"Lady, my mother is in prison for life in California for murdering my father." Jessy says icily to the woman who'd tried grabbing her, saying her mother had begged her to get her away from the people who'd taken her. "I wasn't taken by anybody. . .the stupid bitch is sure somebody has brainwashed me because I haven't forgiven her for trying to frame me for my father's murder. I can't stilllllllll be mad at her about that, I would have only got a few years in a juvenile facility. . .she got life. . .her manicure is ruined. . .she's doing hard time."
Her partner moans. "Are you sure? She says you were kidnapped."
"She can say anything, doesn't make any of it true." Jessy snorts. "She's been claiming I was brainwashed because I haven't forgiven her for a few months now. And I want my fucking gun back NOW! I have a federal permit allowing me to carry it. You had NO damn reason to take it from me."
"She's right, she has the paperwork to carry it and you have to give it back." A woman says. The detecives look at her but she glares at them and the gun is handed over. "Nice. .. where's my bullets Jackass? It was fully loaded when you bastards frisked me."
"Detective." The woman snaps. Grudgingly he hands over the bullets and extras and she reloads her gun and puts the extras in her pockets.
"She says she tried filing a report saying you ran away from home and the courts wouldn't let her." Another man says as he walks into the squad room, he's got a file in his hands.
"She murdered my father and went to jail while I was in Chicago going over my grandparents estate. The court went looking for other relatives to put me with and didn't find any. I was going to age out of the foster care system in a couple months so the court let me live with my godfather."
"She claims you're only sixteen." A man sneers.
"Bullshit, I was sixteen when she murdered my father five years ago. That's why she tried framing me for my father's murder, I would have only got a few years in a juvenile facility. . .she got life. Of course the moron is fudging my age, she's been lying about hers for years. She claims she's only 25. . .even if I was only 16 she'd have got pregnant at eight and gave birth to me at nine. She's doing life in . . ." Jessy rattles off the name, address, phone number, and the warden's name. "I was born July 18th at . . ."
"Detectives, check the birth records. And somebody call the prison to find out if her mother is an inmate." The woman snaps. "Have you been offered any food?"
"Put her in a room and get her some food."
"Interrogation? Or a cell?" The male detective asks hopefully. The woman just gives him a look and Jessy is shown to an office.
"Are you people stupid?" The woman yells three hours later when she sees Jessy still sitting in the room. "Have you done nothing to verify her story?"
"The doc is talking to her now."
"Do your damn job detective, instead of sitting on your ass." The woman snaps. Fifteen minutes later the fax machine starts shooting out papers.
"Shit, she is 21." The first male detective moans as he looks at the papers.
"No! She swore her daughter was only sixteen." The woman says, snatching the paper from his hand.
"And I just got off the phone with the prison. Her mother is there for life for murdering her husband. And she's got a history of trying to get money from her daughter. . .let her go. . .NOW!" the captain glares from his office. "And after she goes, we're all going to have a little talk."
Jessy is finally allowed to leave the precinct. A officer who looks so new he might cut himself on the creases of his uniform takes her to the hotel that she'd made reservations for, finding Xander waiting for her in the lobby.
"Are you okay? Call Rupert, he's fuming that you were taken away at the airport."
"No thanks to the fucking police department here, it took them hours to realize that 'yeah, she's a lying bitch and everything I told them was the truth. They even had a psychologist talk to me before they finally got off their asses and checked the goddamn records. Even after being told to. Then they oh so graciously let me go." She grabs her phone and calls the House, Rupert sighing as he hears her voice on the other end.
"But Cap, we didn't know she was telling us the truth. She looks like a kid. . ." One of the detecives in the juvenile unit bleats as they're lectured by their boss.
"No fucking kid flies first class from Miami to Philidelphia and has reservations at one of the best hotels in the city. Gods people, doing a damn background check on the story would have shown that she was twenty-one. And if that didn't add up you should have checked the case better." He waves the case that's been copied and sent on to the prison. The woman who'd been giving them orders nods.
"But she said that we had to work fast, otherwise the kid would be gone again." the woman blusters.
"That alone should have told you the case was bogus." She snorts.
In California Jessy's mother whines as she's dragged out of her cell and brought before the warden who is waving copies of all the paperwork she'd mocked up and had somebody send out for her.
"You damn bitch! What the hell were you thinking?"
"But she won't send me money." She wails, stomping her foot. "Damn it, it's not fair. She'd already be out of the juvenile facility. . . I'm stuck here. If I have to be in trouble .. .she should too. And if she's in prison, they'll give me the money."
