AN: I honestly don't know why you all put up with me...
But I am humbled and honoured that you do. Staying interested in this story and even having some new followers and readers on board (even after my two month hiatus!?) lets me know that the personal battles, the private struggles...the writer's block, are not all in vain.
I salute you. I thank you.
To those of you who have even gone as far as to PM me, it shows me that you are not only concerned about my work, but my well being as well. For that...I have no words worthy enough. But in the meantime I will say,
Thank You.
Two months later...
"All rise for Judge Pritchard", the bailiff addresses the entire courtroom.
Gwaine stands confidently, his shoulders squared beneath his smart tweed suit, and absently smooths his already neat ponytail. Elyan, Guinevere and Mona stand in the pew directly behind the prosecution's desk, just as confidently as their colleague. They all know what the verdict will be.
Judge Pritchard climbs the two steps leading up the dais and resumes his seated position. His jaw is set as he turns his hard gaze to the defendant, who tightly swallows and then lowers his head under the judge's scrutiny. The judge motions for the bailiff to retrieve the written verdict from the designated foreperson, and she does. Judge Pritchard's face remains neutral as he reads the transcription before handing the parchment back to the bailiff to return to the juror.
Turning to his left the judge asks, "Madam foreperson, how do you find the defendant?"
"We, the jury, find the defendant, Jean Laurent, guilty on all counts". Thirty of the women, thirty of his victims, who faithfully attended the trial, break out in elated cheer, applause, and a few even in tears. Judge Pritchard decides not to bang his gavel to restore order in his courtroom, but instead allows the women to revel in their rightfully deserved justice. He thanks and dismisses the jurors before adjourning court and receding back to his chambers. Two court officers lead a handcuffed and shackled Laurent outside of the courtroom to escort him to the waiting penitentiary van outside, behind the courthouse. Before Gwaine can finish clearing off files and evidence bags from the prosecution's desk a pair of the women, sisters, among the thirty he'd just defended approach him.
"Mr. McKinley...words are not enough to describe our gratitude" one sister says.
"That man violated our privacy, our trust, our piece of mind...But today, winning our case for us, you helped restore some of what we lost" the older sister adds. "Truly, we thank you".
Gwaine reaches out and shakes both sisters hands. "You have nothing to thank me for; I did my job. It's despicable what you all had to endure" Gwaine says looking from the sisters to the other women filing out of the courtroom. "But I'm thankful that justice was served today".
"As are we" the older sister speaks for them both. "Good day Mr. McKinley" she says before she and her sister file out of the courtroom with the other victors.
"Congratulations, Gwaine" Mona says, briefly kissing the barrister on the cheek. "Justice was indeed served today. What makes it even sweeter is the irony of it all". The three attorneys look confusedly at one another before returning their attention back to the secretary.
"How so?" Gwen is first to ask.
"That pig secretly watched all those women as they used the restroom. Now, where he's going, his cellmate and prison guards will know the moment he's shitted or pissed the same time he does." Mona smiles triumphantly. "Isn't justice a beautiful thing?". The three lawyers laugh at their colleague's reasoning and dry humour.
Justice is a 'beautiful thing', indeed.
Jean Laurent, a formerly respected restaurant owner and executive chef, is a detestable man who thought it was perfectly fine to install a hidden camera in the toilet of the ladies restroom at his restaurant; his fetish for watching women urinate apparently deemed it the logical thing to do. The camera was connected wirelessly to Laurent's laptop, which he operated during his lunch breaks. He made six figures charging other fetishists subscriptions to watch the videos of the unsuspecting, innocent women as they used the bathroom. Until late one evening while the kitchen staff were cleaning the restaurant, and Laurent was outside enjoying a cigarette, when one of his waitresses discovered the camera, having dislodged from the toilet rim, floating inside the toilet bowl. Outraged and disgusted, she had forced herself to remain calm. Mia had had reservations about her boss's professionalism and conduct for some time. From the way he would look at the female employees and the female restaurant patrons, to the way he would give her just enough room, so that her body would graze his, to pass by him if they were working in the same kitchen station, down to the way she would sometimes catch him staring at her before ducking his head to hide a secretive grin.
