The Admission

The adrenaline began to splinter its way through his veins. He interjected:

"Marion Wells. Did you say Marion Wells?" His eyes grew bigger, his heart thumped faster.

"Yes, Jake. Come on, keep up" Henry looked at him with a frown and Jake sat back into his seat, as if in a limbo, his usual tenacious attitude had left him. He started into space, whilst Henry and Alesha discussed the nature of the trial, and how to get attain the longest jail term they could.

"Ms. Wells insists that she was not the assailant, but with such solid evidence as her fingerprints being all over the walls, and smears of blood, how can it be a case for debate? If we could just find that knife, I am sure we would be able to nail this to her." Alesha was confident in her analysis, and her voice showed that she was determined to find the knife, even if it was the last thing she did. With another old case being tied into this one, the team needed to be 100% precise.

"You know how these things play out at first Alesha. Don't worry, we just need to build as strong a case as we can" Jake suddenly arose from his chair, as if something had shaken within him.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this." HIs eyes widen, as he stared at his team.

"Do what?" Henry and Alesha inquired in unison.

"I can't be in court. I can't fulfil my duties. I…" He bowed his head down. Henry began to understand the gravity of what Jake was meaning, and took him in to his office. Henry quickly glanced back to Alesha, telling her to carry on working on the case. Shutting his door, and pulling the blinds, he ushered to Jake to sit down, and implored him to tell him the full story.

"Jake. It's just you and me now. Tell me what's happened"

"I cannot prosecute her, because on that night I…we…..". He shook his head and tutted to himself. His eyes took to the floor, and he put his hands on the back of the chair, pressing his weight into its form.

"We slept together". Exhaling, his heart thumped in his chest, still not believing what he had done.

With Henry's endearing look, he began to recollect. After a hard case and left reeling from its unfair verdict, he left his worries behind and went into the town, soaking in the laid back atmosphere of the town. Going into any bar that let him have access, he drank himself into near oblivion. The night took him around many clubs and bars, not caring whether he was able to make it home safely. He entered his final bar, 'Blue Limit', order a vodka, the rancid taste about to engulf his throat with flame, when a pair of bouncers stood beside. Not even talking to him, they threw him out into the street, where he ended up smashing himself into the alley beside it. He hadn't counted on Marion being there.

Tending to him as he threw up, she had walked away from her group to help him, recognising him instantaneously. It was the least she could do.

"Oh, Mr. Thorne, what have you done to yourself?" Crouching over, all he could do was rid his body of the severe poisoning it had gone through. Helping him to his feet, she decided to get him a taxi and take him home. It was lucky that 'Blue Limit' was the last club on the strip, conveniently placed beside a Taxi rank, they waited in the chilly February night for a taxi to arrive. Jake leaned into Marion, and gently went to sleep on her arm. As a taxi pulled up, she placed him in.

"Where to, love?" Marion fumbled abound Jake pockets, accidentally tickling him and making him giggle, whilst his head lolled backwards and he fell asleep. She found his wallet, and thankfully found a driving licence.

"22 Maple Avenue, please. Cheers" Marion sat herself beside Jake, who woke momentarily and re positioned himself against her. Marion found the journey to be fun, willing Jake not be sick, and that they could have walked from where they were. But how was she to know? Clearly, he was a very smart drunk. Marion felt obliged to tip the driver more than she usually would, and he thanked her graciously. Pulling Jake out of the car was not the easiest of tasks, but she managed. Once again, she found herself tickling him, trying to look for his keys in his pockets. This was made more difficult as he rested his weight on top of her. Finally, coming across his keys, she opened the door to his home. Still having his weight resting on her, she found the living room to be the first room of the house. Knowing her good deed was done, she laid him down on his sofa. Unable to find a throw for him, she took off her coat and placed it over him. Whilst he was entered slumber land, she quickly left, locking his door, posting his keys back through, and making her own way home.

