Illyria, Alone. (4/5)
Last chapter! (Important epilogue still to follow.)
Previous parts here.
Enjoy - and feedback will make me ridiculously happy! :)
Chapter 4
"OK, I figured your problem - you need a completely new wardrobe!"
Harmony followed this statement with a slow, sad shake of her head, eyes narrowed in concentration.
Illyria looked at Harmony, frowning. “I do not detect any defects in this furniture item. It has not been 6 months since it was purchased and Fred chose it with care.”
For reasons she Illyria could not grasp, Harmony burst out laughing. They were standing in Fred’s bedroom in front of the large wooden wardrobe in the corner, its doors open wide. Illyria had stood in the same spot only 2 days before, wondering how to proceed. She had with Jamesson’s help been busy restoring Fred’s life - getting back utilities to the flat, setting up substantial funds in Fred’s name, buying large amounts of books on wide range of subjects and so forth. But then she had hit a snag - Fred’s appearance. From a cursory glance at women’s magazines, as well as Jamesson’s swift denial of any knowledge, this would seem to be something far more difficult than she had anticipated. Human clothing was coded, like everything else in this world, and she needed someone to translate. Her mind had wandered back to a certain conversation with Harmony many months ago, and after a swift search of the town, Harmony had been found and was now her ‘Personal Shopper’ (a title she had chosen for herself). Her prattle was wearying, but knowing that she could be staked at any time made her a little quieter than usual, and she quickly quelled her laughter.
“Um, what I meant - your Highness - is that Fred’s clothes are not very... uh...” Harmony stopped again and appeared to actually think very carefully about her next sentence. Illyria smiled approvingly.
“Well you need to be more Jackie O and less mad scientist - more elegant and like... classy, yeah?”
“This sounds sensible. We will go purchase new clothing.”
Illyria turned and left the room, Fred’s features already in place.
“Oh great! This is totally the best job ever!” her guide squealed and followed, barely containing her delight.
“Jamesson - taxi!” Illyria ordered, and he bowed almost imperceptibly.
“Straight away your Highness!”
*****
And thus began Illyria’s great transformation. She spent the summer acquainting herself with human life, one tedious task at a time. Jamesson and Harmony taught her how to function as a person - shopping, dressing, cooking, interacting with people and technology. Slowly learning all the tiny minutiae that humans did without thinking.
There were times - such as when Jamesson was explaining how to balance a budget, or when Harmony expounded on the subject of hair care products - that Illyria felt like going back to The Deeper Well and sleep again, rather than having to endure the torture of such banalities. Instead she’d slip out during the night and kill as many demons as she could find.
After mastering the basics, she then tackled American culture and history, as well as physics and Fred’s theories in particular. As she began studying the latter in depth she was filled with genuine pleasure, because here was something useful at last. Inquiring into the foundations and structures of the universe would not be an unhappy task.
After 3 months, she felt up to the task of ‘being Winifred Burkle’ full time and easily got a job at the Physics Institute. Teaching suited her, as she found no one wondered at a scientist being a little on the pedantic side, and Fred’s charm was of course a great help. She often overheard people remarking upon her ‘presence’ - the way she could effortlessly command the rapt attention of an entire room of students, or how professors more than twice her age would modestly ask her opinion. Her plan was working.
*****
Time passed. Seconds gathered up orderly, becoming minutes. Minutes added up and in due time became hours. Time never swayed from its course, never hastened or slowed down. Illyria would sometimes watch an hourglass, counting the sand grains as they fell through the narrow gap between future and past. But there was no way of holding onto that mercurial ‘now’ - it was a moving target and one she could no longer catch. To be restrained and held prisoner by what she had once been the master of was a cruel fate indeed. Time - and space - had been her playthings, bending to her whim, shaped by her hands. And now...
Now she had to labour hard for just the minutest fraction of control. And yet she felt the strangest sense of satisfaction when an experiment worked, when her ‘colleagues’ applauded her for breaking yet another law of nature.
Fred’s work suited her very well indeed.
