Just a fun idea that stuck in my head. I know custody law doesn't work this way, but let's be honest. Since when has AA been concerned about being legally accurate?

Also, I apologize for my lack of cowboy stuff in Jake's speech. I don't do cowboy very well.


Taking Up the Sword

When the guard brought her out of her cell with the information that she had yet another visitor, Lana hadn't hoped for much. Ema and that Wright had already come and gone, looking for ammunition for the second day of the trial she had to lose, and she couldn't think of anyone she wanted to see. A small part of her hoped it was her sister nevertheless, but more of her just wished Ema would stay far away from all this.

Certainly, Jake Marshall wasn't who she expected to be waiting for her.

"You don't have to just stand there, Lana," Jake said calm and smoothly, yet still with a stiff edge.

Lana approached the glass partition but refused to sit. Jake was wearing that ridiculous cowboy hat of his, slanted as to hide his eyes. His jaw was speckled with stubble, and his hair lay flat and limp against his face like it had been glued that way. All familiar. The only thing new about him were the papers he held in one hand. Papers, she noticed, that also appeared to have been copied and left on the tabletop on her side.

"Asked the guards to leave those there," Jake said, catching where her attention had strayed. He laid his own copy down. "Don't look at them just yet; got a couple of things I need to discuss with you."

As best as she could, Lana looked him in the eye. "Why are you here?"

Jake's head tilted to the left. "Can't a fellow visit a former friend before the end?"

"Not when it's you and me." Lana sat, if only to hide how stiff she was becoming. On her lap, her hands balled into fists. "Don't lie, Jake. You've despised me ever since SL-9."

He looked off to the side. ". . . I can't deny that I think you're crooked."

That hurt. She and Gant both knew that Jake suspected them, but it was the first time she had heard him say it out loud. Yet despite the pain, her mask held strong. She knew it would. If Ema hadn't been able to break it, than there was no way Jake could.

So, when she spoke, her voice was strong and full of ice. "Exactly. All we've done for the past two years is throw passive-aggressive insults at each other. Nothing's changed. Whatever you're here for, it's pointless. If you're seeking information, you won't get it from me. If you're here to get in the last word, then speak now and let me be."

She saw his teeth clench. "What I got to say is something worth listening to, Lana. Why don't you just settle down and hear me out?"

Hear him out? About what? No, dumb question. It was SL-9. Him and Angel . . . it was always about SL-9. She swore rapidly in her mind, cursing the two and their steadfast, relentless determination to punish Ema in place of Darke.

"SL-9 is over," she said to Jake, uncaring of how much he'd been wronged by that case. "Darke was guilty, and now he's paid. There's nothing left to say. Take these papers and -"

She had grabbed the papers. In doing so, her eyes had roved across the top, and what they saw made her words jam in her throat and her heart stop mid-beat.

"You . . ."

"Lana, let me explain!" One hand on his side of the table, Jake leaned forward as if to reach through the glass.

"How dare you?" All her icy calm evaporated in that instant. The small stack of paper made a satisfying thump as she flung it against the glass. "How could you even think I'd give you custody of my sister?"

"Lana-!"

"It was a mistake staying here." Lana stood rapidly, almost knocking over the chair. "Guard, I'm finished."

"Lana, wait!" It was only the glass that stopped him from grabbing her arm. "Lana!"

"If he shows up again, tell him I do not wish to speak to him," she told the guard. Her legs twitched with the urge to leave.

"It's about Gant!"

She froze.

"Miss?" The guard looked at her questioningly. The door leading out lay open before her.

"Lana," Jake said urgently from his side of the glass, "just hear me out."

It felt like icy-cold water was trickling down her back. Damon wouldn't, would he? She'd upheld her end of the bargain. He couldn't. And even if he did, he wouldn't involve Jake.

Yet she found herself asking the guard for a little more time and returning to her seat.

"Damon's telling you to do this?" she asked.

