with her long enough to know she took making up strange theories about Łukasiewicz as a hobby. It was her who came up- without realizing- with the solution to his problem.
"-it's amazing, really." Said gofer, while filling up a try with cups of different cups of coffee- he explained the colors helps him remember who's was each cup. "-I was just outside the office this time. They were arguing again about this incident with the Russian ambassador." Gofer put one try aside and begun making a second one, "- They weren't yelling this time, thought. And y'know what Łukasiewicz said after the Prime minister finished scolding him?"
"What, what?!" Alicja almost fell off her chair because she bounced on it like en over-excited child who just happened to see a candy bar in her dad's hand..
"He said-" Gofer stopped and tried to mimic something a bit like a valley girl- "Whatevs boss. You're out of this office anyway in three months. If I were you I'd be packing my stuff and preparing for a loooong cool-off time, ya know? Now if you finished playing around being the responsible grown-up in international relationships, I'm off to interact with a nation whose hobby isn’t stalking others-Like, I donno', Lithuania, perhaps?"
Alicja giggled and clapped to gofer's performance. He, in turn, managed to bow without spilling anything. "He's spending a whole lot of time bonding with that Lithuanian guy, doesn't he?" she mumbled to herself. "And the relations between our nations been real good since those pacts a few decades ago so there isn’t much official reason behind this-"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (4/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:13:28 UTC
But Tomasz didn't hear the rest. His mind was reeling in the big fish. That was it! He could ask Łukasiewicz, he'll know… but, ugh. Contacting him would prove to be hard… he hasn't even seen him, not counting this flash a few months ago when he hyperventilated and passed out. And he was working directly under the prime minister…
"-sorry guys, gots to fly! Łukasiewicz takes his "I'm pissed off" coffee as soon after a fight as possible- otherwise everyone will have to endure his pink sulkiness of doom… I heard he once made the last minister of economics cry when he was like this. He takes it 'so sweet it will rot your teeth instantly, so strong it will make you bounce and ricochet off the ceiling for a week and so hot it'll burn what's left of your mouth'- at least that's what they told me to bring when he's like this. Never heard him complaining about it so I assume I'm making it right…"
Tomasz beamed. There's the chance. No need to set up a meeting or anything like this to bring someone his coffee…
"Gofer- can I take the coffee up? Please?"
Gofer and Alicja looked at him funny. "What for?" "Yeah, what the hell, Firley?"
"I- ugh…" He tried to think of a reason. Something that would make sense and won't make him look too strange. Then he decided to go for plan B. "It's complicated. Just… please?"
"Whatever you want, buddy. Last floor, second corridor to the right, office 1569, it's all the way down the hall to the left. I'm off to deliver the rest of these- see ya!" Gofer left behind one mug- it was very large, colored light yellow with little stalks of grain painted around the rim, and he could see the inscription "to my best friend" on it.
"-ooh, Łukasiewicz's mug! Heard it was a present from an ambassador from Hungary." Said Alicja, smiling and almost falling over, spilling her coffee all over the place- but not on him, luckily. She mumbled and grumbled and searched for something absorbent to clean up the mess she made, and Tomasz picked up a disposable cardboard cup carrier and walked to the elevator.
____
Poland stormed back into his office and slammed the door behind him with such force he was surprised it didn't crack like last time. It would have made it the third door they'd need to replace in six months. He might not have been as inhumanly strong like Russia or America, or even like he was when he was younger- but he still was stronger then the average human, as were all nations. And at the moment he was way too pissed off to think about his cover. This man- his cursed boss!
He will not go apologize to Russia- he had that slap coming- and a few more, too, if it was up to him- come on! How thick can one man be?! He told him over and over that Ivan was really mentally ill (well, more then the rest of them), and had a tendency to bully whoever he could. He's seen and known from personal experience what Russia could do.
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (5/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:14:31 UTC
And he wasn't going to just…. Stand there and watch him abusing Latvia like that! It took the poor boy years to stop quivering every time he sees Russia, and he was just recovering from a nasty cold caused by turmoil in one of his big financial companies! For crying out loud, Latvia might not have been a very useful ally like Russia might have been, but he was a good, trustworthy boy.
And before that- he wanted him to take down the pink curtains he hang in his office, and to remove the oil panting he had there, saying it made the office look ridiculous. True, he didn't know that the painting was a 16th century original, and that the girl drown there was his daughter, or that the curtains were hand-made, a gift Hungary gave him when he complained how gray his office was. But it didn't matter. He had no right to tell him how to decorate his office.
"-I like, totally could use a cup of coffee-" He pressed the button connecting to the secretaries' center- "someone please bring my coffee to my office- thanks. You know how I drink it."
And until he gets his boiling cup of relaxation, he was going to do the second-best thing. Rant and Bitch and Whine. He picked up his phone and speed dialed to Lithuania's office. Toris was good at listening to his rants. Good- he answered- "-Liet~!"
"-let me guess, you're boss is being- and let me quote- 'a total, absolute ass'?"
"-you bet! God. He wants me to apologize to Russia for that slap I gave him after the last world conference. And he just never listens to me! y'know- I just love democracy now- 'cause back then you couldn't just tell a crappy boss to fuck off- I can't wait to the elections anymore! He's totally going to lose. Honestly- I won't say that ANYONE could do better- I've had worse- but- sheesh!"
