Author's Note: Still here and doing well, my dears. There's so much going on and I'm not a very good school teacher, but we are still healthy and happy. And I'm still writing. At one in the morning, but I'll take what I can get. Please note: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. I know it feels like it is – but it's not. Stay with me a while, ok? Also, I have no idea how courts work, so just go with what I've got ok?
I'd love to hear from you. I know I'm not the only one feeling disconnected from the world right now. Chapter Twenty-Four: Verdict
Lance followed Officer Guist back to where Keith and Krolia waited, noticing his senses dulling one by one until all he could see was a fuzzy black movement ahead of him that was Guist's boots and all he could hear was a pulsing hum. His emotions had tightened so hard that it seemed they'd given way like a stripped screw, and he could no longer feel himself moving forward.
He thought Officer Guist said something to him as they walked, maybe asked a few questions, but he hadn't answered with more than an ambiguous grunt, and now if Guist were still talking, Lance couldn't hear it. Nor did he notice when they arrived at the partially hidden door. He only stopped because Guist suddenly gripped his arms and squeezed hard.
"Get it together," Guist told him, shaking him slightly. "We need the other Lance; the one barking orders at me and taking charge and being sure. You figure out where he is in that head of yours and get him out here."
"You're right," Lance acknowledged, wishing the Lance Guist was talking about was the only one available ever. Guist knocked his fist against Lance's chest, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to jostle him a little.
"That boy needs you," Guist said, though Lance struggled accepting that. Keith needed a lot of things, mostly Shiro. He'd done way more for Keith than Lance had. Need was a rather strong word. "Now go bring him out to me."
"Can you give us a few minutes?" Lance requested, not knowing exactly what he would do in those last moments, just knowing that he wanted to have them.
"Five," Guist allowed. Not near enough, though Lance knew that Guist was being generous. He reached up and removed Guist's fist from his chest with both hands, releasing him just as Krolia opened the door, her face hard and ready.
"Judge Kolivan has asked us to escort Mr. Kogane into the courtroom," Guist said smoothly as Krolia studied Lance carefully.
"No kidding," she said, the growl tamed but still present, staring Lance down. He discovered that it was easier to look her in the eye, now that he had formal permission from the judge to be here. Now that it wasn't up to her to speak for him. "Congratulations."
"How's Keith?" Lance cut in, not wanting to hear how lucky he was or any other lecture about how much of a liability he was going to be in the courtroom. All he wanted was to keep watch over Keith. He wasn't going to do anything crazy, and he didn't need a lawyer who hadn't vouched for him at all to give him any advice about it.
"Pretending to sleep," Krolia said, looking over her shoulder toward the couch that Lance could not see from his angle at the door. "The poor kid – dragged through this circus."
Officer Guist cleared his throat, a physical testament that time was moving on while they were standing here in the doorway. Krolia glared, her eyes weapons all by themselves, renewing Lance's respect for her slightly.
"Knock it off," she almost spat at Guist. "This whole thing is nothing but profiling and you know it."
"It's not up to me," Guist absolved himself. "I'll escort the Hunts in first to give you guys some time." He nodded to Lance, tapping his own chest with his fist as a reminder that Lance needed to get it together and keep it together. He had to remember what he came for. Lance nodded back in acknowledgement, then turned to go in, finding Krolia still guarding the doorway, watching Guist leave.
"Krolia?" Lance nudged her with her name. Krolia set her shoulders, shaking her head and closing her eyes, making an obvious mental pivot.
"Never mind," she said to herself. The cold smile was back on her face, as if she had a secret she wasn't sharing, the same sort of smile that villains have in movies as they watch a victim drink from a poisoned glass. "It'll all be different after today. Go on in, Acere; I'll wait for you here."
She shifted slightly to let Lance pass, and he shot through the doorway, knowing that five minutes would blur past too quickly. He saw Keith half lying down on the couch, in a similar position to when he would rest his head on Lance's lap in the back seat of cars. His bottle of water was on the floor beside him, nearly empty. So he'd followed Lance's instructions after all. Though Krolia was right; he was not actually sleeping. Lance could see that from across the room. He'd spent so much time this weekend monitoring Keith as he slept.
"Keith," Lance called to him. "You can open your eyes; it's just me."
"Lance?" Keith's voice wrapped his name in several layers of disbelief. Apparently, Keith hadn't expected him to come back.
"Surprise," Lance said, smiling even though he didn't feel like it. Forcing himself to be the version of himself that Guist had asked for. Support and strength and sureness. "The judge said I could stay with you. Courtroom and all."
