Law & Order: UK Fic. - Enough.
Told you my muse wanted me to write these two.
Title: Enough.
Rating: G
Word Count: 491
Genre: Angst.
Characters & Pairings: James Steel, Alesha Phillips (friendship)
Summary: Just an angsty moment between our two favourite Crown Prosecutors.
Notes: I’m not sure if I have a handle on the characters yet, so any feedback on that (and anything really) would be lovely.
Enough.
She's sitting on the steps of the courthouse waiting patiently for him to finish. James knows the verdict has affected her badly. She had worked herself to the bone to put the bastard behind bars, but he wasn't. James moves to sit next to her and sees her hands tapping furiously at her knees, her feet tapping to a beat only she knows, and suddenly she doesn't appear so patient. She looks up at him, something in her expression reminding him of a lost child. As he settles himself next to her on the cold stone he is keenly aware of her unwavering gaze. "I'm sorry." He finally says quietly. He looks over to see her face turn away. She's staring into the London dusk, her face suddenly hard and resolute. It breaks his heart a little to see her like that.
"Not your fault." Her voice lacks its usual softness, the usual undercurrent of patience and compassion, which makes her so good at interviewing victims and witnesses, is absent.
"It isn't yours either."
Her focus snaps back to him. "We'll never believe each other." She says it without batting an eyelid; with a tone that lacks the pain this statement should carry. She stares him down for a moment before sighing and breaking eye contact. He watches her shoulders sag and her lips twist into a grimace. "It's not our fault, we did the best we could. We did more. It just wasn't enough." She meets his gaze again. "It's never enough is it?"
He wants to embrace her and tell her it is. That they do good. That she is great at her job, and she puts bad people away, and protects the innocents. She's staring at him though, and she doesn't want to be lied to, and he doesn't know if he could even she did. "No, no it's not." The words feel forced. He doesn't want to tell her this. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but she nods and her posture straightens as she turns to face the city again.
"But we can't do anymore." She doesn't look at him but her voice is gentle again, and his hand rests next to hers as they sit in front of the building they rely on.
“Thank-“ The word catches in her throat and her hand moves as if to cover his, but it stops and their little fingers brush as she settles it back down. “Thank you, James.”
She gets up from next to him then, and he feels her hand clench the step to push herself off. She moves down a few steps before turning to him with a forced smile. “Let’s get pissed.”
He nods and gets up. She waits for him, this time without any hint of impatience. Her smile is crooked and false, but her back is straight, and as she takes his arm with an unusual boldness, he thinks: maybe that’s enough.
Title: Enough.
Rating: G
Word Count: 491
Genre: Angst.
Characters & Pairings: James Steel, Alesha Phillips (friendship)
Summary: Just an angsty moment between our two favourite Crown Prosecutors.
Notes: I’m not sure if I have a handle on the characters yet, so any feedback on that (and anything really) would be lovely.
Enough.
She's sitting on the steps of the courthouse waiting patiently for him to finish. James knows the verdict has affected her badly. She had worked herself to the bone to put the bastard behind bars, but he wasn't. James moves to sit next to her and sees her hands tapping furiously at her knees, her feet tapping to a beat only she knows, and suddenly she doesn't appear so patient. She looks up at him, something in her expression reminding him of a lost child. As he settles himself next to her on the cold stone he is keenly aware of her unwavering gaze. "I'm sorry." He finally says quietly. He looks over to see her face turn away. She's staring into the London dusk, her face suddenly hard and resolute. It breaks his heart a little to see her like that.
"Not your fault." Her voice lacks its usual softness, the usual undercurrent of patience and compassion, which makes her so good at interviewing victims and witnesses, is absent.
"It isn't yours either."
Her focus snaps back to him. "We'll never believe each other." She says it without batting an eyelid; with a tone that lacks the pain this statement should carry. She stares him down for a moment before sighing and breaking eye contact. He watches her shoulders sag and her lips twist into a grimace. "It's not our fault, we did the best we could. We did more. It just wasn't enough." She meets his gaze again. "It's never enough is it?"
He wants to embrace her and tell her it is. That they do good. That she is great at her job, and she puts bad people away, and protects the innocents. She's staring at him though, and she doesn't want to be lied to, and he doesn't know if he could even she did. "No, no it's not." The words feel forced. He doesn't want to tell her this. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but she nods and her posture straightens as she turns to face the city again.
"But we can't do anymore." She doesn't look at him but her voice is gentle again, and his hand rests next to hers as they sit in front of the building they rely on.
“Thank-“ The word catches in her throat and her hand moves as if to cover his, but it stops and their little fingers brush as she settles it back down. “Thank you, James.”
She gets up from next to him then, and he feels her hand clench the step to push herself off. She moves down a few steps before turning to him with a forced smile. “Let’s get pissed.”
He nods and gets up. She waits for him, this time without any hint of impatience. Her smile is crooked and false, but her back is straight, and as she takes his arm with an unusual boldness, he thinks: maybe that’s enough.