On the other end of the line Lithuania put the phone on speaker and kept reading the papers, offering Poland an occasional "you're right" and "huh, sure". He would just let him rant until he'll run out of things to complain about. It might take a while, so He'll get some work done in the meantime. He knew Poland for over a thousand years now, and he could never remember the beginning of his own rant at the end so it didn't matter if he was listening or not.
"-and then he was, like, so what? And I said, like, hello, are you stupid or something? And he said no way because it would be against that stupid information security law- I was against it but then it was like, whatever. Y'know, but things change. I don't need that thing now. Not with what happened around in the last decades. Now they just use it to hide all the dirt about themselves and its like, totally not what this law was made for! and god I'm so glad that Tomasz's party want to change it because this law just suck! And talking bout him-I should send you a few of last week papers. He's all over them. Well-"
Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (6/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 01:15:45 UTC
Lithuania left the papers immediately. Now that was a better subject then Poland's problems with his boss or the financial records he was reading. He smiled to the phone. "-well, He did great."
"- Tomasz sure made his 'dad' one proud parent, don't you agree, Toris?"
Crash!
___
Outside a partly-opened door, Tomasz was paralyzed. The cardboard carrier was on the floor, swimming in the coffee and the broken pieces of the mug. But he was too shocked to be worried about the mug.
It was the last line. He didn't mean to eavesdrop! But- god, he was glad he showed up right there- it must be a sign!
He was right. Laurinaitis did know something about his parents- his father, apparently. Łukasiewicz did too-!
"-Feliks? What happened?"
He could hear the phone, and then, lifting his eyes from the puddle of coffee on the floor-
He looked into Feliks' eyes, and they were perhaps too familiar, like the eyes he'd seen a thousand times before in his dreams. Too close to be real.
____
(Horry for sappy cliffhangers! Just kidding. Next chap- as soon as possible! And thank my beta once more for doing her job so quickly, and may your time at the boarding school will be al least nice! ^___^ Hope all of you anon's like it!)
Re: Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (6/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 07:33:08 UTC
Tomasz <3
And Poland, omg! Usually I find the valleyspeak a bit annoying, but you manage to not overdo it and keep it in line with other things I imagine about his character (like the fact that he likes to put his nose in politics!) and I just adore him.
Re: Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (6/6)
anonymous
October 17 2010, 19:11:26 UTC
You're so evil! This cliffhanger will kill me till next update!
But I really loved this chapter <3 I love how Poland acts and he's so cute~ Btw, I just LOVED all the details, like the mug from Hungary, the curtains and his daughter's painting. It was adorable and make the fic more realistic at least for me.
Can't wait for next update, I hope it's soon! Thanks again for this, anon <3
Re: Sweet child of mine- chap 8 (6/6)
anonymous
October 25 2010, 04:11:53 UTC
Kyaaa~ such a good story! author!anon, you rock! ^^ Keep it up. I can't wait until the next chapter. But I hope it's not over too soon- will Tomasz be found out by any of the other Nations? Like Russia? (dun dun duuuun...) That would be epic, too...
Either way, please update soon! I love this story so much!
Sweet child of mine- chap 9 (1/6)
anonymous
October 29 2010, 18:58:52 UTC
Tomasz set in Łukasiewicz's office and tried to get his brain to make out what, exactly, happened in the bracket between the loud crash of the coffee cup on the floor and what was happening now, to no avail. His head was spinning faster than a tumble drier and making similar monotonous humming noises in his head. Thump. Thump. Dhurrrr.
Even after he caught his breath again, his head felt warm, fluffy and blank, while still being alert. What was going on. He couldn’t even phrase it as a question; all he could do was to look at his own shoes and wonder how come he hadn’t noticed how dirty they were. And that coffee-colored carpet in Łukasiewicz's office was very nice. It looked very expensive, and for a brief moment he almost bent down to feel it, until what little part of his self-awareness that was left grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. But he did slip his right foot out of his shoe and felt the carpet through his sock. Nice. Not as rough and bristly as it looked. The tumble drier in his head gave a satisfied grumble.
Dhurrrr.
Łukasiewicz told him not to leave the office until he comes back. That much he could remember, no matter how foggy his mind was. He… told him to stay. And he was very convincing, and with those eyes, he could have passed for his mother with ease... Tomasz, in his current state of mind, let his logic take him to the absolutely understandable conclusion that this man was now his mother and mother must be obeyed, yes? He shook himself. Eyes or no eyes, Feliks wasn’t his mom. Just a very important person in the office who may have connections with her. The silence in the office was surely driving him mad. He tried to listen to any type of background noise that could distract him. Nothing. The office was quiet - disturbingly so. He couldn't hear a single sound from the busy hall outside. Why? And Łukasiewicz, he looked deeply agitated, too. What caused such fury?
Oh, right. He was mad about the prime minister, his coffee, something else also, and if Alicja was right in any of her stories, he was probably screaming fire and brimstone at innocent bystanders and high-ranking personnel alike right now. But his office, it was very nice. By far the largest working space Tomasz had seen. It was at the end of the hall, meaning it was a corner office. Soft light wrapped gently around the room through two large windows, covered with soft, rich curtains, clean of dirt and dust.
