InsaneJournal

Current mood:	loved
Entry tags:	any man of mine, in my time of dying, lynn, max, nano, risko, stephen, work

Section 2 (Instalment 2)
Word count: 1 732


His office had the neatness of somebody who both had grown up having not much at all to learn to scatter around, and needed to have all the information organized and available in the fastest possible way. He could easily deal with organized chaos too, no problem at all, all the clues where to find this or that were sorted and stacked in his mind (that had helped immensely raising children - and then giving them free run, at least for periods of time, in not one but two wizarding workshops when they reached their teens), but here that sometimes, often, lives could depend on the precise, complete planning, he couldn't take chances of missing something.

Of course, it also had a feel of his place, just as anything that he touched, where he spent time, did. It just wasn't confusing. That was also an example for the people who worked under him. Not necessarily keep things meticulous or perfect, but keep everything in functional, working order. Streamline to optimize, aiming at the achievement of goals.

Which, in turn, he had learned from Stephen. Who was extremely good at what he did. Not just the business end of it. Reading people and putting them at the right places in the general scheme. Working intensely towards goals without losing sight of the fact that it was people who got to do the job, and people had quirks, peculiarities, needs, qualities, flaws that were all their own. Brilliance and limitations. He always made a point to know his people, especially the key ones, but nobody was truly below the radar all the time; like a specialist knowing a mechanism throughout, to the last nut and bolt and cogwheel, and being able to detect what was needed, and what was wrong when something broke or slowed, Stephen ran his company so that all who stayed were content. And that, Max tried to transfer to his own department, even with less aristocratic flair. (Then again, smaller and rowdier as Security was, by default, he could work with less grace and more directness. And a sense of humor, ranging from absurd to dark when necessary. Not that the company's owner lacked a sense of humor either. It just tended to be more... subtle - unless it was rather, ah, physical; the time where he'd been close to getting in trouble for slapping his wife's ass among her family was almost legendary... in a rather intimate circle. Possibly that was why it was also somewhat shy, with strangers, but in his position, that wasn't necessarily a drawback.)

Stephen, Max thought with amusement, taking the two files and heading over to pick up Lynn and Risko, often appeared cold and distant. But nobody who got to watch, really watch, over a period of time, could doubt that he cared for his people. And all his employees were that. Best protection, optimal conditions, each person to his or her place, knowing what was happening to each of them. Making sure not too much pressure was applied to any who might be undergoing a difficult time, and so on and so forth.

Stephen had an amazing ability to read people, to estimate their abilities and to know why they did what they did and how he could motivate them to perform at their level best. The schooled, cool politeness with which he addressed whatever came his way generally allowed him to get good readings without getting anybody unhappy or upset. And yes, it was a sort of distance that he put between himself and everybody. Somewhat less now than when they'd first met. He had been so really cold, back then. He'd been really, really startled at Max's sense of humor, not knowing how to react, not knowing how to take him seriously either. But he'd questioned, and had found enough in the answer to give him a chance. To give him that job.

That had changed. Maybe because of that first mess of a mission, when keeping his ass safe had been the assignment and he'd done it, and well, at that. Little bit of respect. Recognition of what was behind the words too, behind the cracks, behind the bluster. The fact that the bluster was fully backed up, the cockiness was not arrogance but solid self-assurance based on knowledge one's own abilities. Very few people looked that deeply anyway.

Slowly, with time, Stephen had relaxed. There had been that one time when they really got drunk together - well, for the first time, but back then they couldn't know that. But more than that, he'd started hearing the jokes, making sense of them. And, eventually, laughing at them too, which had really warmed Max's heart.

Bit by bit, the cold, unapproachable Stephen LaMarck had cultivated a friend. Somebody very much not up at his level, but somebody who wouldn't let him down. Not then, not now, not ever.

And he'd also used that friendship, wisely and with Max's full awareness and consent. Max was friendly. Communicative. Warm. He got people to open up, to tell what was currently going on, to let him in behind walls because, yes, laughter and skill and genuine warm attention could do that. And so sometimes Max would also be the one to bring up to his boss about what was happening in the company, with the employees. Who needed attention and how, where there was something happening that might need working on. Small, short debriefings in Stephen's office or one of the meeting rooms helped work run smoother. Eased a bit of the responsibility off the owner's shoulders too.

Because really, Max had grown to care for him. You put your life on the line for somebody and try to avoid thinking he must be important; of course, that was so - but this, this was more than that. Stephen was good people. Even with the chill and the distance, he paid attention, he made things happen the right way, the way they should, rather than forcing them into an impossibility because of tradition or preconception that might or might not be valid. He was somebody worth working for. Worth being loyal to, and loyal right back.

In fact, they had both grown to care about each other. First just as co-workers. Then as tentative friends. Then as actual friends, words exchanged that Stephen probably didn't tell to many others and likely didn't hear from almost anybody else. No, with the jokes, Max was certain that he was the one who gave them to him that way, the encouragement, the occasional criticism or warning, or the distraction that they could be.

For all intents or purposes, that's how things were between of them. Publicly. The people they worked iwth daily in the company; their business associates; observers, close or distant would see that - a boss and an employee, a lot of the time personal bodyguard, chief of security overall, and a friend to go to a bar with after hours. Mostly for a beer or two (or something harder. Stephen knew very well how to get smoothly drunk when he chose to, and Max could bear his liquor passably, and most people wouldn't get how bad things were sometimes but? They didn't need to. On the other hand, if they were bad, either Sol or Dia would find a way to let them know. Usually the next day, or in a couple of days, when they were feeling responsible again. They did know how to leave a lasting impression, both of them. Then again, this wasn't even the most important way in which they demonstrated that.) Occasionally a bit more extravagant, but still nothing really revealing. (Really. Metropolis wasn't that bad, and he had to admit that even if not usual anymore those days, the make-up and costume had been fun to wear.)

But they were more. Making sure that they were both protected from this - not emotionally, they'd both admitted freely to each other feelings and sharing and what not, they could face the world with that and Max knew it, but physically, since that way he could be used as a leverage on his boss, and that idea sat badly with both of them, if for differing reasons - it was all under closed doors. But not admitting it was both silly and totally disregarding the long road that Stephen had passed to get there.

Knowing his father, Max thought wryly, it had been a long road indeed. Nothing short of amazing, really, the yearning for freedom and warmth that had driven a boy to becoming the kind of person Stephen was. He had been so alone, back in the beginning. So incredibly alone that the then-mercenary had been clueless how to help. He hadn't had to go out of his way, however. Just to be himself. There had started a tentative friendship, fellowship, trust, and that had been something.

Then there had been Solace. Most of the time, a queen carved of ice. Beneath that... the kind of person that seemed by now to be half of Stephen - and vice versa - the two of them fitting so well together.

It had not been a lonely road to reach the full potential. In fact, quite possibly the road had been possible because it hadn't been lonely, the aristocratic, smooth, perfect woman on one side, and him, melting ice where ice didn't work, joking, laughing, and protecting on the other. But the heart chilled in childhood until it was almost completely silenced had opened up, and welcomed the world again. The understanding of the keen, amazing mind was softened by the empathy; and warmed up by the presence of love, no, loves in that heart.

Any man of Stephen's, any of his employees, could count on a fair, good deal, generous and demanding, real.

And Max was quite that. Just in more ways than most.

He reached the common area where his people were waiting, and with a few words of greeting, pleasantries not empty but sounding slightly off because of a job starting, he handed them a file each and led out onto the parking lot and into his car.

There were so many reasons he kept on working what he did, danger and physical hurt occasionally happening included. And love, love was definitely one of them.

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