Title: Simple Acts of Kindness
Series: Project: Helsinki
Characters/Pairings: Mentions of characters from icelilly’s “Project: Helsinki”, Original Characters
Rating: (Hard) Teen
Summary: Sequel to Anchor. After a news story takes an unexpected turn, esteemed reporter Mariska Santos contemplates its implications and the changes happening in her own life. Takes place five months before Belle is elected for her first term.
Status: One-Shot, Complete


This medication clearly wasn’t doing anything to help her migraine.

Mariska lazily tapped her foot against the pavement, wondering if it would even be worth it to take another pill. She had already ignored the label’s instructions and taken three instead of two, so she was leaning towards giving up on that idea. The last thing she needed was to make herself sick from taking too much Ibuprofen, possibly the lamest way to damage her career imaginable.

To be fair, the headaches would almost certainly stop if she stepped away from work for a bit, but that clearly wasn’t an option. She thought that if she dug up something salacious about this election it would make it more interesting to cover. And it had, for about a day. But in the end it only gave her more busywork and had motivated every cul-de-sac newsletter to do its own thorough investigation of government waste.

Though, to be perfectly honest, Mariska was surprised that the scandal had managed to stay under the radar for so long. Government employees and contractors writing off frivolous expenses as ‘conferences’ wasn’t exactly masterful espionage.

But all that led her here, to this out of the way library in downtown Toronto on an overcast day in May. Five months until the election and the station still felt the need to have her cover a puff piece.

A complete waste of my time, she thought to herself. I could be giving my cat a bath or something.

“Miss Santos?”

Mariska blinked. An elderly woman was standing in front of her holding a dog-eared copy of Anne of Avonlea in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She was clearly a member of the library staff.

“Yes. Thank you for meeting me,” Mariska said, holding out her hand.

The old woman shifted the book under her other arm and shook Mariska’s hand. “It’s my pleasure. I hear that you’re going to put our library on TV?”

“That’s the plan,” Mariska said, before adding silently to herself, as long as it doesn’t get bumped for something more interesting.

“Well, my name is Judy and I’m one of the senior librarians on staff. If you have any questions, please let me know.”

“Actually,” Mariska grimaced, “Before we get started, there is a café attached to the lobby, correct?”

-----

Mariska didn’t understand why food or drink weren't allowed inside libraries. Sure, kids were crazy and prone to fits of destruction, but that didn’t mean all the adults should be punished.

Well, she wasn’t quite sure if punished was the right word, but she still felt pretty annoyed the whole time Judy was giving her a tour of the surprisingly large library. Despite that, she had to admit the building was stunning. She said as much out loud a couple of times, partially to hide her bad mood.

She didn’t hide her relief when they arrived in the café though. As strange as it was, a nice hot cup of coffee was just the thing to get rid of head-splitting migraines and self-imposed misery.

Deciding that ordering a large would’ve been too obnoxious, she ended up cradling a medium coffee with cream and two sugars between her hands. Two untouched croissants sat on the table in front of her along with a small cup filled with breakfast tea and skim milk.

She stared attentively at Judy as she continued to talk more about the history of the library. After a few minutes, Mariska cleared her throat.

“Unfortunately, the segment will only be around five minutes long, so we can’t include all of that,” Mariska explained. “Maybe stick to a couple of key points, maybe the founding and that large mural on the second floor?”

“Ah yes, of course,” Judy smiled. “I apologize, I just love this building so much. And it’s so nice that Belle has gotten so much support. After all the work she’s done for us…”

“I’d actually like to talk more about that, since that’ll be the hook of our segment,” Mariska said, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing. “Most people only know Belle Beaumont the politician, but she has a pretty well-established love of the arts.”

Judy nodded. “Oh yes. In fact, she was the one who donated the mural.”

Mariska put down her cup. “I’m sorry, did you say she donated it?”

Judy laughed, and Mariska felt her lip twitch.

“Oh that wall wasn’t originally a part of this building,” She explained, apparently not noticing Mariska’s annoyance. “You see, that wall was originally part of an office building that used to be a few blocks away.”

“An… office building?”

