Mango #17, Marshmallow #7
Author: winebabe
Title: Entangled
Story: The Gemini Occurrence ( Kingdom of Second Chances #5)
Rating: PG-13
Flavor(s): Mango #17: playing favorites; Marshmallow #7: bellyache
Topping(s): Caramel, Sprinkles
Word Count: 2248
Summary: November, Week 2, 2028. Nerves are getting the better of a lot of the people involved.
Notes: Mona Lively, Detective Katharine Chastain, Detective Leah Grant, Detective Noel Reyes, ADA Laurent Marion.
"Alright," Leah says. "You're lucky, actually, because you don't need a cover for this. You're just going to be yourself, which will make this whole situation easier on you, I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but just bear with me. It'll be okay. It'll work itself out."
Mona nods; she doesn't believe her, but she wants to believe her, and figures that's good enough. She's already committed herself to making an effort, at whatever the cost, and it's a relief just knowing she'll have people at her side--even if they can't be there the entire time.
"I know you don't feel very lucky," Kat says gently. "We're not making light of the situation."
"I know," Mona says. "I guess, compared to others, I've got it pretty easy. I know." She speaks quietly, gently--making a conscious effort to not appear hostile. It's not their fault. It's not hers, either. Mario never should have left her alone with all those drugs. He never should have beat her up and run. And maybe she owes him a little bit of a break; she never should have run off with him in the first place.
Mona can hear Devyn's shrill, panicked lecture in her head. What were you thinking, Mona? Why would you get yourself involved in something like this? You've seen what it did to dad, and to mom, and you dive headfirst into a life of drugs?! Are you looking for a man like our father, Mona? Is that what you want?
It's a blessing, maybe, that he's not around to give the lecture to her yet. Maybe, by the time she has everything resolved and she's back in Baltimore, he won't even know what to say. Though that might be worse, she thinks; she's never seen Devyn at a loss for words.
"And I'll just be a phone call away, okay? Or a text. I've got your back," Leah says. She reaches across the table to put her hand on Mona's forearm. "You and I--we're gonna be tight by the end of this," she laughs.
"Sounds like a plan," Mona replies and forces a smile.
Leah takes a sip from her mug and then places her hands against the table top, suddenly all business. "Alright, let's get everything laid out here."
Beside her, Kat smirks, staring down at her phone screen. "You don't have to be so dramatic."
"Don't I?" Leah winks at her and then turns her attention back to Mona. "I'm going to be playing a friend of yours, alright? You'll tell Mario it's group therapy, if he asks, and once we get everything in place, I'll come with you."
"Come with me? To my apartment?" Mona asks. Leah doesn't look like a cop, not in her gray skinnies and navy blue hoodie; she looks more like a teenager than anything. Still, she worries that no matter what, Mario is going to be able to see through anyone's guise--even her own.
"Yeah. Not right away, and don't worry too much about the specifics--we have time to figure it out. But I'll be your backup, honey. And if for whatever reason you can't get what you need from him, me and Frankie will try to slide ourselves into his circle."
"Frankie?" Mona briefly thinks back to all the men she's met since her arrest--Detective Reyes, Captain Meyer, the ADA--but she can't remember their first names and has no idea who is who.
"He's another detective," Leah explains. "He's flying in from out of town, just to work this with us. He's the best of the best when it comes to this stuff."
"Jesus," Mona sighs, "how big is this going to be? I thought I'd just have to go home and wear a wire. I don't think I can do this."
"You can do it, Mona," Kat assures her. "It sounds bigger than it really is. All you have to do is live your life. We're the ones with work to do."
"It's actually kinda fun when your life's not in danger," Leah says, and Mona nearly chokes on her mocha.
Mario goes out all night. He kisses Mona in the stairwell of the apartment building, laughing with his friends as they stomp off down the hallway, and she watches them disappear into the cold November night. She has the listening device around her neck, hidden inside a cross necklace like one she pulled from her jewelry drawer. It's not an exact match, but she rarely wore hers, and it's not likely Mario will notice the difference. Mona worries he'll notice the fact that she's wearing the necklace more than anything, but it's a bridge she'll have to cross when she gets to it. If she gets to it. Nothing is certain anymore.
