Note: The Serious Organised Crime Agency is a policing agency in the United Kingdom that acts (obviously) against organized crime. It wasn’t formed until 2006, but considering I’m American and am not entirely familiar with the UK’s policies/departments dealing with this (and am an American teenager, sentencing me to inherent laziness), I’m just going to go with what I can find most information on—and at this point, it’s the SOCA. To anyone from the UK (or who is a stickler for accurracy), my apologies for this slight anachronism!
~*~
Chapter 3 – Dirty Business
December 24, 2001
Aurelius Estate
Devon, England
“It appears to me, Jenny,” Darla hissed, “that we have had a misunderstanding regarding exactly what we expect from you in this household.” When the dark-haired woman, conspicuously clothed in her maid attire, did not lower her gaze, the blonde went on. “When I say I would like you to do the cleaning in my chambers, it does not mean I am giving you permission to look through my valuables. Especially,” she took a step forward, moving herself less than a foot away from the stoic woman, “those that are related to my business records. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jenny answered once she found her voice. Throughout the entire monologue, her state of panic had increased exponentially until she could barely stand, let alone speak—still, there had been nothing in Darla’s speech that suggested that the Family could know anything of her own undercover status—but Jenny was already developing plans to escape from this volatile situation as soon as possible. “Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”
“Not tonight, Jenny,” Darla said dismissively, just as a knock sounded on the door. Taking that as her cue to leave, the brunette opened the door to face none other than the Head of the Family herself, Elizabeth Nest; not daring to draw any more attention to herself than necessary, she quickly moved out of Elizabeth’s way and began to walk towards her room, the whole time inconspicuously typing her emergency extraction code into the small communications device she wore.
Stepping through a doorway into an unlit hall, her heartrate began to regulate and her breathing returned to normal. To some, after being caught snooping through the personal effects of none other than Darla Angelus Nest, one would not dream of letting their guard down, but to Jenny, there was nothing in her mistress’ attitude that revealed that she had compromised her identity. Still, any further attempts at obtaining information would be difficult, if not impossible—so her role as a mole was essentially over.
Her room was around the corner, and Jenny was just beginning to let herself think of the man she had shut out of her mind for nearly a year—when three hulking forms stepped out of the shadows and blocked her path to safety.
In that instant, Jenny realized that they knew. They knew who she was, what she had done, and what she had told; Darla’s supposed ignorance was merely a malicious game. “Ever been to London?” one of them cruelly remarked, grinning as the two others easily grabbed the woman, restraining her and halting her futile attempts to escape. “You will soon,” he laughed, gagging her and shoving a black bag over her head. “We’ve got a message to deliver to a Mr. Rupert Giles.”
~*~
December 28, 2001
SOCA Office
London, England
“I won’t bloody well stand here and let them get away!”
“But if you strike now, Rupert, you won’t be able to take all of ‘em down. Especially the ones that are really responsible for what happened!”
The older man in the room stood up with a glare, before stalking over to the filing cabinet against the wall and pulling out a sheaf of papers. Throwing them down on the desk dramatically, images were revealed of a dark-haired, slender woman sprawled out grotesquely on a bed; both the blood from her wounds and the delicately scattered rose petals across her naked body gave the scene an appearance of sharp relief—it looked both dreamlike and real, and altogether gruesome. “This is a murder,” Rupert Giles said slowly and carefully, as the younger man’s face softened into an expression of understanding. “This isn’t just—”
“—something that happened,” William finished for him, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his now-sagging shoulders. “Rupes—”
“No!” Giles said sharply, cutting William off. “I refuse to allow you to try persuading me to let these animals get away with this!”
“I’m not saying that at all!” William roared, finally matching Giles’ level of emotions—and letting himself truly feel the pain from kindly Jenny’s fate. “Just listen to me for one bloody minute before you tell me to sod off.” At his words, Giles clenched his jaw and leaned back against the metal desk, clearly waiting for his friend to speak.
“Thank you,” said William. “I have a plan. We call off any official investigation into Jenny’s murder—”
“Bollocks!”
“—because this is the first public pressure they’ve had since ol’ H.J. kicked it. We don’t know how the Juniors are gonna handle it, and frankly, I don’t want to wait and see whether they skip town and come back in a few decades.” William could see that his words were affecting Giles as he’d hoped, and he internally let out a sigh of relief. Even through the most painful experience of his life, Rupert was still one of the most rational men he knew. “If they still leave, which sources have been telling us at least one of the kids has been planning for some time, then we’ll still be able to keep track of their dealings.”