It was spectacularly inappropriate, like wearing pantyhose under your business suit, and to say it was “somewhat unfitting” would be an understatement so wild it was like hyperbole playing dressup. These curtains did not belong in this building. But this office pulled them off, in much the same way that only a strong-willed man would not be ashamed to admit that yes, he really is wearing the god-damned pantyhose under his pants.
The curtains, while completely foreign to the office, made a very flattering frame for the view outside. And what a view it was. Tomasz liked the view from his little office, eleven floors below, but from up here it was something completely different. The window displayed the living, breathing, kicking city of Warsaw in whole, a fabric woven together from static buildings and frenzied occupants. From this height it really did look like it was breathing. He wondered if Łukasiewicz minded opening the window- he wanted to hear the automobiles and the fuss, if only for a minute. It was noon, and the city looked hyperactive, with the flowing of cars in the streets and the people walking straight lines, curves and zigzags to avoid bumping into each other. He felt like he could look down out of the window the whole day, but then something caught his eye. The window reflected something inside the office that he hasn’t noticed before.
Sweet child of mine- chap 9 (2/6)
anonymous
October 29 2010, 19:05:45 UTC
Turning around, he found himself looking at a portrait of a young girl. It was very old, old enough to fit better in a museum than a place like this. It wasn't very large, and he couldn't recall who was the artist whose signature was on it- but he felt like he has certainly seen it somewhere before. It was a nagging feeling he could not get rid of.
The girl in the portrait looked like the ideal 16th century nobles’ child. Shiny blond hair, thick and healthy and framing a tender face, adorned with a large hairpiece made of amber; body rested naturally in layers of velvet, rich layers pooling all around her without fazing her even in the slightest, decorated with lace and pearls, and pale, pale skin that modern tastes would surely find disturbing, as the girl clearly avoided sunlight like the plague. The only thing to separate her portrait from a textbook example of a perfect period piece was the expression on her face. Instead of emotionless, statue-like expression that was the rule in such paintings, her pale face wore a hint of a smile: a prim and proper expression trying to hide a glint of mischief in her eyes that the artist decided to capture anyway.
This piece might have become famous if the girl had kept her lips pursed tighter, or if the painter were to tone down her smile, but Tomasz liked it better this way, with the girl's deep green eyes twinkling at the person who looked at her. Tomasz stood, captivated, and looked at the painting.
____
Poland, even when being with humans as Feliks, was never any good at stressful situations. He made stupid mistakes; he said the wrong things or just generally screwed up. And this was one thing he couldn't let himself ruin. He had to calm down somehow. Get his mind into a working state, because improvising had an unfortunate tendency to fail horribly when he was stressed, and not thinking at all would only serve to make everything worse, even cracking his voice and not letting him yell properly-
“What are you looking at?!”- Some of the prime minister's staff members gathered around him, observing him and the mess on the floor. "Get someone to clean this! Really! Looking at a broken cup like you’ve witnessed an execution! And don’t you guys have, I dunno, jobs to do? Get out of my sight, all of you! Away!”
He couldn't go back into his office like this. He was a mess. He needed to calm down. Good thing his office was soundproofed as a security measure some years ago, now that he managed to get Tomasz in and tell him to stay there. He only managed this thanks to his old war instincts, so the kid won’t see or hear him freaking out and snapping at everyone.
What was he supposed to do now? Call Liet to ask for advice? No. He left his cell phone in his office. And there was no one in this place he could share this delicate problem with- he didn't trust them not to use it against Tomasz. He knew politicians. He worked with them for most of his life, and every time he discovered that politics were never nice. It was a war, and in order to survive and get to the top, men and women on power trips usually lost sight of their mercy. It took a rare breed to be politically successful and honest.
Sweet child of mine- chap 9 (3/6)
anonymous
October 29 2010, 19:08:41 UTC
“Sir?” a baffled voice called behind him. "Is something wrong?" The finance minister really didn't deserve what he got, Poland would tell himself later, but at the moment he couldn’t, in the more vulgar words of America, give any less of a fuck.
"Let's see," He glared daggers at the poor, middle-aged man who was merely worried about his country's sudden change of weather. "Like, yeah. There are a lot of things that went wrong today. Like, for start, you being here in this hallway when you are supposed to be, oh, I dunno, working? Taking care of little things like those GDP reports you just got, or, like, watching this year's GNP prediction?! Because I'm totally NOT going to let you slack off and give me pneumonia! "
"Listen, young mister- I don’t know who you think you are-" one of the minister's companions- probably a newbie assistant, considering his attitude- came out to defend the minister, who looked like he got bitch-slapped, hard, right across his chubby face. He tried to signal his apprentice that he really should just let it slide, for God’s sake. The minister prayed to God this wouldn’t end with the building falling down.
"-no. You don’t know who I am." Feliks turned around with a semi-calm smile, the kind that shows the one wearing should not be given access to sharp objects. He will NOT be called 'young man' by a human who was barely half a century old when he probably knew his ancestors. No. He spoke with a sweet, terrifying tone, like honey-coated arrows. "-but I do know who you are. You are new here, so it's really sad that you'll, like, be right back where you came from by next week. Before you patronize someone, better check out what authority they hold and their age, kiddo, and why on earth is it so that every time I poke my nose out of my office this hall is full of idlers?! Like, do you, or do you not, have a country to run here?!" Every single person who was looking at the 'incident' backed off a bit- some even attempted to slide back to somewhere away from the explosive Feliks- but it was no use. He was way off his bad mood scale. Some could almost swear he looked at them like a teacher at a bunch of kids who just got busted trying to pull a very unpleasant prank. And it wasn't the kind of teacher to let things like this untreated.