"Oh," Keith returned, unenthusiastic. Almost disappointed. He was sitting up now, at least partially. He had his head bowed, his back curved over as though he were incapable of straightening it, looking as alone as he had when Lance first joined him in his room. "I don't . . . if they send me. . . I don't want you to –"
Lance sat down next to Keith on the couch, their shoulders touching, wondering what sort of emotional mess was forcing Keith into all these partial sentences.
"Keith, what?" Lance checked, unsettled by what Keith seemed to be saying. Lance had worked so hard to be here, he'd jumped so many hoops to be allowed in that room, and now Keith didn't want him there? Why not?
"It's just," Keith said, speaking extremely slowly, staring hard at the table, at the carpet, at anything that wasn't Lance. "If they take me away . . ."
"They won't," Lance countered with so much force that Keith actually flinched.
"I don't want that to be the last thing you see," he finished after a pause. "How you remember me."
Lance slipped off the couch and onto his knees next to Keith, dipping his head so he could force Keith to make eye contact with him. Keith kept his gaze for less than two seconds, though.
"If that's what you really want," Lance managed, though it was far from what he wanted. "I'll wait outside, but Keith, it's not going to happen like that. Today is not the last time I'm going to see you, but even if it was, that's not how I'd remember you at all." Lance was about to describe his favorite memories of Keith and their strange weekend together, but his voice deserted him. He'd remember Keith on the couch in his apartment, amazed at the taste of his soup. He'd remember the ice pack on his cheek, the way Keith had comforted him about his family. He'd remember the feel of his head on his lap, running his fingers through his hair. There were so many, in fact, that Lance knew that none of them would be the last, and none of them would be forgotten either.
"I'd like to come with you," Lance said when he trusted himself to talk. Keith had his face turned away, eyes closed. "I came here to support you, but that's hard to do behind a locked door."
"Are we ready to go, gentlemen?" Krolia joined them, slicing into the room, apologetic and rushing. There before Keith could even think about giving an answer.
"Almost," Lance answered without taking his eyes off Keith, amazed that the hardest permission to receive for entering the courtroom would come from him. He decided to stall just a few more seconds to let Keith decide where he wanted Lance to be. "Last stat check, all right?"
Keith nodded, head still hanging. The only things Lance decided to get a true number on were Keith's temperature and heart rate. He didn't think Krolia would let him take the time to drag out all his monitoring equipment, even if it could be for the last time. He did take the time to write the stats down. 102.3. Eighty-nine beats per minute. Hardly any change at all.
"How are you feeling, Keith?" Lance asked. "Not that there's any more drugs you could take that could help."
"Numb," Keith mumbled. Lance knew what he meant. He probably felt close to the same way Lance had as he walked away from the judge's office. Too many feelings splashed over each other until they'd all mixed into a muddy sort of indecipherable nothing. Or had all compressed and settled into his back like the virus was doing.
Lance could feel Krolia staring at him, again, sizing him up, figuring him out. Waiting for what he was going to do. He no longer felt any need to impress her.
"I get it," Lance said. "This place is weird like that. It makes you feel like there's no such thing as time," Lance explained the feeling for Keith, ignoring Krolia the way he wanted to ignore everything going on around them right now. "Like the air in this room is so heavy you can't move. But you wouldn't want to move anyway, because that will make everything start again. All the stuff you wanted to forget."
Lance's little speech did the trick of getting Keith to look at him again, a shine of mutual understanding in his colorless eyes. He felt Krolia moving behind him, pulling the wheelchair away from the wall in order to unfold it open for transport.
"I wish there was some way out of this," Lance continued. "Some way that you wouldn't have to leave this room, that you didn't need to come here to begin with. I wish I could do it for you, and I wish I'd met you sooner. I hate that they're making you do this, but I promise you that it will be better on the other side of it."
"You can't make promises like that," Keith muttered, his words muffled behind his mask.
"Too late," Lance challenged, and Krolia snickered.
"Krolia," Officer Guist called as let himself in. Not all the way, he hovered close to the door as though he weren't allowed to enter this room. Lance wondered if that were actually the legal truth, or if it was just because Krolia didn't allow it, or maybe he was overthinking everything. "Lance, I'm sorry, but we really have to go. Everyone has to be in their place before the judge. Come on now."
"Coming," Lance said before he could force himself to move. He took hold of Keith, who was struggling to get up, pulling him to his feet and holding him ready to pivot into the seat of the wheelchair. But Keith forced himself as straight as possible, holding tight to Lance's sleeves.
"Here, Kit," Krolia invited, bringing the chair closer.
"I don't want that," Keith denied, shaking his head. "I can walk."
