What This Night May Bring

"There is an ongoing Ultimados operation, providing subtle protection for some vital overseas interests of San Finzione. The assignment is in a civilian setting, so it calls for an undercover operation. I'm certain you know that this is an area in which La Squadra de Ultimados does not have the best of track records." They both nodded. "The problem, as far as I can see, is that the two Ultimados I assigned to this task, while certainly skilled enough for it, were unable to believably pose as a married couple, and the subjects made them almost immediately. I'm certain they'd like to come home. But I'm also certain that selling the cover story is vital to this assignment. This leaves me in the position of needing to find two Ultimados who could believably pose as a married couple to watch over these highly valuable foreign assets of San Finzione's. As one of them has told me in the past, the secret of a successful undercover operation is to maintain appearances, even when you're certain you're not being watched."

Maisson and Velasquez nodded again, seeing where La Contessa was going with this, and letting her talk as they stole glances at each other.

"I assigned two heterosexual men to live together and pose as a gay married couple, and that's why the mistake is mine. The assignment calls for two Ultimados who are more comfortable with each other that simply being ok sleeping on separate beds in the same room. In addition to their surveillance duties, the Ultimados for the job would need to be able to keep up the façade at all times; they'd have to be completely comfortable with each other physically, of course. They may even have to go on dates or give each other romantic gifts to maintain the illusion. All on their expense accounts, naturally, justifiable in the course of maintaining appearances. One of the assets can even help with those! And who knows, physical intimacy may even be required of them. That's a thing that they'd have to be comfortable enough with each other to be able to perform on command. If, say, an enemy were ever to point a gun at them and demand that they prove that they're married, or he'll shoot someone; you have to consider possibilities like that when you're Contessa, you know. Forced to think about it now, I can't say for certain that I might not, at some point, conduct a drill around that very scenario.

"There's no hurry, though. The assets in question are in San Finzione for the Festival. They're secure for now. If two Ultimados wished to volunteer for this indeterminate-length mission that should take them far away from any active combat duty but is nonetheless vital to the security of the Sovereign County and Independent Nation-State of San Finzione. And to La Contessa de San Finzione personally, I'm certain Ortega would approve a pass for them. I also believe that the La Contessa suite at the Hotel de Riviera Finzione is open at this time, and available if two interested Ultimados wished to take the rest of the week practicing for the assignment and report to my office... say, Monday afternoon/Tuesday morning-ish, for further orders. Again, on the government, in the interest of training for the vital duties before them."

Velasquez fought to contain her glee and avoid nodding foolishly to volunteer, Maisson's hesitation to do so, the only thing stopping her. Helen lit another cigarette while he thought for a moment before answering.

"I see only one impediment to my volunteering for this important mission, Contessa. In addition to my duties to La Squadra de Ultimados, it is also my honor to serve as Personal Physician to Contessa Helena de San Finzione. A deep cover operation in another country would affect my ability to perform my duties to La Contessa."

Helen took a long drag as she thought about this.

"That IS, indeed, a consideration, Maisson. We couldn't well have you traveling back and forth between San Finzione and Seattle all the time and maintain appearances. Did I mention the assignment's near Seattle? That might've been 'need-to-know,' but yeah. I suppose La Contessa could accept the burden of making regular day trips to Seattle; which would also give her a perfectly good excuse to regularly look in on the assets you'd be guarding. We may even be able to set you up with a private home practice to provide you with the best possible cover story and an excuse to be home and awake at all hours. As a matter of fact, one of the assets would probably appreciate having a doctor with a nice, friendly, non-clinical-looking home office just across the street, making your job even easier. Marisol, the only other cover job we have right now would be taking over the do-nothing operation of the unspecified dotcom business that the previous Ultimados ran. Maybe you can help us come up with something better for that, too. Turn it into a real business, for the sake of the operation, of course. I can recommend a good web designer in the area if you've got any ideas."

The two of them stood forward and saluted. La Contessa rose and returned it.

"I'll go inform Ortega about the assignment. You two may wish to go pack civilian clothes for your training mission. Or don't. The shops in the hotel will open at any time, day or night, for a call from the La Contessa Suite, and you can charge any special equipment or clothing you might need to the room. You'll undoubtedly need new wardrobes for the mission, anyway. You also might want to read up on the Equals and Bailey files... eh, you know those guys; you'll have plenty of time for that later. Dismissed."

* * *

That evening, Contessa Helena de San Finzione entered the La Contessa Suite of a different hotel in downtown San Finzione. She opened the door to find a red ribbon leading up a path strewn with rose petals to one of the suite's bedrooms.

