T w e n t y  O n e

- P a r t  T h r e e -

B a c k t o B i t e

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More translations will be at the end of this Chapter.

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I blinked hard and stopped my flashback.

There was jolt when I felt a hand touch my bare skin, and luckily I looked or else I would have slapped my date. When I turned around, I calmed back down and told him to wait for me as he slid out of the leather seats.

I tidied my hair once more, it had only been in a bun with several curls (tamed at least to Katie's work) falling at the sides of my cheeks. I propped back the silver pin in my hair before I then as well slid out of the black Jaguar. Almost immediately, I was met with a dark red carpet, with several flashed of lights coming from the sides of my peripheral vision. Scientist paparazzi of course. And the Sun too, by my assumptions if royalty was coming.

And then the thought sank through. I was a Youtuber. Someone was bound to know my face easily. Especially when I had Mark Turpin beside me as my plus one. So when the cameras flashed to us as we walked pass, I whispered to Turps to not say a word and let me take the lead. He wanted to protest but I very well knew that I was the expertise tonight.

"Take a chill pill, [Y/N]" He whispered back and I scrunched up my face at the phrase.

Snorting, I grabbed the nearest champagne glass and passed it to him. He gladly took it as I explained, "I can't 'take a chill pill' Turps." He gave me a knowing look. "I'm playing in the program tonight and they're making me speak to some high bloody governors."

"Oh shit." He spluttered and I widened my eyes and patted his back before he choked on five hundred Pounds worth of wine. "I thought you were joking!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed almost right there, "God I wish I hadn't joked it to you at first..."

The CEO returned to his professional self and the two of us lingered around the grand hall which had a grand stage and a grand orchestra ready for the night. I already placed my cello on the stage - which looked to be leading for me to play by how intended the spotlights hit the instrument. I sipped my glass of champagne and looked among the growing crowd of black tie and formal dresses. This was never the agenda I had liked. It was too stuffy; too many disguises and facades that made it harder for me to observe easily.

But as I lingered about, I had caught the face I was hoping not to have found.

He had clung onto Susan, his clean-shaven face but still the beard kept as he lightly touched his hair subconsciously. Eyes looking but never at Susan, they seem to feel alert but also unafraid. And that surprised me about Lewis Brindley.

In fact, when I followed their figures and carried on hiding among the crowd, it seemed that Lewis was getting the hang of talking, but when the mention of his work, he immediately took his pride on the work on the Yogscast. That was when an unfamiliar feeling surged up in my chest. Hearing him say how proud he was with his business really meant something for him, and to me as well.

But the warm feeling fell off and was tossed aside when a member of staff told me I had to get on. I walked over to the other room, a room filled with orchestra members preparing and tuning, and looked around. But as I took a step, another figure bumped into me. Their fingers clasped mine and I felt a small object fall into my hands. Carefully, I pulled back my hand and tucked my hair back - placing the device on my ear.

"Queen, you copy." A voice rang through my left ear but I didn't flinch and continued to rosin my cello. I plucked a string, then paused, then lead with another pluck before tripling, doubling, singular and then one in a long pause.

I was very rusty on my Morse code.

Then the voice spoke quietly, "Two brass players on your four."

"I know," I said quietly. "They've already over tuned the French horn."

"And the woman with on your ten. Second violins. German made." It was my work colleague talking, not Will. Where was he then?

But then the program manager had ushered me onto the stage. I pulled my bow and instrument to my body, letting the pounding of my heart lead the rhythm of my footsteps. As I got onto the stage, I felt more alone than I ever did.

But as the first bar began, and with the indication of the conductor's baton: I felt nothing soon after.

____

2000 - Westminster Abbey

Today was the funeral.

He just arrived a day before, cooped up in uncomfortable economy seats on the train. While he had gone through the process of stalling, he had been doing his uni work on the table, trying to hold the mechanical pencil in his hand as he scribbled the symbol equations. Scratching in frustration, he never did finish his work.

But for today, he stood at the mirror and took a deep breath.  

He could sense the thread falling and he irritably pulled it off the black suit, supposing to reflect the occasion. Though with the symbolism and all, the teenager (now an adult) felt like a child once more. Maybe it was because of his friend, the person who he was going to support for. He hadn't intended to support his friend's family. No.

Lewis knew he may care too much for people, but he knew who were right to his eyes.

It was even honourable to even be present in the funeral. It was suppose to be with all higher officials and posh people that he hadn't known. Even his father felt more of the soldier than his father as Lewis met him at the end of the hall of the hotel. His father wore his military outfit, adorn with several badges from the war he was too young to be with.

