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sablelab · 6 years ago

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Covert Operations - Chapter 36

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: James Fraser and his team are sent to Shanghai to procure their next target ... Oliver Chan. Geillis Duncan is used to lure him into their clutches at the Casino while Jamie and his team provide back up. Once back at Section One, Chan will know what it is like to be frightened ... really frightened. Madeline always finds a way of making people talk and his visit to the White Room will provide some interesting Intel.

Contains some violence.

THANK YOU for your support of my story and for reading each week. I really appreciate your validation of my writing. Much appreciated. Previous chapters can be found ...

https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 36 (V)

The Golden Palace Casino was bustling tonight as Chinese media moguls, models, and stylish foreigners slipped through the foyer that led to the gaming tables and secluded private rooms set aside for the high roller clientele. The main floor was packed with patrons both gambling and observing the interplay going on at the gaming tables. The bulk of the gamblers were pitting their hopes on the red or black of the Roulette wheel while the Crap, Blackjack and Poker tables were thick with milling patrons trying to beat the house. The sounds of poker machines ringing with the fall of winning coins echoed above the voices of cheering, when a lucky gambler made a killing on the roll of the dice or the fall of the ball on the right numbers. James Fraser and his team were positioned throughout the casino observing the patrons from a distance and waiting for confirmation that the target was indeed there tonight. Ever vigilant Jamie’s eyes surveyed the surrounds watching and waiting for the familiar face of Oliver Chan. Strutting slowly across the carpeted floor of the opulent gaming room, he nodded to the operatives on mark. “We’re in position,” he reported back to Section One as Fergus Claudel readied the in play scenario to find Oliver Chan. “All right. Give me a good base. Second team, advance to mark,” he instructed. “Geillis we’re ready for you.” Geillis Duncan entered the room dressed in a slinky red dress that turned many an eye. Some of the gamblers and onlookers assembled at the various tables were momentarily distracted and openly admired the stunning beauty walking past. However, without giving any acknowledgement whatsoever, Geillis continued across the floor to the target’s location with a confident gait. “I’m inside, where is he fergus?” she asked. “Mirrored door, at the back.” Approaching the secured room Geillis spoke to the guard on the door. “Hi. Is Mr. Chan here?” “Could I see you identification pass?” She handed it to him and after giving her the once over he handed it back to her again. “Thanks.” Stepping to one side he let her pass into a room. On entering Geillis, noticed a secluded area where high rollers were assembled at the gambling table playing poker. Slick black glass panelling, muted lighting and leather couches were also placed around the room. This was an area where wealthy clients could enjoy a drink and watch the proceedings in the high rollers’ room from a discreet distance. Spotting Oliver Chan sitting with two blonde, attractive Caucasian women on each arm, she move toward him while at the same time alerting him to her approach. “Mr. Chan? Mr. Chan?” Looking up Oliver Chan turned his head towards the striking beauty who was calling his name. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the most exquisite woman he had seen since Claire at the airport all those months ago. Dressed in a figure hugging cheongsam, he watched the sway of her hips as she sashayed towards his private area. Her shinning, long scarlet hair framed her petite face delicately made up to accentuate her piercing eyes. Oliver Chan could not disengage his eyes from the ruby lips that were mouthing his name.

Thoughts of another conquest for Madame Cheung coursed through his mind momentarily, before deciding that better still; he would keep this one for himself. The closer she got the more he began to salivate at the possibilities of acquiring this woman for his own pleasure. Without taking his eyes from the operative’s approach and having quickly lost interest in the two women on his either side, Chan ordered, “Beat it.”

Begrudgingly the two women slid off the couch, as the woman ... their competition ... came closer. Realising that there was no point in remaining in a futile situation, they picked up their champagne glasses and beat a hasty retreat to look for more amenable company.

“Hi. Hello,” Geillis murmured in a very suggestive voice.

Practically drooling at the beautiful woman who stood before him, Oliver Chan cleared his throat before replying, “Who are you? “I’m Geillis.” For one moment he thought he had seen this woman before as she did look a little familiar to him. But how could that be? Mentally shaking his head at his random niggling reflection, Oliver quickly dismissed those thoughts to the back of his mind. The adage of “once seen never forgotten” could not be dismissed from his mind but on the other hand, he also couldn’t reconcile his thoughts with the vision before his very eyes. Surely if he had seen her before, he would certainly not have forgotten her. “Well then ... This must be my lucky day Geillis.” “Yes, I will be your good luck charm Mr Chan” Geillis replied baiting him with her charm and irresistible smile. Completely taken in by her allure Oliver replied, “Come sit down, I’ll order you a drink. What would you like?” “Surprise me,” she purred provocatively moving forward and sitting next to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monitoring Geillis Duncan’s actions back at Section One and her contact with the target, Fergus alerted the team leader.

“OK Jamie, you’re clear to move up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver Chan was practically salivating at the mouth at Geillis Duncan’s reply and when he felt her slide over closer to him, his libido began to kick in with a vengeance as libidinous thoughts ran away with him. Immediately she began to lure the target into a false sense of her intentions as Geillis began to casually fondle him lightly running her hand over his thigh before applying a slight pressure near his groin. Capturing her eyes, Oliver Chan was unable to sever his gaze. With an alluring smile, she grinned at him as she moved her hand closer and closer to his throbbing groin. He let out an audible gasp as her fingers intimately touched him. Stirring at the erotic touch of her attention, Chan leaned back in the couch, eyes closed. Losing all coherent thoughts he lapped up the sensation of what this woman was doing to him. Completely letting his guard down, Oliver could only think of getting Geillis to his room as quickly as possible and getting horizontal with her in a more private setting. However, before he could rationalise his rambling feelings and his body’s reactions to this woman sensuous touch, Oliver Chan felt the cold steel of a gun digging into his groin.

Caught completely unawares his surprised eyes darted sideways at the woman who moments ago was fondling his genitals. “Who are you?” He managed to voice as he very quickly came back to earth with a thud.

Even her voice had changed from the alluring siren to a more cold, no nonsense demeanour as Geillis ignored his question and instead stated, “You are an associate of Madame Cheung and Sun Yee Lok.” “What?” Oliver Chan feigned his shock at her correct statement while at the same time trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Leaning over, nose to nose with him and pointing the gun at his head, Geillis replied succinctly, “I want information about them.” Having the presence of mind he activated a secret button under the table that alerted main security that he needed some assistance. “Look, I don’t know where you’re coming from and I don’t care. You’re already dead.” Chan replied bombastically knowing that Security would soon be here.

“Not as dead as you will be if you don’t give me the information I want.” Looking Chan directly in the eye, Geillis then spoke to Fergus back at Section, “Do we really need this guy? “Unfortunately ... yes we do.” “Pity.” Geillis nevertheless pistol whipped Chan to press home her point “I haven’t got all day Mr Chan. You have two choices; you can come quietly or not.” “You’ll regret this ... I assure you.” Chan replied as several burly security men gathered near the room. “Geillis, you’ve got incoming hostiles,” he warned. It was obvious that the situation had escalated now that Security was descending on the cul-de-sac positioning of their location in the Casino and realising that she may be somewhat trapped asked for a possible egress point.

“Can you back me out? I’ve nearly convinced Mr Chan of his options.”

“No. You’re going to have to go through them.” Suddenly another operative’s voice replied into her communication unit. “I’ll cover you,” interjected Rupert Mackenzie. “No, Mac. I need you at the front to prepare egress.” “Send Wakefield. I’m getting Geillis.” Rupert Mackenzie replied back to Fergus. “Mackenzie, what are you doing?” James Fraser’s voice interjected. “Geillis can handle herself, but I’ll provide backup for her,” Jamie responded succinctly to Mackenzie while at the same time dismissing Fergus’ concerned ramblings. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Hearing a gun click behind her, Geillis Duncan whirled around and shot one of the security team in the chest before he had a chance to fire his weapon. As he fell to the ground, more men came running towards her from all directions, their weapons poised for retaliation. “There she is ... get her!” The screams of the women and patrons echoed around the private room as several heavily built security personnel came rushing in to assist Oliver Chan. The sound of gunshots ricocheted too as they opened fire, while patrons dropped to the floor trying to find cover from the flying bullets. Geillis ducked behind the leather couch while Oliver Chan slid under the table away from the rapid and repeated bullet fire. Security fired at her. She shot back. Rising to have a look and keeping her target in sight, Geillis then blasted away at the assailants. As each shot left her weapon, she bobbed behind cover to regain momentum. A wayward bullet lodged in the leather couch just near her head. Quickly she rose once more to shoot at her would be assassins with a flurry of bullets. Geillis took several of them down with accurate precision and aim as her bullets hit the targets and by the time Jamie had arrived, she had the situation well in hand. “Come on, let's get out of here,” he whispered just before orders to the same effect were relayed from Fergus through their comm. units. “Get to your exit point ASAP ... there are more hostiles approaching.” Oliver Chan was cowering on the floor when he felt a strong hand drag him up by the scruff of his neck from his hiding place. Looking into the eyes of a menacing man, Chan was pulled up until standing and ushered to a back entrance of the room as the members of Jamie’s team provided cover for their escape. Speaking into his comm. set Jamie relayed back to Section. “Team One has possession. Target is en route.” “Good ... got it. Bring him in.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On returning back to Section One after the Shanghai mission, James Fraser preceded his team and walked into Van Access first followed by Geillis Duncan. There stoically waiting for them in the hallway was Operations and Madeline. Stopping in front of Section One’s leaders, Jamie waited for his superior to address him as to the success of the mission.