The guard gives her a disgusted look. "She wouldn't have gone to prison for being a runaway you stupid bitch. And nobody would give you her money."
"But that's not fair. . .I . . .I . . .I need that money."
"No. . .you need a good swift kick." The warden says as he fills out another infraction form and she wails as she realizes she's being punished for this. It's not fair. . .damn it why won't they take her side? She'd only have got a few years in a juvenile facility. . .she's doing life.
Another prisoner slaps her in the yard when they find out why the law library is locked down until further notice.
"You stupid brat. Leave your daughter the hell alone. she's better off without you."
"But she has to send me money. . .I . . .I can't live like this." She whines as the other prisoner walks off. She looks at the guards. . .they have to protect her but they're firmly looking the other way.
"Have you found out how my mother found out I'd be arriving in Philidelphia?" Jessy asks the warden as they talk after the expo she's attending is out for the night.
"Yes, the same people who got the paperwork out had been examining credit card records and found the ticket you'd booked. Of course your mother is bleating she had to do it. . .if you went to prison for being a runaway the court would have to give her your money. They have been arrested and are facing charges of aiding and abetting."
Rupert just looks at Jessy when she returns to the House.
"This is why I gave you the choker." He says in a waaaaaaayyyyyyy too calm voice in his office.
"I wasn't about to leave Xander in danger. That's why I demanded Xander be able to go to the hotel before I left with them. If they didn't go straight to the police station I would have." Rupert nods. . . she had got Xander to safety and would have left if it hadn't been real officers. He would have done the same thing.
In Philidelphia the mayor gets off the phone, looking over at the juvenile officers. "Really, did she look like she was sixteen?"
"Weeellllll nooooooooo." The woman ducks her head. "While her clothes weren't high-end she didn't come off as a kid playing dress-up. But isn't she still in trouble for using the card to book the hotel and her flight? It had to be fake." She blusters, trying to turn the blame around onto their victim. "And you made us let her go." She sneers at first her boss and then the woman who'd been telling them what to do.
"She used a company credit card to pay for the hotel and air fare you damn moron. She was attending an expo she registered for six months ago. Gods blood people, the woman is a fucking billionaire."
"Ohhhhhh!" She collapses under the hatefilled glares of her boss and the DA.
"No wonder her mother's trying to get her back." The detective who'd come in with the file mutters.
"Yes, and Philidelphia has a big old case of eggs on our face thanks to you not investigating the damn case. Let alone leaving her to cool her heels for three hours until you got off your ass to start checking the facts of the case."
The mayor's secretary brings in the aspirin and a bottle of water when they leave the office.
"The commissioner called, he's sorry some of his cops are damn fool morons." The mayor's lips twitch despite himself. He can hear the captain and DA cussing out the fool woman before the elevator closes.
"They'll make damn sure to double and triple check cases from now on. If he doesn't fire them."
"Yes, and she could have destroyed us in the media or sued. And we wouldn't have had a defense."
"She can still sue. . .especially if somebody gets wind of that bitch accusing her of using a fake card."
True to the mayor's words the juvenile bureau is slapped with a huge lawsuit and the woman who'd caused all the problems whines to the city's lawyers and are told the same thing--it was your own damn fault.
"But she can't sue us. . ." she whines.
"Yes she can when it's clear misconduct . . .which this was."
"Do you think she'll drop it?" She whimpers.
"Fuck no, she wants to destroy your little band of assholes. Along with the rest of the city. Even the standard settlment would destroy the budget for years and she just laughed at the attempt to apologize."
"But her mother said she'd been kidnapped and brainwashed, that's why she wouldn't forgive her." she wails. "And the courts wouldn't take her runaway complaint."
"You can't be both a runaway and kidnapped Moron. Christ, that should have been your first clue this was a fake."
"She could have wanted to come home and they kept her there."
"And yet they let her fly halfway across the country." the city lawyer says in disgust.
"But she was with somebody. . .they could have been controlling her."
"She made sure they were able to leave before she went with you. . .that's not somebody being controlled moron."
"Weeeeellllllll. .. nooooooooo." she finally says. When they say it like that, it makes the story the mother told her so damn stupid. . .
Jessy's mother sobs as she's led back to her cell after the court date. She can't believe that the judge yelled at her for threatening to have somebody 'rescue' Jessy from where she's living and have her deprogrammed. . .somebody has to be telling Jessy what to do. She can't still be mad about her telling that little fib about her killing her husband. . .she'd have only been in a juvenile facility for a few years. . .she got life. Her daughter has to give her money, she's her Mommy. Finding her notebook paper, she sits down to write a heartwrenching, sobbing account of her troubles that she's sure will get people flocking to her.
