The War for Hell's Kitchen
Between Pauses
By: Brenli

"Where is he?" If she sounded on the edge of screaming, if she seemed beyond fed up, Nema had no apology for it. After their argument... after the way he'd treated her... and the yelling, and the... hands pressed as though in prayer, murmured 'maybe,' realizing the divide between them was so much larger than she thought...

She was upset. She had the right to be upset.

Especially after how she'd made it very, very clear how she felt about his tardiness... and he failed to show up again.

Setsuna was crossing her vision as he paced, back and forth, back and forth. "I, uh... may have told him to just stay home, today."

That certainly got her attention, brown eyes immediately focusing on him, glare cutting like a knife. "... You what?"

"He wasn't supposed to actually do it...!" Setsuna scratched his head in nervousness that was becoming perpetual. Maybe if Uriel bothered to care, he would have noticed how his lack of involvement in this case was putting the both of them at the ends of their ropes.

She'd had more than enough. "Setsuna, what the Hell happened yesterday?" She stood, suddenly needing to do more than sit and be stationary, herself.

But Setsuna didn't want to recall the screaming that had gone on, or Uriel's confession that his college flame was the mysterious 'paying client' who was – probably even now – taking up all of his time and energy. "I can't do this alone...! I didn't even want to take this case."

Nema could feel her heart sinking straight into her stomach. No, Setsuna had been vocal from the start that he wasn't for tackling this case. That it was so, so far over their heads, that it was basically career suicide. But with Uriel practically out of the picture, unreliable... Setsuna was all Michael had left. Sure, she was the liaison. Sure, she seemed to be the only one Michael would cooperate with. But she wasn't the one who was going to approach the bench, ask questions, make statements. Even if she tried she wasn't qualified... "It... It'll be okay-"

"The whole city is watching. If I screw up, I'll never work again...!"

She knew, she knew, she knew.

"And frankly, you'd probably never work again, either, by association, which-"

"Setsuna, stop, stop." She spoke firmly, stared hard, which at least got the frazzled lawyer to button his worried lip. "Stop thinking about screwing up, about losing. You need to think about winning." Fake it till you make it, right? God, help them... that was all they had left, at this point.

So they made their way to their seats in the courtroom with as much feigned confidence as they could muster... which, for Setsuna, meant looking somewhere between a caffeine crash and outright depression. And for Nema...? Meant looking like she might cut a man.

"Miss."

She shut her eyes when he greeted her, and her smile was strained... Very untypical of this brown-eyed girl. As Michael was sat down in his chair beside her, head to toe orange, bruises fading bit by bit, day by day, he looked at her openly. Not the pencil skirt wearing, pens tucked into hair secretary from the other day. A plain plum dress that flared from the hip and stopped at the knees, a jeweled sparrow dangling from a chain so long the bird rested just above where her navel should be. Her hair parted sharply to one side, forming a curtain that blocked Setsuna from view. And obviously, would have blocked Uriel from view, too. If he was around.

"Man down again, huh?"

It was only then when she looked at him, eyes like melted drops of chocolate under pale sunlight locks of hair... lined in tears.

"Hey..." Speaking so quietly took most of the rough gravel from his voice.

"I'm so sorry, Michael." She was at once full of pain and full of anger; it almost made him think of himself. "You deserve better than this."

He blinked, blue-green meeting chocolate brown. Where was this coming from, why was he the one receiving all of this care...? It made no sense, even now. "... Death penalty? Rough."

"Not funny." Her heel swung over and struck his calf, glare suddenly cutting like a knife.

Just like before, he helplessly shrugged. Wore a sort of stumped bewilderment on his face, because why did she care as much as she did? No matter how damn good it felt to have her fighting in his corner, on his side. "Come on, Miss. Nobody won a battle looking like a sad little doe."

The eyes that earned her such a pet name – or, well, a nickname, a name – blinked rapidly enough that her lashes seemed to flutter. "No, that's not..." She sighed through her nose.

"Not what you're bummed about?"

"I mean, you bet I'm angry that he's not here, but if he's going to be a big baby about this, then fine. We can take this on without him, and we can rub all of our successes in his face."

Hmm. Michael stared at her as she glared hard at the folder set in front of her. He was surprised the folder wasn't bursting into flames or something. She was... livid. And he was damn happy that glare wasn't directed at him, right about now. He wasn't sure he would've survived it. "... You sure this isn't about the big guy?"

"It's...!" It wasn't. But it also absolutely was. Nema stumbled, stammered, pale fingers flexing uselessly in her lap. "It's... personal." And she hated that word. She thought if she heard the words 'personal' or 'working' again, she might explode. So the word felt like it had torn a gash in the roof of her mouth, and the pain of it subdued her. Made her pause before she gave him a tentative, side-long, doe-eyed look.