“You have the target?”

“Yes.”

At his reply Operations and Madeline glanced toward the exit door. They saw Rupert Mackenzie and Roger Wakefield come through Van Access with Oliver Chan in tow wearing a black hood over his face. As the two operatives neared where Operations was standing they stopped and Rupert pulled off the hood.

“You can't keep me here, old man ... I know people.” Chan spat out as he defiantly looked at Operations.

Ignoring his angry remarks Dougal Mackenzie merely declared. “Take him to Containment.”

“Do you want him interrogated?” Jamie asked for further clarification, knowing that he would be monitoring that interview and if needs be oversee the interrogation himself.

“Yes, but let him spend some time with Madeline first.”

Operations then cast his glance towards Geillis Duncan. “Well done. The mission was a success.”

“Thank you, sir. There wasn’t that much resistance once Chan realised what his options were,” she replied looking her superior in the eye.

He gave her a wry smile at her answer. Madeline too, held back a smile knowing that Geillis Duncan had performed well on this mission. The girl definitely had potential. However, the anomaly with Rupert Mackenzie’s behaviour was another matter she would need to address with she debriefed with her.

As if reading her thoughts Geillis asked, “You want me to debrief?”

“Yes, my office. Twenty minutes,” Madeline responded giving nothing away as to her mindset knowing that Geillis Duncan would believe this to be a normal procedure.

“Yes ma’am.”

Followed by Madeline on his heels, Operations turned to walk towards his office, but he looked back at Jamie and stipulated, “I’ll expect your debrief on my desk within the hour.”

“Of course.”

The Section leaders then briskly walked away from Van Access. When they had disappeared from sight, Jamie nodded to Geillis while the remaining team members filed past heading to Munitions to return their weapons. Once all team members had filed past, James Fraser turned and headed towards his office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Rupert Mackenzie and Roger Wakefield headed round the corner towards Containment, Oliver Chan seized his moment and made a move to escape. Punching Mackenzie with his shoulder Chan caught him off balance and he stumbled backwards. Ducking and shaking his head he managed to dislodge the hood over his face, it fell off and he was able to see. While Rupert was trying to gain his equilibrium, Oliver head butted the other operative in order to cause a diversion so that he could escape from the two men guarding him. Roger Wakefield fell to the ground as the unexpected assault caught him off kilter as well.

Eventually regaining his balance, Rupert was able to prevent the target’s getaway by quickly kicking him in the leg. It buckled beneath him as Oliver Chan lost his balance too, enabling Mackenzie to get back the momentum by pushing him forcibly up against the wall. Meanwhile Roger Wakefield rose to his feet and trained his gun on him. Feeling the cold metal pressed into his temple, Chan realised the futility of his actions and he reluctantly complied knowing the any escape from this place was hopeless.

Flanked by the two Section operatives, Oliver Chan finally continued on to his incarceration ... and an uncertain outlook.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Geillis Duncan entered Madeline’s office a short while later in order to debrief on the Shanghai mission and Oliver Chan’s capture. She knew that there would be questions to be asked especially with Rupert Mackenzie’s behaviour. If it hadn’t been for Jamie’s intervention, he would surely face the consequences ... perhaps even be placed in abeyance for showing his emotions. Madeline did not tolerate any form of weakness and Rupert had nearly broken mark. There would be reprisals for him, of that she was certain. Hearing Madeline talking on the phone, she waited quietly for affirmation of her presence.

“Has level eight analysed Chernov's files? Good.”

Knowing who had entered her office Madeline concluded the call, and without looking up she addressed Geillis. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Madeline,” she replied as she saw her superior gesture for her to take a seat.

“Sit down ... You did well.”

“Thank you.”

Finally Madeline looked at her with eyes that seemed sincere but there was no telling what she was really thinking for she hid her emotions well. Section One’s second in command was hard to read and any expressions on her face were clandestine at the best. Operatives never knew what her thoughts were and Geillis was flummoxed by the warm smile that appeared on Madeline’s lips.

“Operations and I are impressed with your handling of the situation in Shanghai. You are under consideration for a promotion to Level 3.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes ... We have been watching you closely on the Rising Dragons missions thus far and think you may be most useful in the future.”

However, after this initial praise, Madeline’s tone of voice suddenly changed. It became more reproaching and accusing. Looking Geillis in the eye she continued addressing her. “Nevertheless, there are some concerns. Do you understand what just happened on your mission?”

“It was a contained dispersion. There was an incident at the second mark.”

“How many times do you think Rupert Mackenzie can break position before a team is in jeopardy?”

“I didn't ask for his help. Why don't you talk to Mackenzie?”

Without mincing words, Madeline continued. “You two will extricate the personal component from your relationship.”

“There is no personal component of our relationship ... it doesn't exist.” Gellis Duncan replied with steely nerves.

“Mackenzie will be placed in abeyance if the relationship continues,” Madeline remarked, ignoring Geillis’ response.

“You're talking to the wrong person. It is strictly one sided, I assure you.”

Madeline was dogged in her retort and would tolerate no recourse other than the one she proposed. “If Mackenzie isn't letting go, you will have to make him.”

“And how do I do that?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. That'll be all.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime later after the debriefings, Oliver Chan was dragged down the hall from Containment into the White Room by Rupert Mackenzie and Roger Wakefield. They passed by Madeline who was standing in the hallway watching and waiting for his appearance in the interrogation room. Chan, however, was putting up resistance and was struggling against his escorts. At the sight of his superior, the hair on the back of his neck rose, as Mackenzie felt Madeline’s eyes boring into him as they led the target into the White Room. Once they had strapped him into the metal chair, they left. Rupert avoided any eye contact with Madeline as he closed the door behind him.

Approaching the White Room for Chan’s interrogation, Madeline entered the room as the heavy door creaked open once again. With soft footfalls she neared the chair where the target sat ... shackled by his hands and feet.

He looked up.

“Hello, Mr. Chan. I trust we will have your full cooperation while you’re here with us.”

He smiled but gave no answer.

“My apologies for disrupting your evening.”

“It could not be avoided, I’m sure,” he replied flippantly.

Advancing slowly toward the chair Madeline continued. “We’re not unaware of your importance or the privileges you have been enjoying of late by your association with the Rising Dragons.”

“That must explain the extraordinary lengths you’ve gone to, to make me feel at home. But you’re misinformed; I have nothing to do with the Rising Dragons.”

“Mr. Chan, tell me about your relationship with Madame Cheung.”

“I don't know who she is.”

“You work for the Rising Dragons. You were personally responsible for procuring women for Madame Cheung and you were Alain de Marillac’s go between.”

“What? ... What are you talking about?”

“Mr Chan, you do business with a known terrorist and murderer, Sun Yee Lok.”

Staring at her and giving nothing away, he replied, “Who’s that?”

“Come, come Mr Chan ... we know of your connections ... We want to know why you were in Shanghai and where we can locate Sun Yee Lok.”

“I can’t help you.”

“You can. And you will.”

Oliver Chan’s refusal to answer her questions irked Madeline. Walking to the door she opened it gesturing to the two people waiting outside in the corridor for their instructions. Section One’s Torture Twins entered, wheeling their gold cases on a cart. Acknowledging them with a slight nod in their direction, Madeline left the White Room, closing the door behind her. The female operative opened the case, while maintaining eye contact with Chan at all times.

It was obvious to Oliver that this was a woman who enjoyed her job.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Madeline returned a short while later, Oliver Chan looked less like the self-confident man he had been previously. The torture experts stood on either side of the chair as Madeline surveyed their handiwork.

“Are you ready to co-operate now Mr Chan?” She asked in a measured tone of voice.

Oliver looked up with defiance and glared at Madeline. Bearing the telltale slits beneath his eyes, he was not yet a broken man.

She ignored his futile rebelliousness and turning to speak to Elizabeth, Madeline inquired, “Did you saturate?”

“Any more and it would have killed him.”

Madeline calmly observed Chan and consciously compared him to Tony Wong. Oliver Chan was definitely showing signs of having more backbone and Madeline understood why Sun Yee Lok had been impressed by his fortitude. “You’re a very strong man, Mr. Chan.”

Seeing the resistance in his eyes, Madeline’s gaze followed the throb of his neck pulse and noticed something. “What’s that on your neck?”

Addressing one of the Torture experts, she ordered. “Remove his shirt.”

Taking her scissors Elizabeth began cutting Chan’s black T-shirt, beginning at the arm and travelling upward to the neckline. The material fell apart, revealing his neck and chest. A large scar was exposed at the bottom of his neck running downward.

