N i n e t e e n

S u s p i c i o n s

There wasn't a huge difference in the temperature. When I cycled down to work, I expected slippery ground and slow traffic. But instead, the weather was unpredictable no matter the weather woman would say - that was the lesson I had learned.

Though, it was not the only thing I thought on the first day of December.

A week before, there were too many advertisers screaming Christmas. Katie was even joking to me if I had wanted to go Christmas shopping with her. My only reaction was an innocent blink and a lack of reaction.

Christmas...it was a triggering word that had to remind me of my childhood. Even when the Yogs mentioned it one briefing, everyone was gaping at me for not bothering to contribute. Lewis and George cast their eyes to each other and I assumed that they knew easily. My best friend could not help but stifle a laugh whilst the other brunette changed the entire conversation and let the eye draw over his instead.

The subject on Christmas continued to my working environment, as I entered the department and wanted to cringe at the boxes of decorations and tinsel and...hats. There was a box of fake snow and even some talking inflatable-father Christmas.

'By next week...there won't be a father Christmas' I snorted internally - thinking of many ways to move the creepy doll down to the factory department. He might like to check on the 'elves' to see if they're working hard enough to make toys.

"What happened..." Lewis asked me during our lunch session. "...to you that made you hate...this?"

I groaned and coughed out a laugh. "Oh lord...one phrase: family dinner."

He grinned, not meaning to interrupt my explanation on how cultural my house use to get. We would often spend Christmas at my family's home town, which consisted in the rural plains where it took hours by car on a dirt track.

I didn't tell Lewis, though I remembered the specific Christmas that just seemed to pop into my head. It had been when I had just graduated with my masters. My grandparents were persistent into inviting me back despite myself ignoring every bit of my heritage. They were the only family I had been willing to accept their gesture despite my mother's silent protest to her parents and my step-father's will to disown me.

At the age of eighteen, I arrived by taxi to my grandparent's home, feeling the nostalgia hit me like small beach waves. It had pulled me to enter the large rural home.

Lewis' grin faltered, only losing itself to the glint of awkward sympathy. "It was your...mother wasn't it?"

"Yes," I tried not to grit my teeth as I answered, so I stared down at my tea with a mere smile- now cold. My hands never left the handle and I would have not been surprised if it cracked against my paling fingers. "They...they weren't happy with my chosen degree. I could sense it in their voices."

"Well...you know foreigners...I mean-" He paused and gazed at me (cheeks very red), "I mean...Zylus and stuff."

The question went through my head,not totally making Lewis' opinion serious.

What did I expect? I didn't understand any of their emotions or reactions. To my view, I had been confused. What did I expect from a family I only saw a couple of years in my life?

I pursed my lips and sipped my tea that froze at my touch. "You're not very good at this, aren't you? Talking to women"

The man in front of me scoffed and I watched him stamper back, "I'm great with women...good at talking to women - I meant." He then traced back his eyes and smirked, "I mean, you're no good with this either." As he gestured towards me and himself, I understood well the thoughts that raced both in our mind.

I trailed, "Maybe..."

Cracking a laugh, I spotted him take another sip at his mug.

And that was the only time that I had a genuine smile on my face that day.

____

Soon as I entered the building, I knew it was turmoil.

People bustling and typing at their desks, the sound of desktops and monitors buzzing and the reek of coffee. When I got back from lunch, the department seemed to lift in atmosphere. My eyes darted and soon as I looked at the large notice board we had at the centre of the open plan - I blinked.

"You forgot about the Christmas Charity Ball, didn't you?" My colleague had to remind me, when I sat at my desk and waited for my computer to turn on.

I spun back and shrugged, "It's not my concern. It's just a ball."

"Not this year."

He fumbled out a file and handed it to me. To say it was concerning to me was an understatement. The file was specifically all for the project I had been working on. That, I wasn't surprise. What surprised me was that it had needed to be released.

"I know it's confidential work. But it's important so our investors for the building and equipment will boost up some of the company's worth. Your work on the new layout of server and the improved use of data handling is a huge step in data-collecting." He nodded and I simply thanked him with a murmur before turning back - slightly irritated.

Why would our company release to the world, the most advanced technology? It was MI6's material, not ours. Once the project is released and in manufacturing, I would not be allowed to gain accessed to it again. They strictly gave me bribery to keep it shut from my mouth so no one outside this building could know. As a result: I turned down the offer and said I would do it without even saying a word.

