**Characters and some story lines are owned by Veronica Roth**
TRIS - 1969
It has been almost a month since the accident that had taken my family and I left my life and home in Chicago. Now in San Francisco I have moved into the old Victorian house across from the Alamo Square Park that my Aunt and Uncle owned. These last few weeks passing in nothing but a blur, my body just going through simple motions of eating, sleeping or staring. Inside my heart and soul screamed and all the while the world around me continued on, moving in a fast forward motion.
From the moment that Bud had taken me to meet them in the Hotel at Chicago my Aunt and Uncle have been a constant support and rock for me. With the help of the Blacks they had packed up my home and handled all of the funeral arrangements. Never once leaving my side the entire time, ushering me out when it all became unbearable and sitting with me all night as the images of the 3 coffins still made its way into my dreams regardless of the meds I was on. In the week that followed the only thing that seemed to calm me down was Tobias, the memory of waking up safe and warm beside him in his bed washed over me and gave me a secret strength that I clung to.
After another restless night I convinced my Aunt to take me to the shop and spent 2 hours searching for his cologne, sniffing bottle after bottle in my search for him. It was like a drug when I finally found it creating a rush of the same feelings that it evoked, I immediately brought two bottles. Dabbing a little on a small handkerchief I carried his scent with me everywhere and although it didn't erase the bad dreams it did make them bearable but it didn't stop my Aunt and Uncle from hovering near me ready to spring into action at the first sign of a break down.
On the outside my Uncle Harrison was a 6ft 4 solid mass of pure intimidating male, standing next to him I literally dwarfed in comparison. The first thing he did each morning was work out in the training room that he had set up in the basement. His routine was very strict. First warm up stretches, a few rounds on the punching bag and jump rope followed by weights and finishing off with a leisurely 25 mile run. All of this before I have even considered getting out of bed. With every inch of his thick arms covered in tattoos, a trail of piercings that lined one ear, shaved head and his taste to wear worn blue jeans and leather it only enhanced his formidable image.
On the inside I knew him to be a small bundle of fluff that always stood up for the underdog, especially women and children. He absolutely adored my Aunt and gladly let her bully him into doing things that any normal self-respecting male just wouldn't consider. Like holding her purse while she tried on the umpteenth dress, running to the drug store to pick up some tampax or letting her win an argument simply because he liked the way she wrinkled her nose at him. I also knew without a doubt that he gave the best cuddles you could ever want.
My Aunt Victoria is the polar opposite. At 5ft 6 her whole being is a constant source of contradictions that leaves you continually guessing which one of her contrary whims you would encounter. While her frame is built slender and lean it hides the power of her muscles and strength. Hidden underneath her dainty satin and lace clothing was a large tattoo of an eagle with its wings spread in flight and a ruby red belly button piercing.
With her quick wit and razor sharp tongue she has left a trail of many men behind her licking their wounded egos or running off into the horizon with their tail planted firmly between their legs. As fast as lightening and a quick flick of her top button she could turn on the charm and exploit her female assets to her favour leaving them dazed and willing to fall over each other to do anything that she asks. She also made the best hot chocolate, just the right amount of marshmallows.
The smell of pancakes and coffee roused me from my sleep this morning as well as the muffled talk coming from the kitchen downstairs. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I continue to lie in bed. Time truly was a thief in the night. With each one passing the memories and routines of my previous life fade and are replaced by the once unfamiliar sounds and smells from when I had first arrived. My stomach gives a growl drawing me back from my mussing and reminding me to eat. Willing myself I throw the covers off and swing my socked feet to the floor. Searching my pillow I finally find my handkerchief and I drag myself out of bed to get ready for the day.
Entering the kitchen I see my Uncle Harrison sitting at the table reading the morning paper, the top of his bald head poking over the top of the pages. The sound of The Rolling Stones plays on a small radio on the kitchen bench as they are talking. Aunt Victoria fusses around the kitchen, cooking fresh batches of pancakes as she wears a floral printed apron, motioning with the spatula as she speaks.
Slightly embarrassed that I had stumbled in on a private conversation the embarrassment is short lived when I realised that they are talking about me.
"I still say it's too soon Harrison. She is much too fragile at the moment," I hear my Aunt as she flips another pancake from the stove.