Madeline moved the material aside, her eyes honed in on the indentation and she lightly passed a finger over the scar. “A burn scar. From the coloration, it appears to have happened when you were very young.”

Having gained Chan’s attention, Madeline watched as his eyes flickered in remembrance.

“Your meeting with Mr. Sun Yee Lok. Where and when?”

Oliver Chan glanced away, indicating that he would not spill the information.

Madeline looked towards the Torture Two briefly, before turning to leave again. As she turned, she said, “Butane torch.”

Before she’d reached the door to exit, Chan cried out in panic, “No! Please!”

Turning back to him, Madeline knew that he was now ready to talk and give her the information she requested.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie x claire #jamie and claire fanfic #outlander fanfic #james fraser #claire beauchamp #covert operations #the lallybroch library #jamieandclairecrossover

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saint-hildegard-of-bingen · 7 years ago

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ONE WORD SPEAKS VOLUMES (themes of the novels)

Books don’t write themselves, as anyone who’s ever tried to write one can tell you. And if there is a secret to writing anything-- fiction, non-fiction, TV scripts, greeting cards, poetry or epitaphs--it’s this: The only way to write is one word at a time. This is either reassuring or Absolutely Horrifying, depending how to you look at it, but it’s the truth.

But, as anyone who writes books can also tell you, books do have a mind and a voice of their own. And a successful book is one that talks to the reader.

The interesting thing is that they talk to the writer, too. (Some writers suffer from the notion that they are in charge. Maybe they know something I don’t .)

If you’ve ever been exposed to High School English classes, you’ve doubtless been forced to discern and explicate the theme of a novel. This is ungodly boring, but possibly helpful to those who’ve never heard of a theme before. (Frankly, my opinion is that if you read a lot, you absorb this notion by observation, and if you don’t like to read in the first place, being forced to look for themes in books you don’t care about to start with is not likely to change your aversion to the practice.)

Still, the general notion of a theme is sometimes useful to a writer, in that it influences both the content and the organization of your story. Not always—or even often—in a deliberately conscious way, but it’s there. And once you’ve assembled most of a book, you really ought to be able to tell someone who asks what the theme is.

I didn’t really think about the themes of my books for some years, but some intelligent NPR interviewer asked me one day whether I could sum up the book we were talking about in a single sentence—and I realized that in fact, I could summarize the theme of each book in a single word.

These are as follows:

Outlander – Love

While my books are often referred to (by people at a loss as to what to call them) as romance novels, they aren’t. However, Outlander is in fact the only one that has the necessary structure to even pass as a romance novel. I.e., it is a courtship story; its central mechanism concerns the coming together of two people in a (theoretically) permanent pair-bond. Beyond that, though, it explores the nature of love on a number of levels and in a variety of contexts.

We have Claire’s conflict over (truly) loving two men. We have Jamie’s love for his father, his sister, and his home, and Murtagh’s love for his godson. We have the deeply conflicted love between the brothers MacKenzie. We have the love of the clansmen for each other, their laird and their home. We have the very complicated emotions of Captain Jack Randall—though whether any of these constitutes love, or merely obsession, is a matter for the reader to decide. And we have Divine Love, which Claire more or less stumbles into as an act of desperation. But almost every relationship in the book rests on love, and the entire story is a testament to the power of love.

Dragonfly in Amber – Marriage

This book deals primarily with the development of a specific marriage—Jamie’s and Claire’s—but along the way, looks at quite a few other relationships and arrangements that explore the concept. We have the arranged marriage of Mary Hawkins and the elderly, warty Comte de Vigny. We have the loveless but pragmatic marriages of class and convenience seen in the French Court, and the casual, selfish affairs that contrast so strongly with the sense of commitment and self-sacrifice that lies at the heart of a good marriage. Later we see the doomed love between Mary and Alex Randall—and the pragmatic marriage between her and Jack Randall (based on Jack’s love for his brother, rather than for Mary). We see the peace of a long-term, deeply committed marriage between Jenny and Ian at Lallybroch—and appreciate the various threats there are to these social bonds, and how people sustain a marriage—or don’t.

Voyager – Identity

Voyager has a lot of adventure, changing of times and places, seeking of destiny, and so on—but the underlying theme is that of a person’s search for identity, and how they define themselves, in their own eyes, or those of another, or those of society at large. By marriage, by career, by calling—or by recognition of one’s own essential being. You see this worked out most noticeably (of course) in Claire’s and Jamie’s story, first as she seeks the husband she’s lost and longed for, and then as they look for safe landing and a place in which they can survive together.

The continuing metaphor lies in their names: Jamie has five to choose from, plus a title, plus various nicknames, and he lives under an assortment of noms de guerre (often quite literally de guerre) throughout the book, in response to his changing roles and who’s after him at the moment. Claire, of course, has gone from Beauchamp to Randall to Fraser, and is now once again about to be Claire Fraser—or is it Mrs. Malcolm? Or perhaps Madame Etienne de Provac? (Symbolizing the linking of her fate with Jamie’s, aye?) As Jamie tells Claire mid-book, “…here in the dark, alone with you…I have no name”.

The two of them adopt, discard and adapt roles as they go from an Edinburgh brothel to Lallybroch to the Caribbean and at last are cast ashore in America by a hurricane , where—stripped of everything except each other, Jamie finally reclaims and restates his identity when he introduces himself to a rescuer: “My name is James Fraser. And this is Claire—my wife.”

Drums of Autumn – Family

If Dragonfly in Amber deals with the establishment and growth of a marriage, Drums does the same with the concept of family and its importance in a person’s life. One of the major notions—developed throughout the books—is that a family doesn’t consist only of people who share DNA, nor that a family ceases to be important if the members of it are separated—or dead. Jamie and Claire’s family as they settle in North Carolina consists of Fergus, Marsali, their son Germain, and Jamie’s nephew Ian—as well as Brianna, the daughter Jamie has never seen.

As for that daughter, her shock at learning the truth of her parentage leads her to find her family and risk everything to save them, while Roger MacKenzie Wakefield (born a MacKenzie, but adopted by his great-uncle) risks everything for her sake—and becomes her family, as well, along with her child, Jeremiah (who may or may not be Roger’s, but whom Roger claims firmly as his own) .

As Brianna writes in her note to Roger, enclosed with her family silver, photos and memorabilia, [“Everybody needs a history. This is mine…”]

The Fiery Cross - Community

The Fiery Cross continues the “building” sense of the books, from courtship to established marriage, to family and now to the formation of a community, as Jamie reclaims his original destiny as laird and leader, supporter and protector of a community. We saw him do this (briefly) at Lallybroch, and then during the years after Culloden, when he led the prisoners at Ardsmuir and kept them (mostly) sane and alive by forging them into a community. Jamie has always been defined (to himself, as well as to the reader) by his strong sense of responsibility, and here we see it in full play, as he gathers tenants to his land at Fraser’s Ridge, with the help (and occasional hair-raising hindrance) of the time-travelers in his family.

As with any worthwhile story, the process of self-definition of a protagonist (whether that’s a single person or a group) is a process both of discovery and of conflict. Stumbling blocks, opposition and danger are the tools that nature uses to carve a striking personality from the native rock. And thus we see not only the formation of the community of Fraser’s Ridge (a parallel and microcosm of the emerging America), but the individual struggles of Jamie, Claire, Brianna, Roger and others, to fit into their changing environment and preserve their own identities and discover their callings in the process.

A Breath of Snow and Ashes – Loyalty

I’m tempted to say that the one-word theme of this book is “survival,” but the means by which so many people survive the vicissitudes of a world spinning rapidly out of control is really a better theme, I think. In this instance, we explore the fierce loyalty of Claire and Jamie to each other and to their family, but beyond loyalty to people, loyalty to ideals and ideas is a huge thing at this time in the history of America, and the conflict of those loyalties is paradoxically both the cause of social fracture and the means of survival when the world is coming apart at the seams.

We see other forms of loyalty at work—the loyalty of greed and self-protection, among the Brown gang and Hodgepile’s band of marauders, the loyalty to tradition and leaders among the Cherokee, the loyalty to King, country, and regiment shown by John Grey—and the loyalty of friendship, as we see between Lord John and Jamie.

And ultimately, we see the loyalty and love of parents, who will make any sacrifice for the sake of their children and the future.

An Echo in the Bone – Nexus

The icon on the cover of the US edition of this book is a caltrop—a military weapon dating back to Roman times . The icon on the UK edition of the book is a very beautiful skeletal leaf—showing the superiority of the Orion art department to my own artistic instincts, but embodying the same underlying concept: the complex and fragile linkages between people, times, and circumstance.

The book follows four major storylines, which connect in major and minor ways, and—depending on which cover image you prefer—display the importance and resilience of such connections in time of wars and personal conflicts, or show the underlying veins of nurture and sustenance between people that keep them whole in spite of the stresses of passing time.

