Author's note: I know that probably I shouldn't start another story... because one of them I will surely neglect but this one was in my head for ages. And tonight it felt like coming out so here it is! I hope you like it... this is the sequel to my other stories and this chapter you will see the events of Past perfect in John's POV. This would have been the last chapter of Past perfect but somehow I couldn finish it that way, but here it fits .. or so I think.
So, enjoy the chapter and please rewiev!
I hope there aren't too many mistakes, but I'm finishing this almost at midnight so don't except perfect grammar and things like that...
Chapter one
Sam walked out of her office and went to John's desk. He's been working again just since two weeks ago. However he still wore a brace on his knee, he was full of energy and though the doctor limited his working hours, he spent at least ten hours a day in the office but usually more.
"Could you please check these confessions out for me? I need some background research of the witnesses.."
"Consider it done." He said taking the file.
"It's not that urgent, this is an age-old case, you know. Don't get yourself overworked."
"Me?" he asked surprised. "I'm glad that I can be here again!"
"I've never heard anybody talk so enthusiastically about this hell-hole" said Grace who just stopped behind Sam. "I just finished the analysis of Torrente's blood and decided that I hated this job…"
"Did you find anything?" asked Sam.
"No. If I did, I wouldn't hate it so much."
"What's this gathering?" asked Bailey, coming out of his office.
"We're just starting the VCTF-union to fight for better working conditions." Said Grace with faked seriousness.
"Ah, so you are conspiring! But stop it because we have a new case" Grace growled. "I'd like to meet you in the command centre in" he looked at his watch "let's say: two minutes!"
All three of them frowned at the same time and then started to laugh.
"What is it?" asked Bailey looking back at them.
"You are so cute when you are bossy!" said Sam.
"I would have say something else, but I think this was much nicer" added Grace.
"Okay, I see I'm your target today, so I better prepare myself" sighed Bailey and turned to go to the command centre where his subordinates followed him immediately.
"So, the new case isn't a new case, actually. We helped with it a few months ago, but unfortunately there was no result. Now though we might have a chance. You sure remember the so-called Mob-killer, don't you?"
When they all nodded, Bailey continued.
"There was another attack in New York. However this time we have a survivor. More over this survivor is an undercover agent who works for the Organized Crime Department in the NY Office. An Agent" he looked at the file in his hand "Brody."
At this there was a loud crash as John jumped up and pushed his chair backwards. Every head turned at him and Sam saw that he was pale as ashes and she recognized something in his face she had never seen before: fear.
"B…Brody?" he stuttered.
"Yes, do you know him?" asked Bailey quite worriedly, obviously he was also surprised by John's frantic reaction.
"Yes, I think so… but it's her…"
"I can't tell for sure, here's no surname…" said their boss trying to sound calming.
"It must be her, she works for the OCD… How is she? What happened?"
"I don't know many details… but if it's really her, then one thing is sure: she's alive. So you might as well calm down a little…"
"Sorry… I just… she is…" then he sat down again. "Never mind…"
The rest of the meeting was spent with the usual things: repeating what they knew of the previous murders (there were five of them, the victims were always in deep connection with different gangs or organized crime groups and they were killed by countless punctured-wounds). Then Bailey summed up the profile they came up with those months ago, and announced that they would leave by plane in an hour.
John was watching the top of the table the whole time and even after they finished he seemed distant and worried.
62 minutes later they were on board and flying to New York. Sam was sitting with Bailey as usual but she throw concerned glances at John constantly.
"Why don't you go and talk to him?" Bailey asked.
"Since when can you read my mind?"
"Since I sleep with you every night…"
"I think you are right." She stood up and walked over to John, who was looking out the window. "Can I sit down?"
"Of course" his cheerfulness from earlier was nowhere to seen, and so was his fear, Sam felt again as if he were looking at a mask.
"So, where do you know this agent Brody?"
"I don't want to talk now, Sam…" he mumbled.
"Okay, I understand… but I'm sure she's all right…"
John didn't answer just turned back to the window.
-
John was watching the blue sky out there but he didn't really see it. He was glad that Sam gave up so easily, she usually wasn't so convincible. But now he didn't really feel like talking. It was strange: first Miss Warren, and now Angie Brody.
However this was different because with Angie he didn't lose contact. They still talked occasionally, even if not as often as he would want. But she had a difficult job… Just like him. She still called him after his 'accident' with Jack and said how sorry she was that she couldn't come visit him.
