A/N: I'm back! On schedule! Yay! It's wild to be regularly updating again. Thanks so much for the reviews and encouragement from everyone. I'm glad to be back and I really appreciate it. With that, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 30: Beneath the Mask

Arya found Tywin in his office. Not a surprise. She wondered the percentage of time he spent in his office compared to the rest of his house. Did he even sleep? She didn't have any evidence of him doing so.

He didn't immediately look up when she entered. He was going over some contract, making notes. Arya busied herself with eyeing his bookshelves to keep her mind occupied. He had all of the sorts of tomes she'd expect from a powerful businessman—all nonfiction, mostly regarding business and law with an impressive selection of history books thrown in amongst them. They all looked very professional and blended in with the dark wood aesthetic of the rest of the room. Arya wondered how many of these books he had read and how many he had chosen for show.

"You're nervous."

Tywin's voice jolted her from her study of the bookshelf. She turned, placing her hands behind her back, standing at attention.

"I'm not."

"You are," Tywin looked her up and down. "Your posture is very stiff."

"This is Beth's posture," Arya said. "I'm still pretending to be her for most. It's good to keep up her habits."

"Right," Tywin said. "Only you don't usually adopt her habits when we're alone. Only when you're nervous."

Arya glared at him. "You must be very annoying to do business with."

"Annoying is a more charitable word than most use to describe me," Tywin set aside his papers and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk. "So. What's worrying you?"

A complicated question with a complicated answer. She couldn't tell him about her fears with the Faceless men or what would happen when the culprit was brought to justice. So instead, she stuck with the simplest of her worries.

"I'm worried about tonight," she said. "About something going wrong and someone getting hurt. About the culprit getting away."

"You don't have faith in your cousin?" Tywin asked.

"Having faith in someone doesn't keep them safe," Arya said. "And it doesn't keep things from going wrong. Not for my family."

"The Starks have had a string of unfortunate luck, it's true," Tywin said. "But even if things go poorly tonight and the culprit escapes, we'll know who they are. We'll be able to track them. They aren't especially intelligent after all."

"Aren't they?" Arya asked.

"No," Tywin said. "A car accident is far too ostentatious a method for murder. Too many ways it could go wrong. There are much better methods."

"Cersei was saying something like that earlier," Arya said absently.

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Why were you talking to Cersei?"

"It was more that she was talking to me and I was listening," Arya said, studying her nails. "I don't know. She can't hate me because I saved Myrcella's life, but she wants to hate me because I've punched her eldest son a few times and have been lying to her. It's very complicated." She looked from her nails to Tywin. "Do you think Robert Baratheon was poisoned?"

"What?" Tywin asked, seemingly bewildered by her shift in topic.

"Robert. Could he have been poisoned?" Arya asked. "We've been focusing a great deal on my father. What if Robert was killed too? You mentioned all of the CEOs dying at once was strange so… he could have been poisoned."

"Of course, he was poisoned," Tywin said. "But no one is the culprit. He drank poison all day and night until it took him."

There was a bitterness in his voice. Arya couldn't imagine Tywin and Robert getting along on a good day with their discordant personalities. But on top of that, Robert had humiliated his daughter. Tywin wasn't a doting father, but he was a proud man. He must have loathed Robert for the slight of the affairs and other such indiscretions.

"It's not surprising," Arya said. "But that's exactly why it's suspicious. It would be so easy to slip something in his drink. Something that increases the risk of alcohol poisoning. It'd be just the push he needed."

"I wouldn't discount your theory," Tywin said. "Perhaps if we find the one who killed your father, we can confirm it."

"Maybe," Arya said. But she wasn't sure. Hiding poison beneath alcohol seemed more a method of the Faceless Men.

"That aside, I can't help but think you're avoiding the subject," Tywin said.

"What subject?" Arya asked.

"The subject of your worry."

"I told you what worried me."

"You did. But I don't think you told me everything."

Arya fell silent. She truly hated him sometimes. The way he could see right through her. And she hated how pointed he was in his questions.

"Does it have anything to do with your missing years?" Tywin asked. "The ones you refused to discuss."

"No," Arya said.

Yes, she thought.

Tywin tilted his head to the side. "You're lying."

She turned her eyes back to the bookshelf, hoping to find some sort of retort in the bookshelf. Amazingly, she did.

"What did you do in the war?"

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Sorry, I thought we were asking personal questions about each other's pasts." Arya turned back to look at him. "My father mentioned once or twice that he didn't like your involvement in the war. So, what did you do?"