As with A Breath of Snow and Ashes, I considered an alternate one-word theme—in this case, “Mortality.” Not death, as such, but a realization of the finite nature of life, and what this does to people. That was a much harder concept to put on a cover, though.

Written in My Own Heart’s Blood –

If Echo’s word was “nexus,” most acute readers are probably expecting MOBY’s to be “spaghetti”—or, possibly, “octopus” It isn’t, though; it’s “forgiveness” – both the giving of that balm, and the refusal to forgive, and what giving or refusal does to both giver and recipient in either case.

We see this concept in operation among the major characters—particularly with regard to William’s response to discovering his true paternity, and with regard to Claire’s efforts to deal with meeting the man who raped her, and her response to what Jamie does about it. But we also see it in the lesser passages dealing with incidental characters: Mrs. Bradshaw and the slave Sophronia, for example. Mrs. Bradshaw shows a courageous determination to help the girl (thus forgiving her for what might have been seen as complicity in her husband’s infidelity, by a lesser woman), despite her inability (and who could wonder at it?) to forgive her husband, and the apparent internal struggle the situation costs her.

Rachel forgives Ian instantly upon his confession that he was married before, and his admitting the fear that he might not give her children. Jamie forgives Claire (and, reluctantly, Lord John) for having slept with each other while thinking him dead—but can’t bring himself to forgive Lord John for baldly acknowledging his own desire for Jamie.

Claire instantly forgives Jenny, the sister-in-law she once loved deeply. Jenny emphatically doesn’t forgive Hal, the commander of the men who hurt her family and contributed to her husband’s death—but has words of counsel and support for Claire as to how she might deal with her realization that the man who raped her is alive, sharing her daughter’s experience.

Buck MacKenzie can’t forgive himself for the ways in which he failed his wife. Roger explicitly forgives Buck for his role in getting Roger hanged—but demonstrates the boomerang effect of forgiveness, in which the sense of injury returns and must be dealt with afresh.

Fanny forgives William and Jamie for not being able to save Jane—but you can plainly see that they don’t forgive themselves, and will live with the effects of their failure for some time.

“Spaghetti” is probably the right term, really….

#Outlander Books #Diana Gabaldon #Outlander book themes

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awhilesince · 4 years ago

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Monday, 2 April 1827

6 40/60

11 20/60

My bowels all wrong – quite wrong – the washer woman came at 7 40/60 – settled with her – at 7 55/60 took 2 teaspoons of Epsom salts in about 1/2 a tumbler of warm water – From 8 to 10 read from page 343. to 387. volume 10. Auquetil, and Took a glass of hot water, and walked up and down my room – parted with some little bits twice then two little motions very loose from 10 to 11 1/2 four and five more motions and (breakfast at 10 1/2) breakfast and read the paper – a curious disgraceful sort of letter from Mrs Bathurst to Mr William Wakefield –

Mrs B– (Barlow) came at 11 1/2 – she would sit by me while once more on the pot a good grubbling on the sofa slept roused at one she did my hair – finished dressing, and went out at 2 1/2 – a few minutes with my aunt then Mrs B– (Barlow) went with me to call on the Senés to pay Monsieur S– (Senés) our rent (1/2 yearly due today, not at home) desired Madame S– (Senés) to say it was ready for him any day – and to read Madame Sené Mrs Bathurst’s to her ‘dearest Willy O’ – Mr William Wakefield, treating the matter in a very light scandalous manner – Madame S– (Sené) thinks she must be in love with him his mistress, or could not write in such style – staid with Madame S– (Sené) till after 3 –

then to Felix Passage Des Panoramas for Mrs Barlow to get something to eat – I foolishly ate 2 petit patés a religieuse of apricot, and a little biscuit soufflet – In returning bought a pair of slippers No. 19, Boulevard des Italiens – left then and the 4 Manqués glacés (for dessert) with one porter, and went with Mrs B– (Barlow) home for Jane – got there at 4 1/2 – 1/2 hour talking – all went out at 5 – a little small rain Jane turned back – went to Gay rue de la Paix to order another pair of shoes – it rained a little more – went to stay till it was over, at Amyot’s – skimmed over a 4 francs pamphlet just come out against the ministry as being governed by the Jesuits – Madame A– (Amyot) all against the Jesuits, and going to confession – when 17, she confessed having taken a little soup on a fast day – the priest therefore not only refused her the communion the following sermon (which was the sermon before Easter) but refused it to her till the Xmas following! which disgusted her, she said she would confess no more, and never has done but once just before she married when she must do it – and then she said very little – on Taking her 1st communion the priest had said many things to her she ought not to have heard or known for she was very innocent – her little boy is 8 years old – if the priest makes any nonsense about him, he shall change his religion, and become protestant –

parted with Mrs B– (Barlow) at our own door, and came in to my room at 5 25/60 – just in time had another little very loose motion –

Dinner at 6 35/60 – left the dining room at 8 and came to my room wrote the last 16 1/2 lines – settled with George and my accounts – etc. and went into the drawing room at 9 – lay on the sofa, latterly 1/2 asleep – came to my room at 10 10/60 – [O one dot, marking discharge from venereal complaint] –

left margin: Fahrenheit 43 1/2 at 7 1/2 a.m. 54 at noon. 54 at 6 1/2 p.m. – 51 at 10 1/4 – fine morning – a little small rain at 5 – a few larger drops about 5 1/2 afterwards fair – altogether pretty fine day

reference number: SH:7/ML/E/10/0075

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #mrsbarlow #marchapril1827

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marauders70s · 7 years ago

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(I'm following you, I promise!) 1. romantic, idealistic, intuitive 2. a locket 3. writer / stay at home mom 4. anne of green gables or marianne dashwood from sense & sensibility 5. raking leaves

hey anon hope you’re tag tracking :) also your dream gift is exceptionally achievable u can do it. and although i love jane austen (even if s&s is not my favorite of her books) and i know i’m supposed to side with elinor, I still find elinor often distilled to just so incredibly 1D and boring. marianne is by far the more extra and annoying and REAL sister. if you haven’t caught it (like…i just found this last month??) there’s a 3 episode miniseries from bbc 2008 s&s on hulu (or…elsewhere…) with dan stevens (downton abbey, b&b) as Edward Ferrars. ironically Elinor is played by Hattie Morahan, who plays the enchantress in b&b opposite dan stevens like awkward wow from love interest to curser thems the goals. anyway it’s really good and charity wakefield as marianne is perf.

House: HUFFLEPUFFExplanation: You are idealistic, intuitive, and idolize marianne and anne with an e (also great show) that’s like classic Hufflepuff.Favorite Hogwarts Club: Litmag - Henceforth, HogwartsFavorite Shop in Diagon Alley/Hogsmeade: Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. You want a locket? How about a journal, a gold dipped quill, and a book of love poems over tea? The aesthetic is strong, and the guilty part of your heart still loves it. Don’t be guilty liking what you like. Go to Puddifoot’s! Rule. Post-Hogwarts Job: Like telecommuting in the muggle world, working from home in the wizarding world in almost any career is doable. With apparition, head-in-floo meetings, and owl post (not to mention patronus, inter departmental memos, enchanted mimicry sigils like Hermione Granger’s Order coins) having an at-home job and still a full time career is 100% achievable. You write for the Quibbler as the voice of reason…at least people think you do. Or it could be a very nuanced form of sarcasm. No one is quite sure, and no one wants to look the idiot by asking.

To hear your M70s Student Life, send me an owl in my asks with the requirements!

#m70s studentlife

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relativeformsdissertation · 7 years ago

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First Draft Garment & Gallery

THE GARMENT AND THE GALLERY

the function of the garment, separate from the body, as art in the art space

Sculpture in its current iteration exists in a state of dualism within contemporary infrastructure. An obsession with monument and public commissions contrasts with the emergence of soft sculpture a medium that relies upon the framework and mode of thought and conduct that the gallery space offers.

To elaborate, the gallery, as ideal rather than physical entity provides validity. We as people are encouraged, by the institutions or businesses themselves as well as wider culture in general, that these are the custodians of our cultural memories. As such anything within these spaces, by association is validated as worthy note in our civilisations chronology. In turn the work of art, within the art space, is seen as entirely permanent.

Sculpture by nature is associated with permanence and stability, not only in materiality but in depth, sculptures by function are monuments, semaphores even, by which we solidify our own place in time. However when sculpture speaks to modernity, it both figuratively and literally breaks form. It’s temporal.

To accommodate the inconsistency in its transitional permanence, modern iterations of sculpture esher longevity using mechanisms such as the gallery. Interestingly this coincides with fashion, as the predominant cultural understanding of fashion is that it is ephemeral, seasonal and wavering. In turn fashion also engages with cultural mechanisms such as museums and galleries to propose itself in the dialogue of contemporary culture.

DISOBEDIENT BODIES

The Hepworth Wakefield's disobedient bodies exhibition is the first curatorial endeavour for designer Jonathan Anderson. The shows proposition, a response to the museums unique archive of British sculptures such as Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. The 1920-30s work of both aforementioned artists presented, whilst still figurative, a radical new way to postulate the human form visually. Anderson found leanings to these references in his own archive of work and as such the resulting exhibition explores the reimagining of the human form throughout the last century.

