Characters: Unnamed husband & wife of generation 7. Names would spoil too much.
Summary: The unknown accused Simmunist is caught. By his wife. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, that’s for sure.
Notes: Canon. A scene similar to this will appear in the next chapter, so it’s a spoiler, but there are no names, so you don’t know who yet.
Word Count: 600
He had no idea why his wife had just barged into the small room that he called an office, but by the look on her face it couldn’t be good. She rarely went to his place of work, and never without calling to make sure he would be there first. No, this was not good at all.
"How could you do such a thing?!” she screamed, her words more of an accusation than a question.
He thought to play dumb for a moment, and pretend that it was an overreaction to leaving his towels on the floor of the bathroom again. But that would only have angered her further, and it was clear that now was not the time to make excuses for his actions.
“Darling,” he began.
“Don’t you dare ‘darling’ me, mister. Not after…” she paused as she went to shut the office door to keep their conversation somewhat private. “Not after the morning I just had. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be brought to the FBI offices to answer questions about your husband’s suspected Simmunist activities?”
His breath hitched, a fact that didn’t escape her shrewd eye. “So it is true then.”
“What did you tell them?” he asked, trying to deflect her anger.
“Well, I couldn’t tell them much, obviously, since you keep all of your goings-on so hush-hush, but I suppose I understand why that is much better than I did when I woke up this morning. I just said that you stayed after work quite a bit, which you do, for meetings and such. Imagine my surprise when I learned that nearly each and every one of your friends here in the city is on the list of known Simmunists, and that you were suspected of being one as well?”
He said nothing.
“Tell me they’re wrong, that they’re liars, and I’ll believe you,” she practically begged.
He still said nothing.
She picked up the coffee cup that was perched on his desk, and hurled it across the room. “Do you realize what you’ve done?!?! You’re probably going to lose your job because of this, and then how will you support your family? Did you think about that? Or the stigma that your children will have to face in school because their father is a known Simmunist? Of course not. Or what about me? How will I be able to look my friends in the face after this? Tell me!” she screamed.
“If you’d let me explain…”
“The time for explanations is long past.”
“You just don’t understand what Simmunism really is…”
She stomped forward and slapped him across the face. “Shut up! Just shut up! I don’t want to understand Simmunism! I want to wake up and have all of this be nothing more than a bad dream.”
“What can I do?” he whispered.
“You’ve already done more than enough,” she snapped. “I’m going to go try to salvage what I can of our family’s reputation. Do me a favor and stop spending time with those friends of yours. Oh, and you’ll be sleeping on the sofa until further notice.”
She stormed out of the office as quickly as she’d stormed in, and he was left alone. He sank into his chair, worrying. In his rush to learn more about Simmunism, something that had intrigued him ever since the days of the war, he’d not thought about the consequences for his family. He choked back a sob; the live he had so carefully built for himself was crashing down around him, and he was powerless to stop it.