"-I'm counting to five. If by then all of you are not back in your offices I swear to God you won't be seeing them from the inside after the elections! Sheesh! Am I the only one working here?!"
The hallway was empty with a blink of the eye. Poland let out a stressed sigh. This day was going just great so far! He still had the biggest problem to handle… but for now he guessed he could be happy that Tomasz didn't see him cracking and shouting at all these people…
Sweet child of mine- chap 9 (4/6)
anonymous
October 29 2010, 19:11:52 UTC
"I'm totally going to need a drink when I get home."
Saying it out loud did make him feel slightly better. He walked to the man's room and washed his face. No one is going to get out of the office for any reason for the next hour or so, of that he was sure. He could be quite frightening while mad, partly because he looked so unintimidating normally. People just did not expect the local cute girly office boy to start acting like he was going to skin them alive if they get in his way. He looked at his own reflection and repeated his prayers until he looked relatively like his usual self. Praying was never bad for his nerves.
'Good. You're on the right track, Poland. Now take a deep breath and go there to do what must be done…' he felt his hands shaking. 'No screwing up this time. No crying, no blowing up, no looking back and absolutely no 'what if's. Now stop sweating like a sinner in church and do it!'
He gave his reflection one last look, before turning around and going down the hall.
The door opened smoothly, as though it was automatic.
____
The soft noise of the door opening shook Tomasz from his dazed stare at the portrait. Łukasiewicz came in, offering him a smile that didn't reach beyond his mouth.
"I see you like her?" It took Tomasz a few seconds to mean Łukasiewicz meant the portrait.
"Yes, It's…. it's a beautiful portrait. I have a feeling I've seen it before, thought I can't recall where…"
Łukasiewicz made a funny sound, one Tomasz couldn't understand. "-it's the original and only one of its kind. But there are a few more portraits of this girl… the artist took a liking to painting her." Łukasiewicz closed his eyes for a moment, tearing them from the portrait too look at Tomasz. "Take a seat. You… you wanted to ask me something, didn’t you?"
Sweet child of mine- chap 9 (5/6)
anonymous
October 29 2010, 19:13:18 UTC
Tomasz walked to the chair on the other side of the working desk, looking as Łukasiewicz made his way to his sit slowly. He had so many things to ask him… but for some reason, he felt like he couldn't. His heart beat too hard and a lump formed in his airways. Where to being from? His father, which it seemed that Łukasiewiczz and Loriunaits knew? The reason He had the same eyes as the ones he recalls as his mother's? Should he strike up some small talk before getting to the point or just ask? And Łukasiewicz didn’t look so good… but if he would come another day, the chance might slip away…
"-Sorry for earlier. It's… a difficult day."
Tomasz looked at Łukasiewicz. He gave him the feeling of an old, old man with too many regrets and too much work on his shoulders, and it chilled him. How old was this guy? A lot older than he looked, that’s for sure, but… Oh, to Hell with that. He had something more important to find out.
"-you know about them, don’t you? My parents."
It wasn't the well-planned question he prepared in his mind, but it did get the point across. Łukasiewicz sighed deeply.
"-I do."
"Who-"
"-It's…" Łukasiewicz cut him off before he could start, and Tomas could tell he was biting his lips a bit "-I can't tell you."
"What?!" Tomasz looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Why?"
Łukasiewicz look a deep breath and answered in a flat tone, shaking his head. "-It’s information I'm not allowed to share. The decision is not for me to make... not in this."
____
These days, Tomasz found himself thinking of his office as no less than sanctuary. A sanctuary with no reporters, no bustling cameramen, no microphones shoved in his face, a small bubble of peace in all this mess. In the last few days he's been interviewed over and over, repeatedly asked so many questions to which the answer was either obvious or meaningless, and survived. He was surprised to find that he could speak competently to a crowd and, in a strange case of reverse stage fright- it came to him more naturally whenever more people were involved. But it was still wrecking his nerves quite a bit and in his office, thank God, he was safe and sound and busy doing his job. Just what he needed to ease his mind, for some reason. It made him feel important, like he was helping with something, and it made him feel better.
He took his time going through the papers he received- something about a party member going to make a public announcement regarding the party's will to reform the law of information security, something the press is sure going to like. After all, was their main agenda not about cleaner politics, and wouldn't bringing out some dirt about financial affairs of certain important government personnel really be a big part of it?
It will be hard to pass in the parliament… but that wasn't his responsibility, as he wasn't even close to being ranked that high in the list.
After looking over the statement and rephrasing in a way that sounded less antagonizing ("seriously, who writes this? It sounds like a threat to invade Russia!"), it came to his mind that a cup of coffee could really do him good right now. He still felt slightly uncomfortable asking someone else to make his coffee for him. Only a few weeks before he was down making coffee for himself and everybody around in floor 1, and the mentality tends to stick - so down to the first floor it was for Tomasz.