"Her father was a brave man," Lewis' father told him in a quiet tone during the reception. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Lewis never felt more uncomfortable to hear his dad sound so sonder. "Quite young too. A soldier to this country." He knew of the Afghanistan war, it was always in the Newspaper.

But in truth, whenever he asked his friend on what carrier Mr. [Y/L/N] had: she had said completely the opposite. Not a soldier, then.

It had been all the soldiers brought back into British soil, several other families were huddled in their own in the dull grey weather. Lewis itched the neck of his tie, trying to not move in his seat as they arrived at the Abbey. There were journalists and news reporters, all wanting to know first gossip and news. He imagined himself being one of them. After all, that was his first ever job when he began studying chemistry.

There was now a little ounce of doubt in his mind about it.

However, he followed his dad and he found her younger siblings with his mother, waiting for them. And when he found his little sister's hand in his - wrapped in a small black glove that matched her dress - Pippa had to tell him that his hands were sweaty. 'Oh great, you're making me feel more worse, Pips' He groaned inside his head before Lewis could sit down on the seat designated for them.

The funeral began, with deep sonorous voices for background music as he tried not to gaze down on his twiddling thumbs and focused more on the caskets. They were being carried down the aisle, slow and steady. But really, Lewis was more focused on his best friend. Sat on the second row with some unknown relative he hadn't known about.

[Y/N] did not shed a single tear that day. And that surprised Lewis very much. How can a thirteen year old not cry over her father's death? He assumed that she had no more tears left to cry, but Lewis knew that was a figure of speech.

When the burial finished, Lewis paused on his tracks and was left staring at the only figure by the graves. He looked up to the sky and hoped not to be lashed at her. They haven't seen each other for an six months, and his best friend was going to be so pissed for not informing her of anything.

So he carefully walked down, but was stopped by her voice;

"I know you're there, Lewis." She strongly said out loud, but Lewis saw the hint of anger between the lines. 

Oh yeah, he's definitely fucked right now.

He stood behind and cautiously replied, "You should go now. Your mum's probably wondering where you are." Lewis wanted to say more. He really did, but then he re-calibrated and knew this girl was ten times smarter than he was.

She didn't move from her place.

Lewis asked again. "Want to tell me your deduction, [Y/N]?"

"It's only been two weeks," She sniffed and stood up from her knelt position. When she looked up, clearly finding to have to hold her hand above her eyes to see his, she gave him the expression. Lewis knew she always did that - the way her lips told more than her eyes. "But I have some ideas."

Lewis wanted to chuckle. To find that his friend could be so unaffected but affected at the same time. Maybe that was why he felt empathetic to her. She was a genius, but to have that control over emotions...it felt almost that she had been suppressing it. Though, it was definitely wrong to smile let alone an actual laugh.

It was disrespectful.

Instead, Lewis then took the gladly hand of hers and they took off to find their families, whilst speaking back: "You can tell me about them over food. I've literally been functioning in coffee and glucose tablets."

____

"Manager had just moved." I wanted to literally glower at the agent for intruding my immersion as I came to a slow ending, and heard the applause echo the large room. But as I stood up to stand towards the crowd, I heard an added comment. "And amazing performance, Ms. [Y/L/N]."

I was about to take a bow until I felt my lips curl to a smile as I heard the one man I wanted to hear from the ear piece;

"Quiet, agent." The calm voice of Will was underlined with annoyance and I could imagine my work 'agent' colleague to roll their eyes and refrain from a wince. 

My fingers ached from pressing onto the strings but I gladly shook hands with the conductor before I had left the stage for the main speaker to announce the introductions. Everyone had now sat down, and I was left to scuttle down the stairs. I then entered the empty room with instrument cases and began packing up my cello.

As I found my case, my eyes looked at the edge of my vision - making sure no one had followed me. To my annoyance, the people who we needed to catch had control over the CCTV cameras, which meant I had no choice but to clamp down my case close and hurried down onto my feet.

"CCTV location, stat." I appointed as I walked through a crowded part of the hallway, who looked to be awaiting for their drinks. Once I slipped through the staff doors, my hand gone down my hair to let it loose.

There was a pause, and I continued to walk down to the kitchens. Already by the time I found myself hidden in the midst of suits, I have already seen four cameras and four suspicious spies.

Will's voice filled my ear, "ten backstage, two in the secondary hall, another six in the front and ten in the main hall."

I quietly cursed to myself before I thanked the 'waiter' who had passed me a pile of tea towels and a case. 

