Disclaimer: NCIS and its various incarnations are owned by Belisarius Productions and I neither make money on this nor am I trying to claim any characters.
Rating: T or Ncis-17
Reviews: Please do. I look forward to your Reviews, but please don't tell what happens to those who haven't read it yet.
AUs: Those who follow my work know I am fond of AU stories and of putting our favorite Investigators into the thick of them. Beyond my two excursions into Star Trek's Terran Empire in my Enterprise series stories 'Face in the Dark Mirror' and 'Empress Sato', I explored the early days of the Empire in 'INCIS' and 'Shepherd of the Lost'.
I brought our friends aboard the Enterprise-E in 'Judgment on Risa' where I was the first to create the SCIS and within my Mystery Series I took them aboard the Love Boat in 'On the High Seas'. I let Abby experience her counterpart Gail Sciuto's life in 'Abby in Wonderland' while Michelle Palmer took a literal step Through the Looking Glass in 'Transition', where she encountered the Agents whom we see every week on our television screens.
The essence of the AU story is an exploration of the concept 'What If?' For instance, 'What if the Protestant Reformation had never taken place?' or 'What if, in 1776, Congress had Rejected Virginia Colony's Proposal for Independence?'
Come with me as we explore both of these questions in

Bewitched, Battered and Bedeviled
by JMK758
Chapter One
Accusation

East of the Potomac River, where a tributary commences at Buzzard Point, lies the waterway called the Anacostia, once a busy one where ships of Her Majesty's Navy maintained a base. That is, they did until more than fifty years ago, when the Prince moved all the military forces out to consolidate them with Norfolk, two hundred miles to the south. But the land and its hundred odd buildings did not languish, for as a secure area it was ideal for Purgatory Prison.

Timothy Luke McGee ascends the elevator of the ITS, housed in building 111 of the UCMJ, the structure closest to the river bank. The United Colonies Ministry of Justice has many facilities in this city, though he prefers his own in Silver Spring, Maryland, the territory named in 1632 for Queen Henriette Maria, wife of Lord Baltimore.

The Interrogation, Trial and Sentencing Facility is the processing center for new prison inmates and he's been called south today to deal with another case. Actually, he's been told by the Lord Justice that this is an inflammatory one, a problem that never seems to go away. He doesn't care how disturbing or disrupting it may be, for as an Advocate for the Defense he has a job to do, and his sole interest is that he does it well for God, Church and Empire.

Getting off the lift on the fourth floor, he walks the halls to the entrance of the Trial room and reaches out to the metal panel beside the door. His hand is open wide, the pads of all four fingers and thumb splayed so they will simultaneously press flat upon the plate. In ten years he hasn't done this without a sense of, if not apprehension anymore, at least concern and with a quick examination of the state of his soul. The panel will read his prints and if any one is even the slightest bit off fifty thousand DC volts will end his worries.

Actually he's less concerned about failure of the instruments than in the Will of Deity, for if God has decided it's either his time or that his soul is less pure than he hopes, he'll never know it. He'll touch the plate and Saint Peter will greet him at the Pearly Gate – or something else will welcome him to a much less desirable place.

The door swings inward, revealing the sunken dark and black interior. Apparently his soul is cleaner than he'd feared it might be, but a Knight of the Golden Cross must always be diligent. Sin and corruption are insidious and he must always be on guard. While admission past those Pearly Gates is most ardently desired, he's not quite ready to make the passage.

He halts himself for a moment. This is just the sort of thing he'd just redetermined to be diligent against. 'Not my will, but Thy Will be done.'

x

The black ramp down to the dark well already feels like the descent into Purgatory, something it's designed to do. The large room could be lit, but it's dim, far less lit than the hallway he's just left, and when the door closes behind him he's plunged into the gloom. The dark chamber, to which his eyes will adjust in minutes, is intended to unnerve a prisoner, but occasionally he wishes that it wouldn't play its effect upon Officers of the Court as well.

There are seats ranged on his left, three tiers of eight facing the well. On the far left wall are the only points of light, intended to draw the eye to three formal portraits, the two outer ones lit by baby spots from the right side of the room, the one in the middle an appropriate inch higher, an inch larger and illuminated by a small lamp from above. That one, in a gleaming gold frame, is of course Pope Jesus the 66th, the lamp and the lighter blue paint behind his head than at his golden shoulders combining to effect a halo about the Holy Father. There was a time, so very long ago, when Popes held various Saint's names, but then one enterprising man chose, quite logically, Jesus as he was the Voice of God on Earth, successors copied him and the tradition stuck.

The other two portraits, in more modest silver frames, are Queen Diana - God Save the Queen - and Prince William, Regent of the 42 North American Colonies which range from the Arctic Circle to midway down the isthmus which connects the Northern and Southern Continents and west from New England through the islands of Hawaii. His brother Harry rules the 31 Southern Colonies from mid-isthmus to Good Hope and he can have them. The brothers have nominal control of the American Colonies but it is Diana who rules the Empire.

