Write Me into Your Daydream

"So how did auditions go yesterday?" Aleta yawned as she adjusted her web cam to better frame her face. "Did you find the perfect Hanna?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

She raised an eyebrow, "And just who do you think you're convincing with that tone of voice?"

I let out a small laugh, "It's just- I thought she was good."

"But….?"

"But Steven and Mark didn't," I explained as I reached for the makeup bag I'd been given the day before. It was full of creams and powders and pencils many of which I had no clue existed let alone how to use them. Being Mayfor-no, being a girl, is hard. "They don't trust her."

"Don't trust her?" she frowned, "Why?"

"She's a Vitoria Secret model," I sighed, "An ambitious one. They're afraid she'll tweet the secrets of season three the moment she'll get her hands on them."

"What's her name? I'ma google her."

"Don't you have school to get ready for?" I asked with a pointed look and she gave me a sheepish grin.

"Probably, but that's not for another… hour. I got time."

"Aleta," I scolded, "I knew I shouldn't have left you on your own."

"Relax," she rolled her eyes. "Mom and Dad came back yesterday-"

"They said they would be back on Sunday!" I shouted.

"They were only two days late!" she defended them with a shrug. "Honestly, Lux, I'm fine. I'm eating, going to school, and getting all the parental love and affection I can handle. You worry about ambitious actresses and professional liars with cute butts."

"Aleta…"

"Seriously," she smiled, "I'm fine."

I nodded once, "Okay."

"Now," she clapped her hands together, "I must get ready for school. Which is not nearly as fun as meeting famous actors and writers."

"Are your sure about that?" I raised an eyebrow, "I'm about to spend the next hour painting my face with things I can't even name."

"Is that why you're in the bathroom?"

"The plan was to start while I talked to you," I admitted with a grin, "But that didn't happen."

"I swear to god, you're going to procrastinate your life away."

"Probably," I smiled. "Have a good day at school."

"I will Mom," she teased. "Have a good day becoming famous."

I laughed, "Yeah." She disappeared and my smile faltered. Aleta said everything was fine but I still worried. My parents were good people; I knew they loved Aleta and I with everything they had. But they could also be quite thoughtless. They're home now, I reminded myself. They said they wouldn't take any more trips while I was away.

I looked up at the mirror in front of me, watching the green eyes that watched me. I should be happier about all this. I shouldn't have this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I got ready for the day. Everything was going great! The writers all welcomed me with open arms. We found someone to play Hanna. So why did it feel like I was bracing myself?

"Miss Sera, thank you for joining us," Seven forced a smile as she walked through the doors. It was just before lunch and we were meeting the model in the lobby of the studio where we would be filming. I of course was in my 'Mayfor' specific attire; ergo the white wig and large sunglasses. Thought todays costume consisted of a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and a black fitted suit jacket. Unfortunately Steven got his way when it came to my footwear and I was wearing black open toed pumps. It wasn't that I had trouble walking in them as he assumed when I refused to wear them yesterday, it was more of an identity issue than anything. I understood that, to keep who I really was a secret, Mayfor and I had to be as different as possible but… how far did we really have to go?

"Of course," she smiled; a touch of smugness colored her voice and dripped across her expression. "I had a feeling you would come to your senses and I had a photo shoot in the city this morning so I was nearby."

I nodded once, my gaze catching hers even through the dark tint of my glasses, "You are under the assumption that we choose you because of your looks?"

She shrugged, "Obviously."

My head tipped to the side, "Miss Sera, if you will not take this seriously then please don't waste any more of our time."

Her smile fell and I felt Steven and Mark tense up beside me, "Excuse me?"

"This isn't a game," I said taking a step forward and sliding the glasses off my face, "Your looks didn't get you here. They are in fact your biggest disadvantage."

Her eyes went wide, "What?"

"Your hair is the wrong shade," I began dissecting her, "You're much too tall and skin far too tan to play a recluse of five year. These are all things we must pay to fix you see, thou your height… I suppose we'll have to be clever and work around it. You're what, five-nine?"

"Five-eleven," she glared at me now.

"Of course you are," I sighed heavily.

"If all those things are wrong," she began, crossing her arms over her chest, "then why am I here? Why did you hire me?"

"Because one of us saw the potential for actual talent," I kept my gaze steady. "You're portrayal of Hanna was far from perfect but it is believed that, with some guidance, you could prove to be a fine actress. I do hope you don't disappoint that person."

She didn't say anything. Her glare faded away and I watched, impressed, as she swallowed her anger. She wasn't used to being talked to like that, and I suppose I did come down rather hard but she needed to be pulled down a peg. She would have continued to give a subpar performance if she thought her appearance got the job. If I was going to prove to Steven and Mark that she had the talent to work on this show I needed to humble her.

