FIC : complicity
[Title:] Complicity
[Setting:] AU. Modern day.
[Character(s):] Mireille and Jean Louis Duroc. Marcel.
[Summary:] She won't stay silent forever.
“Knock before entering,” he tells her, irritated, after she has managed to interrupt him, once again, in one of his covert discussions with Marcel. They are a year into their marriage and at first, she didn’t pay it any particular attention, how conversations would die out abruptly when she entered the room. How he refused to share the contents of certain, unspecified arrangements and meetings with her, as if she can’t be trusted with the information. As if she has not grown up as the daughter of a politician and knows the significance of discretion. To some degree, she has always expected, perhaps, that she was more familiar with such concepts than he, through milieu if not profession.
She doesn’t answer, stands her ground near the doorway, waiting for Marcel to leave as he never fails to do when in her vicinity. Why he bothers to set foot in the home that is also hers, she cannot fathom. He’s Jean Louis’ security guard, not his colleague or his business partner although he is certainly treated like it on occasion. Their history is not unbeknown to her, Jean Louis’ and his, of course. How they practically grew up together. Even so -
“I’ll drop by later,” Marcel says, over one shoulder, before shrugging into his leather jacket and sending her a leer to accompany the look. Jean Louis’ eyes are trained on her solely.
It becomes gradually more apparent. To a point where she cannot ignore it, cannot deny herself the doubt. Easy choices are rarely the most ethical and conflicts of such a nature cannot be avoided. Except that Jean Louis’ career, filling the post Father left behind, is proving altogether smooth and unproblematic. Too much so. He has never been an undedicated man. Has never attempted to appear unambitious. An aspect of his character that she has generally admired as another display of honesty. It is not that she does not believe that one could obtain the results he does, either; through hard work, through co-operation and talented negotiation, but while several politicians around him fall victim to scandals no matter how carefully they tread, he remains untouched. Untouchable. Everything… simply works out, isn’t that so? Once he has attended the conferences of which he doesn’t speak. Neither does anyone else and for all intents and purposes, they could as well be inexistent.
He leans back in his chair. After Father’s death, Mother moved away, to the family mansion in Boulaide, leaving the city house at their disposal. Without the heavy vintage furniture, the office is barely recognisable as Father’s and naturally, it isn’t. Anymore. It is not without personal touch, but Jean Louis’ personality dictates minimalism and clean lines. No mahogany or Persian rugs. No library-style bookcases reaching from floor to ceiling, hiding away the walls. A long, silent moment passes in which they simply observe one another. They are both waiting for her to speak next, undoubtedly. Ask the usual, open-ended questions, attempting to gain an insight into the backstage processes of an act that she does not feature in.
Yet, she finds herself holding her tongue. Recognising that she may not like what she will discover and in extension, that it should not matter enough to allow this sort of willing disregard. Judgment, too, should be a fluid entity subject to interpretation, however, and so long that Jean Louis continues to care for the wellbeing of the country also, there is nothing for her to distrust in regards to any other intentions he wields. The various opposing arguments can be saved, surely. For now. For later.
“Dinner shall be ready in an hour,” she tells him, in return, flatly, turning on her heel before she can catch glimpse of the inquiry posed by his raised eyebrow. She is well aware how it must look. How closely it must resemble acceptance.
Suppression will eventually lead to an uproar. It is a sociological so well as a psychological fact, applicable to population and individual alike, but everything has its time and place. Father himself, internationally famous for his negotiating skills, taught her this very early on, didn’t he? From him, she has learned that settlement is not defeat.
Necessarily.