He took the stairs, enjoying the fine sensation of moving his muscles after sitting on his behind for unnecessarily long periods of time, receiving a quick "hi Firley bye Firley we'll talk!" from Gofer, who, as always, moved very competently with too many cups of coffee on a tray in his hand, not spilling a single drop and still managing to look like a bumbling idiot. Tomasz couldn't help but smile whenever Gofer was around doing his usual work, and with a smile he entered the first floor coffee room.
The coffee room was as crowded as it always was. The coffee machine- oh my, it was finally working- was making its usual groggity-gurgle noises and bringing blessed coffee to the offices.
"Firely! Good morning! Looking sharp in that suit!" Alicja, noticeably cheerful, welcomed him after a few moments, holding a fat pile of newspapers in her hands. "Look, look! The weekly is all about the festival! They even have a picture of you in it- look, look!" She shoved one of the weekend's magazine's into his hands- "look! Page twenty one! They took a photo of you while you were talking with one of the Lithuanian organizers- It's funny- you look so much like each other! Take a look-! Come on, come on!"
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The picture wasn't even labeled. But their faces were shown clearly. It must have been taken right before they parted- because it caught the Lithuanian just as he pulled his hair back so it won't bother him when he puts on the helmet.
He looked at the picture again. The resemblance was a little uncanny.
"-Hi, Alicja-" he looked at the bubbly woman, who turned to him with a cup of fresh coffee- "Can I borrow it?"
"Sure, why not! I'll send gofer to get it later if anyone else wants to have a look!"
Tomasz nodded to her, and picked up the magazine with his coffee. His heart raced. He wasn't that dense. He was mistaken for Lorinaitisnaitis a few times that day- but now that he could see it with his own eyes- they looked, and he held in a happy, hopeful sound that climbed up his chest- related.
He just wanted to study the picture more. It could be just coincidence. It happened before. He had that annoying generic look, the look indistinguishable from a crowd of one hundred other green-eyed brunets. It could be just his inner child feeding him sick, unrealistic delusions, too willing to find out even a little bit more about whatever family he may have out there. He assumes he was being foolish. But it could be real.
Maybe this time it was the real thing? He wasn't going to let the chance slip.
(Lost battles, Tomasz would always say to himself, were his field of expertise. Too willing to look for chances, too desperate to give up.)
"And here I go on another wild goose chase, no?" he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him.
He shut himself in his office and opened the magazine with a pondering heart, torn between excitement and that voice in his head telling him he was raising his hopes more than is good for him. But miracles happen, and he was a believer since he could remember and it could happen. Just this once he could have his turn, no?
Biting his lips, he looked carefully, and the more he looked- the more the triumph in his chest grew. At some point it even roared. The jaw line was just the same, eye color was off maybe by a shade. Different eyelid shape, though. The cheekbones were similar- his more rounded, and his hair might have been a bit lighter- but blame that on the haircut.
Their looks matched too much for this to be mere coincidence, it had to mean something… and he was part-Lithuanian, wasn't he? He had to contact this person somehow. For his own peace of mind.
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___
A few hours later, he discovered it was a lot harder than he thought. He just didn't bring into consideration the fact that contacting someone important (and it looked like Laurinaitis was quite important indeed)- should have been difficult to anyone who wasn't supposed to, i.e. anyone who wasn't that important, e.g. Tomasz Firley.
He asked, but he only got the same numbers in the embassy, who again and again told him to call to the ministry, were he was (not rudely, but quite fiercely) told they could not share the information with him. And no one he knew in the office had access to such information… and asking one of the real bigwigs would raise unwanted questions…
It took him three whole days to realize the answer was there from the very beginning. It took another "Łukasiewicz story" to fresh up his memory. It looked like he wasn't getting along so well with the prime minister- and was quite vocal about it. He never caught a glimpse of one of the famous arguments- but the whole building knew about them. It made a lot of people wonder why the hell Łukasiewicz wasn't getting the pink slip - especially Alicja. He worked with her long enough to know she took making up strange theories about Łukasiewicz as a hobby. It was her who came up- without realizing- with the solution to his problem.
"-it's amazing, really." Said gofer, while filling up a try with cups of different cups of coffee- he explained the colors helps him remember who's was each cup. "-I was just outside the office this time. They were arguing again about this incident with the Russian ambassador." Gofer put one try aside and begun making a second one, "- They weren't yelling this time, thought. And y'know what Łukasiewicz said after the Prime minister finished scolding him?"
"What, what?!" Alicja almost fell off her chair because she bounced on it like en over-excited child who just happened to see a candy bar in her dad's hand..
"He said-" Gofer stopped and tried to mimic something a bit like a valley girl- "Whatevs boss. You're out of this office anyway in three months. If I were you I'd be packing my stuff and preparing for a loooong cool-off time, ya know? Now if you finished playing around being the responsible grown-up in international relationships, I'm off to interact with a nation whose hobby isn’t stalking others-Like, I donno', Lithuania, perhaps?"
