Carrick McClennithan is the bringer of storms (theseainsideme) wrote in we_float, @ 2010-06-13 09:53:00 |
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Current music: | 'Man Who Sold The World' - David Bowie |
Entry tags: | character: alistair icenhour, npc: bart allen, plot: sympathy for the devil |
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when...
Who: Alistair Icenhour and Bart Allen
When: Sunday afternoon June 13
Where: Bart and Katherine's home
What: Alistair and Bart discuss how events will proceed
Status: log/complete
"Alistair. What a pleasant surprise." Nothing about Bart Allen's voice implied that the visit was either pleasant or a surprise. He stepped back a hair less than anyone else would have, just slightly within the other man's space as he waited for Alistair to enter. "Consuelo's dusting the living room so I thought that we could speak out back. Might as well take advantage of the weather, eh?"
He distrusted the look on Katherine's face as she'd stepped out the door an hour earlier. She'd been smiling in a way that went from ear to ear. He knew her well enough to know when she was lying.
The older man didn't wait for the younger to answer before leading him down the small hallway that led to the back porch. It was a path that placed them both within full sight of the maid. Whatever Katherine and Alistair had discussed, well, Bart didn't intend it to go completely unnoticed.
"I'm surprised if you're surprised by this meeting; I asked for it specifically," he replied flatly as he moved to follow through the hallway. It was his business voice, and while it wasn't necessarily angry, it didn't seem to be interested in platitudes.
"Given that Kat isn't here, I was surprised to see that you came at this time." Bart's hand slid the glass door open, stepping into the crisp air. "I thought you were her lapdog."
"I asked her to leave," Alistair lied efficiently, moving past Bart to take a seat. Fully suited, he didn't make a move to take off his jacket. Elbows on either arm rest of the neat patio chair, he folded his hands across him and looked calmly at Bart. "You're a different person around her," he pointed out as reasoning.
"Am I?" He lifted an eyebrow and settled into a seat across from Alistair. "Just as well, isn't it?"
"You are. As you well know." He looked down at his hands, unfolded them, then looked back up. "This is the part where you talk and I listen."
"We did that once and it didn't work out so well." Bart wasn't nearly as good at eye contact as his wife was. "You know about Kat then? About..." He trailed off, the distaste clear on his face even as he turned away to hide it.
"It seems that her conscience has finally won out over her self-preservation."
Alistair turned the phrase neatly and confidently. "And yours."
"Yes, and that's the problem." Bart's hands quietly curled around the arms of his chair. "This wasn't the bargain that we struck. I agreed that we would do this because, at the time, there was never any intention for her to reveal her joker. And at that point, if something had happened? She would have been thrown out of office but that's not the worst. Now?"
"I don't want to be married to the joker senator." His nose turned up slightly. "That's all she'll be remembered for. If I divorce her, at least I'll have a chance of saving face overseas. No one's going to want to do business with anyone with Wild Card connections. You know as well as I do that it might end up illegal to do so."
Bart sighed. "Why has her conscience won out now? She has a good life."
"For how long?" he asked gently, able to keep the contempt out of his eyes. "Really, how long for any of us?" Alistair added casually, seeming to relax a little in his chair.
"'First they came for the Communists' - you ever hear of that quote? A German pastor Martin Niemoller said that of the German intellectuals who had remained inactive in the face of Nazism."
"You love this country," Bart answered. "I don't." He shrugged. "It might as well be China or Thailand or Japan where I lay my head. The show is over, Alistair. It had a longer run than I expected."
"When I'm done with you, that may be where you'll have to lay your head," he remarked flatly, wistful eyes so deceptively soft. "For now. I imagine that it's in your interest to be supportive of the fight between those that would suppress the Wild Card population and those that would live. When that one is over, I'm fairly sure they'll turn back to their previous favorite."
His head moved slightly, expectantly.
"Why does it matter to you?" Bart asked simply. "Do you think that my standing next to her in the photographs is going to save your chances of retaining political office? It won't."
"No. It's not," he admitted.
"Honestly, I have no idea why you married her in the first place and she you. It's preposterous to me and an example of why marriage is a completely outdated institution." He held up a finger.
"But. You're here. You made that vow all those years ago. You're part of the narrative. I will not have you tip her hand."
"I won't tip her hand. I'd prefer she kept this information close." He inhaled. "Don't let her do this. Conscience won't fucking matter in the short term."
"Life is not the stock market, Bart," Alistair replied. "And if you think I'm going to talk her out of defending the rights of my daughter to grow up in a world where she isn't persecuted, you are sadly mistaken. She may be, in fact, the only person in the position to do so."
"History is the ripples of a single pebble. Everything fucking matters," Alistair nearly snarled.
"So. Let's say I cut you both a deal then. I go through with this divorce, say it's because we've grown apart. Won't say a word about her heart." He sounded warm, as if he was offering the other man a gift. "Kat gives me a fair cut of our property, maybe a little alimony, and I won't mention it at all. I'll just go overseas for a while, say nothing until it all blows over."
Bart leaned forward and said, "History's not in my best interest. We never had kids."
Alistair looked to consider it.
"You think that's going to save your career?" Alistair shook his head, then sat up a little. "Either you're delusional, which I'm fairly sure you're not, or..." he trailed off expectantly, filling in the blanks internally.
"I think it's going to save my life," he said bluntly. "She's crazy if she thinks either side's going to let her get away with this. I don't want to be the one who stops the bullet."
"Then perhaps you should take your life, and be satisfied with that," he replied gently.
"This won't break her heart," Bart stood. "It's monstrous but it's strong." He shook his head sadly. "Good luck, Alistair. You'll need it."
"The thing I'm least concerned with is the Senator's heart," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "And it's not luck I'll need."
Bart laughed. "Better to invest in armor."