All These Questions

May 30, 2011

In the morning, Al caught a plane from New Mexico to Franklin. He navigated his way through Palm City, which didn't seem terribly different from the holographic version he'd seen in the Imaging Chamber. Of course, the hologram had been of events occurring only months before, so it made sense that the city hadn't changed much in the interval. Finally, the admiral arrived at his destination: Owl Island Prison.

Scales was surprised to hear he had a visitor and was further confused when the visitor didn't turn out to be his court-appointed defense attorney, Travis Hall. He didn't recognize the bloke, who went by the name of Calavicci. Perhaps one of the gangs had sent him? Or possibly he was from ARK… The smuggler sized the older man up, decided he wasn't even remotely a threat, and relaxed back in his seat.

"Who the 'ell are you?" he demanded. "Who sent you?"

Al glanced at the door. He knew there were guards on the other side of it, but they'd left him alone in here with a suspected murderer-one that didn't even look human. Al looked at Raoul's skin and realized how the man had gotten his nickname. (Psoriasis definitely didn't look like that. He couldn't remember any skin condition that would explain the man's reptilian appearance. Maybe his friend would know, though.)

Okay, he could handle this. He'd been through worse. And when he got through with this, he would strangle Sam (as soon as he figured out how to strangle a hologram, anyway).

"I'm Al." He couldn't really say he'd been sent by God, Fate, Time, or Whatever. "I've been sent to take a look at your case, hear your side of what happened back in March."

"You're helping me attorney?" Scales asked.

"Uh, something like that. Now, you pled not guilty to the murder charges?"

"Well, of course I did. Don't know what you've heard from that tossbag Fleming, but I'm not an idiot."

"But there were witnesses that saw you shoot Chief Voyt?"

"Fleming's men 'ppeared out of nowhere soon as I'd pulled the trigger, if that's what you mean. Quite convenient, really."

"Probably not from Marty's point of view," Al commented. "So what are you saying? Fleming was somehow in on this? He knew what you were planning?"

"Knew," Scales scoffed. "The arse hired me and this," he gestured to his orange jumpsuit and the prison in general, "is the thanks I get for doing me job."

"Fleming wanted Marty to be killed," Al paraphrased. Scales shrugged.

"Chess wanted to silence the man, aye." Al's head snapped up.

"Chess?"

"Is Peter Fleming," Scales revealed. "Truthfully, I was being hired to off the blackbird, you know, the one that calls himself the Cape, an' the copper got in the way. Told my attorney the whole thing, but 'e said that's not going to help my case any.

"No reason for Chess to stab me in the back 'cause I got the hero's friend 'stead, you ask me, since it was no loss to him," Raoul continued. "If I ever get out of here, that no good bastard bloody better watch his back."

"Let's back up a bit. Why did Fleming want to silence Marty?" Al asked.

February 22, 2011

Sam woke to the sound of Orwell sobbing. Concerned, he climbed off of her couch and followed the sound to the blogger's room. The morning news was playing across the screen in front of the young woman who, for whatever reason, was distressed.

"Orwell? What's wrong?" Sam asked. Surely there hadn't been a side effect to the antitoxin he'd given her…

"Oh, Vince, it's horrible! Chandler's dead and Fa-, uh, Fleming's about to purchase the property from the city. The whole point of looking for Chandler was to keep him from getting the docks and now it's going to happen anyway," she swiped at the tears leaking from her eyes. Vince didn't need to see her falling apart. Her father had done so much to destroy his life, but Vince didn't go crying to her. He screamed, he raged and he fought to bring down the villain.

Later, when Vince left for his hideout, she could indulge herself in a good cry.

"Did you say Chandler's dead?" Sam asked. "But we left him alive. The cops were going to take him to prison."

"They did take him to prison," Orwell informed the hero. "Sometime during the night Chess broke in and," she winced. The images they'd shown earlier were really inappropriate for a morning news program. The Lich had done something to piss her father off that much and she doubted that it was simply a matter of owning property he wanted for himself.

"Conrad was the last of the Chandlers. Now that he's dead and the property belongs to the city, there's nothing to keep Fleming from buying it," she finished quietly.

Sam frowned. He wasn't sure whether this turn of events was part of the original timeline, although he couldn't fathom how he might have had anything to do with it or if it would affect his mission on this leap. Ziggy had said he was here to save Marty, not Chandler. The computer hadn't even mentioned the sale of Palm City's docks. Part of his mission or not, he hated to see Orwell so upset. He just didn't know what to say.

"Uh, maybe that wouldn't be so bad?" Sam ventured. That had apparently been the wrong thing to say. Orwell was now looking at him as if she thought he was high on the Lich's toxin.

"Not so bad? Not so bad?! Chess has only gotten control of what gets imported into the city. Maybe he'll take another shot at Portman and finally take over the prisons, too. ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?"

It clicked for Sam.

"Peter Fleming is Chess."

Orwell was now looking extremely worried about his sanity.

"Vince, are you feeling okay? Do they still have some antitoxin leftover?"

Sam fought back a grimace. Evidently his host had already known Fleming was Chess. Well, he supposed that made sense. Chess was the Cape's arch nemesis… and had probably been the one to frame Faraday in the first place. It would've been good to have that information before he'd made Orwell suspicious. A thought struck him. Oh, god. Did the real Vince know Orwell's secret identity, too? If they were such close confidants, he probably did, and here Sam kept calling her Orwell. Great; he had one more thing to worry about on this leap. He made a mental note to have Al ask Ziggy about Orwell's real name when the observer came back from his trip.