"It will be difficult regardless of how much time has passed. The sooner the better Vee."
"Do we really have to tell her? Can't we just leave things be?"
"No she deserves to know."
"Know what?" I ask as curiosity finally gets the better of me.
As I sit down at the table and reach over to grab one of the fluffy discs from the centre they both exchange concerned looks at each other over the top of my head.
My uncle clears his throat as he folds the paper before he speaks "Beatrice we need to talk," his deep baritone voice gruffs, another red herring to his true nature.
I look up from buttering my pancake to him and see that Auntie is now standing beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder.
"Are you sure she's ready?" she asks my uncle, her soft brown eyes showing concern.
"If you mean that I'm tired of everyone walking on egg shells around me than yes I'm ready for any conversation you want to have," I stare down at the pancake resisting the urge to stab at it.
"It's about your parents and the accident," he continues to watch me, his eyes not faltering, "how much do you know of what your father did?"
My hand hesitates for a moment as I reach over to pour myself a glass of orange juice.
"What do you mean? He was a lawyer."
This time it is them who hesitate, I see them over the rim of my glass as I take a sip exchange another look. Eventually my Uncle simply nods his head causing my Aunt to huff and walk back to the stove clearly this was one argument that she wasn't going to win. She glances over her shoulder as he continues.
"No he wasn't."
"What do you mean he wasn't? Of course he was, he had an office and clients and went to court."
"Did they ever tell you about me?" I look at him slightly confused by the change of topic "did they ever discuss with you what I did?"
"What! No!" I reply unable to hide my frustration at his cryptic questioning, "if my father wasn't a lawyer what the hell did he do?"
"Harrison…" I hear my aunts pleading voice behind me causing him to raise his hand to stop her before continuing.
"Beatrice, he did do those things. He liked doing them but they were simply a part of his cover."
It takes a few moments for his words to sink in, his cover. A thousand questions start forming in my mind.
"What do you mean cover?"
"Your father and I work for the Government," he replies, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward on the table. He continues to watch me carefully.
"Government….."
"Well a branch of the FBI to be exact."
"FBI…."
This was too much. I push my plate away from me and stumble out of the chair. Pins and needles start pulsating at my nerves, from the roots of my hair to souls of my feet. My father, a man who I idolised as someone who stood as a defender of truth had lied to me.
"Did my mother know?" I ask as I start pacing the floor.
"Yes."
"My brother?" I stop to look at him and with a simple nod of his head my world starts spinning, "the Blacks?"
"To my knowledge your family kept his true identity from them. As far as they are concerned he was a lawyer."
I start pacing again as I take in this revelation. My father worked for the FBI and everyone in my family knew except me. I suddenly stop again when he continues.
"There's more."
"Well by all means, let's just twist this knife protruding from her heart a little harder," unable to keep the sarcasm hidden from my voice.
My aunt moves away from the stove and gently leads me back to the chair, throwing the spatula back on the counter and removing her apron she takes a seat next to me. Clasping my hand and only holding on tighter as I try to remove it from her grasp.
"If you insist on telling her Harrison you might as well start from the beginning," she says standing firm with her grasp.
I look from her to my uncle and back again waiting for them to continue. Finally it's him who stands up and starts pacing.
"The area that your father worked was typically white collar crimes. Things like fraud, embezzlement, money laundering and forgery, that kind of thing. About two years ago the FBI was approached by someone claiming they had information on a new crime syndicate in Chicago. Refusing to give up their true identity they provided a few instances which validated their claims. Andrew was assigned the case and proceeded with the help of his contact known only as Snookie.
It became very clear to your father early into his investigation though that the case wasn't going to be as simple as it was once thought. The more information provided by his contact the deeper he dug further into the underbelly of Chicago. It appeared as though this new syndicate had its hands in almost everything, from drugs to the sex trade to money laundering and gambling. They were good, well planned, trained and funded and they always eluded arrest.
Andrew contacted our superiors advising that the case was turning into something more major then what they first anticipated and requesting back up, in other words me, to help him. The approval was fast tracked and I was brought in a year ago to help investigate and infiltrate them. Unfortunately though they always seem to be one step ahead and the only contacts I have made so far have been those that are lower in the pecking order, nothing worth risking our covers for. We wanted the top gun.