She returns to her bedroom and curls up in the corner of the bed, her back against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Devyn used to joke that when she did that, she could physically transform herself into a child. He said she looked just like she used to when he was still living at home. Back then, she was always trying to disappear, and now it's no different.
If she could, she'd pack a bag and run away to Baltimore. Or maybe not--maybe the West Coast, as far away from New York as she could get. But she doesn't have that kind of money, not even to get to her brother's house, and there's the threat of facing charges if she doesn't help the police. Everything in her life is a risk.
"I don't know if you can hear me," Mona whispers into the necklace, "but he's not here. He left for the night. I'm going to sleep, and whoever is out there, if you're listening, I think you should, too."
Her heart is pounding in her chest; she knows that even if she does lie down in the dark, she won't sleep. Her stomach hurts, and she's not sure if it's from all the coffee, the anxiety, a combination of both or something else entirely. She feels sick, jittery, weak. She feels exactly the same as she's felt a hundred times before, just for a completely new reason.
"I can't promise anything," she whispers to the necklace, "but I'm going to try my best. I just want to go home, you know? I just want to get out of here."
"Jesus Christ," Noel says and pulls the bulky headphones from over his ears. "Your girl's troubled, Kat." He sets the headphones down on the table top and leans back in his chair with a long sigh.
"She's in trouble?" Kat asks from behind him, where she's staring out the window of the van, watching people walking past on the sidewalk.
"No, sorry--she's troubled. As in, I think she should be getting some real therapy instead of just having coffee with you and Leah."
"I'll get her some real therapy," Kat insists, turning around to look at him. "We have to handle the illegal stuff first, but I'll find someone for her to talk to, if that's what she wants."
"You're not her mom, Kat." Noel glances over his shoulder at her and grins. "Or her sister. You don't have to take care of her."
"Don't you care, Noel?" She takes a seat on the edge of the table, cradling her cell phone in both hands. "She's so young. I just want to make sure she has a fighting chance here. Her life hasn't been all that easy."
He has to bite back a comment about nature versus nurture, about how just because she grew up in some broken home doesn't give her a free pass to deal drugs and run around with some punk-ass wannabe crime lord. He knows Kat will really get into it with him if he says anything, though, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"I think she does need someone to hold her hand through all of this," Kat says quietly. "That's not too much to ask, is it?"
The end of the week comes both too quickly and not quickly enough, and Laurent Marion can barely sleep a wink. He's high on caffeine more often than not, pacing the room and bouncing his leg in his chair. He talks at the speed of light, to the point where Detective Reyes actually reaches out to cup a hand over his mouth in an effort to quiet Laurent down. Everyone finds it amusing, to some degree, save for Captain Meyer--the only one who knows there's more to it.
Thursday comes and goes, and Laurent falls asleep with his face in a law book. He wakes up Friday morning, two hours before trial, with his cheek pressed into drool-dampened paper. He's certainly not the first prosecutor to fall asleep in his office, but it still feels like conduct unbecoming for an ADA, and Laurent tries to sneak out before Audrey gets in. There's still time to shower and clean himself up before trial, because he's going before the same judge he'd just seen the day before. She would recognize the suit he wore, there's no doubt about it, and the only thing more embarrassing than wearing yesterday's clothes is appearing before a judge with his hair sticking straight up.
It isn't easy, but he does manage to get back to his apartment and shower, change his clothes, and force down another cup of coffee as he heads out the door.
The trial goes as smoothly as one can, and by the end, Laurent is cocky and energized. He can see the jury eating up his arguments; there's one young woman in the corner of the box, faintly nodding her head every time he speaks. The defendant isn't quite as composed once he gets up on the witness stand, and Laurent obliterates him by the end of his list of questions.
The jury goes to deliberate, and Laurent makes a beeline for the steps outside the courthouse. He's shaking by that point, from the caffeine and adrenaline, and he just needs to get some fresh air. It's a cold morning, no surprise for November, and he can see his breath in the air in front of him while he sits on the top step.
He doesn't even think to check his phone. It's still on silent, in his coat pocket, and he has no desire to pull it out. The caffeine has taken his ability to multitask, and the only thing Laurent wants to focus on is the current trial. He needs a guilty verdict, and he thinks if he just sits on the step and concentrates, the jury will come back with the verdict in his favor.