Krolia tilted her head, unconvinced, making eye contact with Lance to check about allowing this. Lance nodded; he could keep Keith upright for however many hallway steps were between here and the courtroom. He wanted to give Keith whatever control was possible.
With Lance's agreement, Krolia moved the chair out of the way so Lance and Keith could walk side-by-side toward the door. She plucked up her briefcase off the table and smoothed a hand down her already perfect blazer. Then she fell into position behind them, following them out, switching the light off as she exited.
Lance walked Keith out to the waiting Guist, who also took up his place on Keith's other side, automatically encasing Keith's elbow in a Deputy Sheriff's escort grip. Keith stopped breathing when Officer Guist touched him, so Lance put more pressure into his arm. Don't do that, Keith. Keith turned to look at Lance, deliberately inhaling deeply in acknowledgement of what Lance had just done.
"Let's go," Guist gave the signal to start walking forward, but then remained completely silent even though he looked at Keith and Lance as though there was plenty he wanted to say. Lance thought he knew why he wasn't talking anymore. He had to stay impartial. He had to be the neutral party. Disallowed to give preference to either side, especially in the presence of a lawyer. Especially when he already had done Lance so many favors. This place was so weird.
Before, when Lance followed Guist away from the judge, everything had gone fuzzy. On this walk, it was the opposite. He could see and hear everything, in sharp, clear detail. The fleur-de-lis pattern on the buttons of Keith's suit, the flint-hard strike of Krolia's heels against the floor, the scars along Officer Guist's knuckles. The way the light touched the photos along the walls, the portraits, the trim. The unsteady rhythm of Keith's walking, the weight and heat of him on Lance's arm. Time may have started again when he had stood with Keith, but it wasn't up to normal speed yet. Lance wondered if it would catch up, or maybe it would surge forward faster than he wanted it to.
The courthouse was designed with the smaller waiting rooms and offices along the outer walls, building the perimeter for the central expanse of the courtrooms. Lance wasn't sure; he'd turned around so many corners in this place already, but he thought that the double doors ahead of them and to right faced the same direction as the main entrance four floors below. But there was no glass here. Here, the old dark wood had been preserved. No attempt at been made to modernize the feel of this place. The metal, where there was metal, was prison-cell gray. Lance could even smell the age of it – a mixture of damp, dust, and wood polish. It sucked in the light, dimming the entire corridor.
Two security guards stood on either side of the doors, but they opened them readily for Officer Guist. The one closest to Lance looked at him for maybe a hint too long, but no one said a word. At least, not outside the courtroom.
It all changed on the other side of the doors, enough that Lance was temporarily overwhelmed. They were inside the courtroom now, actually here. Lance tightened his grip on Keith, feeling him beginning to sag not just from the exertion of getting here but from the sudden weight of judgment that had been thrown over him from the front of the room.
Lance could see them long before he could hear the low murmurings. The Hunts stood from their table at the front, watching Keith as Lance and Guist brought him down the center aisle. William Hunt was much taller than Lance had expected him to be. Tall and trim, clean-shaven and crisp, brown-ish red hair styled professionally to complement his age and the shape of his face. He leaned down, as graceful as water, to speak to Mr. Rozensweig. His presence was so commanding that Lance almost missed his wife, who stood so close to his side wearing so much black that she might have been his shadow. If it hadn't been for her shining golden hair, Lance would have never seen her.
On the other hand, now that he could see her face, he wished he hadn't noticed her. She stared at Keith with an intense sort of loathing, a betrayal, a very clear disgust that Keith was alive and allowed to walk on the earth when her son could not. She gripped her husband's arm much tighter than Lance held onto Keith, so hard that Lance marveled that Mr. Hunt could just stand there calmly and quickly whispering to his lawyer as though he felt nothing. Rozensweig had his hands out in patient supplication, also whispering. Lance figured the exchange had to do with how Keith looked, unable to walk on his own, wearing a mask, with an officer on one side and an EMT on the other.
"They hate me," Keith whispered as they came closer to the front, shrinking unconsciously closer to Lance, as far as possible from the Hunts.
Officer Guist gave Keith a tiny shake, warning him against talking anymore, especially now that they were at the little half-gate that separated the front of the courtroom from the benches where spectators and witnesses sat at the back. Lance didn't want to shake Keith; he wanted to help him stand straighter. Keith had done nothing wrong; he had nothing to be ashamed of. He also wanted to put his arm around Keith to shield him from the tangible feel of hatred that radiated from that side of the room. It took all he had not to glare at Mrs. Hunt.