******
It had been a long day, and Illyria savoured the sweet freedom of loneliness as she closed the flat door behind her. She cast an automatic glance in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if she should have a haircut... maybe some curls? Picking up the mail she noticed a large envelope from Jamesson. She smiled and eagerly opened it, revealing the medical records she had hoped for. Quickly she scanned the pages - yes all the dates were right, the signatures perfect... Her ‘little trip’ to Pylea had quietly been turned into an extended coma, the spell so low profile that she would defy anyone but the Powers themselves to find it.
Before she went to put the documents in the filing cabinet she turned - as she did every morning and evening - to look above the door, where she had made Harmony stencil the word ‘Spannungsbogen’ at the end of the first summer.
“What does it even mean?” Harmony had asked petulantly from on top of the stepladder, and Illyria quoted:
‘The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called 'spannungsbogen' - which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing.’
Harmony had made a noise that could be interpreted as either rude or disinterested. Illyria sighed, but with her best Fred chirp in place tried to clarify:
“It’s from this really fascinating sci-fi novel that Jamesson recommended called ‘Dune’ - as in a sand dune with a ‘d’, not the month - and it had some incredibly interesting ideas about fate and leadership and-”
Harmony had at this point interrupted, her attention stretched beyond breaking. “Pardon me Your Highness, but all that sci-fi crap is only for losers and geeks. I’ll do your stupid word, but don’t explain any more, OK? I’m sorry I asked!”
Illyria shook her head at the memory and did a little Fred-like sigh. After 4 years of pretending to be Fred 24/7, the Fred aspects were beginning to bleed into her in an alarmingly permanent way. Of course this was really a good thing - she was sure that there was nothing that would ever cause the mask to slip, which had been an important part of her overall plan. All she needed now was to figure out how to tackle her next step.
Slowly she walked into the sitting room, delighting in the many plants she had filled it with over the years. The silent strength of all that grew was something she still loved, even if she had lost the deep connection she had once had - the music of roots and leaves, and the quiet symphony of flowers in bloom, lost along with so much else.
As she carefully watered all her pots, she wondered at what she should study this night. She had finished her books on Sanskrit the night before and wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to continue with ancient languages just at the moment - maybe something cultural instead?
Sleep not being a requirement, she had in the past 4 years used the night time to study foreign cultures and languages, art, music, biology, sciences, psychology and numerous other subjects, as well as immersing herself in the history of the world. She had found humans to be satisfyingly bloodthirsty and cruel - and easily swayed by those with great charisma. But she also noted how dictatorships always floundered, and how empires invariably crumbled - usually through greed. Only religions kept going, although they too suffered from ebbs and flows. Intertwined with history was politics of course and she soon discovered that humanity’s most fatal flaw was insincerity. Knox had been only been half right - their sneakiness was mighty, but it was also a two-edged sword.
But something puzzled her, as she had gone yet deeper with her studies. Humans were as a species deceitful, selfish and often cruel. And yet most of them admired honesty, unselfishness and love. It was a strange self-defeating mindset, but could prove very useful indeed. It was not your sins that people judged you on, but your lies...
Maybe a political biography would prove a good study tonight? There was one about Nixon that Jamesson had brought only a few days ago...
She was interrupted in her ruminations by a sudden knock on the door. Frowning Illyria went to open it, and frowned even deeper when she saw Harmony outside.
“Surprise!” the blonde called out and breezed past Illyria into the flat, two bulging bags in her hands.
“Surprise - what?” Illyria asked, in her best clueless Fred voice.
“Girls’ Night!” Harmony replied, a wide triumphant grin on her face. Seeing the blank look on Illyria’s face she explained, as she swiftly emptied the contents onto Fred’s coffee table: “Remember that conversation we had the other day where you asked if romantic comedies ever reflected real life, and I said that the girlfriend stuff usually did and you then told me that you’d never had a girls’ night and I said you’d really been missing out? Well I thought I could help you experience one for yourself! Look I brought a bunch of DVDs, tons of candy and some really nice Chardonnay.” She held up the latest item with an unmistakable air of satisfaction and an overall expectation of gratitude.
“That’s really nice of you Harmony...” Illyria began, as she with a sinking heart realised that Fred would have been far too sweet to throw Harmony out. She did not want to break character and Harmony - sometimes showing remarkable cunning - was well aware of this. At least the night would be somewhat profitable, since she had only seen one of the movies that Harmony had brought.