"Okay," she spoke after a moment, "I understand."

I kept my voice cold, "Good. Now Mark will give you the tour of the studio and bring you to the different departments as you are needed. I will be joining you as well, for a time, as I too am unfamiliar with the studio."

I could see the annoyance bubbling in her eyes as she forced a smile, "Joy."

"I think we best begin with the most essential of the departments," Mark began with an easy smile, "War-"

Martha cut in, "Makeup?"

"-drobe…" he trailed off before flashing me an exasperated glance. "Uh, no. Wardrobe will be first."

"Sorry, I'm so use to modeling," she shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Makeup is the most important there."

"Well now, as an actress, you will find that you costume is the most important thing to have," He smiled, leading us down the hall. "How your character dresses can tell you as much about them as having tea."

"Tea?" she raised an eyebrow, "You really are British, aren't you?"

He didn't look at her, rolling his eyes as he answered, "Yes, Miss Sera, I am British."

"What did you think he was?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that," she frowned in annoyance, "I meet a lot of different kinds of people while I work. Some of them say they're British and then act more American than I do."

"I see." I didn't.

"We're here," Mark said, breaking the silence as we rounded a corner to see a large open space. Half the room was filled with racks of clothing, most of which were on wheels. A few had character names and episode dates; I recognized Sherlock's iconic suit and coat among the rows of clothing. On the other side designers were hard at work putting together outfits and altering them to fit Martha's small frame. "As you can see these talented ladies of have been hard at work for a few days. Mayfor you need to speak with the Head of the department about Hanna's style and Martha one of her assistants will be taking your measurements. You're manager sent a set to us in an email but we like to take our own just to be sure-"

"Mark," a voice in the hall behind us caused me to flinch internally, "and ladies, hello." Ben's eyes were on Martha, desire bubbling behind the gentlemanly front he put forth. As Lux I was hurt at the dismissal but, on some level, I understood. Martha was a beautiful girl and I was… I was ordinary. There was nothing special about me to draw his eyes away from her. I don't really know why I expected anything less. As Mayfor I was curious about the man before me. Ben paid me no mind but he had my full attention.

"Ben," Mark smiled as he shifted his weight, "I'd like to you meet Mayfor Night, and our Hanna Hooper, Martha Sera." He nodded to both of us upon introduction but Ben's gaze never strayed from Martha who was now giving him a flirtatious grin.

"It's lovely to meet you," he spoke to her alone, "I have read your story and am blown away with how you approach such a difficult subject. It's really quite masterful-"

"Ben," Mark cut him off with wide eyes as I tipped my head to the side. Ben's eyes turned to him, his confusion by Mark's sudden exclamation clear on his face. I found it amusing that even then he didn't look at me. Even in this awkward pause, he didn't acknowledge my presence.

"I'm glad you think so," I spoke up and his gaze finally moved to me, "But it is my understanding that you haven't even touched my manuscript."

His jaw hung slightly ajar, "You-"

"I am Mayfor Night," I smiled, "The woman whose arrival you've been dreading and whose story you have refused to read. Not that I'm offended or anything."

He looked at Mark, desperate for help, but Gatiss wisely stayed quiet, "I am so sorry-"

"I don't actually care what you have to say, Mr. Cumberbatch," I sighed in a bored tone. "You have had your reservations about my involvement which I can appreciate. But you have been viciously attacking my credibility and my story every chance that has presented itself. That, you must understand, is something I cannot so easily forgive. Especially since you can't really comprehend either in the slightest."

His jaw still hung open, silver-blue eyes moving from me to Martha, who was holding in a laugh, to Mark and back again. It was then that I realized the true depths of my anger. He flat out refused to read my story and does so without a second thought. Until he thinks that beautiful Martha is the one who wrote it. Then all of the sudden it's masterful, he blown away with the writing and her approach to the subject. He hasn't even read it yet he's giving her this glowing review! Is a pretty face really what he cares about?

"We are not friends, Mr. Cumberbatch," I said coldly, "Until such a time when you prove otherwise, I will regard you as nothing more than a petty child I must endure." I turned to the others, "I will talk with the wardrobe head and then retire for the day. Enjoy the rest of the tour Martha. Mark we'll have to reschedule, perhaps with that lovely niece of yours."

"I'll see if she's up to it," he nodded and I began to walk away before stopping.

"One more thing," I looked back over my shoulder, my glasses slipping down my nose so my green eyes caught Ben's with no filter to dilute the ice in my gaze as I flipped him the bird, "You can go fuck yourself. Have a good day everyone else."