Dana hurriedly turned off the morning news as she heard Trip getting up. Dear lord, what were they thinking showing those photos? Couldn't they have at least waited for primetime?

"Good morning, mom."

"Good morning, Trip. Did you sleep well?"

"Mom, you were supposed to tell me what happened with the Cape after I went to bed. So; what happened?"

"He had me call Marty and set up a meeting between them."

"Oh. You didn't go?" Dana shook her head. "Do you know what happened? Did he stop the kidnapper?" Dana's eyes strayed to the television set.

"Oh, the kidnapper was stopped alright." She didn't think that was the Cape's handiwork, though. The man she'd met last night couldn't have been capable of such brutality. Even Fleming's reporters had conceded that the murder looked remarkably similar to Chess' M.O. and they still maintained that Chess was dead. She turned back to her son.

"Hey, weren't you going to tell me what the Cape said when you were spying on him?"

"Sam!" Al called, as he stepped through the Imaging Chamber door. Sam glanced in the direction of the bathroom. He hadn't been able to cheer up the blogger, but he had coaxed her into eating breakfast and she was now taking a shower. Hopefully she wouldn't step out in time to hear him talking to his invisible friend.

"That was fast, Al. Did you learn anything?"

"And how. Brace yourself; this is one kick in the butt. Peter Fleming is-"

"Chess, I know."

"Oh," Al deflated. "How did you find out?"

"Orwell let it slip. I must've looked surprised because she looked at me like I've been living in a cave. Did you find out anything else? You did talk to Scales?"

"Yes, I talked to him. Scales says he was working for Fleming. And here's where it gets really interesting: Chess supposedly ordered the hit on you, that is, on the Cape-"

"So Marty was in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Sam asked.

"You would think so, but Chess also wanted Marty out of the picture."

"Why's that?"

"Ziggy did some digging. On March 4, a video recording proving that ARK is corrupt gets uploaded to Orwell's blog. On March 5, Marty's arrested and Fleming holds a press conference claiming that Marty was the bad apple in the company whereas he's squeaky clean." Al rolled his eyes. "So, if I had to guess I'd say you're not only here to save Marty from being shot, but also to keep this nozzle from throwing him under the bus."

"Marty gets arrested." Sam remembered what Orwell had told him, about Chess killing Chandler in Owl Island Prison. "Is he killed while he's in prison?"

"No, he's not. Someone anonymously posted Marty's bail. It was pretty obviously the slime ball trying to take a shot at him because you," Al sighed, "that is, the Cape, had to whisk him away before he could get shot as he was leaving the building."

"Okay, let's figure this out. Now, I'm guessing it's too late to keep Fleming from wanting the Cape dead…" Sam trailed off as he saw Orwell enter the living room. She'd gotten dressed, but her hair was still damp from the shower. He wondered how much she'd heard. She was looking at him oddly, again.

"Vince, I'm pretty sure Fleming's wanted the Cape dead since you first showed up. Call it an occupational hazard of being a superhero. The good news is that he hasn't sent any more Tarot assassins after you. From what I can tell, he broke off business with the society after that fiasco with the Chariot." She approached him.

"Why were you speaking to yourself?" she asked.

"Uh, I suppose that looked a little crazy, but…"

"It's okay, Vince. I don't think you're crazy," she said. Sam didn't believe her.

At least, you're no crazier than I am, Jamie thought. The hallucinations were gone, but she still had Chess' genes. Maybe the toxin had been an omen…

"Good, 'cause I was just thinking aloud," Sam explained. Orwell's brow creased.

"Did you see pictures of Chandler's body? Vince, that's not going to happen to you. He's not going to kill you."

"He's not? How can you be so sure? You were pretty confident that he wants… me dead."

"He wants me dead, too," Jamie said as casually as she could, as if the pain of her father having sent assassins after her wasn't there. Well, he wanted half of her dead. And daddy wondered why he didn't hear from her… Some criminal mastermind he was. "But none of his assassins have gotten to me and they're not going to get you, either."

"But he didn't send an assassin after Chandler; he took him out personally." Jamie shook her head.

"You're right," she said. "It must've been personal for him, I just can't figure out why." She settled herself in front of her computer. "Give me a little while, though, and I'll figure it out." She started pulling up screens and sorting through data, then abruptly blanched.

"Orwell? What is it?" Sam asked.

"Peter Fleming left a message for Orwell. He wants to meet with me," she said slowly.

"Maybe it's a trap to lure her out so the assassins can get her," Al said.

"Do you think it's a trap?" Sam asked Orwell. She looked at him, and then dropped her gaze. She was afraid to share the message with him, but didn't see how she could keep it from him, either. She reread the e-mail.

"My Dearest Jamie,

"Sweetheart, I know it's you. I called off the assassins as soon as I heard. I want to apologize to you for not figuring it out for myself and to give you a peace offering.

"But mostly I want to see you again and we need to talk. Give me a call. You can come to the tower or name your own terms, but you can't keep avoiding me.

"Love, Dad."

"Orwell?" Sam repeated. Was she listening to him? Slowly, she met his gaze.

"There's something I need to tell you, Vince."

Author's Note: The fic is alive! Lol. Been having computer problems lately, which haven't been resolved yet, but my computer cooperated long enough for me to finish this chapter, anyway.

Thanks to IronAmerica and Orwell for reviewing!

Behold, Scales, as promised. :) What did you think of the chapter? Not exciting enough? Peter too sentimental? Too much subtext left for Vinwell shippers when Vince isn't even in this chapter and I swear I don't support that pairing?

Chapter title from Matthew West's "Family Tree."