Director of Intelligence
Posts: 7,214
Joined: 3 Dec 2005
Gender: Female
Country: USA
SAK owned: Camper&Swissbit
Favorites
Season: season 5
Episode:Serenity
Vehicle: Jeep
Jacket: Brown bomber
House: House boat
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Note from Loth:
So I'm finally doing this! Apologies to Kind Readers waiting for updates on my unfinished fics... I can only say that the Muse obeys only her own Agenda!
This is a work in progress, so suggestions and comments are hugely welcome. I hope you enjoy the ride!
-L
Extra special Thank-Yous to (((Beth))) and (((Trix))) for imput, encouragement, and a picture of Misha, the little golden bear that was chosen as mascot for the 1980 Summer Olympics.
Mishka
Chapter One: No Sweater
Maybe the first thing that most folks think of when you say ‘Finland’ is ice or reindeer, or even frostbite. It is true that you can find all of these things here, but there is a lot more to it than that.
The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane on my first trip to Finland was the air: soft and clear and around 19 degrees C, so the light jacket I was wearing when I had boarded in Denmark was quite adequate against the cool air.
By the time I got myself on the shuttle bus that would take me to the hotel, I had that jacket off and my sleeves rolled up. The midday sun was warm and bright. I began to suspect that the extra sweater I’d packed in my luggage would not be needed.
And by the time I got to the Ambassador Hotel, I began to suspect that I was seriously overdressed. The most popular item of clothing in downtown Helsinki was not the parka or balaclava… but the bikini!
I saw more skin in that short ride than I had during the last weekend I’d spent at home in LA—and I live right next to Venice Beach! A whole lot of ... ahem… healthy skin, I can tell you.
When I got my eyes back inside my head…I picked up my luggage from the trolley. A duffel bag and a satchel—I always travel light—and headed inside. I needed to catch up with the team; most of them should have arrived on an earlier flight.
I pulled the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, double-checking to make sure that the Olympic logo was visible. A feeling of elation rose in me as I brushed the neat stitches with my fingers. I’d always dreamed of this; being selected to participate in the international competition, the best of the best of all the countries in the world. Here I was—albeit under circumstances which childhood dreams would never fathom—I could still take a little satisfaction that I’d been chosen for this assignment, that I was capable and able. Not every agent in the DXS was in condition to compete in the Olympic Games.
The situation was complicated. The Olympics were to be held in Moscow this year, and the U.S. and its allies had opted not to participate, boycotting the entire Summer Olympic season in protest of the invasion of Afghanistan by the U.S.S.R. 64 countries were refusing to support the Games.
That meant a lot of people were not going to the Olympics this year. Disappointed candidates were scrambling for funds and sponsors, taking advantage of dual citizenship or private benefactors. Hundreds were going to attend the Games under the Olympic Flag, a way of voicing their protest while and yet still participate. Money and loyalty were only some of the kinds of currency being used to purchase a ticket.
It is hard to give up a lifetime dream—I can entirely identify with that.
It was a shame that so many athletes were forced to drop out of the proceedings, but in a way it was a blessing—for me, anyway—because of this development, the Olympic Committee was desperate for any and all the entries being submitted. I’d qualified to participate on paper before anyone had even seen me compete. Also, from what I understand from the briefing I had on the plane—courtesy of the European branch of the DXS—obtaining a fake passport and citizenship papers had been a shoe-in because countries were eager to absorb those who were willing to cross borders.
So here I was, wearing the colors of The Netherlands. I’d been training with their Pentathlon team for three months, preparing for the Olympic Trials before the final competition in Moscow. I’d earned my position by helping their hockey team take a regional championship. That part had been easy—I’d learned to skate before I’d learned to walk, and I’d eaten, drank, and slept hockey until I’d was 15.
But Ice Hockey wasn’t an event in the Summer Olympics… even in frosty Finland. Not that there was any frost to be seen; the sun was bright in an endless sky, days longer than an American boy like me is used to. I wondered if I was going to need to set my watch to remind me when to sleep during these long Finnish days.
I paused before I went into the hotel where the team—my team, that is—would be staying for the duration of the Olympic Trials. The sky was just too clear, the air too soft, to forsake without a final look. There was another quality in the air, here. Anticipation. Hope. Excitement. It filled me as I breathed in, and I felt as if I could fly.
⌂
Anni looked up from her desk to see a tall, handsome man standing there. “Welcome to the Helsinki Ambassador Hotel. May I help you?”
“Yes,” he smiled at her and looked pointedly at her name tag, “Anni. Hi. I was hoping that you could help me check in.”
She saw five colored rings embroidered on his jacket. “You are with the Olympic team, I see. Which country?”
“The Netherlands.”
“They checked in early this morning.”
“I know... I missed my flight.” He gave her a pleading look. “Please tell me you still have a reservation for me?”
She smiled mischievously at him. “I suppose... technically the athletes can check in anytime today... but I hope that you are not so late during your events... you will come in last!” She turned the register toward him so he could sign in, and then rotated it back to read his name. “MacGyver? That is an interesting name. Here is your key. Most of the rooms grouped together by country, but since you are late, we'll have to put you in a single on another floor.” She eyed the satchel he had set on the desk. “I can get a porter to carry your luggage—”
“That's okay—I can handle it.” MacGyver looped the satchel strap over his head and let it hang to his side. “Thanks anyway, Anni. Wish me luck!” he swung his duffel to his other shoulder and gave her another grin.
“Good luck!” She called after him, watching him walk away. The next customer had to tap her shoulder to get her attention. “Sorry...” she blushed as she signed them in.
The elevators were crowded with people waiting their turn, many of them fellow athletes; MacGyver noted half a dozen different countries represented by their flags or Olympic patches as he passed them and entered the stairwell. It would be a long climb to his floor, but after sitting in a cramped airplane for most of the day, he was glad to stretch his legs.
He reached his floor and wandered down the hall, passing different people, until he found the room that matched his key. But he couldn’t unlock it—because there was someone trying to get into his room!
~~~tbc
 Everyone, sometimes, needs a camel.
Old troubleshooters never die...
They just wait til the last moment and then rescue themselves!
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