"He doesn't know. I'd rather it stayed that way." Jake reached up and pulled down the rim of his hat, as if it could hide him from prying eyes.

She glanced down at the floor, where the damning papers lay. "Then what's this about?"

She could feel Jake measuring her with his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, a small knife appeared in his hand, and he set to work on taming some of the stubble along his right jaw. "You haven't changed completely. I still know enough about you to make some guesses."

She narrowed her eyes, and took the bait. "Such as?"

"For one, I reckon you'd rather see Ema in my custody than the Chief's." Her spine snapped straight, and he continued, "You'd understand if you were around. It's all the Chief's been talking about. 'Poor Ema. So young to be alone. No one to turn to after the deed is done.' If that ain't called laying the groundwork, then I don't know what is."

No. It was a small voice in her head that said that, and yet it felt like a scream.

"There's a couple of detectives already telling the Chief he should take her in. Course, Dick just wants to be sure she has someone to look after her. He'd probably be here in my place if he could afford enough grub for two."

No . . .

"She doesn't need him," Lana said. "Ema's very mature. She'll be fine on her own."

"I don't think it'll be up to her," Jake said, something dark rolling under the surface of his expression. "Chief's crooked. He'll use the system against her, and let's not forget that you and Gant have been using the courts as your personal saloon for the last two years."

The walls were closing in. Damon wanted . . . Damon wanted . . . He wouldn't. But he would. Damon liked to keep all his pawns under control, and Ema – oh, Ema – had no idea she was one of them. She had no idea what he was capable of, of what monster laid underneath the surface.

She couldn't breathe. Even when it was over, it wasn't over. She couldn't save Ema this time. She couldn't stop him. She couldn't even tell anyone why he needed to be stopped, because then they'd know the truth behind Neil Marshall's death and oh god . . .

Tap. "Hey, Lana, breathe." Jake tapped on the glass, trying to draw her attention.

She did. It came out as a shuddering, gulp of air. Her hands were shaking. Bit by bit, her mask cracked as it dawned on her that there was nothing she could do.

Jake lifted his hat for a better view as he peered at her. "What is it with you and the Chief?"

Her mouth opened. The gears of her vocal chords tried to turn and stalled. She shook her head. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. There was only one thing she could say.

" . . . Help her . . . please . . ."

She saw his eyes widened minutely, but then he leaned back with deliberate casualness. His knife disappeared back into its holster. "That's what I'm here for. You fill out those papers, and we'll make sure the Chief can't touch her."

She almost listened. She almost leaned over and picked up the custody papers. But then, some lingering doubt made itself know and she paused. "We?"

Jake shrugged. "Found myself a partner for this rodeo. Can't do this the normal way and risk the Chief finding out, or he'll find some way to stop us. Lucky for us, Angel's hit pay dirt with her choice in boyfriends. They can push those papers right through. "

"Angel? Angel Starr? She's helping you?"

All over again, she wanted to storm out of this room and leave him behind. It was one thing to trust Jake despite their history, but Angel was a different story. Jake and her may have been in a cold war, but it was nothing less than an outright war between her and Angel. If she'd ever had any doubt about that, Angel's testimony had laid it to rest.

"Why are you doing this?" Alarms wailed in her head, each saying the same thing: Ema's in danger; Ema's in danger. "You're not doing this to help me. They've already arrested me for Bruce's murder. What more do you want?"

Jake ignored her questions. "They haven't found you guilty yet."

"And that's it. You're so afraid I'll get off that you're going after Ema." The word blurred around her, until all she could see was Jake. So little space between them . . . if she moved fast, threw herself at the glass, could she reach him in time to stop him?

" . . . You really think that poorly of me?" Jake asked quietly.

Her head swam. She couldn't formulate an answer.

"You're crooked. I know that. I got issues with that. You could even say I dislike you for that." If she listened hard, she thought she heard something pained in his tone. "But I got nothing against Ema. If it was little, inexperienced, unqualified Ema in charge of the evidence instead of you and the Chief, I'd be a lot happier. You're right, Lana. We're not doing this for you; we're doing it for your sister. If it also happens to throw a hitch in the Chief's plans, then that's just extra."

