A/N: Hi! Here’s the second chapter! I put in some characters from a few other fandoms in here, so let me know if you spot them ;) And let me know what you think of the series so far!
WARNING: There’s a graphic description of a death threat in this chapter. I will put a “&&&” before and after the description so you can skip everything between then if you don’t want to read it. Let me know if I’ve missed any other warnings.
DISCLAIMER: This story involves the protection of a senator’s intern so politics will be mentioned. I don’t know a lot about politics, from the British standpoint or the American standpoint. I’m doing research while I write, so if I make mistakes, I’m sorry. Also, I mention views on some issues. This DOES NOT mean that those are my own personal views OR the views of anyone cast in this story. THE OPINIONS EXPRESSED ARE THE OPINIONS OF THE CHARACTERS AND NOTHING MORE.
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You hurried down the hall, your heels clicking against the smooth, hard floor. People walked past you, some yelling, some talking on their cell phones and some reading papers in their hands. Someone bumped into you, making you almost drop your papers. You were in a rush, so you only shot a quick “sorry!” over your shoulder before scurrying down the remaining length of the hallway. You pushed open the large, dark wood doors at the end and immediately bumped into someone else. The person, another intern around your age, muttered a curse as a large stack of files fell to the floor. You bit back a sigh and crouched down, quickly gathering them before handing them back to the intern, miraculously not dropping the massive pile of papers in your own arms. After another quick “sorry!” and a grumble from the intern, you turned right, weaving the room. It was a large, open office area. Desks were arranged in a grid formation, practically hidden beneath stacks of files, papers, news articles, binders, and books. Despite it being the 21st-century, the United States government seemed to use papers as much as they did in the last two centuries. You ran along the wall, weaving through the people that stood near the printer. You finally reached your destination, a set of French doors at the back of the office, and paused to catch your breath.
“Wild day so far?” Someone asked. You turned your head, glancing at the guard near the doors. He was a little on the short side, and fit despite him being in his fifties. He had grayish-blond hair styled in a slight combover. You sighed and smiled a little.
“Kind of,” You answered. “My bus got detoured because of protesters on Massachusetts and Union Station.”
“They’re still going?” The guard asked. You nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your hear.
“Yeah,” You responded. “Apparently people feel strongly about it.”
The guard scoffed and smiled. “I’ll say.” He reached over and grabbed the door handle. He glanced at you. “You ready?” You took a deep breath and nodded.
“You got this,” He said with a bright smile before pulling the door open, letting you slip inside.
“Thanks, Clark,” You said with a smile of your own.
“No problem, Y/N,” Clark answered. You stepped into the room and heard Clark shut the door behind you. You walked to the left of the room. It was large and had dark walls, deep-colored hardwood floors, and pictures of previous senators. There were a few large desks in the room, the largest one next to another door at the back. A man in his late twenties sat the desk, taping away at his desktop computer. He had dark, curly hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. He glanced up as the door closed and met your gaze. He sighed.
“Nice of you to finally show up, Ms. Y/L/N,” He said flatly.
“Sorry, Tony,” You said. “My bus was diverted and-”
“He’s waiting for you,” Tony interrupted. He nodded his head towards the door next to his desk. You gulped and nodded, walking to the door. When you rested your hand on the handle, Tony spoke up.
“Try not to get fired,” He mumbled. “You’re the only idiot I semi-tolerate in my presence.”
You tried to see past his grumpy tone and acknowledge the fact he was trying to say something nice.
“For you, I’ll do my best,” You answered with a smile. Tony rolled his eyes. You pushed the door open and stepped into the room. You immediately laid eyes on the four people in the room. One was a man with brown hair that you hadn’t seen before. He was in a chair on the right side of the large desk in the middle of the room and wore a navy suit and black tie. He turned and stood when he saw you, straightening the front of his jacket. He kept his gaze on you but showed no hint of emotion. You noticed the curled wire of an earpiece near his right ear. You shifted your gaze to the other person, at the chair on the left side. It was a woman, slightly older with shoulder-length blonde hair, black glasses, and a dark pantsuit. She was surveying you with a gaze that was a mix of cautious and kind. Another man was standing off to the side. He had blondish-gray hair, a mustache and the same look of emotionlessness as the other man. Finally, you glanced at the man behind the large desk. He was tall with brownish-blond hair and a trim beard. He was wearing a navy suit, white dress shirt, and red tie. Senator Christopher Evans was ever the patriot.
“Y/N,” Senator Evans said, his tone light and cheerful. “Come on in. We were just talking about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” You said, smiling. You walked to the front of the desk and handed the senator the papers you were holding. “Here are those documents you requested. I’m sorry it took a bit longer. My bus was forced to take a long detour because of the protesters on Massachusetts Ave.” There was a pause in the room as the senator took the papers from you.
“That’s actually what we were here to discuss,” The woman said. She rested her gaze on you. You blinked.
“My tardiness?” You asked, trying to mask your confusion. Your heart raced a little. Well, this was easily the weirdest way to get fired.