Gaining permission into Laurent's office to phone her ride home, she had quickly found the intrusive, candid videos; a few of them of her, on his open laptop and instead of calling her boyfriend to pick her up, she phoned the police. Minutes later a confused, shocked Laurent was lead through his restaurant and back outside in handcuffs.
Gwaine took on the case. He was repulsed by the evidence but also relieved when discovering that Gwen or Mona were not among Laurent's victims. (Thankfully the girls had always ordered out from that restaurant) Laurent was charged with fifty counts of unlawful surveillance and sexual misconduct; sexual harassment, lewd and lascivious cyber crimes, and obscenity and pornography. On top of that, upon his prison release he will also have to register himself on the sex offender registry.
"Good job, Gwaine. Your name will be joining mine and Elyan's on the firm's awning in no time" Gwen chips in. Gwaine smiles shyly under their praise. It's always reassuring and validating to be acknowledged by your peers and colleagues.
"I wouldn't mind seeing "McKinley" in bold, shiny letters" Gwaine says with a cocky grin. "It's this ponytail I'm having trouble getting used to", he whines.
"It's either the ponytail or a pair of shears..." Elyan suggests.
"Not a chance" Gwaine and Mona say in unison, glaring at the attorney and his implication. Gwen briefly giggles before looking at her wrist watch.
"El and I have to get going- today is Dad's birthday and we don't like to keep him waiting do we, El?"
"No Ma'am" Elyan agrees. Gwaine and Mona smile at the siblings.
"Drinks are on me and El later".
"In that case, bring your black cards" Gwaine states, beaming. "Give Papa Leo my best, will you" he adds affectionately.
Gwen smiles. "We always do".
Elyan and Gwen stop by the florist to pick up their father's favourite: orchids. They were only his favourite because they were Gwen's and Elyan's mum's favourite, and they were only her favourite flower because when Tom and his wife were courting, he'd once told her that the spots of the orchid reminded him of her own freckles. So every year for her birthday she would receive the freckled flowers from Tom. When she died, he continued the tradition; adorning her gravestone with a bouquet of orchids and keeping another on their coffee table at home.
Gwen and Elyan walk side by side with their elbows locked. Gwen smiles at the story of her parents' courtship while bringing the bouquet to her nose. Elyan immediately knows why she's smiling.
"Dad is such the romantic, isn't he" Elyan states rather than asks, smiling fondly. Gwen looks up from the bouquet as they continue walking up the path.
"He is" she says smiling. Her smile dims and the rims of her eyes moisten. "...He was".
"He'll always be" Elyan says, his voice tightened under strain to keep his own tears at bay. Both the siblings reach their father's gravestone and kneel before it.
"Happy Birthday, Dad" they say together. Gwen gently places the orchids at the base of the stone and wipes the single tear that escapes her eye. Elyan unlocks his elbow from Gwen's to reach over and place the second bouquet at the base of their mother's headstone.
"I don't think Dad would mind" Elyan says his customary saying to his mother's headstone. "Would you, Dad?" he continues, looking back at his father's headstone. A sudden gentle breeze curves from behind Tom's gravestone, sweeping across Gwen's and Elyan's face, as if to say 'Not at all'.
Elyan laughs in amazement and turns to his sister. "See, Gwennie...He'll always be".
Arthur and Morgana ring the doorbell to their childhood home and Martine answers the door.
"My babies are home!" she exclaims in her Haitian Creole peppered-English. Both Arthur and Morgana affectionately hug their childhood caretaker; governess, cook, bedtime storyteller...Martine wore many hats for the siblings, especially after the death of their mothers.
"Auntie Martine", Arthur says as she ushers them into the house, "It's always good to see you- and although Morgana and I have grown up, you haven't aged a bit". The middle aged woman blushes under the compliment before playfully swatting Arthur's shoulder.
"You only say that because you know I have made my famous Pâtés Haitien for you". Arthur smiles what looks to his nursemaid so much like his childhood grin, and she smiles too.