Many hours later as they were watching ‘Green Card’ - after Harmony had explained in great detail why Gerard Depardieu was hot and then cried a little because Spike had sometimes talked French to her - Illyria suddenly had an epiphany. Seeing ‘Georges’ tugging at another character’s heartstrings, she now knew how to start her ‘public service’. She watched the rest of the film with a small absentminded smile on her face, the crucial words playing over and over in her head:
"Once I heard the sound
of the wind in the trees."
"Once I heard the sound
of the laughter of children."
"And I wept warm, salty tears
for the lost trees."
"Let the little children
come unto the trees...
and I will give them hope," he said.
"But there are no trees
for the poor, lost, poor children."
******
It was an alley, but it wasn't dark. The sunlight shone brightly and illuminated the dirt, making the place more despondent than deep shadows could ever hope for. Illyria made her way briskly, her pretty boots never hesitating. At the end of the alley she found what she was looking for - a den where the worst criminals of the neighbourhood were said to reside. She pulled out a leaflet from her purse and then knocked on the door, a friendly smile in place.
A few moments later the door was opened by a tall, scruffy youth, a gun casually stuck down the front of his pants. He stared at 'Fred' for a long, rather befuddled moment, obviously trying to work out what on earth she was doing there.
"Jack! Who is it?" an impatient voice yelled from inside, and the kid frowned. "Dunno... What do you want lady?"
"Hi! I'm Fred. Can I come in please?"
"Uh - "
"Thank you!" she beamed and slid past him into the grimy interior. The place looked like a mockery of MTV Cribs, dirt and expensive technical goods vying for supremacy. Ignoring these she made a beeline for the big black guy who was obviously the leader. His gun was already aimed, but when he saw that she was only a small woman he lowered it, looking at her expectantly and somewhat surprised. A handful of violent looking youngsters was scattered around the room, cautiously waiting to see what their leader was going to do.
"All right lady. Who are you and what do you want? If you're some kind of undercover cop..."
"Oh no! My name is Winifred Burkle. Sorry to barge in like this. You’re Jay-C right?”
“Yeah. What’s it to you?” He was watching her very carefully, trying to figure her out. As she had hoped there was more to him than brawn - underneath the posturing and the menace there was obviously some brain power. He was becoming famous in LA for his violence and gang warfare, but was proving too slippery for the cops. Just the sort of guy she could use.
“Now you might have heard about this project I’ve been getting off the ground to make the neighbourhood prettier and enhancing people’s lives by bringing in greenery. There’s been lots of posters - 'A Green Future For Everyone'?"
She handed him the leaflet which he took automatically, then threw away after a brief glance.
"Anyway, I'm in need of some strong volunteers with lots of time on their hands, so I thought that guys like you and your friends - who have nothing to fill your lives with except drugs, violence and sex - might appreciate an opportunity to make a difference to some of the underprivileged kids around here so they won't grow up the way you have, drifting into a life of crime because of a society that’s given up on them and the de-stabilising effect of the lack of a strong father figure due to the self-perpetuating problem of broken homes.”
Jay-C stared at her for a few very long seconds, clearly trying to process what she’d been saying. Then he chuckled to himself and shook his head, impressed in spite of himself. "You've got balls lady. And I respect that. So I'm gonna let you go with no harm - just make sure you never come back, allright? Good causes ain't exactly our thing!" He grinned, showing a couple of shiny gold teeth, and his gang laughed unpleasantly.
“I figured you might say that.” Illyria shook her head and sighed resignedly. “I’m gonna have to drag you down there, aren’t I?”
“You gonna drag me?” Jay-C laughed before beckoning a thug 10 times Fred’s size forward.
“Escort our ‘guest’ outside, Big Mike.”
“Will do Boss!” Big Mike said. But before he had a chance to put a hand on her, Illyria punched him hard in the stomach, then grabbed his hand and swiftly twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees as a pained groan escaped him.