"Grazie." With a seductive wink, I acted my way back out and through the rest of the back rooms and towards the toilets.

To feel as if someone was watching behind me was an understatement, I forced myself to control my breathing and kept my walking pace normal, feeling the adrenaline kicking in after what I had played. It had taken me back, way before. Before when I had fallen through the dangerous bliss. The hallway curved around the main hall, and I quietly entered the hall.

The first face I fell towards had been Turps, who was pestering where the hell I had been, but I only smirked and dawdled over 'women' problems which he swatted my arm and I chuckled back. 

On second thought, I could take back how I regretted having Turps as my plus one. He had been a gentleman, but clearly noticing that we were here for proper business. I had been dreading, however, as I then noticed after the speech that a figure over loom me.

My manager had walked over to my group, and I immediately observed his posture and the fake sincere smile. He wore quite an expensive suit, but no one could have sensed the small embossed part in his blazer - only I was able to sense the gun as I shook my hand but he quickly pulled me into a hug.

I could feel his hand press against my dress, and a twinge of heat fell to my chest. I grit my teeth behind my kind smile and introduced him to Turps.

"You are [Y/N]'s plus one, then. Partner of yours?" My manager tried to sound trivial but I only continued my act and shook my head.

I forced myself to blush; another thing I had learnt to do despite how I was far from abashed.

I said politely, "No. Mr Turpin is my CEO. The company in which I part time in." When I felt satisfied with his nod, I eyed my friend beside me - who began talking about the Yogs.

At this time, I took my chance by listening in, glancing ever so slightly behind my manager, his head in perfect clear as I spotted the figure of grey among the crowds. I let my hand curl onto the strand of my hair and pretend to be embarrassed by what Turps had been talking about, letting the compliments reach my eyes.

But I knew easily that the man's eyes never faltered mine. It was if his mind was seeing my mind, sensing the act that I had put on whilst I stood and nodded. So to break my stare, I blinked and cracked a side-smile back.

And I said, "Well it was pleasure to talk to you, however: I must excuse with me." His eyes did not sold the thankful grin he wore, and my mind raced to what he has intended to do tonight. With the gun in his pockets: I had no doubt that someone was here as well.

As I excused myself, I sashayed across the groups of formal wearers and quietly entered the open space in the middle. There was a chandelier above us as I stared out and grabbed another glass from a floating plate. I took a sip and waited for more information, urging for my uncle to come out and show himself soon.

At the following second, I felt a hand fall at mine. I turned around and curled up a smirk. Will was much taller me, and he dipped his head down and whispered back at me; "How's good ol' manager?"

"He's not the only one after the information," I spoke as we graced over the dance floor, my glass left by the side table. I hadn't ballroom danced since I had been little, because I barely attended any formal occasions apart from work related purposes. This was a huge contrast to the Pub Quiz I had with the Yogs.

My uncle took lead as I was struggling to be observant whilst we danced. I kept my eyes wandering, but I failed as I spotted Lewis and Ms Matthews - dancing.

Uncle Will replied, "Our sources have been informed." He tilted his head, letting my eyes fall over to one of the women by the door, eyeing me with a wink before swaying out. "They just took over the CCTV."

"The musicians: they're a group." I answered as he twirled me around and back again. And then I added, "But they're outnumbered by the amount of which Matthews has'."

My uncle swore under his lips and I attempted not to snort. "That's very un-ladylike."

"Yes, mum," I taunted him and I watched him stare out (inside he must've been rolling his eyes at me).

When the music stopped, the two of us parted with a thanks and quickly pecked his cheek. Though, I hadn't expected my boss' eyes glance at my direction. I almost wanted to look back, but I knew that I had to put work first before them. I had to keep him and Turps safe.

But to see Lewis' eyes flash back into the same glistening ones from months before - my breathing hitched.

'Stop distracting yourself,' 

My mind scolded me and I focused back on the mission and began my saunter towards the other buildings. Lewis was just standing in the distance, hands in a glass to try and feel within the atmosphere. Before I left, I watched him walk off - searching probably for Susan. The same eyes flashing back from remorse to normality.

Luckily, my colleague's voice cut my thoughts back to reality and I was ready to grab the small case - about the a laptop case - from under my dress and stalked over to the building next door.

The charity ball was being held at the head quarters, and the large hall had been converted for the night's purposes. Luckily, there was one side of the building that connected to the server department - obviously not a coincidence. Uncle's group had already informed me that they had the CCTV's cleared and the hallways free and in duty. The only problem was: that I was defenseless.

Damn those security protocols at the beginning of the night.

