Biggles and Son: Chapter 17.

by Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Warning: Non canon type fan fiction works may contain severe time mix-ups and character deviations.

A knock on the door woke Algy from a deep slumber the next morning. He glanced up wearily as his door opened and Brechovich, looking somewhat disheveled, looked in. “We go,” was his somewhat cryptic order, before the door closed behind him again.

Groaning, and muttering under his breath about people who did not understand the need for sleep, Algy got out of bed and got dressed as quickly as he could. Once done with this, he went down to the main area of the pub to find Brechovich and Jane waiting for him.

They were holding hands.

Algy gritted his teeth and said nothing.

“Good,” said Brechovich, noticing Algy’s presence. “I get car. You wait.”

He let go of Jane’s hand and strolled out of the pub without any other explanation. Algy awkwardly made his way to stand next to Jane. He did not know where to look or what to say. He felt as though he had suddenly grown an extra leg.

“You don’t have to look so disapproving,” said Jane, sounding annoyed.

“I’m not disapproving of anything,” retorted Algy, although he did disapprove, and quite a bit at that.

“Yes, you are!” said Jane. “Every time I so much as look at him, I can hear you glaring at me. What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” said Algy stiffly, despite the fact that anyone with eyes could see from his body language that he did, very clearly, have a problem. “It’s none of my business how you choose to carry on with strange men.”

“Strange men?” echoed Jane, her voice getting just a bit shrill. “What do you mean, strange men? And how exactly am I ‘choosing to carry on’, exactly?”

“You’re a married woman,” said Algy, even more stiffly. “It isn’t decent to be kissing someone who isn’t Big—who isn’t your husband. At least in England we see it that way. I don’t know how you Yanks consider it.”

“Oooh,” said Jane mockingly. “Aren’t we high and mighty all of a sudden? For your information, what I choose to do, with or without my husband, is none of your business!”

“I never said it was any of my business,” growled Algy. “You were the one who asked.”

“Let me tell you something, Algernon,” snapped Jane, losing her temper. “I don’t consider James to be my husband any more. I’ve sent him his ring back. We’ve broken up. The only reason I haven’t filed for divorce is because I’ve been too busy. Oh, and do you want to know the reason we broke up, by the way, while we’re talking about things that are your business? The reason we broke up was you!”

“What?” said Algy, completely flabbergasted.

“Fourteen years ago, I gave James a choice. I told him to pick me or you, and he picked you. That’s why I walked away, and that’s why I sent him his ring back. He was more worried about you getting shot than he was about me getting unkidnapped!”

Algy struggled to think back fourteen years, to see if he had any memory of the event that Jane had just thrown in his face. His memory came up blank. And then he remembered something. “Weren’t you the one who shot me?”

“Yeah,” said Jane, meeting his eyes squarely. “So what?”

Algy threw up his hands. “So what? What do you mean, so what? You broke up with your husband because he was more worried about his dying friend than he was about you, for one minute of his life? And what is this, anyway, this mission you tried to get Biggles on? Is this some sort of sick revenge, making him go undercover on a mission to see you kissing with your boyfriend every ten seconds?”

“Stop using that stupid nickname for him! His name is James! And Stefan isn’t my boyfriend!”

“What do you call him, then?”

Jane ignored the question. “I wanted James here so that he could see I’ve moved on, that I’m much better without him. I wanted him to see what he let go of, and what he isn’t getting back. Instead I get you here, all judgmental and holier-than-thou. Who do you think you are anyway, telling me what I can and can’t do?”

Algy’s mouth had dropped open during this long heated speech, and after it ended he had to struggle to find words. “If you have a single shred of decency in your soul—” he began, in strangled tones.

“I’m going to show him up,” promised Jane. “And I don’t care who gets in my way while I’m doing it. You can consider yourself warned.”

“But—”

At that moment a car pulled up in front of the pub door with Brechovich at the wheel. He waved a hand, indicating that they should join him. Jane attempted to get into the passenger seat, but Algy, feeling a savage stab of satisfaction, beat her to it. Brechovich did not comment on this, so Jane, sulkily, was forced to get into the back seat.

She said something to Brechovich as the car began to move on again. It was in a language that Algy did not know, so he had no way of knowing what she was saying, but it was clear from her batting eyelashes and flirtatious smile—as well as Brechovich’s answering smile—what the general context was.

“Well, this is a lovely kettle of fish,” he thought glumly to himself. “In the same car as Brechovich and Jane. Could this get any worse?”

And then he looked back and saw a familiar car following them, and he realized that things could, in fact, get worse. A lot worse.

Go to Chapter 18.

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