Rating: PG-13 (Fantasy Violence, Sexual Situations)
Pairings: Hilary/Jeff, Scott/Betty, Victor/Maple
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rupert Holmes. The show belongs to AMC.
Prologue and epilogue set directly after the 4th season episode “And If I Die Before I Sleep.”
Prologue - September 1941
“Ahhhhchooo!” Maple LaMarsh sneezed heavily as she and WENN station manager Victor Comstock made their way out of radio station WENN. “Thanks, Victor.” She gave him the most flirtatious grin she could manage with the flu as he handed her a tissue. “Even when sick, we make a pretty good team, don’t we? You n’ me n’ Betty n’ Scotty n’ Mr. Eldridge n’ Gertie.”
Victor nodded. “Allow me to heartily agree with that statement, Miss LaMarsh. I’ve always held great pride in how every staff member at WENN is capable of working together to deal with a crisis. In this case, it likely didn’t save the broadcast, but it did allow us to solve the mystery of why it degenerated into chaos. Sherwood told me after he came to his senses that he and Miss Roberts would deal with the press.”
“I feel sorry for Scotty. He was the one who figured out what that Brumpton n’ Abernathy were up to, and he still passed out.” Maple rubbed furiously at her dripping nose. “At least Betty seemed ok. Hilary and Jeff were gone. They still hadn’t gotten up when we left. I bet they won’t be up for hours.”
Victor gave her a small, boyish smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Would you mind it terribly if I walked you home?” He pushed the button for the elevator. “It’s much too late…or early, as the case may be…for you to be going home alone, even if you were feeling completely up to par.”
She gave Victor the most flirtatious smile she could manage with another sneeze tickling her nose. “Sure thing, Victor.” He sure was good looking, for a guy missing half his hair. He had this intense stare that could scare almost anyone, except maybe Hilary…but then, he would give her that little smile, his eyes would gleam, and he’d let loose with that throaty chuckle, like he was now. She had to grab the railing on the elevator to keep from ending up as a puddle on the floor.
“What are we gonna do ‘bout those two anyway?” Maple sneezed again. “I know you said we can’t call the cops on Abernathy and Brumpton, but they did try to sab-o-togie us.”
“We can’t call the police to apprehend them, I’m afraid. They haven’t done anything punishable by normal law.” His peach smile became wide and nearly feral. “The best way to combat them is to do what we did tonight and give our story to the press. Discrediting them and revealing their plot would do more damage to them and to the station in Philadelphia that hired them than the law ever could.”
Maple nodded. She was really only half-listening through a haze of cough medicine and sinus aches. “Ya know,” she admitted drowsily as she admired his strong chest, “I’ll bet none of those cops would look as cute as you did in that police officer’s uniform you wore a few weeks ago. Do you know, that was the first time I ever saw you?”
His face fell, and those gleaming whiskey eyes clouded a bit. “I…don’t remember that.”
“You don’t?” Maple frowned. “But you looked so good in that uniform! I wouldn’t mind bein’ arrested by a cop who looked as good as you.”
He sighed, frowning deeply. “Miss LaMarsh, I have very little memory of the night I returned from Europe, or anything that occurred before then. The doctors in Washington say my brain was so thoroughly controlled, I may never regain my full memories of that night or my work in London.”
“But…” Maple sneezed again. “You don’t even remember how we met? Or how crazy things got that night?” She couldn’t help her dismay as they stepped off the elevator. “You don’t remember me endin’ up wet, or Mackie callin’ all the craziness What’s Wrong With This Program and askin’ people to call in? By the way,” she sniffled and managed a small grin, “no one called.”
Victor shook his head as he led her through the dark radio store and onto North Gedney. “I’m afraid not, Miss LaMarsh. I only recall snippets of that night, and have even less recollection of my time in Europe. I know,” he added softly as they stepped up to the trolley stop sign, “that my mind is fragmented, that it may never be what it was. I did find out that someone told the Nazis I was Johnthan Arnold. That’s all I can remember. I don’t know who committed the act, or how it came about.”
“Ooooh!” Maple’s shriek rocked the air, punctured by another loud sneeze. “I think I can guess who tattled on ya. Pavla Nemcova probably did it. Ya know, the chick Jeff married to save you? She musta got pissed off because Scott n’ Betty tricked her by dressin’ Foley as Trevor Zanish an’ made her look like an idiot.” She sneezed violently, covering her nose with the tattered tissue as her head pounded in her skull. “Bet she went back on her word at first opportunity.”
“If she is as odious as Hilary and Jeff describe her, none of this would surprise me in the least.” Victor sighed, rubbing his head. “It’s too bad she seems to have vanished into the night, so to speak. No one here or in Europe can find her. Jeff is beside himself with fury and anguish. Hilary has been unusually cruel to him, even for her. I had to have a severe discussion with them about airing their personal grievances in a public forum after the incident with You’ve Met Your Match.”
Maple dabbed at her increasingly hot head with the tissue. “Pablum told Hilary Jeff didn’t love her anymore! She was so lost after that…that WITCH said she was Jeff’s wife. God, she acted so old. Like she didn’t care anymore.” She had just enough energy to punch the air with her fists. “Wish I could have helped Scotty n’ Betty with Scotty’s scheme, but I was announcin’ the boxin’ match that night.”
“You were announcing the match?” Victor raised an eyebrow as the bright red and yellow trolley pulled up to the curb. “I would have thought Mackie or Sherwood would perform that function.”