Once my colleague returned his concentration at his desk, I resumed to my own accounts and tried my hardest to focus on the new projects my manager had given. They've been dusting on my drawers for months, finally touched again by my skin and analysed by my eyes. At least these had been easier than the 'big' project I had done.

By the time I got through half of them in under two hours: I kind of missed taking a challenge.

This revelation took my feet, and guided me towards my manager's office. It was down the corridor from the open plan, and an alcove at the back of the building. My eyes trailed over the large transparent wall which dived the hallway to his, and ignored the disarray of my hair. Today, I couldn't seem to tame it, so it floated lightly and stuck to my face whenever I traced my palms over my cheeks.

However, that wasn't the biggest of my problems. Once I knocked onto the door, I expected two familiar faces look back.

Miss Matthews - or now Susan - turned and a quick kind smile formed on her face. With a nod back, I shut the door behind me quietly - hands behind my back as I stepped forward to the desk. I didn't expect to have been first name basis with Lewis' girlfriend. But it was difficulty not to since I had to suffer Lewis' rambles of their relationship.

Leaning against the desk, she stood more stoically, arms beside her body with chin high that I had to look up slightly due to her heels. Maybe I should wear heels more often...

My manager then coughed and flashed a smile, "Oh here is my star worker! I must congratulate you, [Y/N]."

"Thank you, sir." I politely replied, never moving my glance at Susan and at my manager.

He then ushered me down, dragging down a glass of scotch which I declined. That had furrowed me in confusion; I wouldn't pass my manager to be an alcoholic. I've been working with him for the past nine months. He had been an easy deduction when I first met him:

Short greased hair that was cut firmly and smart. His suit was often tailored to his fit, meaning he focused a lot on his look and concentrated on his appearance to his peers. There were dog hairs at the trail of his trousers - Labrador - and slight scruffs on his black polished shoes. My manager has at least five pairs but he prefers the black patent Derby shoes with the plain toe.

Today, he seemed to wear his quarter brogue shoes.

He leaned back on his chair whilst Susan - Miss Matthews - informed me on the Charity ball program. I set my eyes and continued to listen thoroughly.

"If you don't mind, the board of governors are quite excited to meet the senior head of the project." Susan softly spoke.

I let my breath hitch and nodded. "I'm happy to discuss about the schematics and the plans."

"Good," My manager butted in. "Because not only that. Susan mentions that you have another talent."

Mentally, I wanted to freeze, flip them off and run. How dare she-

Susan stuttered and smiled, "Well, I...I've heard from her head of the company. You're friends with Lewis, right?" It came out more of a statement than a question - almost too orderly.

My mouth couldn't seem to say yes. So all I heard was: "That's great! We'll put you on the program - the opening show."

Fuck.

Bugger.

I should have accepted that Deck Ripper's stream.

For my view, it felt as if the atmosphere just got more hotter. I only nodded in response, received the envelope of tickets I was given and stood up from the chair.

"I hope you have a good day," I heard Susan's voice, ringing to my ears and I could sense so much more on the tone. Susan Matthews was getting more on my nerves. Maybe it was my paranoia - not that I could admit - though there was a pounding effect that hit my gut.

As I exited the office, I stared down at my hands and counted to myself. 'Compose yourself, [Y/N]. It's just one performance.' I reassured myself.

Though, most of my reassurances never really ended very well.

I shut the letter close, and walked back to my desk. With a huge huff, I unlocked my desktop and another thought passed me as I stared at the files scattered in front. There wasn't any point on continuing the rest of the stuff. I had the whole week to complete the other half of the projects. But then I another thought crossed me as my eyes then spotted the set of files right at the bottom of my drawers.

With my hands opening it, I blinked when the questions flooded in my head. It was a project - but clearly not from this company. The document was all in Russian, a language I understood quite well after years learning four languages. It was all formed in a code, something that I could not help but begin to write down notes. Though once I looked around, it was idiotic to do this in a public environment.

God, this is turning out to be a James Bond film gone wrong...

"Damn you George," I hissed to myself and began shoving it into my bag. "Why did we watch all the Bond films?"

When the day was finished, I said goodnight to those I talked to at work and headed down to the bike racks. I could sense my heart beating faster than usual, but I had covered it well with a normal voice as I sauntered down. Once I unlocked my bike, my face grazed over the building and back to my phone. On the screen it had a tail of messages that I stared on my way downstairs.

[Y/N] - Hope you're having a good day, uncle.

[W.T] - Thank you, [Y/N]. How is yours?

I then typed back quickly.