Sharing such a glance should have been difficult, but for all her upset, it really wasn't. Maybe she was just too used to sharing stares with him, like they could say things with their eyes when their voices might fail them. Hers certainly failed her, now. She didn't want to go into it.

And one look, one meeting of the eyes held and prolonged, let her know that he knew that. But that in knowing it, she revealed more than she wanted to. He was quiet, brow gently furrowed, and it reminded her of the hospital. When he was strapped to his bed and too lost to speak. When he stared at her like a hawk, reading her.

His mouth opened.

"All rise...!"

Saved by the bailiff. Nema used that time to get her bearings, to focus on gently encouraging Setsuna while thumbing through her papers. After all, being one man down meant that she needed to be more involved, even if she wasn't going to be the one standing and talking. Uriel might not be there with them, but she was going to pick up for the lack of him. Hopefully even more than that. Michael Castle deserved nothing less.

"Colonel Kamael Schoonover, United States Marine Corps." The latest witness spoke, his intonation so even it bordered on the robotic. A voice that took its time, and a body with posture almost too perfect to be believed.

But for Michael, at least, he was used to that. Didn't find it particularly noteworthy. He looked over to see Setsuna mumbling a comment – he distinctly picked out the word 'android' – and Miss Nema Page laughed very quietly in agreement. Yet that laughter never quite reached her eyes, which were cutting like a knife with every glance they took across her paperwork. She looked like she was out for blood... And yeah, maybe that made him proud. This brave damn woman.

"Counsel?" The judge called Setsuna forth, and after a sip of much-needed water, he stood.

"Colonel, how long have you known the defendant?"

"The better part of a decade." Plain. Direct. Not in any kind of hurry. "Most of his career in the Marine Corps."

It was vaguely unsettling. Setsuna cleared his throat. "So you're familiar with his service in the Middle East?"

"Yes. Very familiar."

Nema had a hard time imagining what it must be like to have this man for a CO. But if the glance at Michael showed anything at all, it was clear that he had some level of deep respect for him. As if just being in the general vicinity of a superior made his back straighten and turned his face sober, looking straight forward. It was a look at once both proud and humble; she felt like she was glimpsing at some past part of himself.

"Would mind telling us how Lieutenant Michael Castle won the Navy Cross?"

A pause. Lengthy. In the extreme.

Setsuna opened his mouth to repeat his question-

"Due to the nature of that mission, you'll have to understand that... the precise circumstances are classified."

Setsuna blinked and turned his worried head to look at Nema... who could only lightly shrug. What could they do? They'd just have to take whatever he was willing to tell.

"... How about the part that's not?" He asked tentatively.

Another lengthy pause, and this time Setsuna just waited patiently. "... Lieutenant Michael Castle was part of a small team. He was conducting a close target reconnaissance in the vicinity of the Hindu Kush." A pause. "The mission became compromised, taking enemy contact on three sides. Lieutenant Castle wanted to abort." Yet another pause. "Said the mission was a bust... pulling the plug would save lives. Officer in charge said 'no.'"

From Nema's peripheral, she could see Michael's finger begin a steady twitch. It almost looked like idle scratching, but also looked an awful lot like trigger pulling. Brown eyes shifted upward to glance at his bruised face; he seemed fine, albeit a bit distant. She couldn't blame him for that.

"And why was that?" Setsuna asked, after a pause that stretched on just too long for his nerves.

Michael's gaze suddenly shifted to look directly at the Colonel.

"... Maybe he wanted... more medals on his chest. Doesn't matter. Either way, Michael was right." Pause. "They were cut off... boxed into a canyon."

"... And what happened next?" Setsuna felt like he needed another drink of water, already.

"Within the first hour, the officer in charge of that mission... got his arm blown off. Lieutenant Castle assumed command. … His only goal was to get his men out alive. The enemy had set up... an ambush... at the only LZ that would accommodate one of our birds."

"Sorry, Colonel?"

Another pause, as though it took a good moment to process that not all military jargon was easily understood. "... An LZ is a landing zone... that can accommodate a helicopter." He continued, thankfully without needing to be prompted. "So the enemy... they block this landing zone, knowing it was the only shot the team had to get out alive. All they had to do was wait... they knew that Michael's team had to come to them."

"Fish in a barrel."

Colonel Kamael took so long to reply, Setsuna was afraid he didn't understand what he meant. "... So to speak. Only... fish don't know they're going to die. These men did."

Nema resolved to buy Setsuna a pint at Josie's after this mess.

"Michael went to the LZ all by himself... to draw the bastards away."

"Why didn't he order one of his men to do it? He certainly could have."

But Kamael shook his head. Just once. Slowly. "Not his style."