"Is any of this true?" Nathan Ford asks a few days later when he gets the letter.
"Nope." Hardison says, not looking up from the computer. "Her daughter isn't a runaway, she's 22 years old. She was sixteen . . .when her mother murdered her father. She was allowed to go live with her godfather because otherwise she'd have aged out of the foster care system in a few months. The dumbass woman's infractions at the prison is as big as all the Harry Potter books combined." Parker snorts despite herself. "The woman is continually whining for her daughter to send her money for the commissary. She can't understand why her daughter is mad at her for trying to frame her for his death. .. she'd have only got a few years in a juvenile facility. . .She got life, her manicure is ruined. And yes, that's a direct quote according to the prison guard. She's working three jobs to pay back all the judgments against her. . .including a recent one where the stupid bitch just sued trying to make the court force her daughter to come to the prison weekly to visit her mother and send her money. The prison is in California but her daughter lives in Florida."
"Fool woman." Sophie says.
"Yes, the lawyer blubbered he didn't know she lived across the country. . . when asked what he thought her address meant he asked couldn't it have been a mail drop? The fool woman has accused her of being a runaway before. . .earlier this year the daughter was brought from the airport in Philidelpia when she flew in from Miami."
"Oh shit, I know that case." Nathan moans. Sophie and Elliot look at him. "You were in Denver when it happened. Like this letter, the juvenile bureau thought the girl in question was only sixteen. They left her sitting hours in a room before they started investigating and found out the truth. The commissioner called them damn fools and she's suing."
"Did you send them the letter?"
"Yep, overnight mail. Dumbass woman's going to pout about getting in trouble again."
"You stupid bitch." The guard resists the urge to kick the wailing woman as he pulls himself to his feet, the alarms blaring as the prison goes into lockdown.
"Is she going to be okay?" The warden asks the doctor when he comes out into the outer room of the prison hospital.
"Yes, she's not hurt bad. . .she's already whining about how it wasn't fair she was shot while trying to steal the guard's gun."
"She'll find out how not fair it is when she's in solitary for 90 days . . .before she gets more time added to her sentence for this escape attempt."
"And the other prisoners will kill her for being in lockdown. . .again." the deputy warden sighs. "Let me go write a letter to her daughter to let her know what happened."
"You little moron, leave your daughter alone." The warden yells at Jessy's sniveling mother a few months after she's got out of solitary. He waves a hand at the letter she'd tried to sneak out of the prison by slipping it into a visitor's bag calling her daughter a thief and everybody here crooks for not taking her case and rips it up in front of her.
"But she stole that money from me. Why won't anybody listen to me." She wails, stomping her feet.
"She did not steal any money from you you goddamn fool." The warden sneers. "She inherited that money because you killed your husband. No prisoner can profit from their crime."
"But they should have given me that money. I. . .I . .. I can't live like this." She whimpers.
"Get out of my office you little fool. If you want money get off your ass and work for it like the rest of the inmates. Your daughter doesn't want to give money to you and she doesn't have to give money to you."
Lyara sobs in her cell for well over an hour. Why is everybody being so mean to her? She wipes her eyes and hurries to the commissary before work, she's got to buy something to make her feel better. Dropping off her purchases in her cell she hurries off when she sees the time. If she's late for work again the guards are going to yell at her. Her! Why, why, why won't the authorities listen to her? She shouldn't be here, her daughter would have only got a few years in a juvenile facility. She got life. She'll never get out of this awful place alive. Her manicure is ruined and her beatiful blonde hair is going grey. She looks old. She's only twenty-five. . .for the twenty-fifth time.
"Rupert!" Jubilee yells as she comes running into the main house a couple hours later.
"Good heavens child, what?" He comes out of his office.
"Jessy got a call and won't stop crying." He hurries off after her, wrapping his arms around Jessy in the seamstress shop. Cordy blinks, realizes what must be happening, and hurries after him.
"She's gone?" Cordy asks, wrapping herself around her other side, remembering what Jessy had said before Christmas. Rupert stares at her then moans realizing what must had happened. He'd thought she'd gotten bad news from the doctor's office.
"She. . .she . . .there was an accident at the prison. A truck lost their brakes coming up to the laundry. My mother and two other prisoners were hit, my mother bled out before they could get the truck off her. The. . .the warden was going to fax more information." The fax machine starts spitting out papers, Jubilee taking the papers and handing them to Rupert at his look.