“No,” Senator Evans said, shaking his head. “The protesters. We’re here to talk about the protesters.”
“Oh,” You said, relief running through you. “I’ll leave you to it then, Senator.” You turned on your heel and headed towards the door.
“Y/N,” The senator said. You stopped and turned, ready to fetch whatever he was about to request. “Actually, I need you to stay here.” You blinked. Would it be improper to ask why? Asking why might show a sign of doubtfulness like you were reluctant to accept whatever the senator wanted to tell you. On the other hand, asking why might show initiative and how you were ready to connect the dots. You decided to go with the latter.
“Do you mind if I ask why, Senator?” You asked.
The senator licked his lips and turned to the man who was standing off the side. The man stepped forward.
“This is Agent Ron Butterfield,” the senator introduced. “He’s with the Secret Service. Go ahead, Ron.”
“Thank you, sir,” The man answered. He had a slightly deeper voice, and exuded authority. He was someone you would want on the President’s protection detail. The man faced you and rested his hands behind his back. “We’ve been receiving threatening emails and phone calls for the past five months. We believe that these are from the protesters that have been very active lately. Or, at least, people who have the same values as the protestors. A majority of the threats were about Senator Evans and his advocacy on gun control legislation. Some of them involved you, Ms. Y/L/N.”
“Me?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
“Yes,” Agent Butterfield answered. “You had a brief appearance in a news clip with Senator Evans. It was brief, but the camera had a clear shot of your face. And in the clip, you were seen talking to Senator Evans after he talked to the press. That made you a target for these people. Normally, the Secret Service would not investigate a matter like this involving a senator, but the threats he is receiving are increasing in frequency and violence. Since Senator Evans is set to go to England with the President in a few days, we’re going to treat the threats as if they were threats against the President himself.”
“Supposedly, these people describe how they want to kill me,” Senator Evans interjected, a slight smile on his face. “My favorite is the one where they spent fifteen pages describing how they wanted to kill me. They said… Oh, what did they say, Ron?”
“It was rather gruesome, Senator Evans,” Agent Butterfield answered. “I don’t think-”
“She can take it, Ron,” Senator Evans said dismissively.
&&&
“A certain group of people described how they were going to, quote, “bash” the senator’s head in with a car door until the bones were crushed, then run over his body with a golf cart until he died.”
You blinked at the brutality of the threat, but a question popped into your mind. “All due respect,” You said slowly. “If he was decapitated, he would already be dead. So, wouldn’t the golf cart part be unnecessary?”
“I like her,” The woman said.
“That’s what makes it my favorite part,” Senator Evans chuckled. “They tried to appear all tough and scary, but in reality, they just came across like idiots.”
&&&
You let out a small, weak chuckle, still slightly horrified at the threats, the fact that the Secret Service was investigating and the sheer gruesome details of the letters.
“I’m sorry,” You said, shaking your head slightly in confusion. “I’m still a little confused as to why this involves me? I’m just an intern. It seems unlikely that an intern would receive death threats. Especially ones that catch the eye of the Secret Service.”
“As I mentioned earlier,” Agent Butterfield said, “Senator Evans, as well as you and some other members of his staff, are set to travel to England with the President in a few days time. With the threats increasing from one hundred letters a week to three hundred a day, we’re going to assume anyone who is going on this trip could be a potential target.”
“And since the purpose of our visit is to gain insight on stricter gun control legislation from the British, it means the people of Britain could be targeted or caught in the cross-fire,” The woman spoke up. Senator Evans nodded.
“That’s right,” He agreed. He sighed and tapped his forehead in realization. “Right. I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Y/N, this is Madam Secretary McCord.”
The woman gave you a smile and held out a hand. You took it, making sure to shake firmly but not too much so.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Secretary,” You said genuinely. “I really admired your movements with the Venezuelan consulate a few years ago.”
“Thank you,” Secretary McCord said. “Good to know someone likes my work.” She gave a slightly condescending look to Senator Evans. The man raised his hands in surrender.
“I didn’t say I disapproved!” He said playfully.
“But you didn’t say that you approved,” Secretary McCord fired back. Her and Senator Evans chuckled.
“Anyway,” Senator Evans said. “All jokes aside, the Secret Service thought it would be good if we collaborated with the British equivalent of the Secret Service so we could have some protection detail.” The senator sat back in his chair.
“And that is where I come in,” Madam Secretary McCord piped up. “I managed to get in contact with the British Metropolitan Police Force and Protection Command to request their help since the Secret Service can’t protect senators and interns as they do with the President.”
“And that is where Officer Budd comes in,” Senator Evans said, motioning to the last man in the room. He was still standing, face stoic and careful. You could tell he was on high alert, but very calm about it. You walked over to him and extended a hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Officer Budd,” You said politely with a smile on your face. The man blinked, glanced at your hand then shot a gaze to Agent Butterfield. The man gave a slight nod. Officer Budd gave you brief handshake then quickly returned his hand to its original position in front of him, gently gripping his other wrist. You could tell by the handshake that he was strong but his grip was very light. You blinked, trying to figure out if you somehow overstepped protocol or offended him. You bit back a sigh. It would have nice to have a little heads up beforehand, that way you could figure out what not to do in a situation like this. But, you tried to shrug it off. That was what it was like in politics. Things hardly ever went as planned.
