T w e n t y

U n c l e 

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Translations will be on the Author's Note After the Chapter

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That particular Saturday - four days before the Charity Ball - was tomorrow, when I sat in the common room for my break.

And it had arrived sooner as I expected.

Martyn and I had already got our presents sorted, Pippa and Jordan were spending a lovely summer Christmas in California and I have finally found the person with my other ticket as my 'plus one' for the night.

"Oh my god!" Trott chuckled as we conversed in the common room. He had been tossing a bag of Doritos crisps with Smith whilst Ross was finishing with the editing. By the computers, Sjin was on his phone whilst Caff and Hannah were trying to sort of recording schedules.

Trott then said, "You picked Turps. As your plus one?"

I raised an eyebrow and flicked the Pokeball in my phone, aiming it as if it was going to hit the man. "Well he is the CEO of the company," Shrugging my shoulders, I wanted to glare back but rather bit the thought back.

Smith on the other was rather careless, and said whilst he caught the packet of crisps: "Aw, [Y/N]'s going to be alright. Turps' is going to be great at being professional." 

My face morphed into a knowing look before returning my focus back onto my phone.

"If I had gone - not that I wanted to - I would shit my pants with all the geniuses in the room!"

"I assure you," I drawled out and looked at Smith. "Not everyone who'll be there: aren't going to talk about quantum mechanics."

He hummed in disbelief.

Though I explained, "It's all business men and company officials. The Prime Minister is going to be there as well if you want to know."

Trott whistled and then opened the crisp packet at last for my relief and Smith gaped back and flipped him off. 

"Wait, the Queen is coming?" Smith's eyebrows raised and he laughed manically to my slight confusion.

"I don't think so," I answered. "It's not really that important to have the Queen there. But possibly Prince Charles or Harry will be there. It's mostly science stuff."

Smith snorted, "Sciency stuff which you head produced and made. And it fucking works as well. Why not accept the credit?"

"Who said the Queen?" All our heads turned, who saw Sjin grinning. My mind then clicked at what he said.

Trott whistled, "Fucking Queen Elsa am I right?"

"Know, Whale Lords." Sjin simply answered.

I burst out laughing and sooner or later, whilst Sjin was trying not to disturb Caff and Hannah. "Oh my god! If Lewis went, he is not going to call her the 'c' word." I replied.

"Fuck," Smith laughed along. "Did he say that in a video? He called the Queen the 'c' word?"

Trott was the only one confused, well...pretending to look innocence which I grinned back in appreciation. The man loved to fool anyone. He then asked in a quiet high pitched voice: "What is the 'c' word?"

"Charles."

"Country."

"Charity."

Smith got up, patted my shoulder as I carried on drying my eyes. "Okay, I'm heading back before-" He hitched a laugh. "Before [Y/N] died from a heart attack or an execution. Good luck."

I groaned and felt my head in my hands. "You fuckers." There was hand that poked out of the door, holding a rather rude gesture before the latter Hat lad had dragged himself out with fits of giggle again.

Honestly. How do I work with them?

I looked up and spotted Sjin about to retort until I raised an eyebrow and sent him in silence. The hour then consisted of trying to remove the thoughts of making a fool of myself at the Charity Ball...especially getting rid of the eagerness of saying the 'c' word to royalty.

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2003 - Cambridge University

"Ms. [Y/N]." The professor called out from the room, in which [Y/N] stood up and carefully adjusted the hem of her trousers before she walked over.

It had been the late of July, and the heatwave had still been going for longer than a weeks. She had been sweating her heart out from all the final exams, trying to grip the pen in her fingers as she wrote down what she remembered on logarithms. But the time had come, her grades had already been announced.

As she stepped through the door, an arm pushed her from the front. Almost in a robotic manner, she spun back and bent the arm behind the person's back, carefully from glaring back. His face almost reflected the wanted scowl but only a painful tone faced her.

And if you hadn't known the two, [Y/N] suspected that she would get sent out immediately for harassment.

[Y/N] calmly said, "Pleasant to see you, Johnson."

The man snatched his hand back but prevailed; her grip was unexpected for such a small stature. Her classmate: Peter Johnson, had been competing against her ever since she arrived in the campus. So she wasn't surprised at his own surprise before she would be declared her result. His graying hair mousy hair, which made him almost bald despite his bold and stocky glasses. The man didn't look much, but his mouth said otherwise.

He spat back, "Get off me, [Y/L/N]! I'm not getting any of your germs. Where do you live? A pig sty?"

She stared back and formed a side-smile, but the glint in her eyes spoke entirely for her venomous words: "Be careful on how you speak to commoners like me, Johnson. You can catch a disease."

"Why you-" The man was about to grab for her until a figure stood between them. As she let his arm off, he stood back and ignored the raised eyebrows of their professor.