"You know me too well, Auntie".
"Of course I do" she says leading the way to the kitchen. "And I made extra because I know how much you and Merlin fight over them".
"Yup; too well" Morgana chimes. Martine reaches over and gives the detective's cheek a loving pinch.
"Don't worry, chérie. I will put yours in a separate box". Morgana triumphantly pumps her fist.
"Yes! And here I thought Arthur was your favourite".
"I am!".
"Are not!".
"Am too!".
"Are not!"
"Am-"
"I thought I heard the sound of children in the house" Uther says sauntering in from the patio and through the kitchen's back door to join his family. "Leave it to Martine's delicious cooking to bring the child out of my children". Martine smiles shyly at Uther's compliment and Uther smiles back; his reflecting open flirtation. Arthur and Morgana exchange a questioning- yet knowing- look.
"Dad" Morgana greets Uther first, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly.
"My beautiful gem" Uther greets back.
"Father". Arthur reaches for his father once Morgana moves on and toward the Haitian pastries.
"Golden Boy" Uther uses the childhood nickname while embracing his son.
"I'm glad my two big shot son and daughter detectives have found the time to have lunch with their lowly old father" Uther teases his kids.
"Oh please", Morgana drags around a mouthful of pastry. "Arthur is no 'big shot'. I on the other hand..."
"Ha!" Arthur scoffs. "I still have a ways to go before I'm on your level, huh, detective sergeant?". This time Morgana scoffs.
"Typical of a man to bring up rank, yeah, Auntie?". Martine looks back and forth between her two former charges.
"You are both 'big shots' in my heart".
"Auntie, that is such a political response" Arthur playfully scolds the woman who raised him.
"It's the perfect response" Uther butts in, winking at the Caribbean beauty. "Now let us go and enjoy the delicious lunch that Martine has prepared for us". Morgana helps Martine and carries out a platter to the neatly set patio table. Once the women are outside, Arthur reaches for the pitcher of iced tea and drinking glasses before turning to his father.
"Dad, is there anything...new going on in your life that you'd like to tell me about?" Arthur sees a twinkle in his father's eyes and already knows the answer to his question. For years Morgana worried about their father living, and dying, alone. Arthur never admitted it, but he shared the same fear. Now he knows that both his and his sister's fears were unfounded. It appears that Martine wasn't just taking care of Uther's home, she's been taking care of Uther, too. The detective can't help but be happy for his father and surrogate mother.
"Yes" Uther finally says. "But that can wait. I want to hear more about this Guinevere of yours". The grin that splits Arthur's face is nearly enough for the retired detective to take his son tux shopping!
Uther chuckles. "Seems to me like you're in trouble". Arthur, immediately knowing 'trouble' is 'love', steps over the threshold of the kitchen sliding doors and on to the patio before glancing back at Uther.
"I thought I knew 'trouble' before, Father. But with Guinevere's trouble...". Arthur shakes his head. "I'm doomed". Uther laughs, clapping his son on the back.
"I've been where you are, Arthur. Twice". Uther smiles and looks between his two children, silently thanking his late wives for giving him and leaving behind the two most precious tokens of their love. Uther smiles lazily at Martine. "Third time may just be the charm, eh".
"I'm happy for you, Dad" Arthur says, seeing the adoration in Uther's eyes for Martine. "I get lost in Guinevere the same way...and it's weird because it happened so fast; almost too fast".
"There's no such thing" Uther cuts in "as 'too fast' when your heart is involved. Love knows no time, Son. In fact, sometimes time can be the enemy of love. It's better that you rush in head and heart first than having to wonder later on if Guinevere is the one that got away".
Arthur looks at the strong, aged man; gray and creased with wisdom and time, and then looks at the hopeful, unwavering twinkle of love in his eyes. Uther loved his and Morgana's mothers with his full heart and never regretted falling in love with them. Time was very much the enemy of love, taking the women away too soon from him. From them.