Judy nodded. “Oh yes. It belonged to this legal firm – Hemsworth and Keating? They commissioned the piece for the main suite of their offices back in the 1940s. The depression had just ended and they really wanted to put an emphasis on how successful they were.”

Mariska frowned. “I haven’t heard of them.”

Judy shrugged. “I’m not surprised. They haven’t been a major name since, oh, the early ‘70s I suppose. They downsized their offices almost forty years ago and it was vacant for ages. About ten years ago the city approved a development project for that whole area, but Belle was insistent that the mural be salvaged.”

“MP Beaumont wasn’t involved with that committee, so why do you think she got involved?”

“Well, she is a well-known lover of the arts…” Judy said, seemingly lost in thought. “Actually, from what I remember, it was a member of the old custodial staff.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes. He worked for the building for a number of years right before the firm vacated it,” Judy nodded. “Apparently he really loved that mural and asked Belle if she could save it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand,” Mariska said. “There had to be more of a reason. Miss Beaumont was involved in government matters a lot more important than that.”

“She just wanted to help a fellow citizen,” Judy smiled. “I know that may sound silly to you, but it was as simple as that. Belle Beaumont is a real deal, she cares so much about this country and the people in it. I can’t tell you enough how pleased I am that she’s running for Prime Minister.”

Mariska bit back a retort, electing instead to take a gulp of her coffee.

“You don’t believe me.”

Mariska flinched, unhappy that she was so easily read. “I’m sorry, it’s just that in my experience politicians aren’t so generous with their time. To lobby a town council to pay to have a mural moved is-”

“Oh no,” Judy interrupted, shaking her head. “She didn’t use government funds. I said she donated it, remember?”

Mariska didn’t touch her coffee this time, afraid that she would choke on it.

-----

By the time they had finished filming the segment that evening, Mariska had decided that she didn’t like Senior Librarian Judy Winters. Not only was the woman a relentless idealist, but she seemed to think very little of Mariska’s skills as a journalist.

She didn’t need that kind of condescension from Grandma Moses, who seemed to think that using one’s own wealth to have a mural moved was a sign of impeccable moral character.

That’s not to say she hated Belle Beaumont by any means. Hell, she would probably end up voting for the woman. But she never understood the hero worship some people had for politicians. At the end of the day they were either ineffective bureaucrats or they were willing to use underhanded methods to actually get stuff done. Belle Beaumont was no exception.

She must have been more agitated than she thought, because she ended up slamming the door to the news van, causing her cameraman to jump in his seat.

“Long day?” He asked.

“You have no idea,” Mariska sighed, and glanced over at him. “We won’t need to get any more coverage, do we…?” Mariska flinched, realizing she forgot his name.

“Shawn,” He grinned with what seemed to be genuine amusement. “And don’t worry, we even have enough B roll to plug any holes.”

“Thank god,” She muttered.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” He hesitated before continuing. “I was surprised when you got assigned to this piece. You broke the story about wasteful contracts on that Halifax Bridge, right? And you’ve been an anchor at the station for years…”

Mariska turned and really looked at Shawn for the first time. He was young, clearly fresh out college, and didn’t bear any of the weariness from the job that she knew was easily found on her own face.

She almost laughed.

“Shawn, I’ve been at this for ten years now, and what I’ve learned is that unless you have friends in high places, accolades are temporary.”

He looked stricken, and Mariska almost felt bad.

“But surely Mr. Peters would-"

“Mr. Peters has his own protégés,” Mariska waved a hand dismissively. “I’m too… disagreeable. He’s not going to recommend me for a higher position if there’s someone else who’s more likely to do him favors.”

Shawn opened, then closed his mouth, and silently turned back to the dash and started the van.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Mariska said, her guilt finally kicking in. “It’s just hard, you know, putting in the work and feeling like you’re not getting your fair shake.”

“He’s crazy you know,” Shawn said, eyes on the road as he began to drive the van. “I mean, you’re clearly the best journalist at the station right now. If he promoted you, it would make him look almost as good as you.” Shawn coughed, “I mean, your success.”

“Of course,” Mariska grinned slightly. Freudian slip or not, it was a definitive confidence booster after the month she’s had.

She glanced out the window, and as she watched the buildings go by a thought struck her. “Is that why she did it?”