Since Keith couldn't, Lance pulled his shoulders back, drawing himself to his full height. He lifted his chin, which was as defiant as he was going to get in here. He didn't even dare whisper any words of encouragement back to Keith. Guist had told him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't want to give anyone any reason to kick him out of here.
But there was one thing he needed clarification on. He remembered just as he helped Keith sit down at the defense table, before they had removed their hands from each other's sleeves. Krolia took her place at Keith's side, though she remained on her feet, placing her briefcase with a sure calm in front of her. Officer Guist had his hand on Lance's shoulder, intending on pulling him back, separating him from Keith. Before he could, Lance bent down close to look Keith in the eye.
"Do you want me to leave?" Lance whispered, not because he wanted to but because he wanted Keith to have a choice about something. Even if it meant he'd have to pace outside with the security guards of the door, he wanted Keith to be able to choose. Keith's eyes flickered to the Hunts before resting again on Lance. There was no fear in them – the Xanax was still taking care of that, but there was an unsettled worry, a conflict.
"Lance," Keith said, breaking eye contact, throwing his gaze to the floor at Lance's feet. He hadn't let go of Lance's sleeves.
"That's not an answer," Lance breathed. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Damn it, Lance," Keith burst out, though quietly. "No," he finally confessed, though he sounded as though he'd clenched his teeth around the word.
"Ok," Lance said, relieved. "I'll be in the back." He gave a final look to Krolia before submitting to Officer Guist. There was only so much he could see from a distance, looking at Keith's back. Krolia would be closest; she'd be the one to notice something first. It would be mostly up to her to call to Lance if it became necessary. Krolia tipped her head at Lance before he turned away, which Lance supposed meant that she understood that.
Officer Guist took Lance by the shoulder back to the half-gate, turning him as he pushed him through the opening to give him some last-minute advice.
"Stay back there unless you're called forward," Guist reminded him. "You stay still and keep quiet. Go sit next to Takashi now."
Takashi. Takashi? The gate closed between Lance and Keith, and for the first time Lance looked at the back of the room instead of the front, searching for Shiro. He was surprised to see him seated close to the center aisle, the very back set of benches, the closest to the big double doors. He'd been so focused on the Hunts and Keith's walking that Lance hadn't even seen Shiro. Now he made a beeline for him.
Shiro sat stiff and rigid in the pew-like seat, his back barely touching the rest. His hands were positioned carefully on his knees. Looking at him from a distance would give the indication that he was at ease, calmly and peacefully waiting. But when Lance got close enough to actually sit down next to him, he could tell it was all a façade. Shiro's stillness was the same in intensity as Lance's stress-pacing. Where Lance felt the need to move, Shiro drove all his nerves into carefully sitting motionless, the only indication of his inner turmoil visible in the clench of his jaw and the absolutely unnatural stillness of his posture. His eyes moved, though. They shifted continuously from Keith to the Hunts and back again. Lance wondered if Shiro had to keep so rigid in order to prevent himself from flying over that gate and punching Mr. Hunt in the face.
Shiro also looked at Lance as he sat down beside him, carefully and slowly turning his head toward him. He kept his mouth tightly closed, but he asked Lance a question as loudly as if he'd spoken it. Lance gave him a quick thumbs-up in answer. Yes, he was allowed to be here. Yes, Keith was sort of ok. He'd be a lot better once this was over.
Keith sat hunched at the table, a broken crumple next to Krolia's strong posture. The Hunts and their lawyer continued to whisper amongst themselves while Officer Guist went to his post near what Lance supposed was the judge's entrance. This was also the first time Lance saw the jury box, filled with people. Lance nervously tapped his fingers along his leg as he looked at the mix of men and women who would be responsible for what happened to Keith today.
They looked so ordinary. All of them. A plump older black woman wearing a dark green sweater and a long swath of cream-colored fabric, looped several times around her neck and cascading down her shoulders. A college-aged young man who wore ebony plugs in both earlobes and had a tattoo just barely peeking out of his shirt. Another man with white hair wearing a vest and spectacles. A petite lady in a black and white striped dress and jean jacket who didn't look old enough to even be here absently playing with a thick brown braid pulled over her shoulder. Who were these people? Why would they care one way or another about Keith? How could Lance trust them to have made the right choice? His fingers sped up so much that Shiro reached over to still them. Lance guiltily tucked his hands tight under his arms.
He was grateful when Officer Guist finally announced the arrival of the judge. First because it broke open the anticipation of waiting, and second because Guist commanded everyone in the room to get to their feet to show respect for the judge's position of authority. Lance sprang up, trying to scan everything at once. He looked to Keith first, who used the table and never took his hands off it in order to stand. He didn't lift his head. Krolia stood as straight as a flag pole, but only until she realized that Keith wasn't standing at his normal height, then she leaned over him to make sure he was all right. Good. She was paying attention.