“The Protection Command have very little physical contact with their protectees,” Agent Butterfield explained. “Don’t take it personally.”
“They’re almost like the British castle guards,” Madam Secretary said, stepping to you and resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “They won’t do anything unless they need to get you to a safer location or you ask them to do something.” You nodded. So you overstepped protocol. But, you didn’t know. Not that big of a deal. Right? You licked your lips and ran your hands over your skirt.
“Apologies. So, Officer Budd,” You said kindly. “Are you going to be on the protection detail?”
“No, mom,” The man answered shortly. You blinked. Mom? Now you were thoroughly confused. You glanced at the senator, then Secretary McCord. The secretary took the lead in the conversation.
“That’s what we were discussing when you first arrived,” The woman explained. “Officer Budd was explaining to us that traditional detail might not work in a scenario like this.” She nodded to Officer Budd. “Could you please explain to her what you told us, Officer Budd?”
The man nodded again. “Yes, mom,” He answered. He shifted his body so he was squarely facing you, instead of at a slight angle like he had been before. “With approximately twenty-four staff members and five interns, that is a lot of bodies to cover. Traditionally, we would staff two or three officers per person. Since we have to protect our own officials, that is simply not possible. We can provide ten officers personally selected by our commander for the detail. Beyond that, we cannot provide any more.”
As he spoke, you realized he had a very heavy British accent. It wasn’t the stereotypical accent that people tended to think of when they thought of the British, it was thicker and sounded almost like it had a bit of a Scottish accent. So, when he was saying “mom” he was probably saying “ma’am”. You felt a little proud of yourself at your deductive reasoning but kept it internal.
“And since the only two people mentioned in the threats were Senator Evans and yourself, Ms. Y/L/N, you will have your own personal guard 24/7. That guard will be under whichever cover they deem to fit the situation once it has been assessed.”
You blinked as you processed the information. “Constant protection?” You repeated. Officer Budd nodded.
“Yes, mom,” He answered. You bit your lip.
“How is that going to work?” You inquired.
“An officer will stay with you at all times, morning and night, to ensure your safety. Since they cannot spare other officers for you, you will have just the one officer,” Agent Butterfield answered. “We personally vetted their candidates for the detail and approved every single one.”
You nodded slowly, still processing the information. There was going to be a complete stranger with you every single minute of every day. What if it was someone you didn’t like? What if it was someone who didn’t like you? What if they were mean? Would they have to stay in your room with you? What if they tried to take advantage of you? You tried to force the fears out of your mind.
“You’ll meet your protection detail when you land in London,” Agent Butterfield explained. “And since this involves the officer developing a cover, we need to keep everything that was said in this room. No one beyond this room, my team and Officer’s Budd’s team know about this operation. It’s best if we keep it that way.”
You nodded. “Understand, Agent Butterfield.”
Senator Evans clapped his hands. “All right!” He said cheerfully. “On that note, I need to get back to work. I have a few Twitter fights to get into.”
“I have to make some calls to the Italian ambassador coming here tomorrow,” Secretary McCord said. She gently gripped your arm and smiled. “It was wonderful to meet you, Y/N. Let me know if you have any questions and I’ll do my best to help you.”
“Of course, Madam Secretary,” You said. “Thank you. And it was wonderful to meet you too.” The secretary smiled again and left, her heels clicking lightly against the floor.
“Officer Budd and I are going to go over more details, Senator Evans,” Agent Butterfield said.
“Yeah, of course!” The senator said. He motioned towards the door. “Go ahead. Thank you!”
“Thank you, Officer Budd. And Agent Butterfield,” You said as the two men left the room. Officer Budd stopped, turned towards you to give you a stiff nod then left the room. Agent Butterfield gave a small smile and a nod before following the British officer out of the door. When the door closed, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and slumped into the chair the secretary had sat in. It was still slightly warm.
“If you need to take a minute, you can,” Senator Evans said. He was already tapping away on his keyboard. “But I literally mean only sixty seconds. Then get your ass out of here and go back to work.”
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Michael O’Neill as Chaplain David Kendricks in Clemency (2019). Mike has 122 acting credits, from a 1981 tv episode, to a 2021 episode of This Is Us. His other notable credits include Sea of Love, Lorenzo’s Oil, 24 episodes of Days of Our Lives, The Legend of Bagger Vance, Traffic, Seabiscuit, 16 episodes of The West Wing, Transformers, four episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, Dallas Buyer’s Club, eight episodes of Bates Motel, and five episodes of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The longer I'm involved in this journey, the more I realize that my Yoga has evolved into a means of letting go and surrendering to change, passage, death, to move away from fear, the fears that bind us.
– Michael O'Neill