"Jessy, are you going to be okay?"
"I'll . . .it will take a while. For all that I knew my mother was a goddamn moron, losing her like this still hurts. I figured the fool would be whining for a couple more decades."
"I hate to ask but. . ."
"She's got a plot next to my father, I brought them both when he was murdered. They can bitch, whine, piss, moan, complain, and have rip-roaring fights for all eternity. In whatever afterlife they ended up in." Rupert chuckles despite himself. "I. ..I need to be there."
"I have a plane, we can fly out in an hour."
Joyce nods as she puts up her phone. "The airport is fueling your plane and filing your flight plan right now."
"I. . .I need to fill this out so they know where to ship the body." Jessy takes the paperwork but Joyce takes it from her hands, asking her a few questions and filling it out before faxing it back to the prison. The prison will contact the funeral home for her.
Paige comes running into the store, hugging Jessy and handing her a duffel bag.
"I packed a couple days of clothes and your medicines."
"Thank you Paige. If I need anything else I can get it there." Rupert nods.
Joyce hurries up with a bag for him and they drive to the local airport, a car taking them to the plane.
Rupert checks Jessy's phone when they land. "The prison is shipping your mother. . . .your mother's body to the funeral home. It will be there in a day."
"Our first stop will be a chain store to get her clothes for her burial. Anything else?"
"Yes, the prison wants you to come and pick up her personal belongings."
Jessy moans and kisses her mother's forehead lightly when the body arrives. "I might not have liked you much. . ."
"But she was still your mother." Rupert says, wrapping an arm around her.
Jessy stands next to Rupert as the casket is lowered into the vault, Rupert leading her away as they start shoveling dirt over the coffin.
"Lyara?" He asks quietly.
"It's actually Laura, but that was such a plain name she had to change it. Since all the stupid bitch did was lie it fit. I won't give her the satisfaction of using that name on her headstone though."
"Oh good god." Rupert moans as the warden leads them to Jessy's mother's cell.
"Your mother routinely went to the commissary to buy stuff, especially when. . . "
"Sombody yelled at her because she was a stupid fool." Jessy nods. "She did this before she went to prison too." She looks at all the containers piled three deep and five high against one wall and the second bunk full of stuff. "I'm surprised everything is packed up so neatly."
"We made her clean her cell periodically under threat of having it all thrown away."
All the containers are opened and Jessy shakes her head. "The inmates would like to apologize to you for your mother's stupidity."
"Please, have them come take some of this stuff."
"Jessy, I found your mother's will." Rupert holds up a handful of notebook paper. Jessy takes it and starts to read. "Ahhh yes, more of her psychotic shit. I don't think this is legal for all I know that you can write out your own wills in California."
"I can have the prison attorneys come to read that."
"Please." She hands the pages to the warden and he snorts as he reads. "Yes, I don't think this is legal either."
Five days after they'd left, Jessy and Rupert arrive back at the House.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, by the time my mother. . .my mother's body arrived at the funeral home we had clothes for her to be buried in. They had cleaned her up at the prison mortuary and dressed her in a plain prison uniform for the trip. Poor dear would have been horrified to be buried in that, she'll be wailing instead about being dressed in off the rack and not couture." She dumps three 30 gallon totes of stuff on the floor.
"Did you empty an entire aisle at a drugstore?" Joyce asks, looking at the open containers. They're full of makeup and bath stuff. "Forget a drugstore, one of those beauty supply stores."
"This is part of what my mother just had to have from the commissary at the prison. Because every time that nasty old reality interfered in her fantasy world she had to buy something to make herself feel better." Jessy snorts. "We found her crackpot will in her cell, she wanted all this shit to be used for the funeral so she was young and beautiful in the casket. . .which would have to be open so everybody could sob over her. All her money. . .which she didn't have by the way would go to one of those groups that prove innocence, this way everybody knows the truth and they'll wail about her loss." She hands over a bunch of papers and Joyce snorts as she reads. "Yeah, even in death the damn fool was trying to get somebody to get her off. We'd all be sorrrrrrryyyyy when she was gone. She'd be this poor tragic heroine talked about for years, taken from us in the prime of life by the corrupt court system. And her ungrateful daughter. . .who will have to forgive her now." Jessy puts the back of her hand to her forehead in a damsel in distress, ohhhhh who will save me now impression. "And everybody wailing about how she was taken from us so young would have to put up a huge monument to her."
"Christ." Joyce moans when maintenance starts bringing in more totes. "No wonder your mother was forever wanting you to put money on the commissary for her. All her money was going for this shit."