Alicja giggled and clapped to gofer's performance. He, in turn, managed to bow without spilling anything. "He's spending a whole lot of time bonding with that Lithuanian guy, doesn't he?" she mumbled to herself. "And the relations between our nations been real good since those pacts a few decades ago so there isn’t much official reason behind this-"
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"-sorry guys, gots to fly! Łukasiewicz takes his "I'm pissed off" coffee as soon after a fight as possible- otherwise everyone will have to endure his pink sulkiness of doom… I heard he once made the last minister of economics cry when he was like this. He takes it 'so sweet it will rot your teeth instantly, so strong it will make you bounce and ricochet off the ceiling for a week and so hot it'll burn what's left of your mouth'- at least that's what they told me to bring when he's like this. Never heard him complaining about it so I assume I'm making it right…"
Tomasz beamed. There's the chance. No need to set up a meeting or anything like this to bring someone his coffee…
"Gofer- can I take the coffee up? Please?"
Gofer and Alicja looked at him funny. "What for?"
"Yeah, what the hell, Firley?"
"I- ugh…" He tried to think of a reason. Something that would make sense and won't make him look too strange. Then he decided to go for plan B. "It's complicated. Just… please?"
"Whatever you want, buddy. Last floor, second corridor to the right, office 1569, it's all the way down the hall to the left. I'm off to deliver the rest of these- see ya!" Gofer left behind one mug- it was very large, colored light yellow with little stalks of grain painted around the rim, and he could see the inscription "to my best friend" on it.
"-ooh, Łukasiewicz's mug! Heard it was a present from an ambassador from Hungary." Said Alicja, smiling and almost falling over, spilling her coffee all over the place- but not on him, luckily. She mumbled and grumbled and searched for something absorbent to clean up the mess she made, and Tomasz picked up a disposable cardboard cup carrier and walked to the elevator.
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Poland stormed back into his office and slammed the door behind him with such force he was surprised it didn't crack like last time. It would have made it the third door they'd need to replace in six months. He might not have been as inhumanly strong like Russia or America, or even like he was when he was younger- but he still was stronger then the average human, as were all nations. And at the moment he was way too pissed off to think about his cover. This man- his cursed boss!
He will not go apologize to Russia- he had that slap coming- and a few more, too, if it was up to him- come on! How thick can one man be?! He told him over and over that Ivan was really mentally ill (well, more then the rest of them), and had a tendency to bully whoever he could. He's seen and known from personal experience what Russia could do.
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And before that- he wanted him to take down the pink curtains he hang in his office, and to remove the oil panting he had there, saying it made the office look ridiculous. True, he didn't know that the painting was a 16th century original, and that the girl drown there was his daughter, or that the curtains were hand-made, a gift Hungary gave him when he complained how gray his office was. But it didn't matter. He had no right to tell him how to decorate his office.
"-I like, totally could use a cup of coffee-" He pressed the button connecting to the secretaries' center- "someone please bring my coffee to my office- thanks. You know how I drink it."
And until he gets his boiling cup of relaxation, he was going to do the second-best thing. Rant and Bitch and Whine. He picked up his phone and speed dialed to Lithuania's office. Toris was good at listening to his rants. Good- he answered-
"-Liet~!"
"-let me guess, you're boss is being- and let me quote- 'a total, absolute ass'?"
"-you bet! God. He wants me to apologize to Russia for that slap I gave him after the last world conference. And he just never listens to me! y'know- I just love democracy now- 'cause back then you couldn't just tell a crappy boss to fuck off- I can't wait to the elections anymore! He's totally going to lose. Honestly- I won't say that ANYONE could do better- I've had worse- but- sheesh!"
On the other end of the line Lithuania put the phone on speaker and kept reading the papers, offering Poland an occasional "you're right" and "huh, sure". He would just let him rant until he'll run out of things to complain about. It might take a while, so He'll get some work done in the meantime. He knew Poland for over a thousand years now, and he could never remember the beginning of his own rant at the end so it didn't matter if he was listening or not.
"-and then he was, like, so what? And I said, like, hello, are you stupid or something? And he said no way because it would be against that stupid information security law- I was against it but then it was like, whatever. Y'know, but things change. I don't need that thing now. Not with what happened around in the last decades. Now they just use it to hide all the dirt about themselves and its like, totally not what this law was made for! and god I'm so glad that Tomasz's party want to change it because this law just suck! And talking bout him-I should send you a few of last week papers. He's all over them. Well-"
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"- Tomasz sure made his 'dad' one proud parent, don't you agree, Toris?"
Crash!
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Outside a partly-opened door, Tomasz was paralyzed. The cardboard carrier was on the floor, swimming in the coffee and the broken pieces of the mug.
But he was too shocked to be worried about the mug.
It was the last line. He didn't mean to eavesdrop! But- god, he was glad he showed up right there- it must be a sign!
He was right. Laurinaitis did know something about his parents- his father, apparently. Łukasiewicz did too-!
"-Feliks? What happened?"
He could hear the phone, and then, lifting his eyes from the puddle of coffee on the floor-
He looked into Feliks' eyes, and they were perhaps too familiar, like the eyes he'd seen a thousand times before in his dreams.
Too close to be real.
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(Horry for sappy cliffhangers! Just kidding. Next chap- as soon as possible! And thank my beta once more for doing her job so quickly, and may your time at the boarding school will be al least nice! ^___^ Hope all of you anon's like it!)
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And Poland, omg! Usually I find the valleyspeak a bit annoying, but you manage to not overdo it and keep it in line with other things I imagine about his character (like the fact that he likes to put his nose in politics!) and I just adore him.