"Mr. Stromberg?" She called out to the empty room. "Sorry about not knocking, it's a law you might not be aware of that I'm welcome everywhere in San Finzione, so it slips my mind sometimes."

"Ja, I am being up hjere." A man's voice upstairs said. Helen could clearly hear the "j" he'd shoehorned into the word "here." She smiled and followed the ribbon path past the master bedroom to the one where it led.

Helen stopped and slinked up against the doorframe seductively, looking into the room but not seeing anyone.

"Yes, I had a feeling you'd be up here, Mr. Karl Stromberg." She squealed as Troy Equals crept up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. "Villain of the James Bond classic "The Spy Who Loved Me. Your name kind of stood out on my list!" She spun around and smooched the man she called "The Last Living Man That I Love." "So, what brings us here?"

"A conversation we had a couple months ago, a text from Maisson earlier today, and this." Troy took out a crumpled piece of La Contessa's royal stationary and shook the cigarette ashes out of it. Helen turned bright red as Troy walked over to the bed and sat on it.

"Dear Cupid," He read. "I have no fucking clue why I'm writing this. You're not real, I'm making all this shit up. Well, Troy & Julie started it, but I took it from there. They're who this letter is about, of course. In the name of all-powerful Athiesmo, I am writing a letter to fucking CUPID, because on the holiday dedicated to him, that I made up, he's supposed to get it and come to my aid!

"A couple weeks ago, I was able to talk to them about the possibility of having a child with Troy. I know that I spent 27 years thinking 'Why would I inflict this whole Life Thing this on another human being that I'd supposedly love?' I don't even have pets, because they'd just be another thing to love, lose, and bury. But it's been on my mind a lot more. Hell, my dearest friends have to periodically remind me that I'm not alone in the world. I'd like to think that having a child with Troy would change that. That I'd find these 'maternal instincts' I've always read about, but only ever really caught a glimpse of at Julie's house. Apparently, involves more than applying concealer while repeatedly, drunkenly slurring the words 'everything's fine' at your broken make-up mirror. So, Marion Parker wasn't much of a help there." Troy skipped down a bit. "There's more about her and Wade, then it continues. Cupid, there have been three men in my life whom I would use the word 'good' to describe, and two of them are dead. If there's anyone whose genes stand a chance of mixing with my horrible, piece-of-shit criminal ones and have something good come out of it, it's Troy; to say nothing of a human being worthy of the name and throne of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione, Forever Does He Fucking Reign in MY Fucking Heart. I've spent months thinking on this now, Cupid. It's Troy or nobody. My vow to never marry another man has always included an 'except for Troy; like that would ever happen, because something would have to go bad with him and Julie and Susan first, and I love them all too much to allow that' clause. And I'm pretty sure that IF I have a chance to get this right, I'm only going to get the one." Troy put the crumpled letter away. "It gets a lot more insulting until you finally say 'fuck this and fuck you' in big letters on the bottom of the back page."

"I wouldn't expect him to answer a letter that rude at all." Helen said with a drag of smoke, walking over to the bed to sit next to Troy. "Hell, I'd expect the person who wrote that letter to have gotten too upset to continue and thrown it in the trash instead of mailing it and might need to have a word with her maid about it in the morning."

"I'm sure she was just following Cupid's orders." Troy said as he stroked Helen's hair. "Acting out of concern for her Contessa." He kissed Helen deeply.

"Speaking of concern, where are Julie, Susan, Colleen... probably a couple more you've met today?"

"Meeting up back at the castle. They've got something planned. As for my instructions from Julie, they are 'This time, I don't want to hear the story later. Tonight's between you and that...' Well, what she usually calls you."

Helen nodded, removing her jacket.

"Yeah, and you know what to call her back."

"Took care of it before I left."

"Good."

"She said that if Maisson's message was right, that this night should be about you, not her. She didn't command me or anything, however I'm supposed to put her out of my mind, too, and she's ok if you want to do that. Just remember to put her back when you're done."

"How could I possibly fucking do that, Troilus?" Helen asked him in Greek while she unbuttoned his shirt. "Making you forget Julie would erase, like, 80% of who you are. We'd have nothing to talk about except money and James Bond all night."

"We could talk about how happy I am to give My First Girlfriend something she wants so badly."

"Or we could stop talking about it, and get on with it, Troy." Helen replied, putting out her cigarette with a grin.

And so they did.