An Ordinary Man

Ivan woke up gasping for breath and overwhelmed with panic. His heart pounding in his ears, he sat up straight and scanned the room for intruders.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Finding it clear, he clamped his mouth shut, slowed his breathing, and listened carefully.  No sounds from anywhere else in the flat, either.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Just like the last several mornings.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He hadn’t bothered checking the other rooms since the third time he’d woken up like this.

It wasn’t a nightmare, or if it was, he didn’t remember it. He just kept waking up as if he’d heard … something. Something dangerous, though he had no idea what.  Something that would kill him, or at least hurt him very badly. Whatever it was, it felt like the sort of danger he generally only ran into when his cousin Miles had dragged him into one of his mad schemes.  Miles, however, was away on a galactic honeymoon at the moment, so for once Ivan was terrified of something that had nothing to do with him.

It wasn’t as though he needed a psychologist or his Aunt Cordelia to tell him what he was so afraid of, either.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Whether he was dreaming or not, clearly his mind was still working on sorting out his night with Byerly.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He’d wrestled with the problem enough during his waking hours to be quite sure he wasn’t going to resolve anything that way. Clearly he didn’t give up on it when he was asleep, either, and it wasn’t going to just go away.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> If he was ever to get any actual rest, he needed to find some sort of resolution.  He needed someone to talk to.

Ivan dragged himself into his bachelor kitchen and made himself some coffee. It was still a bit early, but he might as well start his day, and perhaps by the time he reported to work he’d feel a bit more human. He rooted around and by the time the coffee was ready he’d found himself something to pass for breakfast. He sipped his coffee, ate, and thought.

Someone to talk to.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> That was a novel concept.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He ran through the potential candidates in his mind. Even if he’d been on-planet, Miles was a definite no. The same went for Aunt Cordelia. Oh, they’d both class=GramE>be understanding. But Miles would torment him anyway, and while Aunt Cordelia was more likely to be helpful, she also had the tendency to leave his skull feeling like it had been polished on the inside with a wire brush.  Besides, she was off-planet as well, busy being Vicereine of Sergyar.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> His own mother was straight out. She had enough to say about Ivan’s marital status (or lack of it) and sex life (or excess of it in her view) already. He wasn’t going to hand her more ammunition. class=GramE>Besides … his mother?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> But his list was running out.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He just didn’t get very close with anyone, really. Never had.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> His circle of friends had always been essentially the same since childhood:  Miles, Elena, and Gregor. Not that they’d stayed as close as they’d gotten older, what with Gregor being Emperor and Elena being a mercenary (now retired, but still off-planet), and all. But most other friends he’d made, he’d kept at arm’s length. Even the Koudelka girls, for all that he and Miles used to escort them somewhat interchangeably.

Actually, there was the germ of an idea.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He pondered as he continued to work at his breakfast. The more he thought, the better he liked it. It was perfect, really. Once he’d finished eating and cleaned up, he made a couple of comm calls, and an appointment.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As he proceeded to get ready for work, he felt better than he had in days.