In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Fifty-Three: Chasing Clouds

"Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darling
The lion sleeps tonight"

- The Tokens, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"

Chapter Fifty-Three

I'd heard people say a new dream could be found when a current one was achieved or lost. I used to wonder if that was all life was — was life just spent pining for more?

I'd wondered where the contentment was, the satisfaction, the happiness. I'd wondered if we were just expected to glean what satisfaction we could from the achievement. Derive what contentment was possible from knowing we tried our best, even if the finish line was never reached.

If a goal was achieved, was a momentary thrill of success the only thing to look forward? Do you just move on to another dream? To some new goal that may not even be attained? Are we just forced to give chase to whatever clouds blow in?

Were our entire lives just cycles of discovering and discarding dreams, regardless of whether they happened or not?

I thought about this as I stared at the unimposing man on the other side of the desk. By default, most ambassadors strive for middle ground. Not too dominating, not too meek. Not too pushy, not too pushover. Not too desperate, not too easy-going.

Ambassador Baros was like that. He carried all of, and yet none of, those qualities. I'd recently learned how much someone could be more than one thing; how it was possible to fit in too many boxes at once. Ambassador Baros reminded me of that lesson again.

His expression was impassive, only thoughtful eyes telling me he was listening as I fought the urge to fidget. There was no comfort to be drawn from the hard chair I sat in, but I didn't wish to look anymore unsteady than I surely already did. My back was rigid.

"Well?" Baros finally asked, his tone blank.

I frowned. "Well what, sir?"

Baros puffed a slight, almost imperceivable sigh, and leaned back in his chair. He untwisted his fingers that'd previously been set on the desk before him; instead, he placed one hand on the armrest of his chair and the other propped under his chin. His expectant gaze left mine to look out the window of his office.

D.C. bustled behind the paned glass, hot and heavy under the August heat.

"Who was it?"

My face still showed my confusion.

"Who was it in Cruz's office?" he asked, tapping his chin lightly. "I always liked Cruz. Good head on his shoulders. Hard to find that around here sometimes, Ms. Woodsen."

"Yes. He was a good mentor. I was sorry to leave, but he retired, and it was time. This was always supposed to be the final destination," I acknowledged. Baros nodded.

"And I'm sure it wouldn't have been easy to stay considering everything that happened."

"You're correct, sir, but I was already in the process of moving here when everything started." Baros nodded again in agreement with my statement, remembering the new employee schedule for his office I was supposed to begin months ago. That hadn't happened.

"As for the... ah, person of interest that served as the point of contact for Warren Cawton... well, it turned out to be a little complicated." I shrugged slightly, remembering the events of the past month. It'd been four weeks since I'd almost died, four weeks since Quentin was revealed to be the traitor he was, and four weeks since I'd started therapy.

"How so?"

"It wasn't only one person. When you dig up an area of rot, it usually turns out to be an infestation." I met his gaze evenly. "There was a lot more going on in that office than anyone knew."