The Hunts, well, Lance couldn't be certain since he was so far away, but he thought he saw Mr. Hunt roll his eyes as he watched Keith. Like he thought Keith was putting on an act, like he was trying to gain some sympathy by pretending to be weak. Shiro put a hand on Lance's arm again, which made him shift his attention to Officer Guist, who was opening a side door.
Judge Kolivan marched into the room like a threatening thundercloud, all billowing robes and broad shoulders. He looked purposeful, but not in a hurry, moving quickly without rushing, a man not willing to waste time but who was willing to take as much time as necessary. His face was perfectly blank as he placed himself with monumental solemnity at the front of the courtroom. The gesture stilled the already silent air. He bid them all to be seated. Lance found himself impressed, wishing it had been only the judge's decision about what should be done with Keith.
The judge announced the title and number of the court case, thanked the members of the jury for their service to the county and for appearing today despite adverse weather. Lance noticed that he looked at each of the members, one at a time, personalizing his gratitude.
"I have been informed," Judge Kolivan said, gazing quickly at Rozensweig before returning his attention to the jury. "That the defendant was released from the hospital yesterday and remains under medical care. For this reason, I will be giving my decision on the civil case attached to this verdict directly afterward instead of the previously scheduled separate hearing later this afternoon. I ask for the jury's understanding in this matter and promise to be as brief as possible."
Lance leaned in to Shiro questioningly but remembered at the last second that he couldn't even whisper anything to him. There were so few people in this room, anything he did would be noticed. But what was the judge talking about? What civil case? And this afternoon? They were thinking of doing two cases today? What was the other one for? He didn't have long to speculate; Judge Kolivan was being true to his promise on brevity and had already moved on.
"Are there any concluding statements from either party before we proceed?" Kolivan inquired, turning toward each council table, giving only a few moments for a response. Rozensweig looked like he wanted to protest something, but didn't say anything. Krolia also had nothing else to add.
"Seeing as there are no closing statements, I believe the jury has reached a verdict?" Kolivan continued, the cadence of routine in his voice, but surprisingly no boredom. Though he'd probably said these words hundreds of thousands of times, knew the protocol and the order for these sessions as well as signing his own name, Lance could tell that he was mentally present here. That these ceremonial proceedings had his complete attention. Lance admired his discipline.
All eyes in the room centered on the young woman in the jean jacket as she stood up, no taller than Pidge, a sealed envelope in her hand. Officer Guist acted as mediator, retrieving the small packet from her and crossing the floor to hand it to the judge. That was it. The verdict. In that envelope. Lance swallowed hard. What had they said? What did they decide? He forced himself not to squeeze the bench seat in front of him. Time was doing weird things again. Not stopping; it couldn't be stopping because there was still movement. The shuffling of the jury members who probably just wanted to be done with their duty, who wanted to go home or to other jobs. Judge Kolivan carefully opening the verdict envelope. Time hadn't stopped, but this process was driving Lance crazy with how serious everyone was taking everything.
"If possible, will the defense please rise?" Judge Kolivan addressed Keith, the jury's response to the trial now open in front of him.
Keith once again pushed against the table to be able to get up, and Lance couldn't stop looking at him, marveling at his attempt to stand with the sheer weight of the situation and his condition bearing down on him. He had to keep his hands planted as before, but this time he did his best to raise his head, attempting to make eye contact with the judge. Krolia stood at his side, completely serene, one of her hands resting lightly on Keith's back. For an instant, Judge Kolivan allowed something that looked like approval cross the neutral expression of his face.
"Mr. Keith Kogane, for all of the charges of voluntary and involuntary manslaughter that have been brought against you for the death of David Hunt, the members of the jury of Cook County have unanimously declared you not guilty."
Lance felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of him. He didn't mean to, but he heard himself exhale an enormous breath of relief. No one heard him; however, because his reaction was practically invisible compared to Keith's.
Perhaps he meant to sit down and missed, or maybe his knees just buckled on him. Lance couldn't tell from where he sat, but he did hear Keith give the strangest sounding cry, like a gasp, a moan, and a sob all tangled up together, like something broken and ugly had just torn free from his soul, and then he just dropped onto the floor.