Uncle Will was slightly amused, saying that a gun was unnecessary for me. Though, only equipped with a case and wearing a dress: I felt very empty for my self defense. With a huff, I returned my focus on the dark hallway, only illuminated by the green fire exit signs and red fire alarms. I took my caution and took my pace quietly round the corner. As I slid back on the wall, I slipped out my silver hair pin and held it out from my chest.

The reflection of the rest of the hallway showed vaguely, but I knew there hand't been any silhouettes . Next, I took a deep breath and held the case in my other hand, slipping back my pin in my hair before I walked out once more.

"Update on figures," I asked.

A reply echoed from my ear, "Agent 'W' taking lead on violinist and brass players. Matthews and manager are still in the hall. But followers have barricaded the exits."

I felt my chest beat hard.

"Is Lewis Brindley and Mark Turpin still in." The words came out rather confidently than I had thought, but inside I wanted to stutter it out. If they lay a finger on my friends...

"Still in."

Once I got to the door, I slipped out the key card from my bra, mentally face palming myself and imagining Katie taunting me about this - if she ever knew that I did the bra trick. But nevertheless, I pulled through the key on the pad and the icon ignited green. There was a small hum from the door before a little hum. I then entered the server room.

As I walked through the many shelved and racks of metal, there was gut feeling inside me that I sensed this had been too easy. They could have changed the access cards, but they haven't. The train of doubt began to seep through, and I ripped it out of my mind as soon as I saw the right shelving. I took my case out and slipped the silver pin from my hair.

The hair pin had fit exactly through the grooves of the case, and I heard the click and pop of it. I then took out the small laptop and USB stick. Whilst I had done this, I tossed my shoes off - wincing at the pain of wearing heels. Never again...

"You in, Queen?" Will's voice dripped with an ounce of concern and I grumbled back a copy.

I opened the glass door and began taking the open wires, changing them quickly while I had tried to prevent any trips. The servers were being monitored, so I had to make sure I was not spotted. So when I plugged in my laptop and USB, I quickly flexed my fingers and began my work.

____

2004 - GCHQ

Agent 'W' had just came back from a mission, and now he was being summoned again. Now from MI5.

It had been a security breech, and Will knew very well who had done it.

"You're niece is one genius," One of his coworkers told him.

He only replied, "Get back to work." Glaring back, everyone obliged to head back to work.

He sighed, knowing very well why [Y/N] had done this. And Will was not surprised at all on how she had hacked into one of the world's top secret places...just to find out how her father died. 

If only he was allowed to see her again. However, his sister was somehow different after [Y/F/N] had passed away. His sister was colder and more normal - he described it as. Will's current partner (this one had been Greek) gave him some insight and had said;

"Women like her want to forget and try to be normal. Don't ever force that thought to your niece, Will."

And from that day, Agent 'W' asked the government to give her niece her special education. 

However, he had not been able to gain access to the information of his death of his brother-in-law. That was the only life regret he had with her.

___

Dismantle: Complete

I mentally sighed. 

"Dismantle, completed." I said through my ear piece and I heard a gentle sigh back.

"Good, now head back." Uncle Will sternly told and I shut my laptop down and began packing up. 

It had been a good five minutes, despite how fast I have been typing up. But when I felt the sweat coming from my forehead, I had my eyes peeled onto the screen - feeling no pride but relief. To think that no one had known about the information transfer was too obvious, and yet we had no choice but to take it down.

So next my mind had gotten a conclusion. This wasn't the main goal for them.

As I packed it back in the case, the ways of theories intertwined in my head. The general talks from Matthews and my manager were all somehow linked. The way how Susan had met Lewis through gym and my placement.

I stopped in my tacks.

And there she was, the face I had expected to see.

"*Вы были в шпионаже на меня." The words fluently left my mouth, unbeknownst to her that I had the upper hand of her background.

'Susan Matthews' carefully glided towards the light of the room, hands at her side with her head up high. Her eyes said more as she said, "**Это было не трудно. Имя не скрывает, кто вы."

"***Я разобрали американских серверов. Перейти скажите боссу, что они должны быть осторожны, чтобы нанять."

"He is nothing," She nonchantly replied. "Men are too predictable."

I bit the inside of my lip and answered, "Yes. They, aren't they."

"Always so easy to give them such empty promises,"

"Is that how you did it." I butted in. "Gave him and Lewis empty promises."

She replied. "There was never a promise, darling."

"Then why don't you just fuck off. There's nothing here for you."

