The Picnic – An Anticipating One-Shot

Godric reclined in his office chair and gazed out the window into the lantern-lit darkness.  He was heartily proud of the vast amount of paperwork he’d just completed.  As much as he hated doing paperwork in general, this was gladly done to secure his Mate’s future solvency and security.

The length of his life, no matter how technically immortal, was never guaranteed.  This thought had never overly concerned him before…until he met his Cara. .  It was his joy and duty to insure not only his Mate’s survival, but also her future comforts…whether or not he was around.   The world he lived in was a very violent place, prone to secrecy and manipulations and torture.  While he would always do his dead-level best to shield his Cara from such things, precautions must be set in motion long before they were ever needed.

He gathered and sorted the few remaining pieces of paper on his desk and tucked some of them into their appropriate folders.  He then placed those into a separate safe held for this specific purpose.  In the back of that safe, which was cleverly and indiscernibly mounted into the wall of his office’s supply closet, was a backpack, large, yet suitable for an average-sized female.  That backpack contained piles of paper currency:  $30,000 in American cash, and half that in each of the currencies of Australia, Sweden, South Africa, Bulgaria, Denmark, Japan, and Moldavia.

But that was mere pocket change.  Into each of her new names he had placed a small fortune via discrete on-line international demon-controlled banking systems.  His forger had done an excellent, and quick, job of creating his Cara nine different new identities, each with complete paper documentation, ready for her use should she ever need them.  That thick folder was already in the backpack, as well.

He lifted the last document he needed from the printer and folded it.  It was a list of names and details of his closest and most trusted allies.  He placed it into the remaining folder along with a list of his most secure, and least known, American safe-houses..  He placed everything into a neat pile and secured the safe with satisfaction.

Simply put, his Cara could disappear into the winds in luxurious comfort should she ever have to.  His job was to ensure she never needed to.

In an unusual gesture betraying the weight on his strong shoulders, Godric lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he contemplated the sheer number of political land mines he, therefore they, would need to dodge. Now was so not the time to have found his Mate, but find her he had, and her safety was paramount.

His demons and responsibilities weren’t hers to bear, nor were their potential consequences hers to suffer.

A moment later his thoughts were happily interrupted by the sound of his beloved coming home.  He had been surprised by how quickly she’d gotten accustomed to shopping with her guards.  The joyful sound of her voice and the feeling of her excitement through the Bond told him that her trip was a success.

She was taking him on a midnight picnic in the secluded gardens behind the mansion.  He couldn’t wait.

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*Thoughts?*

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