He watched the clouds and remembered. He remembered the year when he was fifteen, and when everything started to go downhill…
It was a hard year. His mother has just died, he was hating his father more than ever before. And didn't help either that there was a complex investigation against the Conelly-clan. This meant that Patrick O'Doyle was always irritated and this meant a lot more beating for his son. And other things that he had to do for his father… For example delivering those packages…
Fifteen-year-old John O'Doyle was running. Again. He knew that he couldn't get to the school in time as he was already late. He woke up at 5 a.m. but he had to deliver a package for his father to the outskirts and he lost his way. Principal Harding won't like it, which meant detention. And his father didn't like if he got detention. But of course he liked it even less if he didn't deliver his packages properly! So there was really no choice for John.
He took a sharp turn and ran even faster. His backpack was jumping up and down to the rhythm of his steps. At last he arrived at the school and rushed inside. Unfortunately the first man he ran into – and actually it happened literally! – was Principal Harding.
"I'm sorry sir…"
"I see you are late again, Mr. O'Doyle. Go to your classroom and I'd like to see you after lessons in my office!"
"Yes, sir." He started off again.
"And don't run on the corridor!" the principal shouted after him.
He burst into the classroom out of breath and froze in mid-step when he glimpsed the unknown teacher standing on the cathedra.
"I'm sorry for being late Miss…"
"Miss Warren. And you?"
"John O'Doyle, Miss."
"I hope being late isn't a habit of yours. Sit down."
"No Miss, it isn't."
He went to his seat and glimpsed at Angie who was watching him with a concerned look. He quickly shook his head telling that it was nothing wrong.
When they were out of class about forty minutes later, the girl joined him immediately.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Another package for my father… and unfortunately I ran into Harding."
"Detention?"
"I have to show up in his office after lessons."
"I'm also in detention until the end of the week."
"Why am I not surprised?" then he added." Maybe because you're always in detention…"
Angie frowned but didn't contradict in any other way. To tell the truth she couldn't as what John told was absolutely correct. They were best friends since John could remember and the first word that came to his mind when talking about Angie was: wild. She was nothing like the other girls. Maybe it was because she was brought up by his father alone, but she always behaved like a boy… or sometimes even worse. She was in the box-team, where she was the only girl and because of this she usually matched with boys and to the boys great annoyance with not little success.
"By the way" changed she the subject suddenly. "Dad asks if you could come over on Saturday and help out a little bit."
"Of course I could. But I have to ask my father first."
Angie's father Mr. Brody had a pub and John often helped out there. His father almost always let him go, especially as the pub belonged to him in papers. Mr. Brody was a nice man and a good father – this was one thing John envied Angie for. However he had a big problem – he was a passionate gambler. He asked for loans many times - and not the legal way of course. And then three years ago he lost his pub that belonged to the family for almost a century. Now the "Red Rose" was a hangout for the members of the Conelly-clan and there went on a lot of black business in the back-rooms.
Angie spent her childhood in the pub as her mother died when her daughter was one year old and the special upbringing had consequences. And those consequences were not something the teachers were to fond of.
"Maybe we might end up together in the chemistry lab! I have to clean there every afternoon…" she mused.
"I don't think Harding would commit this mistake again."
She shrugged.
"What do you think about Miss Warren?" Angie always was jumping between subjects which could confuse someone else, but John was used to it.
"She seemed nice."
That time he hadn't known yet that her kindness would cause him a lot of trouble. Hardly a few weeks later, they had that uncomfortable incident in the library and he had to go to the social worker. Not as if this hadn't happened before of course. There were occasionally new teachers who thought they could change the world but in the last year John was careful enough but not this time.
After the visit at the social service he listened absentmindedly at the conversation Miss Warren had with his father. It was a Friday afternoon. Next day he could go over the Red Rose to help out again… if he will be in the condition for it. He liked to be at the Brody house. After work he usually slept there and he felt as if he were living in a real family. Sometimes he imagined what it would be like if he had a father like Mr. Brody. But he didn't as he was reminded when his father waved him in and he obeyed of course. When the door was closed he didn't even look up. He didn't have to to know what was coming.
"What is this about?" Patrick O'Doyle asked quietly. He never shouted, probably he wasn't even angry but the quieter he was the more dangerous the situation became.
"I helped Miss Warren in the library, and she accidentally poured me over with hot coffee. I forgot…"
The blow came without warning but not unexpectedly. John didn't even finch however he heard something – probably a rib – crack loudly.
"What did you forget?" his father asked.