The exhibition comprises of what are described as objects, a neutralising amalgamation of sculpture, textile and garment. A series of juxtaposed or agreeable compositions from all mediums assert to the viewer, in purely visually language, an abstraction of the human form.

Anderson's show by design, excels in not the ideal of complete statement but its communication of said statement. If it’s understood that sculpture and garment can communicate visually, a reflection of ourselves, then it can be assumed that in its palette of functions lies a meta physical utility and henceforth the mechanism of sculpture is by definition, shared between the two.

We see examples of garments employing characteristics thought to be reserved for visual arts several times through out the exhibition:

Henry Moore ‘reclining figure’ (elmwood) 1938 / Jean Paul Gaultier ‘cone dress’ 1983/84

The two works are among the first to establish themselves as the viewer enters the exhibition, providing introductory concept of a disobedient body. Moore’s 1938 elmwood reclining figure is among his most substantial works, and earliest iterations of the ‘reclining figure’ . The figure is widely interpreted as a feminine body undulating itself in the form of a landscape. Moore acknowledges this in a two piece reclining figure 1962 in which the sculpture is halved at an attempt to further explore the human figures relation to a landscape, transforming the torso into a headland and the legs into a coastal arch.

Jean Paul Gaultier’s ‘cone dress’ in many ways summarises his stylistic contributions to fashion, he often favored corseted waist and invasively conned breast adornment on his most iconic garments. The garments themselves due to the required interfacing and fabrics often held their own forms, these non-malleable objects are iconic pop culture artefacts that many will recollect. Anderson makes the decision to rotate the garment 180 degrees, the result, a distinguished landscape esc form questions the same bodily connectively to nature as Moore’s sculpture.

It’s in this way the garments usage of the gallery mechanism engages itself. It’s too given the opportunity to be presented in the context of other works, and therefore a voice, in which it can assert its permanence in concept, relative to adjacent objects. Although the curator has re appropriated the garment by rotating the piece, it retains a naturally sculptural trait in that it can be interpreted separate from its physical employments so to speak. We see the spacial manipulation of sculpture often as a work would move exhibition and collection, its re contextualised, a new narrative is bestowed upon the object, it’s extended. Our perception of object as sculpture bestows the conceptual right of way, in regards to re interpretation, this example uses a garment that employs the mechanisms of sculpture and gallery to communicate a visual narrative, in doing so it introduces the ideology of garment, itself, as sculptural in its language.

MADAME GRES, REI KUWAKUBO AND THE EVOLUTION OF SCULPTURAL FASHION CONSTRUCTION

Sculpture and Garment are the same in their form / are constructed (manipulation of natural material)

Sculpture is Dynamic, Fashion Performing sculpture is static.

Parisian Musee Bourdelle hosted a show, curated by Oliver Saillard, titled ‘coture at work’. The show, employing the gallerys rich archive of works from the sculptor Antoine Bourdelle, exhibits gowns from the late Madame Gres in a curatorial parallel with sculpture, in assertion that Gres’s body of work is of markable similarity. It in turn, invites thought onto the role of human hands in both practices.

Madame Gres, French coturer, was of and simultaneously before, her time. Before in that her work displays a great reverence for the womans body, with it being primary in design process, its movements and subtly had a sense of control where previous couture was a gesture of constriction and posturing. This can be seen in the materiality of the gowns, an arduous technique created pleated textile by hand, of which a machine was later developed by revered japanesse avant guard designer Issey Myake. Because of this dresses flowed seamlessly with the wearer, draping in a greecian fashion. Gres is often quoted saying “I wanted to be a sculptor — for me it is just the same to work with fabric or stone,” which in turn lends sense to the obvious Greco-Roman sculptural reference in her garments. However whilst supposing that works in fabric and stone are equal, she in turn draws attention to an immutable shortcoming of her archive.

It’s with this considered, that in many ways Gres was of her time. Gres unquestionably implanted sculptural thinking in fashion and henceforth is a designer whos work performs sculpture, as opposed to being itself, sculpture. The disambiguation in such case is a question of dynamics. To use two prolific works from Bourdelle as example, The Great Warrior of Montauban, bronze, 1898 and La Grande Penelope, bronze, 1912. Each of these works was crafted from raw material as means for the artist to present, through his understanding of the human form, a radically new way of imagining said form (the twisted morphism in the great warrior and broadening curvature in Penelope) Gres on the other-hand has demonstrated an understanding of human form through expert treatment of raw material but implanted said understanding, as means of perfecting, as opposed to pushing a ideal of coture, of beauty, wealth and culture, of capital. Gres did not present an awareness of the human form within its living system; this is the dynamic truth of sculpture which by definition is in constant change, an activity of progress.

In Jonathan Andersons Disobedient Bodies a 1995 silk handpleated gown by Madame Gres is present, within its immediate surroundings, the iconoclastic Maison Margiela ‘stockman dress a Constantin Brancusi sculpture titled ‘Prometheus’ and a series of 4 garments for Rei Kuwakubos, Comme des Garcon S/S 1997 collection ‘body meets dress, dress meets body’. Just as Gres and Bourdelle’s work inferred a dualism in representation of dynamic presence in sculptural fashion, Kawakubo when presented in conference with Gres’s gowns expands upon this statement and enlightens its relativity to construction.

Whilst we understand Gres was defined by her freeing resilience to (literally) unbending fashion construction in her epoch, it would, by logic, be assumed regressive to state Kuwakubos pieces, huge unyielding garments constructed to distort and morph the form, as progressive or dynamic.

However the 1997 Comme des Garcons show presents in full, perhaps the most realized iteration of sculpture within the modern canon of fashion. Whilst this is in part due to the dynamic vocality in her forms, it is largely due to the construction.

Construction in fashion is perhaps the most apparent link between the designer and sculptor. John Berger when writing on outcast sculptor Romaine Lorquet in his book 'about looking' states

-"sculpture was a celebration of the common material from which everything was made"

It's in this breath one can come to understand the importance of natural material, stone, cotton etc. To further elaborate, as is the case for most artistic professions, an essential factor of construction is also observation i.e drawing. Former considered, it can be proposed for an artist to construct (in this instance both the designer and sculptor) they must first observe their natural material. Berger elaborating on his previous statement talks again on seen materials

- "all art which is based on a close observation of nature, eventually changes the way nature is seen. It either confirms more strongly an already established way of seeing nature of proposes a new one.

To conclude, the apparent meaning of nature within this context is the fabrication from which garments are made. Kawakubo's construction was paramount to understanding her work because she unlike Gres, proposed a new way for seeing the materials of the craft. Whereas the pleating employed by Gres simply adorned a preexisting form and as such is an act of confirmation.

The collections faculties are reliant on 3 aspects:

· The remembered function of the gingham fabric

· The 'Burden' concept employed by down fabric padding

· Their presentation as moving / dynamic object

In the same aforementioned sense both Craig Green and Matthew Miller use connotations and remembered functions of fabrications, Kawakubo employs a similar treatment, relative to a gingham cloth dress. The fabric in particular is most commonly associated with a westernized and misogynistic vision of woman hood. The 50s housewife was perpetuated by an iconography of which, depicted woman cleaning, washing or cooking, all in gingham dress. When employing the fabric in the 97 show, comme des garcons used it as statement, to establish the pretext of dialogue as said woman hood.

The essential faculty present in the show is protruding forms of down fabric padding, the placement of which warps the wearers movement. In concept, the pieces are representational of the weight of conduct and limitations placed on woman by society. Both physically and conceptually they are intended to burden. The padding, placed on the breast, waist, stomach, thighs and sex are evocative of expectations, the woman as bearer of child, as the sexualized surveyed. These expectations manifest as they obtrude from the gingham garments. As if to communicate the realities of female experience penetrating and morphing the beguiling publicity of which they are born into.

The Third characteristic exemplifies the a distinctive, radically new, form of sculpture. Kinetic execution of concept. As established, the garments by design, abstract the usual range of motion of each wearer. The models when walking the runway were not only showcasing the concept bestowed in each piece, but executing its final facility. This is still however, a sculptural mechanism, the motion in typical sculpture is still communicated through technique.

Merce Cunningham, avant guade choreographer, used the garments in a performance piece titled 'scenario', the piece is played within J.W.Andersons 'disobedient bodies' show adjacent to the garments. This displays the curator's awareness of the importance motion plays in the communicational language the garments employ.

To extract, Gres sculpted her materials into forms that resemble sculpture, however conceptually fail to manifest themselves due to a lack of artistic perception. Rei Kuwakubo, understood the dynamic nature of sculpture and translated the language into a visually assertion of concept that deliniated itself from sculpture in a unique way. These pieces where displayed, through the medium of gallery, by using a mechanism that neutralises fashion and sculpture, allowing a visual demonstration of their similaritys.