"Keith," Shiro said, torn between following orders to stay where he was and rushing to the front. Lance felt no such restraint. He was already running for Keith, tearing down the center aisle. When Lance reached the bar, he barely noticed. He simply planted his hand on the wood and jumped, vaulting over it without bothering to mess with the latch of the gate. There were glimmers of movement in his side vision, and he could hear grunts and statements of surprise. But he didn't care about anything that might be going on around him in the room. Lance was here for one thing.
Krolia was bending over Keith by the time Lance reached them a few seconds after he'd gone down. She had her palms on Keith's back, her brow furrowed in worry and frustrated helplessness, looking at Keith, then the judge, then the Hunts, then at Keith again in a rapid rotation. Lance skidded to his knees in front of Keith, ignoring everything else. The last time Keith had received an emotional shock like this one, it had almost put him in cardiac arrest.
Keith was curled over, one hand covering his mouth while the other pushed tight over his heart. At least he was conscious; he hadn't passed out this time. Lance grabbed at Keith's clenched fingers, dragging his hand off his chest so he could put his own there, monitoring the heavy, rapid thud of Keith's heartbeat. Too strong for this to be a hypotension relapse.
"Keith," Lance called, shifting closer to him on the floor. The buzzing in the background was growing louder. Angrier? "What happened?"
Keith shook his head, removing the hand from the mask over his mouth so he could frustratingly drag his arm across his eyes. When he finally looked at Lance, they were still full of tears.
"When is this weepy emotional bullshit going to be over?" Keith asked Lance, his voice cracking in tense, embarrassed fury. Lance fought not to laugh, listening to the voices droning all around them, as though the very walls of the room were vibrating.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Lance asked instead of trying to answer Keith's question. It wasn't like Keith was the only one trying hard not to cry right now.
"No," Keith answered, annoyed with himself, frustrated that he'd become the epicenter of all the motion and muttering around them. Lance removed his hand from Keith's chest so he could squeeze his shoulder, relief pushing into his own heart and lungs so hard it almost hurt. Keith was ok, just weak. They'd said not guilty. Even though Lance had spent so long convincing himself and Keith that this was the only possible outcome of the trial, that anyone with sense would not send Keith to prison for what he'd done, he still could hardly believe it. Not guilty.
The sound of the gavel penetrated Lance's focus, bursting apart the beehive hum that Keith's collapse had started. Now that Lance was satisfied that Keith wasn't in any danger, the rest of the courtroom was becoming clear to him again. Though he stayed on the floor with Keith, Lance lifted his head to Judge Kolivan, who stood halfway out of his seat, powerfully hammering for order.
"That's enough," Judge Kolivan demanded. "Everyone please be seated."
Lance took a second to glance around, wondering how much real time had passed while he'd been talking with Keith on the floor. Probably less than it seemed. Shiro had come to the bar, leaning over it as far as he could right behind the defense table, hands curled hard around the railing. The Hunts and Mr. Rozensweig had taken several steps toward Keith as well, and more than one member of the jury had risen to their feet to better see what was going on. Officer Guist was crouched just behind Lance's shoulder, his radio in hand in case he once again had to call in an ambulance for Keith.
"Take your seats," Judge Kolivan said a second time. Lance felt he was excluded from this request, but second guessed that when the judge's attention fell on him. "Young man, is everything all right?"
Lance took an extra second to be sure in his answer. Keith's eyes were focused, his heartrate not any more extreme than it had been before. He thought that Keith had just been overcome with relief in that moment, that all the tension he'd carried in his body, all the unspoken worry and fear and stress, everything that he'd been dragging around with him since the start of this nightmare had snapped away from him all at once.
"Yes," Lance answered, then remembered that he was supposed to address the judge with an appellation. "Your Honor."
His response calmed the entire room. Judge Kolivan lowered into his seat once more, leaning back and squaring his wide shoulders, settling his body into place with the same care as he would organize his paperwork.
"Mr. Kogane," the judge addressed Keith, his deep voice peaceful again as he rested the gavel on the desk in front of him. "Do you feel well enough to continue or should we adjourn until this afternoon?"
"I'm fine," Keith panted, rather unconvincingly from the floor with Lance, Guist, and Krolia hovering over him. "We can keep going."
The judge nodded to him, another quick glimpse of impressed respect just barely visible in his expression.
"In that case, Officer Guist, could you please assist Mr. Kogane to his chair?" Judge Kolivan requested. But Keith was already moving on his own now, ungracefully pulling himself back into the wooden seat, looking as though he wanted to drop his head down on his arms and hide his face, still in shock and trembling. Lance stood protectively next to him, standing between Keith's table and the Hunt's.
"We're ready, Your Honor," Krolia prompted, her hand still on Keith's shoulder as he composed himself at the table.