Still, Uther stayed strong and always left his heart open to love. Looking now at the pleasant, easy smile on Martine's lips and the abundance of affection in her own eyes, Arthur can see that his father had made a wise decision to keep his heart unguarded.
"I couldn't agree with you more, Father" Arthur finally says. "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I saw Guinevere on another man's arm; conceiving another man's children".
'Children'?. The word reverberates in Arthur's head.
'Yes. Children. Our children'. Arthur smiles at his mind's vision of a chubby face with his flaxen hair, Guinevere's curls and cinnamon brown eyes peering up in to his own ocean blue ones as he changes a soiled diaper.
The other three occupants at the patio table look at the sudden change in tension on Arthur's face at the mention of another man with Guinevere, and then the immediate release of tension at the mention of children. All three can see that he's not just thinking of any children. He's thinking of his children. Their children.
"If there is anyone here who sees reason why these two should not be joined in holy union, please speak now...". Uther and Martine's combined laughter at Morgana's mocking cut in to Arthur's thoughts.
Arthur narrows his eyes at his sister before reaching for the pitcher of chilled tea. "Ha ha. Very funny" he says before bringing his now filled glass to his lips for a greedy sip.
"Auntie and Dad seem to think so" Morgana barely gets out through her chuckling.
"Dad", Morgana turns to address her father. "Your son is completely enamored with the petite powerhouse that is Guinevere Leodegrance". Bringing up her glass to her lips and speaking over the rim she continues, "He's been practically tripping over his tongue since he's met her" before taking a sip of the cold beverage.
Guinevere Leodegrance.
The name immediately drums and old, dull pain in Uther's chest.
"Does Guinevere by chance have a little brother; Elyan?" the retired detective asks, already knowing the answer.
"Yes". It doesn't surprise Arthur that Uther knows of Guinevere and Elyan. Though retired, his father always likes to stay current on the happenings of Albion, particularly the law sector.
"Tom's little girl" Uther whispers, his voice distant. "You fell in love with Tom's little girl".
"You know Guinevere's father?" Arthur asks, having not yet the opportunity to meet the man. Any bit of information Arthur can glean about the man whom he wishes to impress, and one day ask the permission of to wed his daughter, is welcome.
"Yes. I knew Guinevere's father very well".
'Knew'?
"Tom was Albion's premiere prosecutor. He worked restlessly defending victims, seeking, and almost always winning them justice. He was the peoples' lawyer. I looked up to him". Uther pauses, briefly looking skyward, closes his eyes and deeply inhales before sighing.
Opening his eyes again he continues. "My most memorable cases were won with Tom at the helm. His passion for justice and eradicating injustice was unmatched".
Arthur thinks of Guinevere's cross examining of Magnus. She was relentless but calm, passionate but humble as she exposed and condemned Magnus' wrongdoings and won deserved justice for Tilly and Jonah.
"His tenaciousness rubbed off on me, too" Uther chuckles. "I would stay at the precinct long after the work day was over re-reading files, doing more footwork re-interviewing witnesses...It got to the point where the Chief of Detectives thought I had a second family to support; I made so much in overtime". Uther laughs again, his family joining him.
"One night, seems like an entire life ago, Tom and I were working later than usual at his office, pouring over notes, eyewitness statements, CCTV surveillance videos; running a fine tooth comb through everything so we'd have an air tight case. A gruesome triple homicide. There was no way we'd leave a single stone unturned".
"I'll never forget". Uther chuckles. "Tom's stomach growled so loud that I actually jumped back in my chair". Arthur, Morgana and Martine laugh at the mental picture Uther's words paint. "Both Tom and I laughed at the hungry reminder and decided to order take away for a second time. Problem was, we'd been at his office so long that the restaurant had already closed for the evening. Cutting our losses and satisfied with our work, we decided to rush home to our families. You and you", Uther addresses his son and daughter, "in my case, Guinevere and Elyan in Tom's. I got home that night and peaked in to your rooms and kissed you two as you slept. But Tom...". Uther's voice is barely above a whisper when he forces the name from his lips. "...Tom never reached his front door that night. He couldn't have avoided that truck even if he tried- and I know he tried", Uther's voice tightens. "That bloody drunk driver took away a good man. Someone who was actually making a difference in this world".