Johnson only sneered, quite immaturely despite the potential of his brain. Sometimes, there was tint of pity inside of her: for the man who had already had problems. There were stress marks on his face, clearly an insomniac like herself - like she would admit it to her GP.

And Johnson was always seen with a young girl when she cycled back to campus. A single father and unfortunately, a struggling one - but never in the financial side.

The professor calmly spoke, "If you would refrain from indulging in any arguments, Ms. [Y/L/N] and Mr Johnson." With another breath, Johnson wiped his glare and stalked off. She could sense it in herself, the ability to feel sympathy for the man - but nothing came out. The professor seemed to feel the cold atmosphere and demeanor their student had, but had sternly told her follow.

When the door shut, [Y/N] entered the small conference room, having the scent of varnished wood and dusty books let her feel comfortable. The room had soared high in height, with a large chandelier that dangled candlesticks for decorative purposes. The dark oak bookshelves were filled with books that seemed to fade from their various bright colours whilst some had still kept their gold bindings reflecting from the light.

A long brown table was spaced in the middle of the room, simple but rather Art-Deco with the gold trims on the legs and the shining varnish on the surface. The professors - four to be exact - had been conversing on one side of the table, letting the large Georgian windows fall behind them. She could see their spectacles better, more importantly their eyes. [Y/N] could see who they were and simply played her words as she coughed.

"Good day, sirs." She politely greeted herself and her professor asked her to sit opposite the men, who were looking at her more incredulous than expecting.

The unknown professor, preferably French, said: "Are you sure this is the student you were talking about, Archibald?" She watched the slick-haired man glance amongst the professor who had been teaching her throughout her degree.

Professor Wells was a preferably one of the youngest in the group, and mostly the only person she had trusted her words. He had given her an opportunity to study in Cambridge instead of Mensa, which she had turned down.

The professor answered, "I am very sure, Damien. Her potential would give her a great future with Computer Science."

"She is only seventeen, Professor Wells!" Another professor, exclaimed rather too loudly. She could tell as the others seemed rather abashed by the professor's sudden outburst. Professor Tamworth, coughed. "What I am trying to say, Ms. [Y/L/N], is that you awfully young. My daughter has just finished her AS-Levels."

Sitting rigidly, she hopped for deducing what they had wanted her to do. "I just...I just wanted to know what results I got for my Masters."

Another sound of papers afterwards, she had the French professor splutter out, "Well...full marks. No one had ever got full marks on this course!"

"And you changed your PHD to computer engineering?" Professor Tamworth said, shocked.

By the time the words left and into the room, all of them opposite [Y/N] spluttered and even one of them dropped their tea on the carpet. That said, the French professor was cursing in his native language, and she wanted to raise eyebrows at him, but refrained. She wasn't going to let her intentions out and confess like any sort of sappy teenager. No. If they knew, they immediately send her to British Intelligence. And not yet she was allowing to let her name be a part of political views.

*"Vous devriez faire attention à ce que vous dites, professeur."She solemnly wished the man hadn't made her do that.

The professor fixed hi tie and replied. **"Et vous parlez français, aussi?" She replied with nothing but a nod.

But the conversation was taken back on track, when Professor Wells understood her side of her decisions. She didn't want to pursue the theory part of the course and wanted to continue with something practical. He carried on with talking about how she would benefit with the school and how her PHD would work out in the following summer. They had compromised in the end. [Y/N] would lecture some parts whilst studying her chosen topic.

When she left the meeting, she felt more exposed. She tapped her fingers in the arpeggio in three octaves as she waited for the senior professor to discuss with her plans. She watched in a distance, letting her mind make more room for information. Today, she had already made a section for her future school plans.

She might even make a new wing.

"You wanted to see me, [Y/N]?" Professor Wells and herself walked down to the exit.

Biting her lip, she then explained, "I would like to inform you that I would be leaving the country, again."

"Family matters?" The man asked, and she nodded a little too quickly. "Your father would be so proud for you. Graduating at only seventeen."

She turned almost ice. She could feel her chest plummet and the whole world shake. "How is your wife? Delores, yes?" He shook his head and a smiled plastered the man's face. "You and I both know that you can't change the subject. You are too much like him...and a bit of your mother too."

The thought of her father ran through her head and she stifled the tightening fit in her neck. Professor Wells always knew her father, and the only one that hid what had happened to her father.

She often hoped to ask him one day. Or perhaps Uncle Will. But of course: she wasn't going to be begging. She had been there before. And it only gave her more questions that a satisfied answer.

But then more family matters occured. Her new family.

"That's why I have no choice," She mentally sighed at the reminder. Family dinner...with her mother and new husband.