"Yeeeeesssss." Jessy snorts. "She had this stuff everywhere in her cell. Everytime the authorities told her no she had to buy something to make herself feel better. Prisoners lined up to tell me how sorry they were my mother was a piece of shit, I told them to take some of this stuff with the warden's permission. Even with all that I have all this stuff left. My mom wasn't one for reading so there wasn't any books there."
"Did the authorities examine it?"
"Oh yes, x-rays and everything before it went on the shelves and during periodic cell searches. Anybody who wants some, take it. I'll see if the spa wants any otherwise I'll donate it to the homeless shelters. What they can use anyway, they won't have any use for bath salts and bubble bath, they have showers." Joyce nods in satisfaction. Then scowls. "I didn't know prisons had tubs."
"They didn't, the special interest groups said this would make the women feel better about being in prison. Same with the makeup."
"Aren't they supposed to be being punished by being in prison?" Larry snorts from the mail slots. He opens a closet and brings out three totes of mail for Jessy.
"Oh, that's beside the point. If we make the women feel better they'll be happier. We don't reallllly want to punish them . . .let's make them think of it as a vacation."
"Yeah, the authorities weren't too happy with their oh so precious proposals. They wanted the prisoners not to have to wear uniforms . . .they were being mean to them. They also had the brilliant idea of tearing down the walls around the prison . .but had to admit that might allow the prisoners to leave." Jessy says in a mock-sad voice as Joyce snorts. "They wouldn't let them have perfume or stuff like hair dye in the commissary. . .something my mother forever wailed about because her beautiful blonde hair was going grey. The prison didn't even have a beauty parlor. That's how miserable her life was in prison, she was only 25 and going grey."
Jenny snorts, Jessy was turning 23 in six weeks.
"Yeah, it wasn't fair she got life, I would have only got a few years in a juvenile facility and I was a disgrace to her by not being interested in makeup, having my hair done weekly, or having manicures and pedicures. I could live without those for a few years. . .she was miserable."
Over the next few days they sort through the totes. Some stuff homeless shelters can't use but they have boxes they drop off for them.
"Is this everything?" Michael asks after they've left the last shelter. He knows there's a couple boxes in the back yet.
"Two more places, one that gives women good clothes for interviews to get into the workforce, they can use makeup." He nods in satisfaction. "And a group that employs crossdressers and celebrity impersonators for parties and other events. I'm dropping off stuff there too."
"Thank you my dear, while we get donations of business suits nobody thinks of makeup." The woman says, peering into the box.
A woman cries when she looks through the box on the table. She looks at the young woman. "My mother died recently, she had stuff I had to sort through after her death. She couldn't use half of what she brought but she had to have it."
"Well, we can use it."
"Take it, I still have stuff at home that I couldn't donate."
Jessy slumps into her favorite easychair back at her home at the House. The twenty-two overstuffed totes has been whittled down to three left and she looks at them before grabbing a gift set you'd see in the dollar stores and running a soothing bath. A tap on the door has her looking over her shoulder.
"In the bathroom, Jenny. Soaking."
"Are you decent?" While Jenny is used to seeing most of the employees naked in the jacuzzis she always asks entering their apartments.
"Everything's covered." she pulls the shower curtain around so her head is revealed in the clawfoot tub but the rest of her is hidden. Jenny grins as she walks in. "Get everything donated you could?"
"Yep. I'm sure my mother is wailing in the afterlife about not having all that crap anymore. Nobody showing up at the funeral to sob over her body, nobody telling everybody about how she was tragically stolen from us much too young. . .nobody is demanding to know how she was convicted. . ."
"Ummm because she was guilty?" Jenny snorts.
"Oh, that's beside the point. I should have been convicted because I only would got a few years in a juvenile facilty." Jessy waves a hand airily.
"Dumbass woman did not settle in well in prison?"
"Oh hell no, stupid woman not only tried to stage a hunger strike to get her own damn cook she was so damn sure she'd be getting out she tried ordering a new damn car and making me pay for it. She was fucking stunned when I told her hell no and that life meant life. .. even if that was overturned she still had fifty years from the other charges."
"Your mother was a fool."
"Yep, the car was sent back and she had to pay off the judgment because they couldn't sell it as new anymore. She tried suing to get the proceeds from the sale of the house. . .she lost there. She tried suing for the life insurance and lost. She tried suing the police for false arrest. . ."
"Ummmm, being convicted pretty much throws that argument out."