Jake was brought back to reality by a loud noise, and found Henry staring at him, waiting for his explanation

"I was already acquainted with her from a past trial… I know Henry, I know… but we just... connected". He looked Henry straight in the eye.
"A coffee shop rendezvous ended up with us coming across emotions we didn't realise we had. But I stopped it there, I knew I had too, and we hadn't seen each other for a few months" Jake proceeded to tell him how they had met up again, and had slept together.

Trial - Day 1

The barrister smiled at Marion, and she replied by maintaining her formal stance. The room hushed, and the barrister ruffled her papers into a neat pile, and began to question her.

"How did you first come into contact with Jacob Thorne?"

She began to speak, and stuttered a little. "He was… We met through another case. I was the victim of battery and attempted rape. Jake Thorne was the Crown Prosecution in the trial."

"So, one would presume you would have kept your relationship strictly professional."

"That was how it was at trial. But with the conviction I felt obliged to thank Mr. Thorne, and the only way I could think to was to take him for a coffee."

"Surely a card would have sufficed? Or even a quiet thank you after court?"

"The only reason you slept with Mr. Thorne is so you could use it against him, isn't it? Nothing like having a barrister as a witness?"

"No, it..."

"If you wanted to murder your attacker, then having a Crown Prosecutor as a witness, in your opinion, would certify your freedom. No one would think anyone who was in love with a barrister could possibly be a murderer"

"My Lord, is that a question or a statement?

"So, that you happened to be in the same hotel, on the same floor as your attacker, is merely coincidence? This is plainly a premeditated, brutal attack of revenge on the part of you, Marion Wells."

The Night in question

Jake and Marion quickly went into the nearest hotel, approaching the reception and inquiring as to whether there were any rooms.

"We only have two rooms vacant for this evening, Sir. Both a one-bed, and cost £150". He swiftly removed the wallet from inside his jacket, and paid for the room in advance with his card. The receptionist thanked him for his courteous manner, and Jake slyly handed him a £20 note. The receptionist smiled, and they made their way up to the room. Strangely, the lift was empty, and Jake pulled Marion into him, embracing her warmth, her vulnerability and protecting her as he did in the court-room only months ago. The elevator made its final stop, and released them both onto the floor of their room. They took each other's hand, and walked along the corridor to their room, 608, and Jake swiped them in.

They didn't need to exchange words, just looks. Jake took the 'Do Not Disturb' tag and placed it around the door handle, gently closing the door in front of him. Taking off his jacket, he placed it down, and walked over to Marion, embracing her. He gently took her coat from shoulders and slid down her arms. As it reached her wrists, he planted a passionately infused eager kiss on her lips, and threw her jacket across the room. Quickly, her hands rose, reaching for his tie. She pulled out from the kiss, angered that she couldn't undo it. He drew his hands up to meet hers, helping her untie it. Both laughing at the frivolity it, then kissed each others smiles. Jake took her hands, and manoeuvred her to the bed, both of them kicking off shoes in unison. As Marion lay down, Jake straddled atop her, gazing into her eyes.

"I've waited so long for this. For us" Before she could reply, he laid his entire weight on her, pressing his lips eagerly against hers, feeling her reply with her tongue. He took his lips away from her, and traveled to her shoulder, leaving a tingling sensation every time he moved on. As she thought of his body with hers, her stomach flipped with adrenaline.

The Murder of Jay O'Reilley

The blade entered him just twice, leaving him to die a most painful death from pure blood loss. Laying asleep in his bed, the assailant lunged, piercing his abdomen, damaging his vital organs. He desperately tried to fight back, but doubled over in pain. Trying to grab the blade from killers hands was how he received his final wound, a surface cut to his arm, stinging like a paper cut, the blood seeped out bright red. As the assailant left, Jay fell against the windowpane of his hotel room, smearing his blood on the pristine glass keeping him from the outside. The city was coated in black, and his eyes closed. He was dead.