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madam-wakefield · 1 year ago

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Decorating the tree

Just my little drabble for the @berenaadvent day 4 prompt “duck”

Read on A03

Bernie had never really been one for decorating for Christmas. She’s spent more of her adult Christmases deployed somewhere or another and it was always Marcus and the children who decorated. Even on the few occasions she was at home working at the local army camp they decorated without her. Never wanted to wait for the weekend for her to be free always wanting to put the Christmas decorations up on the first day of December. Bernie didn’t begrudge them it, it’s what they did when she was deployed so why should they change it just because she wasn’t.

Serena is different however, Serena always wants them to decorate together and Bernie loves it. They are about to spend their third Christmas together and true to form Serena has waited until they have a shared day off to set about tackling the decorations.

Bernie had been into the loft the night previous, thankful for only being on a short shift rather than one of the usual long days. And now they are stood in the living room surround by all the Christmas decorations Serena has collected over the years. It’s maybe the only thing that makes Bernie feel a little sad, that she doesn’t have any, Marcus kept all what they had collected as a family after the divorce.

“Do you want to tackle the lights and I’ll set about sorting the tinsel ready for the tree? We can then add the baubles and decorations together. Then once that’s done we can sort out everything else?”

“Sounds perfect.” Bernie says before leaning into give Serena a kiss, for no other reason than because she can.

Half an hour later and Bernie is just finishing changing the last of the dead bulbs in the lights. It’d taken her 15 minutes to untangle them all, she doesn’t understand that, because they always wrap them up so carefully when they take them down. Her back is complaining so she’d taken to standing to complete the job rather than crouching on the floor.

“Duck please dear,” she hears Serena’s voice come from above her. Bernie glancing up to see Serena stood on the step ladder set just to her side, hands splayed out to sort out the tree branches to look exactly how she wants them. Bernie knows better than the argue and ducks obediently, feels a few loose pin needles drop onto her head as Serena fiddles with the branches.

“Thank you.” Serena says, her cue that she can once again stand tall. They work together from there to wrap the lights around the tree in just the perfect way. It’s Bernie who climbs the ladder to wrap the lights around the top of the tree. Looks down to see Serena has already started on the tinsel at the bottom, to make the whole job a little quicker.

“It’s your turn to duck, sweetheart, unless you want to join these lights on the tree.” She watches as Serena raises an eyebrow at her but complies anyway. Allowing Bernie to wrap the last of the lights around the tree.

“Okay you can try turning them on now,” it’s easy from Serena’s already stooped state and as the lights flash to life Bernie does think they look magical.

The rest of the day finds them adding baubles and decorations to the tree before setting out to decorate the rest of the house. Wreathes on the doors, lights in the windows, tinsel around photos frames and general Christmas ornaments laid here and there.

As has been tradition for the past three years the final decoration to be hung is the sprig of mistletoe that always gets placed in the doorway between the hallway and the living room. Once it’s firmly in place both women duck under it and share a long lingering kiss. Knowing they have an excuse to do just that every day for the next few weeks, not that they really need one of course.

#Berena Advent 2023 #Berena Advent Duck #Madam Wakefield Writes #holby city #holby #buckle fandom #bernie wolfe #serena campbell #berena #Berena Fanfic

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madam-wakefield · 1 year ago

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Open when...Chapter 1

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn't sure how she's going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn't expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn't a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn't all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta'd. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Chapter 1

Open when you get this…

Serena always knew she’d go to work the day after Bernie had deployed. In some way, she can make herself believe that this is just like the times when Bernie has gone away for a few days for a medical conference or to visit an old army friend. But deep down she knows it’s not, knows that she won’t see Bernie in person for nine months.

She walks into their office and there on her desk is a beautiful floral box full of what look like ivory envelopes. Serena sits down in her chair and pulls it close to the desk, noticing one delicate envelope propped up against the front of the box.

She stares at it, eyes fixed upon Bernie’s messy writing on the front: Serena - Open when you get this…

She stares at it a little longer, wanting to commit this image to memory before complying.

My Dearest Serena,

The main reason for writing these letters is because I love you! I love you so much and I want to be able to remind you of that as much as I can. In your moments of weakness. In your moments of joy. When you need to feel loved know that I will always love you. These letters are just here to remind you of that while we are apart for the next nine months. Put them somewhere you will see them often, or carry them around with you if you have to, so you always remember to Open When You…”

I love you and miss you so much already.

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

She knows she doesn’t have time to respond instantly, she’s got ward rounds to do, and a short surgery scheduled but she promises herself this is the perfect excuse to write Bernie her first bluey.

She plans to write to her on her break but of course, all the best laid plans always go wrong. Bernie’s red phone rings just as she’s about to go and get herself a pastry from Pulses. She’s missing her girlfriend, so who can blame her if she wants a bit of comfort food?

She goes into surgery with Raf, naturally taking the lead. He’s a good surgeon and she knows it, but it’s going to take her some time to be able to give up control to him in that way. She’s so used to working with Bernie in that respect, where neither of them really takes control, they just work side by side effortlessly without there needing to be a lead.

After surgery she updates the patient’s family and is just thinking that she’ll have a break now, and maybe actually write to Bernie, when Sacha comes onto the ward to remind her that she’s ten minutes late for the clinical leads’ meeting. Thankfully, she can blame it on the emergency surgery.

She spends more of the meeting thinking about Bernie than actually paying attention. Wondering how Bernie’s flight was. Wondering exactly where Bernie is now. Wondering how she is ever going to get through the next nine months without her girlfriend.

Normally after a meeting, Bernie will spoil her with coffee and a pastry and kisses if there is time, but she knows she isn’t getting that today or for the next nine months and she can’t help but feel a little deflated at the thought.

She’s professional enough to offer her opinion a few times to make it look like she’s paying attention to the meeting but doesn’t really stretch herself. She’ll make up for it another time but today isn’t it.

After the meeting she grabs her own coffee and pastry from Pulses and is this time determined to write Bernie’s letter, so she walks back onto AAU and locks herself in her office. She takes her time thumbing through the envelopes in the box, allowing herself to glance at what’s written on some of them, from love, to sorrow to anger, although she’s not convinced, she’ll need to use that last one. She then turns to her own bag and gets out one of the blueys she has in there—she and Bernie had picked up a stack from the post office before her deployment—and her favourite writing pen before sitting down at her desk. She knows she could use the INtouch electronic mail service to send Bernie an email but she wants the first letter she writes her girlfriend to be a handwritten one.

Dear Bernie,

How!?! How did you ever get time to think so much about my needs while doing all the things you had to do? The idea of the envelopes has filled my heart with joy and all I can say is I’m so damn lucky that I am the woman you want to share your life with.

I had a quick look through the other envelopes, and I cannot believe all of the different occasions you have managed to cover. I do not have the words to tell you how loved this gesture of yours has made me feel. And you say that you don’t think you’re very good at romance!

I’ve got so much more I want to write but I’ve got to cut this letter short as your red phone is pulling me away from my break, but I promise to write again soon.

All my love, darling…

Stay safe, soldier.

Serena x

The red phone call leads to a complicated surgery. Serena stays with the trauma patient and completes the surgery, even if it does mean that it’s two hours past her shift when she finally finishes. By the time she gets home and into bed she’s at least so tired and in need of rest that she doesn’t have as much time to miss Bernie, so she falls asleep much more easily than she had the previous night.

#Open When #Berena #Bernie Wolfe #Serena Campbell #berena fanfic #holby city #holby #buckle fandom #madam wakefield writes #Berena Fanfiction #Berena FF #Holby Fanfic #Holby FF #Holby Fanfiction #Holby City ff #Holby City fanfic #Holby City fanfiction

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madam-wakefield · 1 year ago

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Pub Quiz

A little Drabble written for the @berenaadvent day 7 prompt “Comet”

Sorry if this makes absolutely no sense, I wrote it whilst I was waiting for my daughter to come out of surgery, needed something to distract myself.

Read on A03

Serena has always known Bernie’s general knowledge is shocking. Her musical knowledge is beyond that, to be honest Serena doesn’t think a word has been invented to describe how bad Bernie’s musical knowledge is.

That being said they’d decided to join Fletch, and Raf for the quiz. They’d been at Albies having a post work glass of wine and the others had asked them to join to make a team of four. It’s nearly Christmas and they are always up for a good laugh, so they’d agreed.

Bernie has been useful for the geography questions and the question about the highest military ranks of the Army, Air Force and Navy that none of the rest of them had a chance of getting. But now they’ve got onto the Christmas round and Bernie has looked at them blank during every question. They can’t even say they’ve let her do the writing as her handwriting is awful too.

“Name all of Santa’s nine reindeer,” comes the voice over the microphone.

“Rudolph, Prancer and Dancer,” Serena says writing as she talks.

“Vixen and Blitzen,” Fletch adds once Serena finishes writing.

There is a small pause before Raf adds, “Dasher and Donner.” Serena continues to write, pen scratching noisily against the paper.