“Sorry, but I’m not leaving until I get what I came for. I used to have a boyfriend a bit like you and I know that negotiating can sometimes be a bit tricky. So what do you say we just stop this whole posturing thing right now. I really don’t want to have to beat up the lot of you - although I could! You can trust me on that!”
There was a dead silence as Jay-C slowly aimed his gun straight at her head. “Who the hell are you?”
“Told you - I’m Winifred Burkle and I want some help with my project!”
And she smiled brightly.
*****
Half a year later...
As Illyria was leaving her flat one afternoon, Mrs Gregory stuck her head out the door. Having a nosy and gossipy neighbour had been one of the most difficult things for Illyria to put up with, although it had oddly enough helped her ‘bond’ with Harmony who suffered from a similar fate.
“Oh Miss Burkle - I’m so glad I caught you!”
Illyria smiled encouragingly.
"I've got to say you and your initiative have changed things around here for the better, dearest. I was a little worried when you brought in all them nasty lookin’ young ‘uns to help, but they’ve done an incredible job. Now at the residents’ meeting last night we were wondering if you'd ever thought of joining local politics - we could really use someone like you. Especially after that dreadful Mr Jarowsky and his scandalous behaviour - you have already fulfilled more of his campaign promises than he has in 2 years!"
Illyria smiled demurely. "I don't know... This project was supposed to be a one-off - I never thought it'd take off like it has..."
"Now don't be modest my dear!" Mrs Gregory admonished.
"Oh but I’m not real interested in politics." Illyria said, “All I need is my lab and a bunch of flowers and I’m happy.”
"But that's why you need to do it deary - those who want to are nothin' but crooks and villains. We could do with someone sensible and hardworking, who really cares about the community! You’ve got a real gift for inspiring people - like that wonderful Mr Guilliani from New York after the terror attacks!"
Illyria blushed. "Gosh that’s quite a compliment. But since you put it that way... I'll think about it."
Illyria's insides were practically glowing as she walked down the hallway a few moments later. It was just a question of time now... her careful planning had paid off and the future was in her hands. Wesley would have been so proud - although Knox had indeed given her the best gift of all: She was Winifred Burkle.
And soon her name would be on everyone's lips.
Epilogue.
Previous parts here.
Enjoy - and feedback will make me ridiculously happy! :)
Chapter 4
"OK, I figured your problem - you need a completely new wardrobe!"
Harmony followed this statement with a slow, sad shake of her head, eyes narrowed in concentration.
Illyria looked at Harmony, frowning. “I do not detect any defects in this furniture item. It has not been 6 months since it was purchased and Fred chose it with care.”
For reasons she Illyria could not grasp, Harmony burst out laughing. They were standing in Fred’s bedroom in front of the large wooden wardrobe in the corner, its doors open wide. Illyria had stood in the same spot only 2 days before, wondering how to proceed. She had with Jamesson’s help been busy restoring Fred’s life - getting back utilities to the flat, setting up substantial funds in Fred’s name, buying large amounts of books on wide range of subjects and so forth. But then she had hit a snag - Fred’s appearance. From a cursory glance at women’s magazines, as well as Jamesson’s swift denial of any knowledge, this would seem to be something far more difficult than she had anticipated. Human clothing was coded, like everything else in this world, and she needed someone to translate. Her mind had wandered back to a certain conversation with Harmony many months ago, and after a swift search of the town, Harmony had been found and was now her ‘Personal Shopper’ (a title she had chosen for herself). Her prattle was wearying, but knowing that she could be staked at any time made her a little quieter than usual, and she quickly quelled her laughter.
“Um, what I meant - your Highness - is that Fred’s clothes are not very... uh...” Harmony stopped again and appeared to actually think very carefully about her next sentence. Illyria smiled approvingly.
“Well you need to be more Jackie O and less mad scientist - more elegant and like... classy, yeah?”
“This sounds sensible. We will go purchase new clothing.”
Illyria turned and left the room, Fred’s features already in place.
“Oh great! This is totally the best job ever!” her guide squealed and followed, barely containing her delight.
“Jamesson - taxi!” Illyria ordered, and he bowed almost imperceptibly.
“Straight away your Highness!”