Finding her shoulder being patted, she said goodbye to her former professor – her father's best friend. "Have you got any plans for you PHD, [Y/N]?"

"Well..." She drawled and smiled. "It's still a work-in-progress. But I'd like to study further on algorithms."

____

Lewis acted a bit upset when I told him I couldn't do the Saturday. 

I was about to make an excuse, saying that my relative was coming – but luckily on time: Susan had pushed him away to me. They were going dress shopping for the Charity ball and I was dreading more on having Lewis come.

Maybe it was just my sentiments, but clearly it affected me especially when Turps hadn't been taking my cautions seriously. I was even getting worried when my flashbacks were occurring more now. They had all involved somehow with my father, and the reoccurring dog and children flashback carried on with it.

Sometimes, the memories mix. The dog – Atlas – seemed to change often from my father to other representatives in my life. My past life which I wanted nothing of. The memories never left, to my dismay, just hidden. And now they were resurfacing which I hated.

As I texted from the bench I sat on, George told me that Sips had just arrived from Jersey. The magnificent man – Lewis spoke of him like a father and a friend. But the childish taunts had been removed, and now I was faced with the person I hadn't seen in the past fifteen years.

I looked out onto the river, watching whilst I let Uncle ask to sit. When I glanced, he had been discreet like me.

"Nice hat."

"Why thank you," Uncle nodded curtly, and I prevented a snort.

Uncle Will did not look nice with a hat on – he looked bald and much like Sjin with a beanie on. He then decided to compliment on my 'hair' (the wig itched like crazy throughout our conversation). 

"Shall we head to that restaurant?"

I caught his hand and smiled affectionately as we stayed side by side down to the Italian restaurant we were going to have lunch. 

We tried to converse as if we hadn't met for years. When we entered the restaurant, the waiter thanked Uncle and lead us to our table. The waiter had tried and failed to subtlety tell us that our table was far off from the rest and gave us good coverage. I then raised an eyebrows and Will scowled back at the waiter.

"Honestly," He puffed, and I stifled a laugh.

I then retorted, "Remember: that was me before. Don't blame them."

"It's suppose to be discreet," The annoyance was still there, but mostly to entertain himself and I as we gone over the menu. I gazed at mine and mentally took a note to take George and Tom here. They'll love the dishes. "You never had that problem. Which is why I had high expectations for them."

"Aww, you miss me?" Innocently, I wiggle me eyebrows and he glare back. So much of a fun uncle. "How's mother?"

He sighed and placed the menu in front of him, looking at me as if this was the thousandth time I had asked the same question. "You know that answer, young lady. And please: if you wish to hate your mother – my sister..."

I did not pause to think, only shrug and carried on with the main. "Shame that it's such a small world...shame that you had to tell her the truth."

"[Y/N]." Uncle Will sternly said and gazed upon my eyes the same ones I hated to look in – if it had been my actual mother. He knew very well that I hadn't been the same since that Christmas, when I told my whole mother's side I was going to be a Doctor. He had only been the one who was reluctant and spoke after the meal, before I left. 

"[Y/N]."

"What?" I felt a bit of anger fill my veins, but I calmed back down once I returned my focus. "Never mind domestic interests, I want to let you know that there would be something happening at the Charity Ball on Thursday night."

I explained of my suspicions, the folder that had been translated by me and deciphered when I used my work on the files. It had been ingenious, almost treason if someone stole it and didn't let the Intelligence know...

Uncle Will then said, "And how did that folder came to your possession?"

I remembered the colleague, who sat by me when I first arrived in the new work. He had told me in secret – that he was investigating as well. For my Uncle Will's boss. The man was new to his field, and probably never gone undercover for that long, a full nine months to say to least. I hadn't conversed with him ever about it, only letting things slip. That's why had had asked of me knowing hacking.

"You sent that agent to the same department," I glowered back. "What the hell were you thinking? I thought you kept me on track, not send my a babysitter."

Sipping on the wine we had just gotten, quite expensive as well, he spoke. "You of all people are in need of one. Considering your position as a retired-"

"Consultant." I glared. 

"Not when you decided to leave, we gave you a choice." Will stated. "Either choose to go undercover or retire."

"Both are the same." I spoke. "Even if I retire, there's still so much left that needs to be done."

He left out a hefty sigh and changed the subject once more, "Returning our conversation to the recent happenings..."

I sipped my drink . "Somehow they're planning to do something on that night. They're going to release them, aren't they?" 

"Yes, and those files that are vital for this nation need to be retrieved." Will finished.

We kept quiet when our meals came, smelling of pasta and tomato as we thought of plans for the ball. Someone or something, is going to release some very secretive files to the American base. And since it was far from British soil, they could easily transfer the data completely. 

