Title: Anchor
Series: Project: Helsinki
Characters/Pairings: Mentions of characters from icelilly’s “Project: Helsinki”, Original Characters
Rating: Teen
Summary: Mariska Santos hates politics. Too bad that’s a huge part of her job. Takes place six months before Belle is elected for her first term.
Status: One-Shot, Complete

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Mariska hated politics.

Well, hate probably wasn’t a strong enough word. In reality she loathed politics.

She hadn’t always hated politics. During her time at University, she had taken a number of Poltical Science classes in order to supplement her Journalism degree. It was only when she took the anchor position on the CBC’s Toronto Affiliate that she began seeing political debate as a bottomless pit of never-ending debate and reoccurring migraines.

Mariska got a lot of migraines. Whenever she wasn’t in front of the camera, she barricaded herself inside her office and self-medicated. Most people had enough common sense to let her rest, and wait until she was ‘on duty’, so to speak, in order to ask her anything.

‘Most’ being the operative word

“What is it Julie?” Mariska snapped, spotting the intern hovering in the doorway to her office.

“I’m sorry Miss Santos,” Julie chirped, her voice going up an octave, “Mr. Peters wanted me to give you this right away.”

“If this is another report on Agathe fucking Bellerose touring a vineyard I will rip your head off!” Mariska snapped, snatching the paper before Julie ran away in fright.

Mariska rubbed her temples and thumbed through the packet of papers. More politics, Mariska sighed to herself, flipping through a few more pages before setting the packet down and rubbing her temples again.

The Election was only six months away, and it seemed like it would never arrive. Gone were the days of the salaciousness of crack smoking mayors – instead it was a never ending exchange of rhetoric between each of the parties. Even the traditional aspects of an election like this were more boring than usual. A three minute fluff piece a month before on the adopted daughter of Belle Beaumont was probably the most interesting story about the election she had done in ages, and that was mostly because she got to see a group of girls perform a traditional Ukrainian dance.

Despite living in Toronto, Mariska’s life was painfully devoid of culture.

She opened up the packet to flip though again. Apparently a new industrial strength bridge being constructed in Nova Scotia had become a political flashpoint for some godforsaken reason. It probably came down to money. There was no question that the current government wasn’t the most efficient with their spending but it was hardly a point that needed to be trumpeted constantly.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number of one of the names listed. Murray Goldrick, Mariska wrinkled her nose, not this clown again.

Once the phone picked up there was a crash on the other end, causing Mariska to jump from her seat. “Drop those drums again and Goldrick will knock your head off!” Someone yelled.

Mariska took a deep breath and sat back down, “Hello?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” The person on the other end replied. Mariska smirked. Talk about unprofessional, this person is going to get fired so quickly.

“My name is Mariska Santos from CBLT-DT.” She explained, “I’m calling to clarify about the spending report issued today-“

“Oh yeah that,” the person on the other end coughed, “Mr. Goldrick is out of the office today so he can’t comment on that.”

“I see,” Mariska frowned, before something struck her. Drawing her speech out into a drawl, she continued, “That’s too bad. I was hoping to get this report done early so I could get out of here. Sounds like fun where you are.”

“It’s all setup right now so it isn’t very fun. But yeah, ‘round here it is pretty chill most of the time. What did you say your name was?”

“Mari Santos,” Mariska repeated, hoping that this guy didn’t register that she was an on-air anchor. “I’m so stressed out all of the time here. Mr. Peters barely gives us any time to ourselves.”

“I hear that,” The man laughed, the throaty sound suggesting a long history of smoking, “Until I got to this job I was on my feet constantly. But these conferences are such a breath of fresh air ya know?”

Bingo.

“I hear ya,” Mariska forced herself to laugh. “I’ll try checking with Mr. Goldrick in a few days. Thank you so much for your help.”

Before the man could say anything Mariska hung up and began dialing again.

“Hey Peters, this is Santos. I was going over this report you sent over and I had a question. What exactly is the deal with this bridge?”

“God Mariska, did you even read the report?” Peters sighed in exasperation, “Basically, people in the region don’t think the project is necessary and they could be spending the money on something else. It’s just like that highway expansion in the Yukon last month. The candidates for Prime Minister are using this as an example of budget mismanagement.”

“Does it say anything about conferences?” Mariska asked.

“Conferences?” Peters asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Does this debate have anything to do with conferences?”

“They’re minor public works projects. They don’t have conferences.”

“In that case,” Mariska grinned, “I think I may have found something. Get Julie in here. I need her to take some notes while to make some phone calls.“