“Cupid!” Fletch whispers excitedly, not wanting to be overheard, before Serena has even finished writing down the answers from Raf.

Serena glances over the paper, eyes scanning the names she’s already written. “That’s only eight, we’ve forgotten one.”

“Say the ones we got,” Fletch says, as if hoping hearing them all will trigger his brain.

“Rudolph, Prancer, Dancer, Vixen, Blitzen, Dasher, Donner and Cupid.” Serena says, eyebrows furrowed as if thinking deeply.

“Comet?” Bernie whispers not totally convinced that she’s right.

“Pardon,” Serena shoots back looking at her girlfriend surprised but also wanting her to speak again, a little louder.

“Comet isn’t it, like they go in pairs usually. I’m sure it’s Comet and Cupid!”

“Of course, it is,” Fletch says excitedly. Mikey always tells me that’s the one he remembers because the other names are boring and girly but that at least Comet can remind him of something burning through the sky.

“Comet used to be Charlotte’s favourite too,” Bernie says with a smile. “She used to say that Rudolph was too popular and so she spent years ensuring that everything she ever did that linked to reindeers was Comet!”

“Well, I’d never have through it,” Serena says merrily “who’d have guessed that Bernie Wolfe, answering a question in a quiz, that doesn’t link to geography or the military. They all laugh then, even Bernie who knows the joking is all good natured, will admit herself how awful her general knowledge usually is.

And when they end up winning the quiz by one point, they put it all down to Bernie and her knowledge of Santa’s reindeer.

#Berena Advent 2023 #Berena Advent Comet #Madam Wakefield Writes #Bernie Wolfe #Serena Campbell #Berena #Berena Fanfic #Holby #Holby City #Buckle Fandom

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madam-wakefield · 1 year ago

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Historical Apology

Read on A03

TW: Homophobia Military Homophobia Internalized Homophobia

My work for the @berenaadvent Day 5 prompt “Historical”

Based around the The LGBT Veterans Independent review. Please do heed the homophobia warnings if that may be triggering.

Okay - so maybe this is a slightly stretch at the prompt “Historical” but once the thought was in my head it wouldn’t leave!

———

Serena comes home to fine the house eerily quiet. Bernie has had the day off and had told Serena she was planning to do a few of the DIY jobs that she’d got behind on because it’s July and they’ve spent all of their shared days off outside enjoying the sunshine. It’s not overly late just a little past 7pm and the temperature outside is still pleasant, so she wonders if maybe Bernie is outside, but isn’t convinced as she can’t hear any music playing. Bernie nearly always has music on if she’s tending the garden.

Serena places her shoes on the shoe rack by the front door, doesn’t want to walk through the house with her shoes on especially as she has her garden shoes by the conservatory door. She walks slowly through the house listening for signs of Bernie. Dinner hasn’t been prepped or started, though that in itself isn’t an issue, they are both quite used to eating post 9pm due to their shift patterns. Heads through into the conservatory but knows instantly Bernie isn’t outside due to the presence of her garden shoes on the doormat.

Serena doesn’t panic, there have been times before when she’s come home to a quiet house. Knows it might be a sign that Bernie just needs space, knows that Bernie has been part of things and seen things she will never understand. Knows that sometimes even out of the blue these things can play on her mind. She’ll go and find her girlfriend though, see if it’s space or company she needs and go from there.

She walks back through the house, and heads towards the stairs, it’s only as she approaches the last couple of steps that she can hear the faint sound of the telly coming from their bedroom. Wonders if Bernie has somehow got distracted during the DIY.

She pushes the door open, the shelf Bernie was meant to be putting up is discarded left propped up against the wall, though the brackets have definitely been screwed in. There are tools lay haphazardly on the ground underneath. Shes about to glance at the bed, wonders if Bernie has fallen asleep when the words coming from the TV stop her in her tracks.

The voice is unmistakable as the Prime Minister “The ban on LGBT people serving in our military until the year 2000 was an appalling failure of the British state – decades behind the law of this land.” She feels her own throat tighten at the words, can’t even comprehend the thoughts going through her girlfriend’s head. Wants to move, to say something, anything that might help. But she can only stare at the telly as the clip switches from the Prime Minister to the defence secretary Ben Wallace, can only listen to his words come from the TV screen.

“I am deeply sorry for what happened to you the very tolerance and values of western democracy that we expected you to fight for we denied to you. It was profoundly wrong.” Serena cannot describe the feeling in her chest at the words, the deep-seated heart ache that is so unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Knows the way she’s feeling is only a fraction of how Bernie is feeling. She forces her eyes away from the screen then, forces herself to look at the bed, to her girlfriend sat against the headboard, hunched over with her knees pulled to her chest, body shaking with silent sobs.

Serena walks to the telly, turns it off, walks in big strides over to the bed, slides up to her girlfriend and whispers her name more gently than she thinks she ever has in her life. “Bernie.” There is a pause, maybe for thirty seconds, but then Bernie moves her head, looks up at Serena. The sight before her breaks her heart, Bernie’s eyes red from crying, looking so anguished that Serena feels like her heart shatters.

“Cuddle?” Serena offers it as a question, knows Bernie may still want more space. Waits until Bernie nods before opening her arms. Bernie nestles against her, in a way that’s somewhat unusual for them, more often than not it’s Bernie holding her when they cuddle. Bernie settles her cheek against her chest, and Serena brings her arms around her tightly. Holds her close, rubs her hand gently up and down her arm. Doesn’t say anything else, knows from the time they’ve been together that Bernie will speak once she’s found the right words.

“Thank you,” is the first thing Bernie says, still not totally used to a partner who has her own best interests truly at heart. Shifts so that she can look as Serena as she talks, but instead connects their hands, her own way of grounding herself.

“I’ve known something like this was coming, ever since the report was commissioned. I’d known we’d get some big statement, but I didn’t except it to hit me so hard.” Bernie runs her thumb over Serena’s knuckles as she speaks, reminds herself that this is Serena that this conversation is okay, that Serena will never judge her for anything she has to say.

“I knew even before I was gay that I was destined to join the army. My brother, who should have been the one to join, had a form of childhood epilepsy that despite growing out of as a teen disqualified him from joining for safety reasons. We realised this when he was 16, I’d have been 12. I remember overhearing a conversation between my dad and granddad about the importance of the Wolfe family name carrying on, knew then and there that it was going to be me that carried that burden.” She can see the imagine vividly in her head, sat on their stairs of their house, leaning against the wall as her dad and grandad spoke. “I told them a few days later that I was going to join when I was old enough and I’ll never forget the pride in their eyes” and she can see it even now, can’t help but wonder if that pride would be the same now. She’d made it to major, a rank above them both, but would they be proud knowing that despite the fact she was a major that she’s also gay. She shakes her head gently can’t let that thought come into her mind now.

“As I got older the used to tell me stories, of the things they done, of the people they’d worked with. They made it sound glamorous in a way. Talked to me about what I wanted to do, it was a tradition that the Wolfe’s always entered as officers, and in the end, I decided it was medicine that I wanted to do. Of course, as time passed, I realised that I had feelings for women, knew that it wasn’t even really accepted in society and that it definitely wasn’t accepted in the military. But I pushed it aside knew I had a duty to my family, and that came above my own feeling. The army paid for my medical training, on the agreement that I served for at least 10 years, and I agreed because it took so much pressure off the family.” She feels Serena squeeze her hand as she’s speaking a silent sign that she’s listen that Bernie can keep talking.

“It wasn’t until I first attended officer training that I realised just how unwelcome the true me was there. I was dating Marcus by this point, we’d met at med school, but I knew deep down it wasn’t the real me. We were made to read through reams of paperwork, so we knew what we were signing up for, so we realised we had minimum service terms and such like. I’d always known people like me weren’t welcome in the military but having it written in front of my eyes in black and white was another matter. I can see see the image of the writing on the crisp white paper as if it was yesterday. ‘Any person subject to military law who is guilty of disgraceful conduct of a cruel, indecent or unnatural kind shall, on conviction by court-martial, be liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding two years.’ I was literally facing being found guilty of a criminal offence, if I so much as let my cover slip, it’s the reason I agreed to marry Marcus, I loved him, just not in the way he deserved, and it was the best protection for me. I’ll never not feel guilty for that, it isn’t what he deserved.

She pauses then, a big sigh coming from her lips, Serena places her hand gently under her chin, makes her look at her. “You did what you had to darling, no one can blame you for that. I know he was hurt when he first realised but I’m sure even Marcus understands deep down. Bernie nods minutely, not convinced totally understands that Marcus probably hate her and that her kids don’t think much better of her.