When I came to get you in Chicago I went to Andrews office to see if I could locate the files or information that he kept but I was too late. The office had been trashed, every inch searched and there is no way of knowing if they found what they were looking for or not. Snookie and your father made contact by coded messages, never meeting in person and despite my efforts to make contact since the accident it appears as though they are either unwilling to continue to provide information or …"
He trails off; I know what he's thinking though. Snookie has met the same untimely ending as my family. Instinctively I tug the handkerchief from my bra and balling it into my hand hold it up to my nose, inhaling the soothing scent as these revelations seep their way into my brain.
I am startled back to this screwed up reality when I hear the doorbell ring, Uncle stops pacing and for the first time since he started talking he looks at me, "there's someone I want you to meet."
Auntie pats my hand as she stand up from the table "I'll go answer the door, God knows he's probably hungry," she places a soft kiss on my forehead before she leaves the room.
Reaching out I pick up my glass of orange juice from the table, ignoring the fact that my hand is shaking and listen to the muffled voices from the foyer. One is male and whatever he has said has caused my Auntie to giggle, it gets my attention because my Auntie never giggles.
Standing up from my chair I turn to the doorway as I hear them getting closer and when she returns she is followed by a tall man who immediately goes straight to my Uncle embracing in a firm hug.
"It's good to see you again Harrison," his deep voice drawls as they firmly pat each other on the back.
"You too," he replies, they both turn to look at me, "Beatrice this is Uriah."
Uriah was almost as tall as my Uncle and had a large fuzzy afro sitting on top of his head with a thick cheesy moustache across his top lip. Wearing a paisley buttoned up shirt with the top buttons undone a thick golden chain danced over a cluster of dark curly chest hair. You could tell that his leaner frame was deceiving because underneath the hair the muscles where taunt and defined. The way he stood was full of confidence and control, all the way from the tip of his afro to the soul of his platform shoes. His deep brown eyes twinkled when he smiled at me and I immediately liked him. For some reason he seemed familiar but my brain was just too fuzzy to try to connect the dots.
"Uri this is Beatrice, Andrews daughter," my Uncle continues.
In two large strides Uri has crossed to the other side of the table and engulfs me in the biggest bear hug, ordinarily I would kick up a fit but there was something about this man that makes me immediately fall into his arms and enjoy the embrace.
"Beatrice," he pulls away, his brown eyes filled with empathy as he smiles down at me. His white teeth a stark contrast to his tanned skin.
"Have you had breakfast Uri?" Auntie questions behind me drawing his attention.
"Now Vee that is a stupid question! Of course I have," looking back at me and throwing me a playful wink "I'm a growing man though and won't say no to another."
Motioning with her hand she wave to the chair, "sit and I'll cook you up some pancakes."
Releasing me from his hold he moves back to the table and takes a seat in the spare chair on the opposite side. Still smiling he leans in and pours himself a glass of orange juice, taking two big gulps before he places the glass back on the table. Stretching his long limbs out he clearly makes himself at home as he slings one elbow over the back of the chair. I wish I could figure out what makes him so familiar to me.
"I was just explaining to Beatrice about her father," my Uncle continues as he clears his throat.
Uri nods his head, his expression turning serious "I image it's all coming as a shock to you, especially so close to the accident," he offers, "your father was a good man Beatrice. I really admired him and still can't believe what has happened."
"Thank you Uriah."
"pfft no need for formalities. Call me Uri, everyone does."
I simply nod my head as a brief acknowledgement.
"Uri has been working closely with Andrew and myself Beatrice," my Uncle continues.
"Do you work for the FBI too?" I ask walking to my chair, grasping on to the back turning my knuckles white.
"HA! Hell no," he laughs, a deep playful one causing tiny laugh lines around his eyes, "no I'm a PI," he takes another gulp of juice and leans over to refill his glass.
"Uri has worked odd jobs for us over the last two years," my Uncle answers reading my mind, "originally it was just things like background checks, research, surveillance that kind of thing. Over the course of the investigation though he has proved to be very resourceful with his spying skills providing useful information to us than what we ever expected as well as a level of protection detail."
"Protection?" I ask, sliding into the seat beside him.
"Soon Beatrice, I promise," my Uncle replies.