"Very well," Judge Kolivan acknowledged. Lance wondered if he should go back with Shiro. Now that the emergency was over, he realized that he hadn't followed Guist's directions at all. Though he was finding it difficult to be ashamed of himself. Not guilty. They'd voted not guilty. Unanimously. Keith wasn't going to prison. "We will continue with the ruling on the civil suit. Perhaps you should remain seated this time, Mr. Kogane." The judge made eye contact with Lance. "And to be safe, please just stay where you are."
Lance nodded, standing straight next to Keith while Officer Guist stepped back, returning to his position near the jury box. Lance didn't dare glance at the Hunts. He wondered again what more legal business they could possibly have left now that the verdict had been read. Now that Keith was free. What else needed to be said? Why couldn't they just go home? Or where ever Keith wanted to go.
"Now," Judge Kolivan began, shaking off the last few minutes of uproar that had disturbed the process of his court, his voice calm and quiet and yet stretching to all corners of the room. "In regard to the civil suit of Kogane vs. Hunt. In accordance with the verdict and the agreement previously signed by both parties, I hereby rule in favor of Mr. Keith Kogane." Keith raised his head, looking confused. Lance was too. He risked stealing a look at Krolia, only to find her smiling smugly, eyes narrowed in self-congratulatory satisfaction.
"Mr. Kogane," the judge continued. "This ruling will clear your file of all charges associated with David Hunt, including the assault charges on your juvenile record." What? Cleared? Lance kept his hands to himself, held as still as possible despite how all his nerves were jarred. Krolia had arranged this; she'd prepared a suit against the Hunts in retaliation for dragging Keith into this a second time. This was turning out so much better than Lance had imagined. He'd wanted so much for Keith to be found innocent that this unexpected benefit was almost too much, yet it wasn't. It was exactly the sort of justice that Keith should have had the first time. Judge Kolivan turned his attention to the Hunts.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hunt," the judge addressed them, and Lance risked looking at them out of the corner of his eye. They sat with pinched expressions, almost glaring at Kolivan. "As you know, this ruling requires you to pay $650,000 in damages to Mr. Kogane within ten days, and you are prohibited from pressing any further charges against him regarding the death of your son. Failure to adhere to these terms will result in an additional fine of $100,000 and / or imprisonment of up to twelve months. Do you understand this ruling as I have explained it to you?"
"Understood, Your Honor," Mr. Rozensweig answered on behalf of the Hunts, who sat rigid and white, unprepared for having things turn out this way.
"Good. Then that will be all. Court adjourned." Judge Kolivan smacked down his gavel one final time to signal that they were done.
Lance blinked, amazed and shocked on many levels. That's it? All that waiting and it was already over? And what had he just said? Did he really just award Keith six hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Over half a million dollars? Lance looked at Keith, who sat in stunned silence, just staring straight ahead at nothing. For someone who expected to go to prison today, Lance couldn't imagine what was going on in his head right now.
The room was beginning to clear out, the judge leading, disappearing out the same door he used to enter, on his way to the next meeting. Officer Guist began ushering the members of the jury out the same door, single file from the jury box. Lance made eye contact with the young woman in the striped dress, the one who had handed over the envelope. She smiled kindly at him, and Lance wished that he could run over there and shake her hand. Shake all their hands. Tell them thank you a million times for making the right choice, for giving Keith his life back. He knew he couldn't get close to them, though, so he simply mouthed his thanks from across the room. The woman's long braid swooshed away from her as she bowed slightly in acknowledgement. Then she disappeared behind Guist's guiding arm and out the door. Lance would never know anything about her.
A jostling closer to Lance demanded his focus. Mrs. Hunt had ripped free of her husband and her lawyer and was striding forcefully over to them, eyes shining and wild. It was the first time that Lance really noticed the grief in her, how much she was hurting over the loss of her son. It was the first time he'd ever considered that she was David's mother, that she'd been the one to find him, that she had loved him. Though the love she had for him looked like it burned bright enough to hurt someone. She looked like she wanted it to.
Lance took a step forward, placing an arm to block her from Keith, though he wasn't sure what she was really planning on doing. She might not know what she was coming over for either. Officer Guist was still across the room, closing the door after the last of the jury members, but Shiro was suddenly there. Lance hadn't seen him pass the gate, but he was here now, standing solidly between the Hunts and Keith, staring them down.
"I don't think you're allowed to come any closer," Shiro warned, the words very strangely threatening when spoken in his mild voice. The gentle tone contradicted quite strongly with his defensive stance.