She hoped that he would balk or perhaps tell her to get out of his office. She was annoyed when he held her gaze.

"If I tell you something about the war, will you tell me something about where you were the past few years?"

She should have said 'no', but suddenly she was very curious. She gave a single nod.

"Your father and I never got along," Tywin said. "We had different principals in business. It was the same way in both Essosi wars. In the first war in Essos, I never lost a battle. But I resorted to what many considered brutal tactics. At one point, when our navy was holding a blockade on some of the enemy countries, my unit set fire to farmland and other resources to quicken their surrender."

Arya pressed her lips together. No, she imagined her father wouldn't approve of that at all. He had always believed in a certain code of honor in everything he did. When he fought in the first war, he was quite young. A soldier with very little command. He told Robb once when he thought the younger children were asleep that it was important to always remember your enemy is also a person, same as you. When you lost sight of that, you began to do things you regret.

But if Tywin conducted war as he conducted business, he more likely looked at the enemy as pieces on a Cyvasse board. And she highly doubted that he regretted the things he had done.

"If the blockade had held, we would have won the war," Tywin said at last. "It was only the involvement of the Braavosi navy that managed to break it. Braavos was ultimately the reason that Volantis won the first conflict. Regardless of our loss, your father never forgot my methods when we went into business."

"My father had a long memory," Arya said. For a moment there was silence, and she knew it was her turn to offer up something about her past. She couldn't give the truth, but hopefully just enough to keep him satisfied. "I was in Braavos when I was missing."

Tywin raised his eyebrows. "And why was that?"

"Someone was keeping me there," Arya said. "I was locked up for a good portion of the time. Eventually, I escaped and came back here."

"And where is the person who kept you now?" Tywin asked.

"Not a problem," Arya said.

"But they're alive," Tywin said.

Arya held his gaze but didn't respond. Tywin stared right back. Then he exhaled. "I still have some matters to attend to this evening. Don't worry about your cousin. He will do his job, as will my son."

Arya nodded once and turned to go. She paused as her hand rested on the door handle. "You mentioned my father disagreed with you in the both the wars. But you two didn't fight in the second one. You were too old at that point. So why would he disagree with you there?"

Tywin was silent for a long moment. Then: "Would you like to tell me something else about your missing years?"

Arya's eyes narrowed. Then she lifted her chin. "Have a good evening." She left before he could respond.

Tywin Lannister remained inscrutable to her. A mystery in so many ways that she wanted to continue to unravel. It gave her some joy to know she was still a mystery to him.

Jaime arrived outside of the park with Jon and Brienne an hour early, just to keep watch on the place and make sure that no one was setting up any sort of trap. While Brienne made a round of the streets looking for something specific and Jaime waited with Jon in the car. He had wanted to go on foot through the park, but Jon and Brienne insisted he remain with one of them at all times.

"We need to keep this police business if we can," Brienne said. "And you're not officially police. It's bad enough we're letting you come along."

"I've helped you all get this far, haven't I?" Jaime asked.

"You have," Brienne said. "I'm not discounting that. But still. Behave."

Jaime had agreed. He didn't really like spending time with Jon, but at least Jon didn't like spending time with him either. And Jon was easy to rile up.

"So why did you join the force, Stark?" Jaime said. "I'm sure there was a place for you in the family business. Why not claim it?"

"That seems like a strange question coming from you," Jon said, keeping his eyes peeled. "You're Tywin Lannister's eldest son. You're his heir. And you decided to become a cop."

"Exactly. Perhaps I'm trying to find out if we have anything in common."

"I highly doubt that we do." Jon crossed his arms. "The business world has never been for me. My cousin Robb is good at it. I don't think I could help him as much as my aunt. I wanted to make a difference somewhere else."

"So you knew you'd always be second best and decided to make your way in something else," Jaime said.

"You make it sound much more calculated than it is," Jon said. "I don't compete with Robb."

"That's a lie. We all compete with our siblings. Or cousins in your case but they might as well be siblings. We all measure ourselves to see if we stack up. And when we know we won't, we seek belonging somewhere else."

Jon glanced at him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were desperately trying to relate to me."

Jaime shrugged. It was true and not. On one hand, yes, Jaime knew he could not match either Tyrion or Cersei in business. But unlike Jon, he was expected to do so. No one raised protests when Jon joined the police. For Jaime it was an open act of rebellion.