Nema could certainly agree with that, even if she hadn't known him long. He took it upon himself to get things done. To set things right. To stride right into danger like he was at home, there. She saw his trigger finger still twitching; it only stopped when he noticed she was looking at him.

"The men hear the fire fight break out... All Hell breaks loose. Michael against God knows how many."

Michael's eyes shifted away from the woman who was fighting for him, and his trigger finger started twitching again.

"And then there was silence. The team thinks, 'That's it. Michael is dead, and we're next.'" He paused, as he was so apt to do. "Next sound they hear... is the helos... the helicopters. They get to the landing zone... you know what they see?"

The last thing Setsuna wanted was to encourage more pausing. "What did they see, Colonel?"

"Castle, standing there, grinning. 32 muj surrounding him, all dead."

Setsuna turned his head to see Nema already looking at Michael, to see Michael turn his face away, his trigger finger going like crazy. The Colonel said he was grinning, then, but he wasn't grinning, now. The adrenaline of the time had long since left him; that event had happened so long ago. Michael couldn't even remember too much about it. It had been crowded out by other terrible recollections, much closer to home...

"Son of a gun cleared that entire LZ all by himself." Kamael continued.

"How?"

The Colonel shrugged, and it made him almost feel human. "By being Michael Castle."

"And his men survived?"

"All of them... Including the idiot officer... who got them trapped, in the first place."

This seemed like a good place to finally put this crawling testimony to rest. "If you had to sum up Michael Castle, how would you do it?"

"I would say... Michael Castle is a man who would... gladly give his life to keep others safe."

Michael finally turned his head back forward, and heard Nema gently sigh. He looked over to find her... finally, gently smiling. She looked so proud... of him? Doubtful. Setsuna, most likely. The guy was definitely stepping up to the plate in Uriel's absence, so...

"And the crimes he's accused of, today? Could the man you knew have committed them?"

"Absolutely not. The Lieutenant Michael Castle that I know... is a hero. A man who deserves our respect... and our gratitude." Yet another pause. "Not the same man."

"Thank you, Colonel." Setsuna turned to the judge. "No more questions, Your Honor." At last. He practically hurried to his seat, muttering toward Nema, "I think I just aged 10 years."

"You did well." But it wasn't Nema who spoke, it was Michael, in a low rumble with his trigger finger slowly calming. "Colonel's always been full of those weird, pregnant pauses."

"How about you?" Nema whispered, all chocolate doe eyes and softness he didn't deserve. Her gaze dropped to his hands, then moved back up. "Are you doing okay?"

His ginger brow gently furrowed, still struggling to understand why his being okay or not-okay mattered to her. "These aren't the stories that haunt me." No, he'd merely done what was necessary to save his group; there was no shame in that and there was no sorrow in it. He gently leaned forward to whisper specifically to her. "So you and the lawyer, huh? The blind one."

Her brown eyes shot wide as a frightened doe's... and she turned away from him, suddenly too interested in Lailah's questioning of the Colonel. "My father was in Vietnam. Do you know what my father told me about medals?"

"No, Ma'am."

"He said the only people who truly know what happened, are the ones who were there."

Nema's eyes grew sharp again, cutting like knives as her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

"You told a nice story, Colonel... but how can we know that it happened the way you described?"

Another pause. "Perhaps... I wasn't clear. I was there, Ma'am."

Michael saw a smile begin twitching at the corners of Nema's mouth, saw her fighting to keep it down to a moody frown as Lailah's confidence floundered.

"The officer that didn't listen to Michael... who got his men trapped... You're looking at him."

Chatter rose throughout the courtroom. "He wasn't planning on sharing that bit of information?" Setsuna wondered quietly.

"Because this is the story that haunts him." Michael shared simply, softly... then whispered to Nema. "Maybe he's not here because of the trouble in paradise?"

… Why was Michael talking to her about this? They were in the middle of fighting for him! "I'm not discussing this right now." She stammered, confused. Their eyes met, blue-green and brown, reading each other but not understanding.

"And believe me when I tell you..." Kamael continued, "I thank God every day that I only lost my arm. That man saved my life... the lives of his entire team. If it was up to me... he would have a Medal of Honor hanging around his neck."

Lailah shifted gently from heel to heel, lips thinning. "... No further questions at this time, Your Honor."

Nema saw the small break for what Michael intended it to be... and before he could open his mouth, she cut him off. "It's kind of not your business, Michael..."

His orange-clad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "If it's what's keeping him from showing up for my trial... isn't it my business, just a tiny bit?"

Her doe eyes hardened again. A knife-cut of a glare as she spat whispered words. "If he was that childish I'd be disgusted with him."

"Then what's keeping him away from work?" He asked, as the next witness was called forward.

Nema frowned, the harshness of her stare softening into disappointment, looking at her lap. "I wish that I knew..."