*****
And thus began Illyria’s great transformation. She spent the summer acquainting herself with human life, one tedious task at a time. Jamesson and Harmony taught her how to function as a person - shopping, dressing, cooking, interacting with people and technology. Slowly learning all the tiny minutiae that humans did without thinking.
There were times - such as when Jamesson was explaining how to balance a budget, or when Harmony expounded on the subject of hair care products - that Illyria felt like going back to The Deeper Well and sleep again, rather than having to endure the torture of such banalities. Instead she’d slip out during the night and kill as many demons as she could find.
After mastering the basics, she then tackled American culture and history, as well as physics and Fred’s theories in particular. As she began studying the latter in depth she was filled with genuine pleasure, because here was something useful at last. Inquiring into the foundations and structures of the universe would not be an unhappy task.
After 3 months, she felt up to the task of ‘being Winifred Burkle’ full time and easily got a job at the Physics Institute. Teaching suited her, as she found no one wondered at a scientist being a little on the pedantic side, and Fred’s charm was of course a great help. She often overheard people remarking upon her ‘presence’ - the way she could effortlessly command the rapt attention of an entire room of students, or how professors more than twice her age would modestly ask her opinion. Her plan was working.
*****
Time passed. Seconds gathered up orderly, becoming minutes. Minutes added up and in due time became hours. Time never swayed from its course, never hastened or slowed down. Illyria would sometimes watch an hourglass, counting the sand grains as they fell through the narrow gap between future and past. But there was no way of holding onto that mercurial ‘now’ - it was a moving target and one she could no longer catch. To be restrained and held prisoner by what she had once been the master of was a cruel fate indeed. Time - and space - had been her playthings, bending to her whim, shaped by her hands. And now...
Now she had to labour hard for just the minutest fraction of control. And yet she felt the strangest sense of satisfaction when an experiment worked, when her ‘colleagues’ applauded her for breaking yet another law of nature.
Fred’s work suited her very well indeed.
******
It had been a long day, and Illyria savoured the sweet freedom of loneliness as she closed the flat door behind her. She cast an automatic glance in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if she should have a haircut... maybe some curls? Picking up the mail she noticed a large envelope from Jamesson. She smiled and eagerly opened it, revealing the medical records she had hoped for. Quickly she scanned the pages - yes all the dates were right, the signatures perfect... Her ‘little trip’ to Pylea had quietly been turned into an extended coma, the spell so low profile that she would defy anyone but the Powers themselves to find it.
Before she went to put the documents in the filing cabinet she turned - as she did every morning and evening - to look above the door, where she had made Harmony stencil the word ‘Spannungsbogen’ at the end of the first summer.
“What does it even mean?” Harmony had asked petulantly from on top of the stepladder, and Illyria quoted:
‘The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called 'spannungsbogen' - which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing.’
Harmony had made a noise that could be interpreted as either rude or disinterested. Illyria sighed, but with her best Fred chirp in place tried to clarify:
“It’s from this really fascinating sci-fi novel that Jamesson recommended called ‘Dune’ - as in a sand dune with a ‘d’, not the month - and it had some incredibly interesting ideas about fate and leadership and-”
Harmony had at this point interrupted, her attention stretched beyond breaking. “Pardon me Your Highness, but all that sci-fi crap is only for losers and geeks. I’ll do your stupid word, but don’t explain any more, OK? I’m sorry I asked!”
Illyria shook her head at the memory and did a little Fred-like sigh. After 4 years of pretending to be Fred 24/7, the Fred aspects were beginning to bleed into her in an alarmingly permanent way. Of course this was really a good thing - she was sure that there was nothing that would ever cause the mask to slip, which had been an important part of her overall plan. All she needed now was to figure out how to tackle her next step.
Slowly she walked into the sitting room, delighting in the many plants she had filled it with over the years. The silent strength of all that grew was something she still loved, even if she had lost the deep connection she had once had - the music of roots and leaves, and the quiet symphony of flowers in bloom, lost along with so much else.
As she carefully watered all her pots, she wondered at what she should study this night. She had finished her books on Sanskrit the night before and wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to continue with ancient languages just at the moment - maybe something cultural instead?