“Mackie was with me.” Victor took Maple’s hand and helped her onto one of the polished wooden seats in the back. “Usually, Scott announces the fights with Mackie, but dressin’ up Foley to fool Pavla was his idea. He wanted to be there to make sure it worked.”
Victor settled next to her as the trolley lurched down North Gedney. Thank goodness there were only two or three people on board with them at this hour of the morning. She was half-asleep as it was. “You admire Sherwood greatly, don’t you?” He asked in a soft, husky voice.
“Well, yeah. We’ve been buddies for a long time.” She looked up at him with a slightly loopy grin. “Victor Comstock, are you jealous?”
“Me?” Victor’s warm voice went up an octave. He turned nearly as red as the sunrise that burnished the warm brick buildings whizzing by them. “No,” he coughed, “I’m not at all jealous. I barely know Sherwood. He does appear to have a rather unseemly attraction to Betty.”
“I don’t think it’s unseemly.” Maple yawned. “I’ve never seen him this crazy ‘bout any girl. He really loves her. I just wish she was nicer to him. It’s like she’s waitin’ for her prince charmin’ to ride up on his charger. Scotty ain’t a prince, but he’s there, and he’s a nice guy. No one’s perfect.”
Victor’s voice softened. “What about you, Miss LaMarsh?”
“Me?” The rising sun fell on her long curls held back by the snood, making the coppery wisps almost glow against her pale skin. “Well, I wouldn’t mind a Prince Charmin’, but I’m more used to savin’ myself.” She closed her eyes and leaned against his broad shoulder in the gray tweed coat. “I wouldn’t mind havin’ a guy like you save me. You ain’t so bad, really. You figured out what was goin’ on with that Valerian stuff Brumpton’ was usin’ to drug everyone.”
“Yes, Miss LaMarsh,” he chided gently, “but you were the one who stopped Brumpton from administering more of the drugs, while recovering from illness. That’s no mean feat.”
She barely shrugged and coughed a bit. “Did what I hadda do. I turned on the show to hear how it was goin’, and nothin’ they were sayin’ was makin’ any sense. I knew somethin’ was wrong.”
“Sleep depredation is an ugly thing, Miss LaMarsh.” He sighed. “You were correct that I really should be running my station. If I’d been there to monitor the broadcast, I might have been able to deduce their machinations upon their arrival and ended the entire incident before it began.”
“Hey.” Maple looked up at him with her large brown eyes, gleaming with illness. “Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t, either. I got sick! I wasn’t plannin’ on that!”
“You’re correct about that, too.” He gave her that little boy smile again. “You’re a courageous, charming, and talented woman. Your organ and piano playing are exemplary, and you’re a talented actress. You just lack polish.”
She yawned. “What about Betty? Ain’t you goin’ out with her?”
“Yes, I am. Sometimes. When I’m able.” He coughed as the trolley rolled to a stop.
She stood. “This is where I’m gettin’ off, Victor. Thanks for the ride.”
He took her hand. “Let me walk you to your home. I don’t mind catching the next trolley.”
“It’s right here.” She nodded at the tall old brick apartment tower just outside the stop. He took her arm, and they strolled right up to the front door. “Thanks for bringin’ me home, Victor. You gonna be here tomorrow?”
“Yes, Miss LaMarsh. I won’t be going to Washington again until the end of the week.” He tucked one errant copper curl under the snood. The sun continued to rise around them, hiding everything behind long, dark shadows. “You get some needed rest. We’ll discuss your acting career when you return.”
She had to ruin the tender moment with a sneeze that rattled the tin trash can covers! “Ok, Victor! See you then!” She felt dizzy as she made her way inside and up the old stairs with the matted maroon carpet. It was probably just the flu, but no other guy ever made her feel like this before. Not even that governor she dated last year who turned out to be a real jerk.
Victor was different. He didn’t care how she talked, or that she was an actress. He liked her being an actress. He just liked her. She didn’t even mind his long words that some of the staff joked about when he wasn’t there. That’s just how he was. He was an inter-lec-tual.
The moment she got inside, she hurried out to her fire escape, opened the window, and peered out. “Victor!” He turned around, holding his coat and hat. “See you later!” She blew him a kiss and waved at him. He gave her a wave, a little salute, and that sweet peach smile again before heading for the trolley stop.
“He’s the original sweetie,” she murmured as she got out of her old red sweater and dress and into her nightgown. “I’m glad he wasn’t dead. He really is a prince charmin’.”
She got a glass of water from the kitchen, then slid under the patchwork quilt her grandmother made her years ago and cuddled her favorite old stuffed bear Walter. “Come on, Walt,” she whispered as she turned on the small green Bakelite radio next to her bed, “let’s see how Betty’s doin’. She was pretty much the only one up and about when we left.”
Betty was just finishing The Wizard of Oz as she switched on WENN. Maple smiled a bit as she began Rapunzel. “I kind of like that one,” she murmured. “I know how that poor kid feels, stuck up in that tower. Sometimes, I don’t think anyone really sees me, either.”
“If only,” she murmured as she leaned back in her pillow, “Victor really was my prince charmin’ who could save me from the tower. If only I could stop him from runnin’ off to Washington and everywhere else all the time! If only Betty would see Scotty for the great guy he is. If only Hilary and Jeff would stop arguin’ and letting Pavla come between them…if only…” Her long copper eyelashes fluttered closed, lulled by the soft sounds of Betty’s gentle voice and the story of the girl in the tower, before she could come up with any more “if onlys.”
No comments:
Post a Comment