"If you're done interrogating my motives, it's my turn to interrogate yours," Jon said. "Why did my uncle dislike you so much? I understand why he hated your father. That's obvious. But he mentioned you did something in the war. What was it?"

Jaime's expression darkened. He didn't expect Jon to ask such a direct question. "Because your uncle sees what he wants to see. He saw my father in me. But he had it wrong."

"What did he have wrong?" Jon asked.

"It doesn't matter," Jaime said. "I don't care how your uncle saw me in the end. I don't care what he thought of me. And I don't care what you think of me either."

"Really," Jon said. "Then why don't you tell me the truth? Unless you're worried that I'll agree with my uncle."

"Nice try," Jaime said. "You can agree with your uncle if you want. I'm not telling you shit."

He got out of the car then, slamming the door a little too loudly. He leaned up against the car, running a hand through his hair. Lights shone on the street as Brienne's unmarked car pulled back up to the street. She was giving him a strange look as she got out of the car.

"Why are you standing out here?"

"Fresh air," Jaime said. "Anything suspicious?"

"Not yet," Brienne said. She looked him up and down. "You seem upset. Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing happened," Jaime said coldly. "And if it did, it wouldn't be any of your business."

Brienne's eyes narrowed and he mentally cursed himself. He shouldn't be taking this out on her. She hadn't dug into his past. But all the same, he didn't have the energy to apologize right now. He just wanted this whole matter settled as soon as possible.

"Fine," she said. "But you should still get back into the car. You'll draw attention."

Jaime obeyed her request, slipping back in the car beside Jon. They didn't talk again. Not until he got a call on his phone. A call from the contact.

He looked to Jon who nodded once. Jaime answered the call and put it on speaker.

"I'm here," the distorted voice said. "You'd better be alone."

"My guy is alone, yes," Jaime said in his best Slynt impression.

"Your guy?"

"Can't be seen making the trade. We don't want this to trace back to me or the police could make a full investigation," Jaime said.

There was silence. Then: "Fine then. Send your guy in alone.

"Where are you?"

"Near the fountain."

The line went dead a second later. Jaime looked to Jon. "All right. I'm going in."

"No," Jon said. "I'll make the trade. You're a famous face and name. I'm not."

"You're still the nephew of Ned Stark," Jaime said.

"I can fly under the radar. Always have," Jon said. "You and Brienne get eyes on that fountain and back me up."

Jaime studied him for a long moment before he nodded. He got out of the car and went to Brienne's car. She rolled down the window for him.

"We're going," Jaime said. "Jon is making the trade. We have to get eyes on the fountain."

"There's a good deal of bush cover on the right side," Brienne said.

"Great," Jaime said. "Lead the way then."

He and Brienne made a wide circle around the park, posing at first as two people out for a very late-night stroll. Fortunately, the park was badly lit by flickering street lights, and it was easy enough to sneak close to the fountain. There, barely visible in the shadows of the trees, stood three figures. Even in the low light, Jaime could see they were armed. But he couldn't get a good look at their faces. Perhaps because they were all wearing masks.

That'll make it hard to ID them without starting a fight, Jaime thought. And I'm not eager to get in another shoot out.

He glanced at Brienne who was focused straight ahead, one hand rested on her gun. He followed suit, just in case, as Jon made his approach.

"You friends with Slynt?" one of the taller shadows said.

"Aye," Jon said. "You have the money?"

"Maybe," the shadow said. "First, put your gun on the ground."

Jon paused. "I don't suppose you're going to put your guns on the ground."

"Don't be ridiculous," one of the shorter shapes spit out. "We make the calls here, not you. You're lucky you're getting more money at all."

The words themselves weren't significant. They were typical of a criminal paying a cop hush money to hide their crimes. But the voice. The voice was what hit Jaime in the chest.

"Joffrey."

Jaime breathed the name without thought. He knew that voice in a heartbeat. That overly proud tone. It was something he had absorbed from so many other members of the Lannister family.

But it didn't sound right here. Joffrey was the one behind Ned Stark's death? He had only been sixteen at the time. Old enough to drive sure but… Could he really be the one behind this?

Jon had recognized the voice too. Jaime could see it in the way he stiffened. Shivered. It wasn't just the realization. It was the possibility that Joffrey might recognize him. They'd never had much to do with each other and it was dark but the risk remained.

Joffrey didn't seem to recognize Jon yet. But he did recognize the shift.