"Yep. I ended up putting out notices that I wasn't responsible for her bills so her creditors wouldn't come after me."
"Yes, you were just starting out and didn't need to pay her bills."
'And she had a number of creditors. Including her defense. . .moron wailed when she realized she'd be stuck with that bill. . .not me."
Jessy looks at the gun that had been her nearly constant companion for the last several months, putting it in the drawer of her desk before turning her attention to the work in front of her. She should put it away but a deep part of her tells her it's still needed.
"Ms. Michaels. . .I'm Arthur Brookwood, I'm calling about your mother's life insurance policies?" A male voice says a couple weeks later.
"Mr. Brookwood, my mother was in prison for life plus fifty-eight years. As far as I know she didn't have any life insurance policies." The female voice on the other end of the line says.
"Actually, she had several, all taken out after her incarceration. Without a will all the money goes to you. . .with the circumstances of her death every policy will have double payouts. The chaplain at the prison was named as the trustee for the policies. . .as he was with many of the inmates policies while they're incarcerated." Arthur looks through the forms.
"Excuse me Mr. Brookwood," the phone is put down and the sound of swearing can be faintly heard. He snickers despite himself. "Okay, now that I have that out of my system. . ." Ms. Michaels says when she picks up the phone again.
"You feel better?"
"No, but me cussing like a sailor will bring my boss running in any second. My mother had a half-assed will written on notebook paper in her cell. In that so-called will she says she wanted all her money to go to those groups that find out prisoners are innocent. . .because she shouldn't have been in prison. . .I would have only got a few years in juvenile. . she got life. Now I know what money she was talking about. Ahhh yes, here's my boss now. Let me put you on speaker phone."
"Ms. Michaels. . .has anybody looked. . ."
"At that so-called will? Yes, three lawyers at the prison and at law offices elsewhere. While holographic wills are legal in California. . .it's not in the proper format. It's more a series of ramblings about how she wanted everything when she died."
"Jessy?" Rupert asks.
"That money my mother was talking about? She had a number of life insurance policies purchased after she went to prison. Mr. Brookwood do you have a fax machine?"
A few minutes later Arthur is shaking his head as he reads the faxed papers. "No, no court would accept this as a will. I'll start the paperwork to have the checks made out. You should be getting them in the mail within a week."
The call ends and Jessy puts her head down on the desk. Rupert pats her shoulder and heads out, finding Jenny and Joyce waiting on him. "It seems the money Jessy's mother was talking about in her ramblings was from several life insurance policies she purchased after going to prison. Three lawyers have already said her papers are not a proper will so she's going to be getting a number of checks in the mail in about a week. And due to the circumstances of her death, each policy is paying out double."
"Yes, I'd be cussing too." Jenny says with a sigh. "Her so-called will? Can anybody try to get the money away from her?"
"No, no group or person was named in the papers and we've already had three lawyers state that the papers aren't in the proper format for a holographic will. Add in her continual problems at the prison and the rambling papers. . .no court would consider that the last will and testament of a woman of sound mind."
"Wait, where did Jessy's mother get the money for the insurance policies? She wasn't making more than fifteen dollars a week from all three jobs." Joyce asks.
"Laura. . .I won't give her the satisfaction of using her 'real' name of Lyara had money in her account in the beginning, enough to have supposedly kept her in what she needed for years but. . ."
"She blew through it?"
"No, the prison would only give her 40 dollars for the commissary every other week."
"Which she whined about. Because it didn't leave her money for everything she wanted."
"Exactly. How dare the prison keep her on a budget."
A week later Jessy comes up to the main house, finding a number of envelopes wrapped in a rubber band and a package waiting on her. She looks at the envelopes and sighs. Cordy wraps her arms around her. "This makes it real."
"Yeah, before then we might have not liked our parents, but they were alive." She sighs and opens the envelopes, signing the back of the checks and putting them in her purse to deposit the next day on the way to the airport.
"It's good timing." Rupert says.
"Yeah, by the time I'm back the checks will have cleared."
"What are you going to do with the money?"
"Put it in a CD, I don't need the money. I never thought there was any money." Jessy suddenly grins. "PUll the evil in girl, you don't need to turn into your parents."
"Not all the money, but maybe I will send the groups like the innocence project donations. So they can help real innocent people behind bars."
Rupert blinks and smirks. "Your mother would howl."
"Are you done packing?"
"Talk to me later tonight."
"Okay?" Jessy lowers herself slowly into a chair in Rupert's office. He puts something on his desk even though nobody should be near the room. "It's about time to start thinking about taking up your family heritage."