Auntie places a large stack of pancakes in front of him, "God Vee you are the best," he says drowning them in syrup. When the first bite enters his mouth he throws his head back, groaning around the half-eaten food in his mouth, "heaven," he mumbles before swallowing and taking another bite. I watch him closely and can feel the small tug of a smile on my lips, God I wish I could figure out why he was so familiar. Smiling through a mouthful of food he throws me another wink.
"Knock it off Uri, that's our niece you're flirting with," Auntie says as she slaps him across the back of the head causing him to wince. A small bubble of laughter escapes my mouth at his over exaggerated antics to the slap.
"Hey, I'm just being friendly," he takes another mouthful of pancake, "besides my heart belongs to Marlene you know that."
"Marlene?"
"My girlfriend. You'll meet her soon. Speaking of which Amar has everything all set ready," he takes a gulp of juice around the half-eaten pancake. I can't take my eyes away from his eating habits, they are truly memorizing. Just like the Indian snake charmer I saw once in a documentary at school, I was hypnotized by the dance of his fork to his mouth and the small globs of syrupy butter sticking to the moustache.
"Good. Thank you," my Uncle replies holding his cup up so Auntie can refill his coffee, "before I take her there is something else that I need to tell you Beatrice."
I tear myself away from Uri and back towards my Uncle, his face is now solemn, his eyes expressing sympathy as though he is about to unleash another round of sorrow. He nervously places his cup on the table and clasps his hands in front of him, his dark brown eyes piercing me.
"I fear Beatrice that all evidence at this point seems to indicate that it wasn't an accident."
It takes a few moments for the weight of his words to sink in, wasn't an accident. The tension in the room suddenly smothering me.
"It appears as though Andrew had stumbled across something and they wanted him silenced," my Uncle continues, his gaze not wavering from me as I continue to process this information.
Suddenly it hits me again, another wave of nausea but unlike before it is not from sorrow. I stumble out of my chair and begin to pace the kitchen floor, all sense of normality and reasoning are replaced by anger. Stopping abruptly I clench my fists and can feel the fury burning from behind my eyes.
"Are you saying that someone had my family killed on purpose?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"Yes."
I wrap my arms around me as my breath leaves my body, the full impact from that one word washing over me as I crumple to the floor. My Aunt is quickly by my side and I shake off her arm with a velocity that makes her take a step back. With all my strength I stand back up, the floor spinning around me. My family killed on purpose, robbing me from them. Robbing Susan from her future. I suddenly feel smothered; I need to get out of here before I'm told something else that may well just be the last thing before I am fully committed to insanity.
"I have to lie down," I say and start making my way to my room.
"No leave her Vee, just give her a little space," I hear my Uncle say behind me.
"I told you Harrison. It is too soon," I hear her reply.
I don't hear anything else as I enter my room and slam the door shut. Unable to contain the raw emotion coursing through me I scream. It's a scream that has been bubbling just near the surface since the accident, no murder of my family. It's a scream that has just been waiting to escape from my mouth. It's a scream that is filled with all of the emotions that I have been controlling to contain within. It's a scream that makes my throat raw.
When it is finally over I stand there and look down to my hand, I'm still clutching the handkerchief. Raising it I inhale deeply and as I feel the threads from the warmth of Tobias wrapping securely around me I vow that there will be no more tears. I'm no longer Beatrice, she died with my family. I am now Tris, and just like Scarlette O'Hara in Gone With The Wind tomorrow is another day, a new day, a day where Beatrice is officially mourned with her family and Tris lives. It's a day where I vow to finish the work that my father had started, I will make them pay. It's a day for revenge and it's going to be sweet.
SNEAK PEAK AT THE NEXT CHAPTER….
"As you can understand Tobias I am approaching a very sensitive time in my campaign."
"What are you trying to say?"
I watch as something glints behind his chameleon eyes, they always keep me guessing and I always find myself sitting on the edge of the chair. It's like my body is trained and is waiting to spring into action.
"I understand that you are about to sit your Detectives exam?" His voice is casual but the threat to me is clear, "I am simply asking you for certain discretions with the press if they should happen to contact you."
"If you are asking me to keep your true character a secret you will have no argument from me. I am about as willing to admit that you are my father as you are willing to admit that I am your son."