Detective Grant is halfway up the steps before Laurent even recognizes her, and by that point, it's too late. She sees him notice her and waves, ever enthusiastic, he has no other option but to sit and wait for her to make her way over to him. "Hey, Boss," she says as she sits down on the step next to him. "Rough morning? You look like hell."
"I'm not your boss, Grant," Laurent replies, "and thank you for the vote of confidence. You really know how to make a man feel good about himself."
"That's not what I meant," Leah says with a grin. "You heard Frankie's flying in today, right?"
"Yes, I heard." The fact that it's today is news to him, but he's not about to confide in Leah that he was the one who requested her former partner for the case. "You look excited."
"I am! I haven't seen Frankie in nearly a year! I mean, we still text all the time, but it sucks when your partner is transferred across the country. I miss him. It's hard getting close to someone, trusting them with your life, and then having to do that all over again. Kat and Noel are lucky--they've only ever had each other in this job."
"You talk a lot, Leah," Laurent grumbles, and massages his temples while she laughs.
"You're really not having a good morning, are you?"
"Quite the contrary! My morning is fine. I'm a few minutes away from winning this case, it's Friday--" Laurent cuts himself off, because he can't think of another positive to mention. Luckily, Leah has stopped listening; she's looking down at her phone, eyebrows knit in confusion or concentration--Laurent can't tell.
"Gotta run, Marion. Good talk!" Leah hops to her feet, pockets her cell phone, and starts jogging down the courthouse steps. "Good luck with your case!" she calls back to him.
"Thank you!" He sits for a moment longer, watching the people walking up and down the steps, before he stands as well. Laurent takes the time to check his phone as he makes his way back into the courthouse; amidst the sea of texts from detectives and other counsel, there's one from Frankie from an hour ago.
My flight leaves in a few hours, the text reads. There's nothing else--no pleasantries, nothing friendly. It reads like a status update, and Laurent feels sick.
Have a safe trip, he sends back, and as soon as he slides his phone back into pocket, a woman turns the corner and stops right in front of him.
"ADA Marion? The jury has returned with a verdict."
"That fast?" he replies, putting on the most smug expression he can muster. "Must mean good news for me."
Title: Entangled
Story: The Gemini Occurrence ( Kingdom of Second Chances #5)
Rating: PG-13
Flavor(s): Mango #17: playing favorites; Marshmallow #7: bellyache
Topping(s): Caramel, Sprinkles
Word Count: 2248
Summary: November, Week 2, 2028. Nerves are getting the better of a lot of the people involved.
Notes: Mona Lively, Detective Katharine Chastain, Detective Leah Grant, Detective Noel Reyes, ADA Laurent Marion.
"Alright," Leah says. "You're lucky, actually, because you don't need a cover for this. You're just going to be yourself, which will make this whole situation easier on you, I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but just bear with me. It'll be okay. It'll work itself out."
Mona nods; she doesn't believe her, but she wants to believe her, and figures that's good enough. She's already committed herself to making an effort, at whatever the cost, and it's a relief just knowing she'll have people at her side--even if they can't be there the entire time.
"I know you don't feel very lucky," Kat says gently. "We're not making light of the situation."
"I know," Mona says. "I guess, compared to others, I've got it pretty easy. I know." She speaks quietly, gently--making a conscious effort to not appear hostile. It's not their fault. It's not hers, either. Mario never should have left her alone with all those drugs. He never should have beat her up and run. And maybe she owes him a little bit of a break; she never should have run off with him in the first place.
Mona can hear Devyn's shrill, panicked lecture in her head. What were you thinking, Mona? Why would you get yourself involved in something like this? You've seen what it did to dad, and to mom, and you dive headfirst into a life of drugs?! Are you looking for a man like our father, Mona? Is that what you want?
It's a blessing, maybe, that he's not around to give the lecture to her yet. Maybe, by the time she has everything resolved and she's back in Baltimore, he won't even know what to say. Though that might be worse, she thinks; she's never seen Devyn at a loss for words.
"And I'll just be a phone call away, okay? Or a text. I've got your back," Leah says. She reaches across the table to put her hand on Mona's forearm. "You and I--we're gonna be tight by the end of this," she laughs.
"Sounds like a plan," Mona replies and forces a smile.