"I hope you don't mean a bullying asshole like my father or a damn fool like my mother?" Jessy snorts.
"Jessy." Rupert sighs.
"You mean a god."
"Can I? It's been . . .how many generations?"
"Several. And yes you can. The factor in the blood doesn't dilute no matter how many generations it's been. And even so, those without the factor can become gods, the factor just makes it easier. It's one of the few things the myths and tv series got right."
Jessy walks into the bank the next morning, being waved into an office. The woman who handles most of the banking for the Miami house blinks as she looks at the checks. "How?"
"My . . .my mother purchased several life insurance policies once she went to prison, the. . .events of her death meant a double payout on all of them."
"What do you want to do?"
"Put them in a CD, whichever has the best interest and I'm not dunned if I take them out."
"That's pretty much . . ."
"Exactly. You can put it in a seven day cd. Like the name says it matures every seven days but. . ."
"The interest isn't as good as the other CDs?"
"Exactly. Do you need the money right away?"
"No, I had planned on letting it gather interest somewhere and donate the money to charities."
Andrew helps her into the car when she comes out and she gives the paperwork to Horatio. "Give that to Rupert, he knows where I keep my financial stuff at home." he nods and takes them to the airport. He walks them inside and waits with them until they board the plane.
"Jessy said to give this to you, you know where she keeps her financial paperwork." he says, handing Rupert the papers at the House. He looks everything over and nods. He locks them in his desk for the moment.
"How is Dexter Morgan settling in?"
"Good, he worked at another station so I hadn't worked with him before now."
"You are aware of his . ..past?"
"I am . . .and while I'd rather not have that type of individual around he's on our side and only targeted bad guys. The ones the courts couldn't touch. Or they walked away from them."
Jessy and Andrew are bleary-eyed when a chuckling Ryan leads them into the House nearly a week later. "This is the comicon 'I haven't slept in days, I haven't eaten a proper meal just as long, just whatever I can grab at the party rooms, I'm only awake out of sheer stubbornness, the second I lay down I'm going to sleep for a week' look." Ryan says with a chuckle.
MacGyver chuckles and nods as he leads the pair to a golf cart. Joyce jumps in with him and gets Jessy into her house, undressed, in a nightgown, and in bed. Rupert comes in with her bags and what she'd brought back. He had found a receipt saying that more would be shipped back.
"Is she asleep?"
"I think she was asleep standing up."
"I do too." He pulls the sheet up around her in case it cools during the night and leaves a nightlight on for the bathroom before they leave, locking the house door behind them.
Around noon the next day Jessy drags herself into the cafeteria, one of the cooks chuckling and putting a tray in front of her.
"Are you all slept out?"
"No, but my stomach and bladder were arguing about which one would win the battle to get me up. My bladder won." Rupert chuckles from the doorway, obviously having heard she was in the main house. He hands her a small packet and she looks inside, swallowing the handful of pills at his look and washing them down with milk. "Blyeauch."
"You've got at least seven more days of those."
"What I said before."
Rupert snickers. "Classes?"
"I'm on track to start again this fall. Xander and I figure on taking our classes on the computers for another year before we have to start taking our classes at the school."
Rupert nods in satisfaction then walks out to Xander's workbuilding, waiting for him to put up the power tools before he says anything.
"Jessy says you're on track to take the classes online for another year?"
"Yes, by then we'll have the basic classes for both degrees out of the way and we'll have to take the classes at the school. My second advisor is coming out here next week to see what of the other classes I can skip, Jessy's is due out the same time."
Jessy's advisor for her library science degree looks around the building and smiles. "It's not often one of my students has their own library. By why are you talking business and fashion as well?"
"I'm also in charge of the seamstress shop here, we do a good bit of business with girls coming shopping for prom or graduation dresses. Business? Well I inherited a good bit of money from my family and want to know what I'm doing investing it. I'm not getting into investment banking but a good solid base in business will help."
In his workbuilding Xander is saying nearly the same thing.
Both of them slump into seats in the cafeteria late that night.
"Are you on track for your other degrees?"
"Yes, my advisor figures I'll be able to test out of at least a year. He'll know for sure the closer we get to taking those classes." Xander says around a yawn.
"Same here. Though she thinks I'm probably well into a masters for classes. Though I'm not going for it yet, one I'd need time to figure out a thesis and two. . ."
"You don't need it for your work?"
"That's three, two would be getting the fashion degree in first. Though like the library science I'm well into my third year of classes, where we'd be working on projects." A laughing Penelope Garcia comes into the cafeteria for one last meal before catching her flight back to DC. "The FBI in New York finally figured out they're idiots."