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This cliffhanger will kill me till next update!
But I really loved this chapter <3
I love how Poland acts and he's so cute~ Btw, I just LOVED all the details, like the mug from Hungary, the curtains and his daughter's painting. It was adorable and make the fic more realistic at least for me.
Can't wait for next update, I hope it's soon!
Thanks again for this, anon <3
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Either way, please update soon! I love this story so much!
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Even after he caught his breath again, his head felt warm, fluffy and blank, while still being alert. What was going on. He couldn’t even phrase it as a question; all he could do was to look at his own shoes and wonder how come he hadn’t noticed how dirty they were. And that coffee-colored carpet in Łukasiewicz's office was very nice. It looked very expensive, and for a brief moment he almost bent down to feel it, until what little part of his self-awareness that was left grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. But he did slip his right foot out of his shoe and felt the carpet through his sock. Nice. Not as rough and bristly as it looked. The tumble drier in his head gave a satisfied grumble.
Dhurrrr.
Łukasiewicz told him not to leave the office until he comes back. That much he could remember, no matter how foggy his mind was. He… told him to stay. And he was very convincing, and with those eyes, he could have passed for his mother with ease... Tomasz, in his current state of mind, let his logic take him to the absolutely understandable conclusion that this man was now his mother and mother must be obeyed, yes?
He shook himself. Eyes or no eyes, Feliks wasn’t his mom. Just a very important person in the office who may have connections with her. The silence in the office was surely driving him mad.
He tried to listen to any type of background noise that could distract him. Nothing. The office was quiet - disturbingly so. He couldn't hear a single sound from the busy hall outside. Why? And Łukasiewicz, he looked deeply agitated, too. What caused such fury?
Oh, right. He was mad about the prime minister, his coffee, something else also, and if Alicja was right in any of her stories, he was probably screaming fire and brimstone at innocent bystanders and high-ranking personnel alike right now.
But his office, it was very nice.
By far the largest working space Tomasz had seen. It was at the end of the hall, meaning it was a corner office. Soft light wrapped gently around the room through two large windows, covered with soft, rich curtains, clean of dirt and dust.
It was spectacularly inappropriate, like wearing pantyhose under your business suit, and to say it was “somewhat unfitting” would be an understatement so wild it was like hyperbole playing dressup. These curtains did not belong in this building. But this office pulled them off, in much the same way that only a strong-willed man would not be ashamed to admit that yes, he really is wearing the god-damned pantyhose under his pants.
The curtains, while completely foreign to the office, made a very flattering frame for the view outside. And what a view it was. Tomasz liked the view from his little office, eleven floors below, but from up here it was something completely different. The window displayed the living, breathing, kicking city of Warsaw in whole, a fabric woven together from static buildings and frenzied occupants. From this height it really did look like it was breathing. He wondered if Łukasiewicz minded opening the window- he wanted to hear the automobiles and the fuss, if only for a minute. It was noon, and the city looked hyperactive, with the flowing of cars in the streets and the people walking straight lines, curves and zigzags to avoid bumping into each other.
He felt like he could look down out of the window the whole day, but then something caught his eye. The window reflected something inside the office that he hasn’t noticed before.
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The girl in the portrait looked like the ideal 16th century nobles’ child. Shiny blond hair, thick and healthy and framing a tender face, adorned with a large hairpiece made of amber; body rested naturally in layers of velvet, rich layers pooling all around her without fazing her even in the slightest, decorated with lace and pearls, and pale, pale skin that modern tastes would surely find disturbing, as the girl clearly avoided sunlight like the plague. The only thing to separate her portrait from a textbook example of a perfect period piece was the expression on her face. Instead of emotionless, statue-like expression that was the rule in such paintings, her pale face wore a hint of a smile: a prim and proper expression trying to hide a glint of mischief in her eyes that the artist decided to capture anyway.
This piece might have become famous if the girl had kept her lips pursed tighter, or if the painter were to tone down her smile, but Tomasz liked it better this way, with the girl's deep green eyes twinkling at the person who looked at her. Tomasz stood, captivated, and looked at the painting.
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Poland, even when being with humans as Feliks, was never any good at stressful situations. He made stupid mistakes; he said the wrong things or just generally screwed up. And this was one thing he couldn't let himself ruin. He had to calm down somehow. Get his mind into a working state, because improvising had an unfortunate tendency to fail horribly when he was stressed, and not thinking at all would only serve to make everything worse, even cracking his voice and not letting him yell properly-
“What are you looking at?!”- Some of the prime minister's staff members gathered around him, observing him and the mess on the floor. "Get someone to clean this! Really! Looking at a broken cup like you’ve witnessed an execution! And don’t you guys have, I dunno, jobs to do? Get out of my sight, all of you! Away!”
He couldn't go back into his office like this. He was a mess. He needed to calm down. Good thing his office was soundproofed as a security measure some years ago, now that he managed to get Tomasz in and tell him to stay there. He only managed this thanks to his old war instincts, so the kid won’t see or hear him freaking out and snapping at everyone.
What was he supposed to do now? Call Liet to ask for advice? No. He left his cell phone in his office. And there was no one in this place he could share this delicate problem with- he didn't trust them not to use it against Tomasz. He knew politicians. He worked with them for most of his life, and every time he discovered that politics were never nice. It was a war, and in order to survive and get to the top, men and women on power trips usually lost sight of their mercy. It took a rare breed to be politically successful and honest.