". . . You're doing this for her?" she croaked.

"You don't think I blame Ema for waiting in your office like a good kid when Darke was running around, do you? What happened wasn't her fault. If I ever turned around and started hating her for that, then I'm sure Neil would come back from the grave to smack some sense into me. I miss seeing her around, you know."

She tried to believe him; she wanted to believe him. Yet she couldn't shake off that lingering fear that she was delivering Ema straight up on a silver platter.

"And Angel?"

"Far as me and her are concerned, Ema's as good as they get. If our bambina still wants to go off to Europe or wherever, I ain't going to stop her. And the Chief will have to get through me to get to her."

Dare she trust him? No matter where she turned, it seemed she was falling into a trap. If she didn't, Damon would win and she had no idea what he had planned for her sister. If she did, there was always the risk that this was a setup, and if Damon were to break his promise and tell Jake what really happened . . .

"Promise me that you'll keep Damon away from her no matter what happens."

"She'll be safe."

"I mean it. No matter what happens, what you hear, or how much you hate her . . ."

"I don't hate her," Jake reminded her. "I don't think I could ever like the Chief more than her. 'Sides, it's only for two years, and then she's untouchable. What's got you all worried?"

"Jake . . ."

"Alright. I promise."


When the guard brought her out of her cell with the information that she had a visitor, Lana followed him curiously. Ema had only left a few minutes ago; had she remembered something 'important' that she absolutely had to share? (Perhaps the Snackoos company had invented a new flavour).

She was only briefly surprised to see Jake there.

"Morning, Lana." Jake tipped his hat at her.

"Jake." She nodded at him, and took her seat.

Losing his job didn't appear to have changed him much. He was still garbed in full cowboy apparel, leaning back in his chair and toying with a flask attached to his belt. He looked the same as he had the last time she'd seen him, although his face held a peace she didn't think was there before.

"Looks like the posse has finally caught up," he said, offering congratulations in his own way.

"It has," she said. The smile that played at her lips was genuine and freeing. Yet despite it . . .

. . . she couldn't help a twang of envy as she stared at him. It had been a good decision at the time, an incontestable one, but the truth of the matter was that this man before her was now responsible for Ema. Not her. She'd signed away her rights to her sister, and she wasn't sure if Ema even knew. She wondered . . . those papers had been signed in the expectation that she would be dead. She wasn't. Would the courts return Ema's custody to her, even if she were in jail?

No. No, it was better she didn't try. Even if the courts would listen, it wasn't fair to put Ema – or Jake – through that stress. Better not to let Ema what had gone on behind closed doors. Best to wait the two years out, and let things run their course.

"You're a good man, Jake," she said. "I know you'll take care of my sister."

"Funny you should mention that . . ."

From beneath his jacket, Jake pulled some papers. He laid it flat on the glass between them, and Lana leaned forward for a closer look.

"Jake, what -?"

"It seems that our custody arrangement never made it to the law."

"Jake, how could you?" Her shout made the guard jump. "You promised –"

"Relax," Jake said with an infuriating calmness. "If your trial had headed south, I would have been out of that courtroom and pushing those papers through like the devil himself was chasing my tail. At least this way, I don't come between you and your sister."

She still didn't exactly like his reasoning, but she accepted it. ". . . Why didn't you hand them in immediately?"

"I had planned to," Jake said. "But Angel told me what went down during her time in the spotlight, and between that hombre and Ema . . . I guess faith is contagious."

She couldn't believe it. Less than a week ago, she had resigned to death. And here she was now, free of Damon Gant, SL-9 finally behind her, and Ema was truly, finally safe.

"Thank you, Jake."

"No need for that," he said. He slowly stood up to leave. "You take care of yourself, Lana. Last thing I need is to hear is that our little bambina's crying over you again."

She smiled. "I will."