Arthur is crestfallen. It's no wonder Guinevere barely mentions her father. Losing him in such a senseless way must make his death even more painful to accept or to think about; let alone talk about.
"I've watched Gwen and Elyan grow from afar" Uther continues. "After Tom's funeral I just...I just couldn't bear to see them again. Motherless. Fatherless. All alone in the world. I felt guilty for making it home that night, for surviving, while Tom died". Martine reaches over the table and takes Uther's hand in her own, squeezing it. She remembered the toll Tom's death took on him. The nightmares; the frustration of working with less motivated- and sometimes novice- prosecutors, the second and often third drinks after dinner that he thought he had carefully kept secret...Uther slowly became his old self after being promoted to Chief of Detectives. The fact that he was no longer a field detective and no longer had to work alongside less effective barristers saved him from having to go to Tom's office and seeing another man occupy his friend's desk, his friend's chair...his friend's life. Being chief offered Uther more time to be with Arthur and Morgana. Unfortunately by then Morgana had already gone off to University while Arthur was just getting his feet wet as a copper. But seeing his children thriving, watching Tom's kids thriving, slowly pulled the guilt away.
"I'm proud of how far Guinevere and Elyan have come; and they're only just getting started. I know Tom would have been proud, too.
Guinevere listens to the strong and steady beat of Arthur's heart and smiles lazily. Minutes ago when she collapsed on to his broad chest, spent after soaring them both to the stars on strong, galactic climaxes, his heart drummed like a ragging bull; hers like a diligent hummingbird. It amazes her how her touch, her presence, could have such dramatically opposite effects on him. Gwen looks up from Arthur's chest and finds him peering deeply in to her eyes, the love that shines in his undeniable. Placing both of her hands on the mattress in the spaces directly beneath his armpits, she pushes herself up from his chest and moves up toward Arthur. He closes the short distance between them, pulling his hands from behind his head and wrapping his arms around Gwen's trim waist, pulling her to him and fusing her mouth with his, kissing her slow, deliciously slow.
"I wish you could see the way you look at me, Arthur" Gwen whispers after the kiss breaks, her breathing steady once more. She is looking down in to his eyes now, hands tangled in his blond mess of hair, massaging his scalp. Arthur closes his eyes and sighs luxuriating in the sensation of her fingertips and nails gently raking his scalp.
Opening his eyes he tells her, "If my gaze reflects even an ounce of the affection I see when you look at me, Guinevere, then I am truly loved". Gwen stops rubbing Arthur's scalp and moves her hands forward to cup his face.
Peering deep in to his eyes, and drawing even deeper from her soul, she tells him, "You are, Arthur. You are loved. More and more each day my feelings for you consume me to the point where I think I'll finally succumb to the weigh of it". Stroking his left cheek with her thumb, she whispers, "I love you, Arthur". Those words...Those three words that she had never said, but in all other ways had shown. Those three words, like air, they breathe life in to Arthur. He actually exhales a short, stunned breath her proclamation.
Suddenly he pulls Guinevere closer, tighter to him. In one swept motion Arthur turns them, pinning Guinevere beneath him, and enters her. She gasps at the familiar yet surprising sensation and Arthur swallows the moan before it escapes her throat.
I love you.
Those three words like a lifeline, like a beacon in the night, they save him, and he spends the rest of the night showing Guinevere just how grateful he is that she has come to his rescue.
The next morning Arthur stirs in bed, reaching, searching for her. His savior, his heroine. His Guinevere. Feeling her pillow and not finding her velvety curls, feeling the absence of her weight beside him, Arthur groans and finally opens his eyes. He looks around his bedroom, taking time for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight breaking through the sheer curtain, for a sign of Guinevere and listens carefully for the sultry singing voice that usually accompanies her showers.
He hears nothing.
Arthur's eyes zone in on the note to his right on his bedside table. He smiles and reaches over to grab it:
'Morning, Sleepyhead.