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“Sir?” a baffled voice called behind him. "Is something wrong?"
The finance minister really didn't deserve what he got, Poland would tell himself later, but at the moment he couldn’t, in the more vulgar words of America, give any less of a fuck.
"Let's see," He glared daggers at the poor, middle-aged man who was merely worried about his country's sudden change of weather. "Like, yeah. There are a lot of things that went wrong today. Like, for start, you being here in this hallway when you are supposed to be, oh, I dunno, working? Taking care of little things like those GDP reports you just got, or, like, watching this year's GNP prediction?! Because I'm totally NOT going to let you slack off and give me pneumonia! "
"Listen, young mister- I don’t know who you think you are-" one of the minister's companions- probably a newbie assistant, considering his attitude- came out to defend the minister, who looked like he got bitch-slapped, hard, right across his chubby face. He tried to signal his apprentice that he really should just let it slide, for God’s sake. The minister prayed to God this wouldn’t end with the building falling down.
"-no. You don’t know who I am." Feliks turned around with a semi-calm smile, the kind that shows the one wearing should not be given access to sharp objects. He will NOT be called 'young man' by a human who was barely half a century old when he probably knew his ancestors. No. He spoke with a sweet, terrifying tone, like honey-coated arrows. "-but I do know who you are. You are new here, so it's really sad that you'll, like, be right back where you came from by next week. Before you patronize someone, better check out what authority they hold and their age, kiddo, and why on earth is it so that every time I poke my nose out of my office this hall is full of idlers?! Like, do you, or do you not, have a country to run here?!"
Every single person who was looking at the 'incident' backed off a bit- some even attempted to slide back to somewhere away from the explosive Feliks- but it was no use. He was way off his bad mood scale. Some could almost swear he looked at them like a teacher at a bunch of kids who just got busted trying to pull a very unpleasant prank. And it wasn't the kind of teacher to let things like this untreated.
"-I'm counting to five. If by then all of you are not back in your offices I swear to God you won't be seeing them from the inside after the elections! Sheesh! Am I the only one working here?!"
The hallway was empty with a blink of the eye. Poland let out a stressed sigh. This day was going just great so far! He still had the biggest problem to handle… but for now he guessed he could be happy that Tomasz didn't see him cracking and shouting at all these people…
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"I'm totally going to need a drink when I get home."
Saying it out loud did make him feel slightly better. He walked to the man's room and washed his face. No one is going to get out of the office for any reason for the next hour or so, of that he was sure. He could be quite frightening while mad, partly because he looked so unintimidating normally. People just did not expect the local cute girly office boy to start acting like he was going to skin them alive if they get in his way. He looked at his own reflection and repeated his prayers until he looked relatively like his usual self. Praying was never bad for his nerves.
'Good. You're on the right track, Poland. Now take a deep breath and go there to do what must be done…' he felt his hands shaking. 'No screwing up this time. No crying, no blowing up, no looking back and absolutely no 'what if's. Now stop sweating like a sinner in church and do it!'
He gave his reflection one last look, before turning around and going down the hall.
The door opened smoothly, as though it was automatic.
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The soft noise of the door opening shook Tomasz from his dazed stare at the portrait. Łukasiewicz came in, offering him a smile that didn't reach beyond his mouth.
"I see you like her?" It took Tomasz a few seconds to mean Łukasiewicz meant the portrait.
"Yes, It's…. it's a beautiful portrait. I have a feeling I've seen it before, thought I can't recall where…"
Łukasiewicz made a funny sound, one Tomasz couldn't understand. "-it's the original and only one of its kind. But there are a few more portraits of this girl… the artist took a liking to painting her." Łukasiewicz closed his eyes for a moment, tearing them from the portrait too look at Tomasz. "Take a seat. You… you wanted to ask me something, didn’t you?"
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Tomasz walked to the chair on the other side of the working desk, looking as Łukasiewicz made his way to his sit slowly. He had so many things to ask him… but for some reason, he felt like he couldn't. His heart beat too hard and a lump formed in his airways. Where to being from? His father, which it seemed that Łukasiewiczz and Loriunaits knew? The reason He had the same eyes as the ones he recalls as his mother's? Should he strike up some small talk before getting to the point or just ask? And Łukasiewicz didn’t look so good… but if he would come another day, the chance might slip away…
"-Sorry for earlier. It's… a difficult day."
Tomasz looked at Łukasiewicz. He gave him the feeling of an old, old man with too many regrets and too much work on his shoulders, and it chilled him. How old was this guy? A lot older than he looked, that’s for sure, but…
Oh, to Hell with that. He had something more important to find out.
"-you know about them, don’t you? My parents."
It wasn't the well-planned question he prepared in his mind, but it did get the point across. Łukasiewicz sighed deeply.
"-I do."
"Who-"
"-It's…"
Łukasiewicz cut him off before he could start, and Tomas could tell he was biting his lips a bit "-I can't tell you."
"What?!" Tomasz looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Why?"
Łukasiewicz look a deep breath and answered in a flat tone, shaking his head. "-It’s information I'm not allowed to share. The decision is not for me to make... not in this."
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