“Who?”

“Miss Beaumont. With the mural, I mean,” Mariska said, not turning away from the window. “Did she do it because it would make her look good?”

“Was it covered a lot when it happened?” Shawn asked. “I don’t remember hearing about it.”

“No,” Mariska admitted, “Neither do I.”

After a few minutes of silence, Shawn offered. “I guess it’s possible she was just doing something nice on behalf of a constituent.”

Mariska snorted, glancing away from the window and back over to Shawn. “Simple as that?”

Shawn nodded. “Sometimes people just want to do something nice for someone else. Simple as that.”

The two sat in silence for a while, letting the lights from the oncoming Toronto night life wash over them as they made their way back to the station.

It was only when the news station was within their sights that inspiration struck Mariska. And by the time the news van was parked, the scheme was fully built in her head.

“Shawn,” Mariska said, more giddiness dripping from her voice than she would have liked. “Do you have some time? I need your help looking up some contacts.”

“Just looking up contacts?” He asked, and Mariska could see the playfulness in his eyes clear as day, the tenseness of their earlier conversation clearly forgotten.

“Well,” Mariska said coyly, “I suppose I could use your input on some other matters as well…”

-----

It took two hours for Nathan Peters to notice.

Or, at least, it took him two hours to call Mariska, doing nothing to hide the anger in his voice. Skipping over any pleasantries he simply yelled, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to be more specific,” Mariska asked plainly, taking a sip of the wine she held in her hand.

“Cut the crap Mari. You booked an interview with Belle Beaumont’s campaign staff. All media inquiries that significant go through me. You have no right to make agreements on the station’s behalf-“

“Oh, I didn’t,” Mariska interrupted, placing the wine glass down on the table beside her. “I mean, I did book the interview, but I didn’t use the station’s name, just my own.”

There was silence on the other end, and Mariska began to wonder if he had hung up on her before he finally said, “What do you mean by that?”

“Just what I said. I set up an interview between the Beaumont campaign and decorated media personality Mariska Santos. Turns out they were very impressed by my Halifax story and were eager to set up something with a reporter of my caliber.”

“You had no right,” He said. There was anger in this statement, but it was a definitive one.

“Again, I didn’t use the station’s name, so I’m not sure what the problem is?” Mariska said, allowing herself a smug grin. “If the CBC doesn’t want to carry the interview, I’m sure there are plenty of other stations that would jump at the chance. Beaumont hasn’t had a one-on-one sit down interview in months.”

“No…” Mariska heard him exhale. “You’re skating on thin ice here.”

“I don’t think I am, Nathan,” She said, picking her glass of wine back up and polishing off what was left. “You see, I’m an asset. You have your library piece, but I’m done doing man-on-the-street interviews. I’ve been an anchor for three years and I broke one of the biggest political stories of the past year. I deserve a more prominent role, and you’re going to champion me, understood?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone again, and Mariska was momentarily concerned that she had overplayed her hand. But soon she heard Peters mumble. “Damn you Santos. Fine.”

“Thank you,” Mariska said. She heard footsteps and glanced up, adding, “By the way, regarding that position that’s now open on the street team: I think your son would be the perfect candidate for it. He really impressed me today.”

“…really?” Nathan said, sounding wary.

“Of course. And I’m more than willing to formally recommend him, if you’re worried about how it would look.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Nathan said, no longer sounding angry, only exhausted. “Goodnight Santos.”

“Goodnight Nathan,” She said, and hung up the phone.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Shawn said, pulling a towel across his short, strawberry blond hair and wrapping it behind his neck and over his broad shoulders. “You were already taking a risk.”

“Well, I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that,” She said, placing her empty wine glass on the table. She stood up and walked over to Shawn, running her fingers down his bare chest. “Now, I think we should celebrate our good fortune, don’t you?”

Shawn started to grin and then faltered, as if he was trying not to come off too eager, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” She said, her hands roaming lower. “You know what they say: third time’s the charm.”

Mariska felt her feet leave the ground, as Shawn pulled her up into his arms, and carried her back over to the bedroom. For the first time in weeks, Mariska Santos had no trace of a migraine, and every hope that things would finally go her way.