"Is there a problem?"

"No," Jon said. "No problem."

He was a bad liar. His voice was unsteady and cracked. Not the sort of cop they'd usually send in undercover.

"He's lying," one of Joffrey's guards said. "Something's up. He's trying to pull something."

"I'm not," Jon said.

"Don't lie," Joffrey snapped. He was easily swayed by the guard's suspicion. Paranoid and trying desperately to maintain control of the situation. He didn't know what he was doing. No way could he have gotten away with this all this time on his own. "Is this a set up. We'll kill you right here."

Both of his guards drew their guns. Jon was losing control of the situation fast and Jaime wasn't about to let the guy get shot by his own nephew. So he did the first thing that came to mind—drew the attention onto himself.

"Joffrey, what are you doing?"

It was too late for Brienne to stop him. He had already called out. Was already moving despite her quiet cursing.

He stood in one smooth movement, stepping from the bushes and striding forward with the confidence of a man who was just walking by. He knew that his face—his voice—would pull Joffrey up short.

He was right. The masked figure turned to look at him, stunned into horrified silence. Jon looked at him like he was a madman.

"You," Joffrey's voice came out thin and terrified. "What are you—"

For a moment, his stillness salvaged the situation. His two henchmen weren't focused on shooting Jon anymore. Unfortunately, they didn't get the memo about Jaime being their bosses' family and one whirled to face him instead.

Three things happened in rapid succession. Joffrey started to say something. Maybe 'stop'. Maybe 'wait'. The gun man to his left fired. And something hit Jaime. Not the bullet but a force ramming into his side, pushing him out of the way. Jaime stumbled and fell, looking up just in time to see Brienne swaying on the spot, a hand clutching her abdomen.

Jaime's ears started ringing. For a moment, he was back in the war, watching allies gunned down. He was back on the street when he lost his hand. Except for this time, it was Brienne getting shot.

His left hand moved without thinking, raising his gun and shooting the gunman in the chest. At the sight, Joffrey and his other guard panicked, turned and fled the scene.

Jon cursed. "Son of a bitch." He whirled to look at Jaime. "What in the seven hells was that."

"He was about to shoot you," Jaime muttered.

"And now he shot Tarth," Jon said. "Stay with her. I'll follow him."

Before Jaime could protest, Jon was already rushing away.

Nothing I do seems to turn out well, does it? No matter the intention.

For a moment, Jaime was just hovering in the aftermath, gripping onto his gun, thoughts swirling about his mind at a million miles per hour. He was watching his nephew sprint into the night, closely pursued by Jon. He was watching one of his guards bleed out on the ground from a wound he had put in his chest. And Brienne…

Brienne.

She was the one who brought him back to his thoughts. She was lying on the ground, bleeding out, all because of him. Because he screwed up. He fumbled for his phone, dropping down beside Brienne at once. He called 911 and waited with bated breath until someone answered.

"911, what's your—"

"I need an ambulance at the Westside Park, right away. An officer has been shot. An officer is down."

Jaime's voice came out commanding. Official. But he was scared as hell when he lowered the phone and returned his attention to Brienne. He pressed his hands over the wound, keeping pressure.

"All right. You're going to be all right. It hit too low to get your lungs. You can last until the ambulance gets here."

Brienne didn't reply. She was staring up at the sky, taking in shaky breaths, her face ghostly pale.

"Tarth. Look at me." Jaime leaned over. "You're going to last. You're going to make it. You didn't let me bleed out and I'm not going to let that happened to you either."

"Easier to survive…losing a hand than an organ," she muttered.

"Good thing you're tougher than me then, right?" Jaime asked. "Now keep looking at me. I know you don't enjoy the view, but you have to try."

A weak smile cracked across her lips. Good. As long as he could keep that going, she was okay.

Rapid footsteps came to his right and he looked up to see Jon. But no Joffrey. No one but him, pale and out of breath.

"I lost them," he said. "They got away."

Jaime cursed, his head dipping. Only now could he fully process what had just happened. Joffrey. Joffrey had been the one to kill Ned Stark. His nephew. Cersei's son.

How the fuck am I going to tell Cersei?

No answer came. Only the cold night wind and the distant wail of sirens fast approaching the West Side Park.

What a goddamn mess.

A/N: The culprit revealed! But is there a more complicated answer beneath the surface. Given my penchant for making things too complicated, most answers point to yes! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As always, review, subscribe and I'll see you next week!