No one says 'God Save the Prince'.

x

Standing in the black well, barely discernible for their long black robes, in fact only distinguishable from the shadows by their traditional long white powdered wigs, are the Lord Justice Leroy Jethro Gibbs GKGC and Sir Knight Anthony Peter DiNozzo, KGC, who seem to coalesce out of the darkness as he approaches.

Gibbs is the epitome of the Church's Justice in the eternal war against evil, against sinners and those who would fornicate with the Dark Dragon Satan.

DiNozzo, his friendly adversary these past ten years, is both Prosecutor and Interrogator of the rightfully accused and revealed, and his record of success is a most appropriate reward to the devout Defender of the Faith.

On the left side of their robes are embroidered foot high gold Crosses, the material of which, even in the dim light, makes the image seem to float in midair.

"My Lord," he says with a five inch nod of respect, "Sir Knight," he says with a three inch nod.

"Sir Knight," Gibbs and DiNozzo greet him, DiNozzo returning the gesture of honor. Gibbs, of course, inclines his head not at all. "We have only one case before us today," his Lordship says.

At the top of the ramp the door opens, letting a shaft of light into the room and he looks up to see people file in. He then notices Gibbs' sharp thumb point to the dark corner. Taking the rebuke, he moves quickly into the darkness without appearing to hurry to put on his black robe, make certain that the large cross on the left side of his chest is straight and then to settle upon his head his own elegantly curled long white wig. His and theirs are the only moving points of light in the room, for even those who enter to find seats, nineteen in all, obey the requirement to wear black clothing in the darkness.

x

Returning to his counterpart - DiNozzo will prosecute the case for the Crown - and His Lordship, he asks "What is this case?"

"Capital Crime," DiNozzo says. "Husband is bringing the Charge, but there are plenty of witnesses. If found guilty, this one won't make it inside."

McGee thinks he hears pleased anticipation in his fellow Knight's voice, but he tries to focus his attention on his own work. For a Capital Crime there is only one penalty, and the man could well be pleased; he has the easier job. The Law, of course, declares that the Accused is Guilty until Proven Innocent, and it's his job to find that innocence – and in this case in front of quite an audience.

"The accused has a lot of enemies, or am I misreading those faces?"

"They may or may not be enemies," Lord Gibbs says, "but they're out for blood." He looks him full on. "The Charge is Witchcraft."

He walks to a point center in the well, back near the black wall and McGee and DiNozzo take their places, five feet to either side, McGee nearer the illuminated pictures. He expects that their wigs and embroidered crosses are the only things that prevent them from blending into the shadows.

It's been four months since the last clues had pointed to a nest of Witches. He'd thought the last of them had been eradicated, or at the very least that he wouldn't have to defend one for a longer time.

Micah 5:12 says: 'And I will cut off witchcrafts out of thine hand; and thou shalt have no more.'

He's always believed Micah was an optimist.

x

"Bring in the Prisoner," Gibbs says and his voice reverberates through the dark chamber from four black speakers, invisible high in the dark corners. The microphone near the collar of his robe can turn a whisper into thunder and the acoustics in this room are designed to impress and unnerve. The Lord Justice makes them do both well.

The door at the top of the ramp opens a final time and two large men pull a much smaller woman between them. As soon as they're through and start down, someone outside slams the door and the thunderous impact reverberates through the dark room. McGee has often thought the effect a bit overdone, certainly the prisoner - she can be no more than five and a half feet tall - is already scared and that blast made her jump nigh out of her skin.

She's pulled down the ramp, and between her plain black robe and her long, straight black hair she's barely visible even to his dim-accustomed eyes. She's tugged to a particular spot straight on from the ramp so she's positioned to the audience's right near the edge of the well. They release her arms and step back into the shadows to figuratively vanish. The woman stands alone, and even in the darkness Tim can see she's afraid.

If he doesn't do his job well she'll have plenty to fear.

x

Intense white light flares down from deep within the ceiling and up through a wide lens recessed into the floor to bathe her in a four foot wide column against which no shadow can survive. She cries out in both surprise and pain, claps her hands over her eyes, hunched close in her robe. The loose sleeves fall, show that her wrists and forearms are encased in four inch long gleaming metal, round about her forearms yet flat at the backs.

The light column doesn't spread, it's forced into a solid beam four feet wide from floor to ceiling by the recessed emitters and lenses and seems to trap her inside.

"PUT DOWN YOUR HANDS." Gibbs' amplified voice from black speakers high in the black corners stuffs the chamber. McGee thinks if it were any louder it would shake the room. The woman jumped at the first word but she tries, tries again, finally manages to slowly pull her hands away from her face, yet she keeps her eyes clenched against the intense light. McGee sees, from five feet beyond Gibbs, and she's to DiNozzo's left, Asian features on what might be a pleasant face if not for the bruises that cover it, lips swollen and broken in two spots that are still marked with drops of dried blood below a swollen, blackened left eye.

