Act III
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Congrats on being such a lovely bunch of intelligent people. Being a mod is not as tough as elsewhere because you are all awesome and sensible and enjoy this for what it is meant to be: A FUN PLACE!
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Congrats on being such a lovely bunch of intelligent people. Being a mod is not as tough as elsewhere because you are all awesome and sensible and enjoy this for what it is meant to be: A FUN PLACE!
A few things:
a) If you are unsure about anything, look at the guidelines or feel free to write a message to lolitics_meme at ( Read more... )
Correcting himself, Nick walked forward again and embraced his wife, letting her fall into his arms.
"What are you doing here?" He said against the dark hair. They broke apart with difficulty. He kissed her, retrained, but kept hold of her hands in his.
"To support you, of course. You've signed it, haven't you." She asked anxiously in Spanish, "The promised everything. I went over the agreement myself. You can live anywhere. We can live anywhere. The children miss you. I miss you. "
"I miss you, too." Nick said, "But you know about this?"
"They approached me almost immediately after they learned that you have been sent abroad. I thought they were trying to reach you, but I had no idea where you are most of the time-"
"I'm sorry, but secrecy had been important. There had been threats-"
"I knew you were well, that was enough. Then I realised you were trying to reach them. What else could you be doing? The United States could only guarantee a short term resolution. The rebuilding of Britain would require the resources of Europe, a long investment. The IMF has its own agendas and the pound could only depreciate so much. When they presented the agreement to me I said I would help. I knew you could never be selfish. There were still opposition in the group, especially now since George is missing, but I fought for you and for Britain. I knew you could never sign it if it conflicted with Britain's interests." Nick was looking at her, as if seeing her for the first time. He had not seen her in a long time, but she was still beautiful, intelligent, and she knew him. "You haven't signed."
"And I won't sign it. "
"What does it matter? The coalition government is long past its terms of office. A second election would have ousted the lib-dems from office. I love you Nick; you're a wonderful man, a great father, but an idealistic politician. Is there anything in the agreement that you found lacking?"
"I can't," Said Nick, pained, "I am still Britain's Deputy Prime Minister. My duty is toward my country. I have signed on to serve her. I can't sign an agreement whose primary beneficiary is myself," He said, "Though I do want to go home. You know I can't."
"There is nothing I can do?" She asked in a small voice. It hurt him.
"It is good to see you. Send my love to the children."
"By the way, did they ever mention George Osborne or Peter Mandelson to you?"
"No, why?"
"No, nothing. I hope to see you all soon. Goodbye for now." They kissed again and parted.
After her back disappearing from his view. Still heavy with guilt, Nick bent down and picked up the pen he had thrown and returned to the desk. Biting his lip, he began crossing-out and rewriting parts of the agreement.
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The waters were receding. The bodies were a problem. No one had an accurate figure of how many people had lived or died.
"Estimate," David had snapped, "We have more MPs here than existing constituencies. We also still have the NHS database. We just need a sense of magnitude of the problem," He gentled his voice, "I think simple arithmetic will do."
Then he was left with some weak tea and a desperate urge to chop logs to while away the time. Nick was still out of communication. Discontent was brewing among the Conservatives and the Lib-Dems yet again. The Opposition was prodding old wounds, again.
Giving in to the urge for some fresh air, David stepped outside. He knew it was ridiculous- he could blame all the references to the Odyssey in the that was bringing back Classics; Boris would appreciate it-- but David looked up as a flock of birds flying overhead, the formation listing slightly to the right, and thought it auspicious.
The day he said goodbye to Nick Clegg in yet another rose garden, the shadows cast on the ground had been the same. They had shook hands for the last time, almost unable to look at each other yet knowing it would be unbearable not to do so. And because David Cameron was media-trained, and Nick Clegg was photogenic and this, also, was a historic moment -- though all these reasons had merely been supplied in order for him to give into an impulse -- David had pulled Nick into a hug and whispered ardently, "Keep safe, I'll wait," in his ear.
Maybe the Penelope analogy wasn't far-fetched after all.
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