Mark nodded, "Good day."

"See yah," Martha choked on a giggle as I gave her a short nod before walking over to the rows of clothing to inspect the severely lacking rack labeled 'Hanna'.

I was so mad, how dare he! The other night he flat out said, to my face, that he hadn't even touched my story and thought my involvement in the show was a huge mistake. I can understand wanting to protect the show but then he changes his opinion so drastically when he thinks Martha Sera wrote it?! Really?! I was so angry as I looked through the outfits on the rack, all I saw was red. I've never been rejected and dismissed like this; especially by a man I idolized! He always seemed to kind and honest on TV, a picture of gentleman's honor with sky blue eyes. Now all I saw was…

I sighed, shaking my head. All I saw was the human side of a man I put a pedestal. It wasn't right of me to hold him to the public made persona of him. He was a normal man, one who probably deserved a second chance.

Not today, I thought bitterly, today I get to be furious.

"You must be Mayfor," a woman approached me about a half an hour later as I shifted through the cloths on Hanna's rack. "What do you think so far?"

"I'm a tad confused," I admitted through a forced smile, "These clothes are labeled for Hanna but are nothing like what I described in the story."

"Well there were only really two outfits described in the text," she explained, shifting uneasily, "and, from what has been described to me, Hanna is a party girl so I tried to reflect that in her clothing."

"She is a party girl," I agreed, "But her clothing is supposed to reflect her subconscious belief in fairytales, in a dream come true."

"Is that as relevant to the story?" she asked, a bemused smile on her lips.

"Very much so," I pressed, "It is part of who she is- part of what makes her different from the others that Sherlock surrounds himself with."

"And how do you suggest I dress her?" Annoyance coloring her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry have I offended you?" I asked frowning at the woman.

"Actually you have," she didn't hold back, "You come in here and tear apart two days' worth of work because of a concept that wasn't properly conveyed in the text I was given. I understand your writer types have all these images about your ideas floating around in your head but if you can get them through to the readers then how do you expect me to just magically know what you're looking for?"

I paused a moment, my jaw slack with shock. She wasn't wrong; I didn't really explain Hanna's style or the reasoning for it. It was such a trivial thing at the time that I didn't really concern myself with describing her clothing. If a reader was curious I explained but other than that it didn't matter. It wasn't until they asked to use my character that it became important. I can't blame her for not understanding what I didn't properly state. "I'm sorry, you're right. I didn't state that in the text."

She, let out a long breath, "No, I'm sorry I snapped. I just hate to see all our hard work go out the door."

"I understand that," I said with a small nod, "I truly do, but perhaps we don't have to scrap all of this."

"How do you mean?"

"When Hanna finally explains her life to Sherlock I have the idea of flashbacks showing the viewers what actually happened," I explain, "We can use these outfits for that."

"True," she nodded, "but that still means my team and I have to start an entirely new concept that I have very few ideas on how to convey."

"I can help with that," I smiled now, "I can go through the clothing and pick out examples of what I would like. You and yours go home for the night and in the morning I will show you what I found and from there you can take over."

She gave me a smile and nodded again, “I like that idea, and you should feel free to look over the other characters so we can discuss them tomorrow as well.” We separated on semi-good terms, an understanding formed between us. She didn’t like to have her time wasted. I could respect that. However I had a feeling this would not be the last argument I had with a crew member. I was someone new in charge of something they thought they understood. I was rocking the boat; I had to assume there would be some resistance.

My day had gone from bad to worse before I could blink. How is that possible, I wondered as I looked through the racks of clothing from other shows the studio produces. I was already feeling uneasy and about my role here, namely about my decision to hire Martha. Mark and Steven were so reluctant to agree with me, it made me question my decision too. Then Martha showed up with an attitude, proving them right and putting me more on edge.

And Ben… I just didn’t understand him. Now that I had time to distance myself from it I knew I had been a little harsh (and I have to be more careful about my conversations with him as Lux influencing my interactions with him as Mayfor). But at the time all I could think was how he changed his opinion so quickly when he though Martha wrote the story. Why? Why did he do that? Was it because of her pretty face? Or was it something else? A real, valid reason for what he said what he did, was that too much to ask?

As the room cleared, and I was left alone among the quiet clothing, I realized why I was bracing myself before. Part of me, the naive and foolish part, was still expecting things to be like they were in my daydream. I had expected it to be easy and joyful; in my daydream I got along with all the crew and Ben and I were easy friend. I didn’t have to worry about people finding out who I really was, the girl we found to play Hanna was beyond perfect. In my daydream I was so happy, now I wondered if I ever would be.