“And just how are we going to manage that?” Rupert asked impatiently, crossing his arms across his chest.
William sighed then, fully steeling himself for what he was about to do. “We send in a mole,” he explained. “If there’s no official investigation, they won’t be looking as carefully—and considering what happened to Jenny…” He swallowed down the lump in his throat before continuing. “Well… I don’t think they’ll expect that we send another in so soon.”
At this, Giles removed his glasses and furiously began to clean the lenses, trying to ignore the water spilling from his tightly-squinted eyes. “Do you already have someone in mind?”
This was the part that William had been dreading since he’d heard the news of his friend and colleague’s brutal murder—but what he knew he had to do. “Me,” he said simply, looking straight into Giles’ eyes and readying himself for what was to come.
~*~
June 3, 1980
Aurelius Estate
London, England
“Father.”
Joseph Nest looked up from his papers upon hearing his visitor’s greeting, letting a sneer once ascertaining who it was. “Why hello, Henry,” said the elder man as he stood. “Just what may I do for my son?” His words were accommodating, but both men could feel the rift stretching further between them.
“Father,” Henry said again, bravely taking a step forward and into the darkened recesses of the room. “I came to speak to you… about Joyce.”
“How is the American trollop?” Joseph smirked when a grimace of rage flashed across his son’s face.
Henry tried to calm himself, but there was something within him—something deep, primal—that would not let his father keep that smug look of satisfaction upon his face. He had dealt with his father’s emasculation and disrespect his entire life, and it was only the strength that Joyce provided—and the knowledge that at this point he was ensuring the future safety of their child—which kept him from roaring with rage. Instead, with a steely cold voice Henry proclaimed, “You are never to speak of her in that matter again.”
A look of surprise flashed across Joseph’s face—clearly, he had not expected resistance from anyone, let alone his usually compliant and obedient son. “Well, well, well,” Joseph said as he quirked an eyebrow. “It appears that you’ve finally grown a spine. I know not whether to thank Ms. Summers for this development, or seek to remedy its cause.”
“You will do neither,” Henry replied, unfazed by his father’s obvious threat. “We are cutting ties to the Aurelius Family for good. Joyce is… We are going to have a child.”
This time, Joseph could not easily mask his shock and anger. He took a few furious steps from behind his desk and moved straight towards his son, seething with barely-contained rage. “You fool!” he hissed, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “Do you have any idea what you will do to our family if you—”
“I don’t give a damn what happens to this… family!” Henry spat, taking a step forward himself. “Joyce and I are leaving and there’s nothing you can—”
“Oh, don’t you dare presume that I will not use the full extent of my powers to prevent you from making this grave error, Henry,” said Joseph, coldly precise with every syllable he spoke. The words hit his son like a burst of frigid air, goosebumps erupting over his entire body as his eyes widened fearfully.
“You wouldn’t,” he said, not believing the words even as he spoke them.
Joseph let out a harsh chuckle and moved towards his desk, confident that he had won. “I most certainly would,” he smirked, comfortably settling himself down in his leather chair. “In fact, you have convinced me of your… noble dedication to this young woman. Please, feel free to see yourself out. You are of course welcome to leave this family if you so wish, Henry. I will do nothing to prevent you from doing as you desire.”
“You can’t hurt her,” Henry stammered, shivering despite the warm spring breeze drifting through the open window. “Father, please, promise me you won’t hurt her!”
“That, my son, is entirely up to you,” Joseph replied smoothly, a cool smile gracing his features. “If you wish for the survival of your lover and child, then I would strongly advise you to stay in the Aurelius Family. However, if you truly want to leave—”
“You bastard,” Henry murmured. His vision blurred and he could no longer hear the oiled tone of his father’s voice. All he could see was the image of Joyce, gunned down brutally in her cozy London flat, blood splattered over the carefully collected artwork on the walls, an expression of shock and horror on her beautiful face. Almost robotically, he reached into the pocket of his coat and grasped the smooth steel of his pistol; he never saw the look of betrayal flash over his father’s face as he leveled the barrel with his chest and pulled the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Until the weapon clicked blankly in the sharp silence of the room.
~*~
A/N: So, what did you all think? I was in a particularly good mood today (yay first day of college!!!!!!!!!!), so I decided to post a little early. :) So look for this fic next Tuesday or sooner for an update! And I really appreciate all the reviews I’ve gotten. I know the events are all really independent and confusing right now, but I have all these occurrences tied together—and I promise, it won’t be too long before you can get a better idea. :) And feedback makes me happy!!!
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