"I took off my jumper and she…"
The next blow came into his face, he swayed a little bit and his eyesight went blurry.
"And she?"
"She saw some of the bruises." He felt blood in his mouth but gulped it back.
"And what did you tell her?"
"That I injured during training…"
"I guess you weren't very convincing."
His father's beatings were always systematic. He rarely acted out of rage and John guessed that this was his luck. The few times when John met with a really furious self of Patrick O'Doyle, he always ended up in hospital.
"Do you agree when I say that you need to be reminded of proper behavior?"
"Yes, sir."
How he hated this. Like a well-trained dog, he thought to himself.
Reminding took no more than five minutes, but it cost John a black eye, a cracked lip, another bruised rib and a sprained wrist.
"Go to the bathroom and wash your face. And ask Mrs. Cruz to sling your arm. We have dinner at six."
He did as he was told. Mrs. Cruz was their housemaid, who was a nice middle-aged woman and she often treated John's injuries. She never talked about it though, firstly because she knew Patrick O'Doyle and secondly because she didn't have a green card and neither had her family.
After dinner his father started a new conservation about the situation at hand, this one though took place in the study and in a less violent way.
"What did you tell that social worker?"
"Nothing." This time he looked in his father's eyes. This was different, he got his punishment and it was over for today.
"I see. Just to make it clear: there won't be a hearing, I hope you understand this."
"Yes, I do."
"All right then. You can go to your room now."
He turned and then stopped in the door.
"Father?"
"Yes?" he has already turned back to some papers, but now he looked at his son again.
"You won't hurt Miss Warren, will you?"
"I haven't decided yet." His father might have been a bastard but he never lied to his son.
Not many days later he knew that his father decided the bad way. He 'accidentally' overheard a conversation with one of his men and heard as he gave out the order to him to attack Miss Warren two days later.
He told about it to Angie. The girl looked at him with worried eyes so he guessed she must have register some of his thoughts.
"You don't want to do something stupid, do you?" she asked. She might be a tough girl but even she didn't cross certain borders.
"I don't know… maybe I should tell her…"
"Do you think, she would believe? People usually underestimate your father…"
"Since when are you so clever?"
She shrugged.
"You don't have to be odious!"
"What a polished style…" he mumbled under his nose.
"I go to advanced literature, you know." Angie said with a faked pride that made John smile. Then the girl went grim again.
"But seriously John, please don't make him beat the shit out of you…"
"Where's your polished style suddenly?"
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Sorry! I'm just tired of this…" he said and suddenly there was nothing sarcastic or happy in his voice.
Angie stopped and to John's surprise she caressed his face. To his even bigger surprise he saw tears in her eyes. But Angie never cried…
"Just tell me if you need some help…"
And he needed. He decided to save Miss Warren and found a way to do it. So he asked Angie to come over and help him open the room where his father kept his weapons. Angie spent a lot of time with different kinds of gangsters in the pub and she learned fast and well. By the time she was twelve she could open almost every door and lock. Now however she wasn't fond of the idea… Actually they argued for hours before John could convince her and even then she was constantly growling. But she did it anyway… and John could appreciate it, because it was another sign of her friendship.
Then of course he paid for it but it was worth it, or so he thought after he regained back consciousness.
When he arrived at home, shaken and tired he found that big ape there in his father study. He knew it would come but as people say, hope dies last. His father indicated him inside as soon as he glimpsed his son.
"I can't believe you dared to do this!" His father said in a strange voice when they were alone in the study again.
John didn't answer. Actually at the moment He couldn't believe it either he didn't understand how he dared to confront his father so openly. Not only had he stopped him in revenging Miss Warren, he also stole one of his weapons and this was maybe an even bigger crime.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"I'm sorry for breaking into your room." He said and this time he didn't look away, he stood his father's glare.
"You know, son, in a way I'm proud of you. It must have taken a lot of courage to do what you have done. But this courage was absolutely misplaced and I have to make you understand this."
The beating that came after that wasn't the biggest of his life but was close enough. He ended up unconscious, with a broken nose and a broken hand. For the next two weeks he needed Angie to write his homework for him. Which she did without a word. She didn't even tell she had told so… And John felt that in a way she was really proud of him…
"John!" He was waken of his reverie by Sam's voice.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing. We are almost there…"
"Oh, right… Sorry if I snapped at you…" he added.
"Never mind" she smiled. "I hope your friend is really okay."
"Yes, I hope so too!" he said quietly.
-