“I hate myself sometimes for staying, for allowing myself to enjoy being part of an institution that would have criminalised the real me. But I did love it, the army, it quickly became part of who I was. I built a big web of lies that at times even I believed. I rose through the ranks, and I convinced myself that that made it okay, that I’d earned respect despite everything. I lost friends though, a couple of good friends. I still remember as clearly as if it were yesterday the day Officer Cadet Richardson was accused of being homosexual, he’d always spoken about Jamie, but everyone though they were a woman, and of course Richardson, Paul, had never corrected them. You have to realise at this time there were literally teams within the army employed to basically witch hunt any gay people they could, and somehow, they found out, that Jamie was in fact a man. They pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night, read his letters in front of us all, made them seem disgusting by reiterating over and over again that they’d been written by a man. They took him away that night and I never saw him again; we’d been friends since the first day of officer training, and we were a week away from commissioning. That was one of the days I hated myself most for staying, I was Married to Marcus by this point, and I couldn’t afford not to, couldn’t afford for that to be me. But it ate me upside every day that I was willing to be so loyal to an organisation that literally destroyed the lives of people like me brave enough to be their true selves.” Tears are shining in her eyes now, can see the way Paul looked at her as he was dragged away, as if pleading with her to help him, and all she’d done is look away, not wanting to risk looking like she felt sorry for him for risk of outing herself, even with her giant web of lies. She’s quiet for a while now, wonders what the future ended up holding for Paul, if him and Jamie managed to stay together despite everything else.

“How long did it take to change?” Serena asks gently, she’d know the military were behind in their acceptance, but she never realised quite how deep it had run. It stopped being a criminal offence in the army in 1994, scary thought when you think all our children were born by then. But it didn’t become allowed until much later still. Every time there was a new act we were forced to agree to it, it’s one of the few times we could get out of our service outside our usual terms, I remember considering it when the 1995 act was given to me, but by this point I’d got a husband and two children, I’d go far too much to lose, so I was the opposite of brave because it was safer and I knew what to expect.

“Again, I can still see the writing as if it’s right under my face. The act stated amongst other things that ‘homosexuality isn’t compatible with securing the aims of the armed forces, because it undermines the order and discipline necessary for military effectiveness’. It went on to talk about how there was no other job like the military, and well as much I can concur with that that I cannot agree with the reasons they then gave as to why being a homosexual soldier was so wrong. They talked about the close proximity that soldiers live in. That they have no choice but to share same sex living quarters, as if implying the awful stereotype that gay people will want to try and sleep with everyone of the same sex. The worst part of it was the comment about the percentage of under 18s in the army, as if being homosexual made soldiers more likely to try and pray on the younger soldiers, stereotypes that within mainstream society were settling but in the army were being written into legislation that made my true self and the true self of so many others incompatible with jobs we’d literally risked our lives to do, in more ways than one.”

Serena can hear the shame in Bernie’s voice can’t help but put her arm around her and pull her close. Bernie rests her head against her shoulder and continues to speak, Serena knows now she’d opened this very deep seated can of worms that she needs to get it all out.

“I lost a few more friends in the coming years, friends who by every admission of the word are so much braver than I’ll ever be. They were tired of living a lie, wanted to be able to be their true selves, risked losing everything to do so. Something I despite over twenty-five years in the army wasn’t brave enough to do. Alex is notwithstanding in all of this because that was such a closely guarded secret because it was totally not allowed due to our ranks, without taking into the fact I was also married.” Bernie lets the feeling of Serena arm rubbing gently at her side give her the strength to keep speaking, some of the things coming from her lips are things she’s hidden in the depths of her soul for as long as she can remember. They are thoughts and feelings that have plagued her being for year but that she’s never shared with anyone before. She’s got better at sharing her emotions since leaving the army, got better and not hiding behind Great British reserve, especially with Serena. But laying herself so bare is still deeply uncomfortable for her, not because she doesn’t trust Serena but because her mind screams at her that what’s she’s doing and saying is wrong.

“It didn’t change for the better until the millennium, when it was finally allowed. But even then, it wasn’t right. The military has such a deep-rooted hatred of homosexuality that people who were out still faced marginalisation and judgement. They got looked over for promotion and such like. Once again, I could have been brave then, the children were older, but by this point I’d hidden my true self for so long I wasn’t even sure who that was anymore. I of course did what I could, made sure that as an officer of considerable rank that I helped the soldiers who were out and proud as much as possible. I Cut off homophobic comments, ensured soldiers under me got a fair go at promotions, but I still don’t feel like it was enough. Can you imagine how moral boosting it would have been for them people if I’d have been brave enough. What it would have meant to have a highly ranked officer be out and proud. But I couldn’t, I’d got to the point where I hated that part of myself, where I’d have done anything to change it, to really be able to love marcus. I’d have given anything to forget that I looked at woman and saw something innately beautiful.” The tears trickle down her cheeks slowly then, she’s not that woman anymore. Not the woman who hated the fact that she’s gay, she’s out and proud and loves Serena more than life itself. But sometimes the self-hatred she used to have for herself, that comes with years of repressing who you are to the point that you believe it is wrong yourself, is enough to overwhelm her.

She feels Serena thumb gently wiping at her face, knows that she won’t comment on it will just be here to listen for now, until its clear she’s finished.

“I kept that stance for the rest of my career getting promoted through the ranks. I was deployed overseas on multiple occasions include to Iraq and Afghanistan, ended up being promoted to Major, each year things seemed to get slightly better for the soldiers who were out, but I always tried to be the best ally I could even if I still wasn’t out. You know the rest of it from there, my affair with Alex, how it all would have stayed a secret had I not been blown back to reality.”

And Serena does know about that part well, they’ve discussed Alex and the affair in detail. It was clear a few months into their relationship that Serena’s biggest insecurity was that, while she trusted and trusts Bernie that the pain and suffering Edward had put her through, we’re definitely made more present by the knowledge that Bernie had too had an affair. Bernie had opened her heart to Serena, admit in a way that could confuse some that it was like she was a different person. She doesn’t excuse her affair, but she could explain it in some way. That it was like she had two separate personalities the one who was married to Marcus, had two children and would keep their sexuality hidden forever. And this second one who was made to come alive by Alex, that she didn’t do it to hurt Marcus or the kids but because she needed to feel something after so long of hating herself. That in some ways it worked but in others it made her hate herself more as she wasn’t that kind of person.

“You know as well as anyone that if it hadn’t had been for the IED and Alex, that I’d probably still be married to Marcus and still burying that part of me. Though it seems we’ve digressed from the initial point of this conversation.”

Serena’s answer is instantaneous, “But we haven’t though.” Serena says gently, and Bernie’s face is enough for Serena’s thoughts to be confirmed, that she herself needs to step in now and help her girlfriend understand.

“Everything you’ve just told me has led to us being here now.” Serena squeezes Bernie’s hand tightly then because there is no one else she could imagine a future with. “But that doesn’t make it okay, and I don’t mean what you did, I’ve already said you did what you had to. But it doesn’t make it okay that you had to. Does that make sense?” Bernie shakes her head gently, and Serena is so glad their relationship is built upon trust and honestly, that it’s allowing them to have this conversation.

“From what you’ve said to me today, I get why you behaved and acted the way you did for so long. I get why you hid the real you. You were forced so wrongly to do what you did; you made a choice to make your father and grandfather proud, but in doing so you were given no choice but to hide who you truly are. By the time you did have a chance to be honest about any of it, you’d been forced for too long to lie about it that it was too late. The damage had already been done. You’d already been forced to be something and somebody you were never destined to be. You should never have been put in that position and no one who hasn’t been in that position will ever understand what the mental torture of that did to you.”

“But it’s partially my fault, I chose to join, and I chose to stay. I can’t complain not when my colleagues were literally stripped of their medals, tortured and criminalised for it. That I at least got a choice to see it through to the end.”

“But that’s the point I’m making, it should never have been a choice the way it was. You shouldn’t have been made to choose between your true self and making your dad and grandfather proud, in continuing the Wolfe family name. Those two things shouldn’t have been mutually exclusive. The fact you were made to hide yourself to the point we both know you hated yourself is wrong. I think right now in your head you think that this apology for all the historic hurt that has been caused doesn’t include you. That because despite everything you managed to stay in the army to become a renowned front line trauma surgeon and medic. I think you don’t think you deserve this apology. I don’t think that you understand that while your colleagues and friends went through their own traumas with their sexuality being discovered that you went through your own kind of emotional trauma. The constant worry of being found out, either by the army or Marcus or the kids. The fact that you took on board so much of what was said to you that you literally hated yourself for being gay, something that you know as well as I do, you have absolutely no control over tells me that you deserve this apology just as much as anyone else. That you were hurt by the historic ban and far from thinking you aren’t brave you should know just how bloody brave you were, you are, be here where you are right now.”

She’s not sure at which point during Serena’s words the tears come, but come they do and they don’t seem to stop. She is pulled into Serena arms allows the steady beating of Serena’s heartbeat to calm her, to remind her that she did make it thought. That maybe Serena is right and she does have a right to accept the apology for the unacceptable historical chapter of the armed forces that was part of so much of her service. That she isn’t the one who needs to be ashamed, she’s risked her life for her country and that the only thing that was wrong in any of it was the institutionalised hatred she was forced to face every day. That on the contrary she has so much to be proud of, that she won’t ever let anyone make her ashamed again for being the LGBT veteran that she is and always will be.

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