It takes several more seconds before she can work even her good eye open, but she squints against the glare and he knows that, as the white light washes out all else, she can see nothing in the inky blackness that surrounds her.

x

"Who comes before us?" This time Gibbs' voice does vibrate the room. The woman tries to look for the source, but the speakers are all around, lost to her in the blackness. Her world extends only four feet wide and her robe even shines black from the light that blasts up her legs.

"Michelle Maria Palmer," DiNozzo announces, "accused of the Capital Crimes of Spell Casting, Communing with Demons while speaking the language of the Devil Satan, Consorting and Fornicating with the Devil, Spreading Disease through Magic and Causing Deadly Harm to the Community. In short, Witchcraft."

Palmer's eyes are wide in horror, she's deeply shocked by this litany. "No! I'm a good God Fearing woman!"

"Who brings the prisoner to answer these Charges?"

"I do," a voice comes from the audience and the smallest corona of light allows the sight of a figure rising in the shadows, but it's the horror on Palmer's face that's most poignant. "James Thomas Palmer."

"JAMES? God, James, no! No, you can't!"

"I accuse this woman of Witchcraft – and demand that she not be addressed with my name. She is Lee, not Palmer. Spawn and Consort of Evil, she does not deserve my good name."

"James, Please don't do this. I'm your Wife!"

"I'm having our marriage Annulled."

"JAMES!"

"Granted," rumbles through the chamber. "The prisoner shall be henceforth known as Michelle Maria Lee."

"James, please! You know I'm innocent." She steps out of the column of light toward his voice, blind now in the dim light. "Tell them I'm innocent!"

"RETURN TO THE LIGHT, LEE," Gibbs' voice booms.

"NO! I'm inn–" She screams, head thrown back, body convulsing. She falls backward, lands hard with a shriek as her body jerks, her limbs flailing on the black floor.

x

"Return to the light, Lee." The convulsions stop, leaving her collapsed on her back, chest heaving as she fights for breath. She tries to pull at the steel bands that encase her forearms. Again she shrieks as her body jumps wildly. For longer than the scream lasts the charge blasts her, for when her breath is gone it extends ten more seconds of horrific silence.

Finally it stops, leaves her sobbing, panting on the floor.

"My Lord," McGee says over her cries, "this is extreme. It is not necessary to punish her twice for the same offense."

"No," DiNozzo counters. "The first is for overstepping her bounds, the second for disobedience."

"She doesn't know."

"She's a woman. They are taught how to obey." He looks only now to the crying woman. "Or should be."

McGee turns more directly to Gibbs, figuratively cutting away from DiNozzo. "My Lord, I ask for mercy."

"Mercy is not for witches," DiNozzo insists over Lee's sobbing. "Witchcraft removes her from the concerns given to God fearing Christian women. Exodus 22:18: 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'."

"But is this charge truth?" Tim asks. "John 1:17 tells us 'For the Law was given by Moses, but Grace and Truth came by Jesus Christ'."

"Yet Leviticus says: 'These are the statutes and judgments and laws which the Lord made between him and the children of Israel in mount Sinai by the hand of Moses.' Those who will not live by the Law shall die by the Law."

"But Matthew 23:23 speaks to us when he says: 'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for ye pay tithe of him and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law; judgment, mercy and faith; these ought ye to have done and not to leave others undone'."

"Return to the light, Lee."

Gibbs' amplified command carries the tone of utter finality, telling her she has lost the chance for mercy. If she is to be shocked again it will be far worse. McGee hopes he's bought her enough time, for he sees his pleas have been useless.

She tries to turn over, but her muscles won't work properly. It takes her several tries before she can force herself to roll over and she slowly crawls, crying, along the floor, her black robe impeding her progress as she kneels over and over on the material, which tugs her face down to the floor until she enters the column of blinding light.

She collapses, her plea nearly lost in tears. "Please. Pleeeease. I didn't do anything wrong."

"We shall see, Lee," Gibbs declares. "STAND" booms through the chamber.

x

It takes her a long time to force herself off the blinding light that blasts through the floor, that crashes down from the ceiling, to force herself upright, but she still trembles, sways unsteadily on bare feet.

"As you were ignorant, this Court was merciful and the lesson mild. Another such display of disobedience and the punishment shall hurt."

"Please, God. Please" she cries. "I didn't do anything wrong. I'm a good Christian. I go to Church every week, I observe all the Feasts and Fasts. Please - have mercy."

"Mercy is not for witches," DiNozzo says. "What do you know of goodness?"

"Mikah 6:8 says 'He hath showed thee O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of thee but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God?'"

"It is well known that Satan knows the Scripture, for by that he deceives mortal man."

But she declares that "Second Timothy 3 says 'All Scripture us given by inspiration of God'."

"For reproof, for correction," DiNozzo bites back. "And Peter warns of such as you, 'which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do also the other scriptures, unto their own destruction'!"

"Sir Knight DiNozzo," Gibbs says, "call your first witness."