Who: The Trumpers What: Freddie's thinking. Fear it. Where: The front room at their place When: A few days post Christmas Rating: TBD, likely low Status: In Progress
Christmas had passed easily enough. It wasn't Freddie's favorite holiday, never would be. But then most of the holidays just annoyed him lately, reminded him of his home. Of his mother. He didn't need those reminders. Definitely didn't want them, but what he did have lately that was different from before was Florence. The woman he had loved for so long but pushed away with ego and attitude. Had pushed into the arms of the Commie that he still had a hard time talking to at all. He still disliked him in a lot of ways even if they'd worked together, even if they'd agreed to put the past behind him. He didn't know what it was, the obvious, the fact that Florence had been so easily swayed by him or the fact that he'd been willing to throw away a near perfect life and walk away from his kids. Probably a combination. But the Sergievskys seemed happy now and who was Freddie to question past failures in ones life.
The only place of course he didn't fail was on the chessboard and it was there he sat now, trying to work out one of Fisher's plays. Bastard was a ridiculous excuse for a patriot but he knew how to play the game. People kept comparing them which had annoyed Freddie most of his career, but never more since he lost 30 years to the seal and was now being hailed as 'The new Fischer'. That was never gonna be okay.
"How'd he do this?" he muttered mostly to himself trying to figure out the move with an annoyance born only of the board in front of him. "He was trapped, nowhere to go and he pulled his out of..."
Oh he'd given up two. That was it.
Sacrificed two and then he'd switched things up a gear and in a further two moves... There it was. Freddie supposed that was part of life though as well as Chess, putting moves in place way before they were ever intended to be taken. Like with his wife. They'd talked about kids and he knew she was anxious, of course he knew. She adopted all the strays of the day that fell through the seal. Doted on them. But she wanted a baby. She watched the demon woman, Emma Swan, Jo Shurley, all of them. And she wondered when would it be her turn. And yes he'd put her off, scared to have a child to protect. Scared he'd run just like his father had, scared she'd grow bitter and cold just like his mother had. They weren't perfect people. He'd hurled some awful abuse at her in his day. Saying things about her father she should never have forgiven him for.
And yet he wanted nothing more than to make her happy. So maybe he could do it. Maybe he could be that person she wanted him to be. Much as the entire concept scared him.
"Figured it out." he called into her study. Not sure whether he meant the Chess play or what he'd been thinking about. Maybe both. Probably both.