Leah takes a sip from her mug and then places her hands against the table top, suddenly all business. "Alright, let's get everything laid out here."
Beside her, Kat smirks, staring down at her phone screen. "You don't have to be so dramatic."
"Don't I?" Leah winks at her and then turns her attention back to Mona. "I'm going to be playing a friend of yours, alright? You'll tell Mario it's group therapy, if he asks, and once we get everything in place, I'll come with you."
"Come with me? To my apartment?" Mona asks. Leah doesn't look like a cop, not in her gray skinnies and navy blue hoodie; she looks more like a teenager than anything. Still, she worries that no matter what, Mario is going to be able to see through anyone's guise--even her own.
"Yeah. Not right away, and don't worry too much about the specifics--we have time to figure it out. But I'll be your backup, honey. And if for whatever reason you can't get what you need from him, me and Frankie will try to slide ourselves into his circle."
"Frankie?" Mona briefly thinks back to all the men she's met since her arrest--Detective Reyes, Captain Meyer, the ADA--but she can't remember their first names and has no idea who is who.
"He's another detective," Leah explains. "He's flying in from out of town, just to work this with us. He's the best of the best when it comes to this stuff."
"Jesus," Mona sighs, "how big is this going to be? I thought I'd just have to go home and wear a wire. I don't think I can do this."
"You can do it, Mona," Kat assures her. "It sounds bigger than it really is. All you have to do is live your life. We're the ones with work to do."
"It's actually kinda fun when your life's not in danger," Leah says, and Mona nearly chokes on her mocha.
Mario goes out all night. He kisses Mona in the stairwell of the apartment building, laughing with his friends as they stomp off down the hallway, and she watches them disappear into the cold November night. She has the listening device around her neck, hidden inside a cross necklace like one she pulled from her jewelry drawer. It's not an exact match, but she rarely wore hers, and it's not likely Mario will notice the difference. Mona worries he'll notice the fact that she's wearing the necklace more than anything, but it's a bridge she'll have to cross when she gets to it. If she gets to it. Nothing is certain anymore.
She returns to her bedroom and curls up in the corner of the bed, her back against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Devyn used to joke that when she did that, she could physically transform herself into a child. He said she looked just like she used to when he was still living at home. Back then, she was always trying to disappear, and now it's no different.
If she could, she'd pack a bag and run away to Baltimore. Or maybe not--maybe the West Coast, as far away from New York as she could get. But she doesn't have that kind of money, not even to get to her brother's house, and there's the threat of facing charges if she doesn't help the police. Everything in her life is a risk.
"I don't know if you can hear me," Mona whispers into the necklace, "but he's not here. He left for the night. I'm going to sleep, and whoever is out there, if you're listening, I think you should, too."
Her heart is pounding in her chest; she knows that even if she does lie down in the dark, she won't sleep. Her stomach hurts, and she's not sure if it's from all the coffee, the anxiety, a combination of both or something else entirely. She feels sick, jittery, weak. She feels exactly the same as she's felt a hundred times before, just for a completely new reason.
"I can't promise anything," she whispers to the necklace, "but I'm going to try my best. I just want to go home, you know? I just want to get out of here."
"Jesus Christ," Noel says and pulls the bulky headphones from over his ears. "Your girl's troubled, Kat." He sets the headphones down on the table top and leans back in his chair with a long sigh.
"She's in trouble?" Kat asks from behind him, where she's staring out the window of the van, watching people walking past on the sidewalk.
"No, sorry--she's troubled. As in, I think she should be getting some real therapy instead of just having coffee with you and Leah."
"I'll get her some real therapy," Kat insists, turning around to look at him. "We have to handle the illegal stuff first, but I'll find someone for her to talk to, if that's what she wants."
"You're not her mom, Kat." Noel glances over his shoulder at her and grins. "Or her sister. You don't have to take care of her."
"Don't you care, Noel?" She takes a seat on the edge of the table, cradling her cell phone in both hands. "She's so young. I just want to make sure she has a fighting chance here. Her life hasn't been all that easy."
He has to bite back a comment about nature versus nurture, about how just because she grew up in some broken home doesn't give her a free pass to deal drugs and run around with some punk-ass wannabe crime lord. He knows Kat will really get into it with him if he says anything, though, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"I think she does need someone to hold her hand through all of this," Kat says quietly. "That's not too much to ask, is it?"