[Y/N] - It's been good. It seems there's an east wind as it's quite cold.

[W.T] - Better wear a coat then.

Normally, people would smile at that tiny joke you would get. And yet here I was, deleting the chain message. I placed my phone in my pocket and hopped onto my bicycle, trying to get my train of thought on the road rather than the slow coldness in my body.

____

"I cannot believe you!" I roared.

Katie and Kim burst out laughing whilst Kat looked smug as fuck. She had told me to advance my player in the game. In result, it was game over whilst I exasperated at the screen.

Kat retorted, "I didn't know that they had the booster!"

"You told me that there hadn't been anyone behind the freights!" Pouting, I drank the glass of water by the keyboard and groaned as our team was slowly dying.

The four of us were having a ladies' Night during one of the Jingle Jam slots. It was an annual charity stream George loved to watch and what I had been adamant to do since George wanted me to watch it. To my opinion, it was much more interesting when you're doing the stream themselves.

It had been already a week from the beginning of the festive month. George and I were reducing some of the content being put out on our channels and that got some concerning comments. George was more of a worrier and I had to constantly reassure the man. I told him that our subscribers were not going to fully pledged revolution at us.

Back to the present, I pouted and folded my arms, I then decided to read out the donations whilst I waited for Katie and Kim to finish. The amount of money given has already skyrocketed for only a week and here we were: in onesies.

"So what's first on the donations, [Y/N]?" Kat wondered and then changed with a commentary voice. "Oh! Now that's a great move, Kim. Better than that failure from our Furry friend here..."

I rolled my eyes, grinned plastered as I then read out a message: "Toby Larone says Katie: are you excited to see our favourite Salmon boy get it on with Ross and Smith?" That raised me an eyebrow and paused. "Wait, from that stream?"

Bursting out in laughter, Kim and Kat couldn't hold themselves whilst I gave a smirk at a blushing Katie. She groaned in protest.

"Oh god!" She held her head in her hands, forgetting that she still was in the game. I patted her shoulder and laughed at the screen of tailed comments on Twitch.

It seems we'll be hearing Hatfilm's new album.

Kim spoke, "It's called Shipping and Receiving?"

I shook my head internally: these fans - I would never understand their internal jokes. Just as Sam was going to put it on, I felt a vibration coming from the pockets of my onesie. The three called me out unprofessional and there was an urge of laughing it off. Instead, my eyes rolled and looked down on the screen of my phone.

[W.T] - You've been to Bath?

"Excuse me, guys." I grimly said, with a bit of sympathy. "It's a friend. Wondering about if I'm spending the holidays with them."

Kim and Kat mocked back. The small petite woman spoke, "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to Hatfilms."

"Are you sure you want to listen to them?" Kat raised an eyebrows and I snorted.

"It's going to be my ringtone, "The hint of sarcasm was slightly unfamiliar to me, perhaps it's just that I haven't been using it often. "Anyways, I will be listening to it. But this is really important." Just as I got up, the Twitch comments roared out in protest.

Some wanted to hold back the song whilst the others just said that I should be a bit more professional. But despite the backslash, I exited the room and entered the hallway. At least my behind can stop sticking to the seat from bum sweat - disgusting.

[Y/N] - Just once. You took me there for a day out.

[W.T] - I've heard there's a lovely Italian restaurant just near the Parade Gardens.

I raised an eyebrow and returned back;

[Y/N] - That'll be lovely. I'll bring you a souvenir.

[W.T] - Opening times are 10am to 9pm.

[Y/N] - Glad to know.

Afterwards, I pressed down the delete button and immediately: all of the messages disappeared. I gazed upwards, staring at the emptiness and peace of the hallway. The white walls seem to blur most of what I saw, but I thought mostly on what had just gone through.

I was going to meet him in Bath next Saturday. There hadn't been any interactions with the man since my father had died. He was always abroad, working as always. And we weren't close.

'But I would need help' I informed my head. It had been a truthful state. This was not up to only me.

However, I put my thoughts aside and changed my demeanor as I entered the streaming room once more. What I hadn't expected had been three mean sing the lyric;

"Well let's get to the fucking!"

____

A/N: Phew, finally got finished this. I had to decide how I would go through this, as I wanted to add more background context before things get good :) It's gonna get REALLY Jamed Bond/007 style shiz next chapter - because I do love a bit of action and drama in a piece. Questions:

What is the file, which she found, about?

What happened further in her relationship with her mother and her mother's new husband?

And who is W.T?

Next time ;)

-SierraOwls