Sleep not being a requirement, she had in the past 4 years used the night time to study foreign cultures and languages, art, music, biology, sciences, psychology and numerous other subjects, as well as immersing herself in the history of the world. She had found humans to be satisfyingly bloodthirsty and cruel - and easily swayed by those with great charisma. But she also noted how dictatorships always floundered, and how empires invariably crumbled - usually through greed. Only religions kept going, although they too suffered from ebbs and flows. Intertwined with history was politics of course and she soon discovered that humanity’s most fatal flaw was insincerity. Knox had been only been half right - their sneakiness was mighty, but it was also a two-edged sword.
But something puzzled her, as she had gone yet deeper with her studies. Humans were as a species deceitful, selfish and often cruel. And yet most of them admired honesty, unselfishness and love. It was a strange self-defeating mindset, but could prove very useful indeed. It was not your sins that people judged you on, but your lies...
Maybe a political biography would prove a good study tonight? There was one about Nixon that Jamesson had brought only a few days ago...
She was interrupted in her ruminations by a sudden knock on the door. Frowning Illyria went to open it, and frowned even deeper when she saw Harmony outside.
“Surprise!” the blonde called out and breezed past Illyria into the flat, two bulging bags in her hands.
“Surprise - what?” Illyria asked, in her best clueless Fred voice.
“Girls’ Night!” Harmony replied, a wide triumphant grin on her face. Seeing the blank look on Illyria’s face she explained, as she swiftly emptied the contents onto Fred’s coffee table: “Remember that conversation we had the other day where you asked if romantic comedies ever reflected real life, and I said that the girlfriend stuff usually did and you then told me that you’d never had a girls’ night and I said you’d really been missing out? Well I thought I could help you experience one for yourself! Look I brought a bunch of DVDs, tons of candy and some really nice Chardonnay.” She held up the latest item with an unmistakable air of satisfaction and an overall expectation of gratitude.
“That’s really nice of you Harmony...” Illyria began, as she with a sinking heart realised that Fred would have been far too sweet to throw Harmony out. She did not want to break character and Harmony - sometimes showing remarkable cunning - was well aware of this. At least the night would be somewhat profitable, since she had only seen one of the movies that Harmony had brought.
Many hours later as they were watching ‘Green Card’ - after Harmony had explained in great detail why Gerard Depardieu was hot and then cried a little because Spike had sometimes talked French to her - Illyria suddenly had an epiphany. Seeing ‘Georges’ tugging at another character’s heartstrings, she now knew how to start her ‘public service’. She watched the rest of the film with a small absentminded smile on her face, the crucial words playing over and over in her head:
"Once I heard the sound
of the wind in the trees."
"Once I heard the sound
of the laughter of children."
"And I wept warm, salty tears
for the lost trees."
"Let the little children
come unto the trees...
and I will give them hope," he said.
"But there are no trees
for the poor, lost, poor children."
******
It was an alley, but it wasn't dark. The sunlight shone brightly and illuminated the dirt, making the place more despondent than deep shadows could ever hope for. Illyria made her way briskly, her pretty boots never hesitating. At the end of the alley she found what she was looking for - a den where the worst criminals of the neighbourhood were said to reside. She pulled out a leaflet from her purse and then knocked on the door, a friendly smile in place.
A few moments later the door was opened by a tall, scruffy youth, a gun casually stuck down the front of his pants. He stared at 'Fred' for a long, rather befuddled moment, obviously trying to work out what on earth she was doing there.
"Jack! Who is it?" an impatient voice yelled from inside, and the kid frowned. "Dunno... What do you want lady?"
"Hi! I'm Fred. Can I come in please?"
"Uh - "
"Thank you!" she beamed and slid past him into the grimy interior. The place looked like a mockery of MTV Cribs, dirt and expensive technical goods vying for supremacy. Ignoring these she made a beeline for the big black guy who was obviously the leader. His gun was already aimed, but when he saw that she was only a small woman he lowered it, looking at her expectantly and somewhat surprised. A handful of violent looking youngsters was scattered around the room, cautiously waiting to see what their leader was going to do.
"All right lady. Who are you and what do you want? If you're some kind of undercover cop..."