My uncle was trusted only for purposes abroad, so to see him feel more wary on his work home land - was worrying for me. He had been so composed until now. I assumed well the cause had been my doing. That was why we barely see each other eye to eye.

Once the plates were empty and I had no plans for dessert, we knew our times were up. The plan had been simple but hopefully distraction was key. He had told me that they'll grow suspicious (whoever they are) if many new faces invited themselves to the ball.

But when we finished, Uncle Will payed and I rolled my eyes when he acted all 'James Bond' and bragged about his money. "Money is how the world works, [Y/N]."

Will spoke quietly, "Are you willing to operate again?"

I paused to think. If I chose to attend and do something, it meant being back.

Being back undercover.

Inside the back of my head, there was a voice telling me to refuse the chance. But the selfless side of me gave in. This was for the civilians - our safety.

I glanced at him and said, "Only one more time. Until this is put down."

Will gave a nod. He looked at his phone and began to text. "Archie shouldn't have suggested you those years back..."

"Be quiet or I'll tell your sister you're sleeping with your colleague." I smiled and he glared back.

It was true, though. I knew Uncle was never a settle-down sort. With moist left on his right cheek, he said goodbye after I pecked him back. By the time I followed him around the corner of the church – he had left.

But the smile that continued to stay on my lips never lasted. Soon I had to think of ways on how to excel the unplanned plan we just had. Somehow, it was all down to me to do it.

Well fuck.

____

2000 – Chelmsford

This was the first time she had met her uncle. 

At first, she hadn't known that he was her uncle, never even known that she even had one. But when he first introduced himself to her as Agent 'W', he asked how she had known where he had gone to.

She had concluded by the awful wrist tan and how her Uncle scratched the back of his arm from the terrible 'inject-si-ons' she used to pronounce it as. Her uncle would then find a soft spot on her and she felt almost some sort of familial relationship with him.

But of course, she never expected to find some sentiments with her family. She had just lost her father and having to lose her uncle once in a while was losing the rules she had had held herself at the age of thirteen.

But the first time they met, it was Agent 'W' informing the death of her father. (Of course, her mum and uncle were not really siblings. She knew easily that they didn't look at all like each other and the DNA tests she had taken showed that Uncle Will had been adopted to the family when he was little.) The men in the black suits had just told her and she felt almost betrayed, angry. Why did they just tell her about her father like he was just some toy tossed into the rubbish?

Her father just died six months ago.

"Hello, [Y/N]" 

She looked behind her but found it had just been Agent 'W'. So she just carried on roundhouse-kicking the tree in various heights. It hurt her legs, quite badly and gave her some foolish thought to even punch it out of anger.

'Maybe Agent 'W' would be a good punching bag' The thirteen year old kicked once more and she caught the falling apple in her hands. A hint of pride bubble into her heart. A feeling she rarely felt after a month of her loss. 

She then politely said, "Good afternoon, uncle. How is my mother?"

"She didn't take it well again," He grimly replied and accepted the other apple from her hand. "She hates it whenever I visit you."

[Y/N] hummed in agreement. "And she hates it whenever I go to martial arts practice." She grinned. " And to think we have something in common."

A humble laugh left his lips and her uncle then added, "We might not be blood related, but of course I can see some insight in what you like."

"You have a file of me and my mother," She plainly said, almost suppressing the annoyance in her voice.

Agent 'W' pursed his lips, "I thought you were banned on the computer?"

"Karen's too kind," She flashed a smile and did another kick on the trunk. Luckily no apple fell or else her mother would be shouting for having to waste another season of un-ripe apples. "You know...the librarian."

"I know." He replied.

She didn't know Karen had purposely been there to take care of her whenever her mother wasn't.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with endless subjects about [Y/N]'s recent events. Sure, she had prevented to mention about anything specific and only the things that seemed trivial. But she knew in the back of her head that her Uncle William (Will in short) was like her father. She knew the truth between the questions underlined with interrogation. And for only thirteen years old, she knew she was never supposed to talk back at an adult.

However, her mother had stopped their interactions once when [Y/N] had left out the files for applications for Mensa. They had arrived a week after Agent 'W' had seen her on that date.

And as a result: Agent Uncle Will was never allowed to see [Y/N] ever again.

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A/N: Woo! Welcome back after such a long wait. I have been trying to lots of school work, revision and such so I haven't been able to write and edit this. But now it's here and I really wanted to pause at this part.

Additionally, here are the translations (written by Google as I am very rusty in French);

*What [Y/N] said: "You should pay attention to what you say, professor."

**What The Professor said: "And you speak French, as well?"

Next chapter is going to be the Charity ball itself, more revelations and clearly some action. Let me know how you think of it. And thank you for being so patient. I hoped you enjoyed reading :)

-SierraOwls