The end of the week comes both too quickly and not quickly enough, and Laurent Marion can barely sleep a wink. He's high on caffeine more often than not, pacing the room and bouncing his leg in his chair. He talks at the speed of light, to the point where Detective Reyes actually reaches out to cup a hand over his mouth in an effort to quiet Laurent down. Everyone finds it amusing, to some degree, save for Captain Meyer--the only one who knows there's more to it.
Thursday comes and goes, and Laurent falls asleep with his face in a law book. He wakes up Friday morning, two hours before trial, with his cheek pressed into drool-dampened paper. He's certainly not the first prosecutor to fall asleep in his office, but it still feels like conduct unbecoming for an ADA, and Laurent tries to sneak out before Audrey gets in. There's still time to shower and clean himself up before trial, because he's going before the same judge he'd just seen the day before. She would recognize the suit he wore, there's no doubt about it, and the only thing more embarrassing than wearing yesterday's clothes is appearing before a judge with his hair sticking straight up.
It isn't easy, but he does manage to get back to his apartment and shower, change his clothes, and force down another cup of coffee as he heads out the door.
The trial goes as smoothly as one can, and by the end, Laurent is cocky and energized. He can see the jury eating up his arguments; there's one young woman in the corner of the box, faintly nodding her head every time he speaks. The defendant isn't quite as composed once he gets up on the witness stand, and Laurent obliterates him by the end of his list of questions.
The jury goes to deliberate, and Laurent makes a beeline for the steps outside the courthouse. He's shaking by that point, from the caffeine and adrenaline, and he just needs to get some fresh air. It's a cold morning, no surprise for November, and he can see his breath in the air in front of him while he sits on the top step.
He doesn't even think to check his phone. It's still on silent, in his coat pocket, and he has no desire to pull it out. The caffeine has taken his ability to multitask, and the only thing Laurent wants to focus on is the current trial. He needs a guilty verdict, and he thinks if he just sits on the step and concentrates, the jury will come back with the verdict in his favor.
Detective Grant is halfway up the steps before Laurent even recognizes her, and by that point, it's too late. She sees him notice her and waves, ever enthusiastic, he has no other option but to sit and wait for her to make her way over to him. "Hey, Boss," she says as she sits down on the step next to him. "Rough morning? You look like hell."
"I'm not your boss, Grant," Laurent replies, "and thank you for the vote of confidence. You really know how to make a man feel good about himself."
"That's not what I meant," Leah says with a grin. "You heard Frankie's flying in today, right?"
"Yes, I heard." The fact that it's today is news to him, but he's not about to confide in Leah that he was the one who requested her former partner for the case. "You look excited."
"I am! I haven't seen Frankie in nearly a year! I mean, we still text all the time, but it sucks when your partner is transferred across the country. I miss him. It's hard getting close to someone, trusting them with your life, and then having to do that all over again. Kat and Noel are lucky--they've only ever had each other in this job."
"You talk a lot, Leah," Laurent grumbles, and massages his temples while she laughs.
"You're really not having a good morning, are you?"
"Quite the contrary! My morning is fine. I'm a few minutes away from winning this case, it's Friday--" Laurent cuts himself off, because he can't think of another positive to mention. Luckily, Leah has stopped listening; she's looking down at her phone, eyebrows knit in confusion or concentration--Laurent can't tell.
"Gotta run, Marion. Good talk!" Leah hops to her feet, pockets her cell phone, and starts jogging down the courthouse steps. "Good luck with your case!" she calls back to him.
"Thank you!" He sits for a moment longer, watching the people walking up and down the steps, before he stands as well. Laurent takes the time to check his phone as he makes his way back into the courthouse; amidst the sea of texts from detectives and other counsel, there's one from Frankie from an hour ago.
My flight leaves in a few hours, the text reads. There's nothing else--no pleasantries, nothing friendly. It reads like a status update, and Laurent feels sick.
Have a safe trip, he sends back, and as soon as he slides his phone back into pocket, a woman turns the corner and stops right in front of him.
"ADA Marion? The jury has returned with a verdict."
"That fast?" he replies, putting on the most smug expression he can muster. "Must mean good news for me."