"Oh no! My name is Winifred Burkle. Sorry to barge in like this. You’re Jay-C right?”
“Yeah. What’s it to you?” He was watching her very carefully, trying to figure her out. As she had hoped there was more to him than brawn - underneath the posturing and the menace there was obviously some brain power. He was becoming famous in LA for his violence and gang warfare, but was proving too slippery for the cops. Just the sort of guy she could use.
“Now you might have heard about this project I’ve been getting off the ground to make the neighbourhood prettier and enhancing people’s lives by bringing in greenery. There’s been lots of posters - 'A Green Future For Everyone'?"
She handed him the leaflet which he took automatically, then threw away after a brief glance.
"Anyway, I'm in need of some strong volunteers with lots of time on their hands, so I thought that guys like you and your friends - who have nothing to fill your lives with except drugs, violence and sex - might appreciate an opportunity to make a difference to some of the underprivileged kids around here so they won't grow up the way you have, drifting into a life of crime because of a society that’s given up on them and the de-stabilising effect of the lack of a strong father figure due to the self-perpetuating problem of broken homes.”
Jay-C stared at her for a few very long seconds, clearly trying to process what she’d been saying. Then he chuckled to himself and shook his head, impressed in spite of himself. "You've got balls lady. And I respect that. So I'm gonna let you go with no harm - just make sure you never come back, allright? Good causes ain't exactly our thing!" He grinned, showing a couple of shiny gold teeth, and his gang laughed unpleasantly.
“I figured you might say that.” Illyria shook her head and sighed resignedly. “I’m gonna have to drag you down there, aren’t I?”
“You gonna drag me?” Jay-C laughed before beckoning a thug 10 times Fred’s size forward.
“Escort our ‘guest’ outside, Big Mike.”
“Will do Boss!” Big Mike said. But before he had a chance to put a hand on her, Illyria punched him hard in the stomach, then grabbed his hand and swiftly twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees as a pained groan escaped him.
“Sorry, but I’m not leaving until I get what I came for. I used to have a boyfriend a bit like you and I know that negotiating can sometimes be a bit tricky. So what do you say we just stop this whole posturing thing right now. I really don’t want to have to beat up the lot of you - although I could! You can trust me on that!”
There was a dead silence as Jay-C slowly aimed his gun straight at her head. “Who the hell are you?”
“Told you - I’m Winifred Burkle and I want some help with my project!”
And she smiled brightly.
*****
Half a year later...
As Illyria was leaving her flat one afternoon, Mrs Gregory stuck her head out the door. Having a nosy and gossipy neighbour had been one of the most difficult things for Illyria to put up with, although it had oddly enough helped her ‘bond’ with Harmony who suffered from a similar fate.
“Oh Miss Burkle - I’m so glad I caught you!”
Illyria smiled encouragingly.
"I've got to say you and your initiative have changed things around here for the better, dearest. I was a little worried when you brought in all them nasty lookin’ young ‘uns to help, but they’ve done an incredible job. Now at the residents’ meeting last night we were wondering if you'd ever thought of joining local politics - we could really use someone like you. Especially after that dreadful Mr Jarowsky and his scandalous behaviour - you have already fulfilled more of his campaign promises than he has in 2 years!"
Illyria smiled demurely. "I don't know... This project was supposed to be a one-off - I never thought it'd take off like it has..."
"Now don't be modest my dear!" Mrs Gregory admonished.
"Oh but I’m not real interested in politics." Illyria said, “All I need is my lab and a bunch of flowers and I’m happy.”
"But that's why you need to do it deary - those who want to are nothin' but crooks and villains. We could do with someone sensible and hardworking, who really cares about the community! You’ve got a real gift for inspiring people - like that wonderful Mr Guilliani from New York after the terror attacks!"
Illyria blushed. "Gosh that’s quite a compliment. But since you put it that way... I'll think about it."
Illyria's insides were practically glowing as she walked down the hallway a few moments later. It was just a question of time now... her careful planning had paid off and the future was in her hands. Wesley would have been so proud - although Knox had indeed given her the best gift of all: She was Winifred Burkle.
And soon her name would be on everyone's lips.
Epilogue.