An Unexpected Encounter (Timothy Lawrence FanFic)

"Now, the real fun begins", the teacher announced. "Please ask your partner for their name, favorite hobby, and ideal job!" God, why did he have to make himself sound so happy, it just made him all the more creepy, she thought, turning back to face the red-headed man sitting across from her.

He sheepishly glanced over at her as she turned around, obviously anticipating her to go first. "Fine then", she thought, "I'll just have to make the first move". "Well, ginger boy, what are you called?" she asked, trying to make him feel more at ease. He winced slightly before answering, which seemed strange to her, but she discovered why as soon as he gave his name. "Timothy", he uttered, "Timothy Lawrence, if you really wanted the full name...". She didn't even try to hide her disgust and anger at hearing the name Lawrence again after so many years. However, this didn't seem to be the reaction he was expecting, which didn't exactly surprise her. Julia knew what he had anticipated, most people would've lost their minds if they had gotten the chance to talk to such a man. However, she was less than impressed.

The Lawrence's were none other than the single wealthiest family on all of Promethea, hell probably one of the wealthiest in the galaxy. But none of that glamour and fake compassion fooled her, she knew what they truly were, a bunch of heartless money-grubbers who cared for no one but themselves. She'd experienced it firsthand when she was but a child. Her father, her rock, the person she loved most in the world, had been employed by one of the many Lawrence empires. Her dad didn't exactly love his job there, but it paid the bills, and he seemed happy enough to her at the time. That is, however, only up until he died on the job.

She'd expected the Lawrences to have sympathy for her family, to at least apologize in some way. However, her family never heard a word from them. The great humanitarians the Lawrences claimed to be were just a facade. Their selfless donations a lie, their fair treatment of workers a joke. They covered up her father's death without a second thought, spewing lies on every media outlet claiming it as "an unfortunate accident". But she wouldn't be fooled, she knew the truth, what really happened to her father.

About a month before his death, a leak had been discovered at the plant. He and his coworkers warned the company of it, but their warnings fell on deaf ears. The Lawrence's had already investigated it and found it was a problem too pricey for them to be willing to fix. After all, who cared about a few workers dying when they could get away with not paying. After a week or so, employees began falling ill from "a mysterious disease", and they just so happened to be working near the growing leak. Even Julia's own father had become ill, but he refused to take days off because he needed the job to feed their family.

He only seemed to get worse and worse, until one day after he went to work coughing and hacking, Julia received terrible news. Her father had died under "odd circumstances". She asked her mother "if daddy was going to be okay", and she held Julia tight as she whispered in her ear that he was in a better place now. Even as a naive 6-year-old, she knew what that meant. She sobbed and screamed until her eyes and throat burned violently. She would never forget what was taken from her that day. She would never forget what the Lawrences did to her family.

"Oh... Lawrence...", she said, venom dripping from her words. "You wouldn't happen to belong to the ever-so-illustrious Lawrence dynasty, would you?" He trembled as he replied, "Yes, that's me". She then asked, "So, do you support the way you treat your workers, or should I say, how you don't treat them at all?" Timothy's expression of nervousness and fear quickly changed to one of confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "We treat our workers very well". She considered for a moment that he may have been feigning ignorance to try to avoid her anger, but he seemed to be genuinely unaware of his father's doings.

Julia tried to manifest her anger and spite to direct toward Timothy, but his stupid big eyes and genuinely kind demeanor prevented her from doing so. "Ughh, never... nevermind" she muttered, silently cursing herself for being deterred by his innocent appearance. He looked at her, compassion in his eyes, and said something she did not expect. "I'm very sorry if I or my family have hurt you, please tell me if we have and I will do my best to make it right."

"Is he f***ing serious?" she thought to herself. She sat in silence, staring at the board, her head bustling with thoughts. Timothy attempted to talk to her and get her attention, but she simply ignored him. "He can't not know", she thought to herself, "He's got to be lying to cover for his dad". But somehow, she simply couldn't shake the feeling that he was telling her the truth. And, if he was, he truly might be able to help her get the revenge she'd so greatly desired all these years.

While these ideas swam in her head, she heard the teacher say that the activity was over off in the distance. This somewhat snapped her back to reality, and she managed to pull out some paper and a pen to take a few notes. Before she knew it, the class was over and Timothy was yet again trying to ask her what was wrong. She could not deal with the information she'd just received, so she ignored him and briskly left the classroom to continue her day.

That day was a tough one for Julia, she tried to focus in class, but couldn't stop thinking about Timothy and the look of genuine confusion and concern on his face. "What if he wasn't lying? What if he could help her get revenge, and what if she could help him escape his horrid family? Could she afford to take that type of chance? She'd just gotten a scholarship after years of hard work, was she really going to throw it away for a petty attempt at revenge?" Julia tried her very best to push these questions aside and go on with her day, but she just couldn't seem to let it go.

Later that night as she lay in bed, she couldn't stop thinking. However, her brain slowly began to turn itself off as sleep became too much for her exhausted body to fight. But then, she felt her stomach lurch as she remembered something very, very important. She hadn't brought her bookbag back with her to the dorm. She flipped on her bedside light in a frenzy and put on her glasses, practically shooting out of bed. She removed her pajamas and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. And, while she was worried, she wasn't suicidal, so she grabbed her pepper spray before sprinting out the door in search of the bag.

Using the dim flashlight from her phone, she managed to locate the bag fairly quickly. She picked it up and peeked inside, letting out an immense sigh of relief. Thank god everything was still intact, this bag and its contents were priceless. They were a symbol of the daily struggle she made just to try to make something of her life. After her father had passed, the only person she had was her mother. She worked so hard, but with one of the incomes in the household gone, they were very poor. Julia had promised her mother when she was only 10 that she would make something of herself. That she would succeed and get a job so high-paying that her mother could live in a lavish mansion, free from the dangers of the street. Her mother had given her a sad look that day, "No child should have to think like that", she had said. 8 years later, Julia stood in that same room next to her mother, screaming with joy until her throat grew sore. She had won the scholarship. She hugged her mom so hard that she feared she would break her bones, and her mother hugged her back, tears slipping down her face.

"Click", suddenly, she was pulled from the pleasant memory by a cold sensation on the back of her head. "Drop the bag, miss, and maybe I won't blow your head off", came a gruff voice from behind her, a cruel laugh following his threatening words. She didn't have a choice, she had to drop it. None of her memories or possessions mattered if she ended up six feet underground. Just as she was about to release the bag from her grip, she heard a gunshot ring out behind her.

Before she knew it, she lay flat on the ground, tasting blood. She couldn't move a muscle, she just sat there wondering if she was dead and this was the afterlife. Julia laid there for what felt like an eternity against the cold ground, motionless, no will to get up. But suddenly, she felt a touch on her shoulder, ever so gentle. "Miss, miss?" "Are you alright?" came a voice from the dark. She slowly turned her head, half expecting to see the grim reaper or some equally horrifying being. To her amazement, it wasn't anyone remotely close. It was someone she'd never have expected in a million years. Timothy Lawrence looked down upon her in surprise, gun still in hand, standing next to the body of her would-be assailant.