I went for a run.
If you continue to ravage me as you did last night, I have to find some way to build my strength to keep up with you...
As for your sinew, there's bacon; eggs and crumpets keeping warm in the oven, and a strong roast in the percolator.
Enjoy!
I'll see you in a little while.
I love you,
Sandalwood
Arthur smiles, reading the note a third time, and tucks it in to the top drawer of the side table. Guinevere had discovered his pet name for her when she'd changed her mobile number and wanted to enter the updated one in to his phone. Arthur had explained the reason behind his calling her sandalwood and Gwen had thought it endearing and a touch romantic so decided she'd use it whenever she could.
Rising up from the grand bed Arthur slips his feet in to his slippers and unfolds his body in to a deep stretch before going to the bathroom to relieve himself. He opts out of a shower choosing instead to share his bath with Guinevere after her run, where he intends to lather, rinse and repeat every sweaty inch of her. A lustful grin on his lips, Arthur slips in to his housecoat and emerges from his bedroom where the strong smell of coffee from the kitchen hits his nostrils. Arthur opens his front door and sees that the morning paper has not yet been brought up to his door. He decides to go downstairs and retrieve it himself to read with his coffee. He passes the doorman in the lobby, who reaches behind the front desk and hands the paper to Arthur.
"Sorry, Sir. I know today's your day off...Had I know you would already be awake, I would have-"
"It's alright, Henry" Arthur assures the younger man. "You always deliver the paper on time. I am the one who's off schedule today. So, how was your chemistry final?" Arthur asks the young man whom he knows aspires to be a pharmacist.
Shocked, Henry answers. "It went well, Sir. A tough one, but I think I did alright".
"I know you did" Arthur reassures him, clapping him good naturedly on the shoulder. "I'm just going to peak outside and see if Guinevere's on this side of the block".
"I'll get the door for you, Sir" Henry says as he comes around the lobby desk.
"You keep up the good work, Henry" Arthur says stepping through the open door.
"Thank you, Sir". Henry follows Arthur outside, ready to open the door for him and Guinevere, a shy smile on his face the entire time.
Arthur can see Guinevere walking, exhausted, up the block several hundred feet away toward him. He waves the paper above his head to get her attention and she waves back realizing it's him. Not wanting to wait for her to reach him he starts walking toward her. A small black car speeds down the street right past Arthur, its tires screeching so hard along the pavement it leaves dust in its wake, blinding Arthur to the lack of license plaques. The car continues speeding down the street and stops sharply near a tree. Guinevere forgets her exhaustion and picks up her pace, her strong gut feeling guiding her steps. Before she walks past the tree where the car is parked, a man, taller than her but shorter than Arthur she notes, finely dressed in a silk shirt and wool pants hops out of the back seat, a paper in his hand.
"Excuse me, Ma'am" he says with false kindness, and approaches Gwen. "Can you help me. I'm only visiting family in the area and already I'm lost". He forces a nervous laugh that Gwen knows is fake. She glances quickly past the man and can see Arthur is held up at a crosswalk, cars driving past the green light on both sides of the street, affording him no opportunity to cross.
He's close but too far away.
"I'm looking for this address, do you know it?" the finely dressed man asks advancing even closer to her.
"I don't live in the area, actually. My boyfriend does". Gwen stretches her hand to point to Arthur and at the same time fatally takes her eyes off of the man. "He's-". The rest of her sentence is cut off as the man quickly pulls Gwen flush against him. From behind her he muffles her screams with a chloroform soaked cloth he'd quickly slipped from out of his back pocket. Gwen starts to kick up and flail her arms, but the strong fume from the liquid is taking her under faster than she can fight it.
'ARTHUR!' her mind screams, but her lungs won't allow her mouth to copy.
"GWEN!". Arthur's long abandoned his paper and useless house slippers at the crosswalk and is now running as fast as his legs will take him to Gwen's limp body and the monster holding her.
"GUINEVERE! GUINEVERE!", he yells after the fast retreating car. But it's too late.
She's gone.