"Ahhh, lemme guess. Like the New York police department when they shut down that lab they realized they needed that after all."
"Yep, and they can't get the old unit back together, they all either left the bureau or moved to other cities. Where all of them are running their own units. Any team they put together now would have growing pains as they settle in together and the New York team's rate was so good because they had Neal on the team."
"And just bringing in a con man off the street wouldn't have the same effect. They won't have the same rapport Neal and Peter have." Rupert says. The others nod.
Michael grins as Penelope gets on the plane, she's such a breath of fresh air. The stuffed shirts at the FBI must be horrified by her. He chuckles as he heads off to his apartment, finding his Mom leaning in the fridge. "Don't you ever eat anything but yogurt?" She asks, looking at him.
"Yes, but yogurt is quicker."
"I don't know where I failed you or Nathan, neither of you eat well, you're always running around getting shot at. . ."
"Mom, that lecture might be a little more effective if you weren't smoking all the time."
She sighs. "True. I suppose it's too late to tell you do as I say and not as I do?"
"Way too late."
Jessy looks around the library, concentrating on a book just out of reach. It flies into her head and she sighs. She'll deal with being a god later.
"The weather station is forecasting a good sized storm coming through, Rupert wants all the outbuildings not absolutely needed locked up until the storm passes. Everybody in their homes or the main house."
Jessy sighs and shuts the library up, heading to her home and making sure all the steel shutters on the windows are down. It makes the home feel closed in and she sighs as she turns on a lamp, checking the food in her kitchen and accepting a package of food from the cafeteria before they shut down until the storm is over.
Nearly two days later the shutters come up off the windows and they open to let fresh air into buildings even if the same air is wet from all the rain that went into gutters on every building then into large resevoirs for drinking water in case the power is out a length of time.
Rupert is on the phone with the mayor of the town and he nods in satisfaction.
"A lot of rain but not a lot of wind or damage. They're checking the streets now. The power is off of course, but other than that. . ."
"I couldn't even tell we were on generator."
"Actually, we're not. I put us on a different power source." Rupert says absently. Joyce and Jenny look at him. "You're aware of alternate dimensions?" Both women nod. "In another dimension a young woman invented a rather powerful power source. All the buildings here either have that source or are running off it in another building."
Jenny whistles despite herself. "Part of the work I did on the buildings year before last while we were shut down for Christmas."
"Any other news?"
"The purchase of the island is going well, the lawyers will be going over all the businesses to see what they need."
A few days later everything is back to normal at the house, the damage had been light in town but they were still without power thanks to numerous lines being down. Crews from all over were working on the lines within a week all the power is restored.
In New York Police Commissioner Reagan sighs as he looks at Mac Taylor. "Is there any way we can get you to come back to run your lab again? You can come back at your old pay, seniority, and benefits. We can consider the last couple months as temporary leave thanks to the lab shutdown."
"The mayor is very upset at all the problems his son-in-law's cuts caused."
"I'd wondered how he'd been able to get things through so quickly, there was no notice of a possible lab closure before I got the call saying the lab would be closing in three months."
"Yes, because people with brains would have vetoed the closures."
"And he couldn't have that?" Mac snorts.
"No, the little fool wouldn't have been all that according to my grandchildren." Frank Reagan snorts. "If you come back most of your old crew is willing to return." He passes over a list of people who would be willing to transfer back. "You'll need a new coroner but I have it on good authority Sid is bored stiff with retirement."
"What about their current positions?"
"The labs were running well before his changes, they'll be going back to the way they were. You'll be getting some interns. . ."
"we have in the past." Mac says. He looks at the list and nods. "My other job has told me I can schedule it however I want."
"Then welcome back Lt. Taylor." Frank shakes his hand.
"Commissioner Reagan?" Don Flack squeaks when he answers the phone on his new desk. "Sir. . .this. . .he is? Boss, I'm heading back to my own precinct in a couple weeks, Taylor's taking the job back when the lab reopens."
"Good, you're a good cop Flack but I knew you were having problems settling in here."
"This way I don't have an extra twenty minute commute."
"Yes, that's the bad part of transferring."
A month later Mac looks around his lab as his crew starts walking in. Danny is wearing a uniform for a couple more weeks and Stella had transferred to New Orleans like she'd been planning. He has a new second in command that should be arriving . . .just about now. The elevator opens and a woman he's never met before comes out.
"Lt. Taylor, I'm Jo Danville.' Her handshake is firm.