"And you should be careful on what you say, Ms [Y/L/N]." Her kind voice dripped with no sympathy and I could sense how much experience she had in comparison my little years worth of hidden emotions. "We might have to make a compromise between Mr Brindley and Mr Turpin."

Gripping my case tightly, I raised an eyebrow and then spoke with a solemn voice. "I suggest you leave them alone. You don't want to make an enemy of me."

"You already have."

"MI6 doesn't count as my inner circle."

"But your father does."

I snapped up and the regret fell to my face. 

She could sense how I could feel. Matthews was toying with my emotions, but I knew very well that they had wanted something from me. She carefully walked over, now a meter away from my face as she checked her nails. The explanation began, and I slowly took my key card from my hands.

I asked, "What do you know about him."

"That your actions reflect to his death," She answered clear with no emotion and I held back the key card and gently slipped it through the server racks and opened the glass door. Her eyes bounced back at my own, and I could feel the tension grow.

'Stop it, [Y/N]! You're falling for her trap!' 

My head shouted back, in fear that my body was losing the control of my anger. Then the words that gracefully felt like a fairy tale had turned into a nightmare

She walked up to me and said the words I had not wanted to hear, "Oh he was such a beautiful man. I could have kept him as a pet." She sighed and looked down at my shoes. Then, she added, "A shame..."

"That you had to hide or to lose?" I incredulously butted in.

Matthews laughed, circling me like a predator at its prey, and the whole room seemed to darken in my view. My breaths quicken, I could feel my knuckled turn white as she finally finished what she had wanted me to do.

"A shame that he fell for the poison," Matthews answered. "Just to save his little daughter."

And that was when I felt something hit my cheek. It dug slowly into my flesh as I quickly stepped back and began hurtling back to reality. With a quick scold, I pierced my eyes at her and began my descent into adrenaline.

She tried to trip me, I quickly ran for the corner and whipped out the wire cord from my grasp, feeling the sound of metal hit her skin. I was losing blood, a lot. So I had to try and get out.

It was fight to the death. But Matthews had the upper hand as I clenched her arm from stabbing me. 

As I held her for a few seconds, I lifted my foot and aimed my kick at her abdomen, sending her flying to the racks of metal and the sound of her groan. With another breath, she stood back up and I had felt my torso jerk as she hurled a kick back. I stumbled back and tried to regain my balance, but then a object flew my way.

I rolled back and saw the pocket knife clatter onto the floor and I hurdled up to my feet with a groan once more.

"Queen, you copy?"

My vision began to blur. I used what was left of my energy and tossed the knife far from her as possible. I then snapped once more, and I dodged the gunshots she fired. I blocked her arm as I got near, letting my anger physically as I punch back. Her face, her arms. I was angry. Angry at a person like her to torment me in such a way.

"[Y/N]? Are you there?"

I heard the click of the gun, but this time: the gun had pointed at her.

"[Y/N]!"

As I stood up, glaring at the bitch, my mind wandered further and my chest heaved with a warmth I hadn't experience in a long time.

'You could kill her,' There had been a dark slurring voice in my head.

Matthews' smirk held firmly as she said, "You could kill me darling, but that doesn't mean you'll get your father back."

I let her words sink through. 'Kill her! She had killed your father! She's endangering your friends! Think about how proud your father would have been.' The voice in my mind was tempting, but then I had felt another voice - very different from the passionate one - whisper in my ear.

'How would Lewis think to see you like this. A murderer.'

I gazed at her own, feeling the urge to grit my teeth and scream at her. But mixed with the blood and the taste iron, I could feel glisten in my eyes. The temptation to let the tear fall at her sight. However, our staring contest didn't last. My heart lost control as I felt the gun in my hands leave.

Suddenly, I felt the world collapse around me and the sound of the gun ringing in my ears.

____

Translations:

*"You were spying on me."

**"It was not difficult. The name does not hide who you are."

***"I dismantled the American server. Go tell your boss that they should be careful on who they hire."

___

A/N: Oh my god, this was such a LONG part to write. I wanted include all the littlest details that fitted this part of the plot and this is the result.

And that ending tho. What's going to happen to her?

I know the intentions had not been specified, but I want it to be a sub-plot through the rest of Part three. I will however, make sure that the next chapter will be much nicer (less action more fluff). I assure you.

But firstly, I am not a fan of writing action scenes. They are really hard to write so I apologize after that poor attempt despite the effort. xD

Let me know what you think. Who got shot? (And if someone ask if the main character lives then my answer would be: what happens in the next section of the story then?) And how does all these character's revolve around the reader's life?

Hoped you enjoyed this lovely long piece. :)

-SierraOwls