"Don't you talk to me about what is and isn't allowed. It's not right," Mrs. Hunt hissed through clenched teeth, squaring off with Shiro when she realized there was no going past him. Mr. Hunt was right behind her, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, though he didn't look as though he was trying to pull her back. "What he did to David."
Lance glanced over his shoulder at Keith, who sat motionless, staring at the floor. He didn't even look like he had noticed what was going on yet, like he wasn't even listening. Like he was still processing the outcome of the trial and couldn't accept any new information. Krolia, on the other hand, was extremely tuned in to the situation.
"Phillip, you'd better take them out of here," Krolia suggested, coming to join the human barricade shielding Keith. "Unless you want this to get even more expensive." Her words drew Mrs. Hunt's attention and anger, though Krolia couldn't look any more disinterested at the small, fancy woman jerking her chin up at her. It was disgusting, and Lance knew it, but it rather looked to him like a chicken puffing up at a hawk. Too bad Krolia didn't have free rein in this room to do as she probably wanted to.
"What sort of comment is that? You're awful," Mrs. Hunt said insultingly to Krolia. "You know he should be locked up. You are responsible for allowing a murderer to walk out of here. He killed my boy!"
"I don't take cases I don't believe in," Krolia snarled, her lips pulled back to show those unnaturally long canines again, her arms folded. "And the jury made the decision. Unanimously. Probably didn't take very long either. Keith didn't kill anyone, and honestly, I hope to God that his case becomes the precedent that allows more young men to step in and stop people like your son."
"How dare you?" Mr. Hunt challenged when Krolia's words flustered Mrs. Hunt speechless. Now he did pull his wife backward, tucking her neatly behind him. Shiro tightened the line, touching shoulders with Lance even though Lance had no idea what he was going to do if someone started forcing themselves past him. He didn't do confrontation; he was trained for different emergencies. He wasn't prepared for this; everything was supposed to be over.
"Phillip," Krolia addressed Mr. Rozensweig again, her tone sharp, leaning forward, infuriating the Hunts even more by pretending they were no longer there. The lawyer glared at her, and Lance almost felt sorry for him. If the Hunts were this mad and unable to do anything more to Keith, what would they do to their lawyer? How much of the blame was going to fall to him for this?
"Clear the room, everyone," Officer Guist ordered, finally noticing that something was going on and coming to the rescue. "Court's adjourned and we need the space for the next case." As he spoke, he spread his arms like a plow, herding the Hunts and their lawyer away from Keith. Except they didn't really move. Mr. Hunt stood resilient against Officer Guist, making it seem as though Fritz would actually have to physically escort him from the room.
"And what are you going to say the next time he brutalizes someone?" Mr. Hunt asked Krolia, though he stared down his nose at Officer Guist, much cooler and even than his wife. "When the death is immediate instead of delayed, hmm? Are you going to believe in him then? Is that what it's going to take? Boys like him just grow into worse men. David was worth fifty of him."
That was the last straw for Shiro, who lunged forward, surprising everyone. Officer Guist shouted at him to stop, but Shiro moved too quickly for anyone to prevent him from anything he wanted to do. He struck like a cobra, and Lance felt Keith grab on to his wrist from behind, just now seeming to catch up to what was going on. He was trying to get up, but Lance wouldn't allow it, blocking the area with his hip until Keith had no choice but to stay in his chair. The last thing Lance wanted was for Keith to get into another fistfight. If that's what was going to happen. Guist wouldn't let it happen, right? Not here in the courtroom.
But no, Shiro just barely stopped himself, his left hand clenching an inch from grabbing on to Mr. Hunt's suit. And his right. Shiro had pulled his classified, mesmerizing artificial right hand also into a fist and had drawn back to make the most of the momentum of the closed space. Mr. Hunt cowed immediately when it dawned on him that things had escalated to the point where words would not be the only weapons involved. Krolia had also raised her hands, though she looked as if she meant to grab Shiro.
"Get out," Shiro growled to the Hunts at the same time Officer Guist shoved his way forcefully between them.
"Let's go," Guist backed up Shiro, somehow pushing the Hunts toward the exit without actually touching anyone. They looked furious, but what could they do? This was probably the first time something hadn't gone the way they wanted it to. The first time they hadn't been able to change an outcome to suit their wishes.
Mr. Rozensweig paused to make final eye contact with Krolia, a nemesis acknowledging his defeat.
"Ten days, Phillip," Krolia reminded him about the fine and the deadline to pay it. "A cashier's check brought to my office will be fine. You know the drill." Drill? What did that mean? How often did Rozensweig have to bring cashier's checks to Krolia's office? Lance watched Phillip's nostrils flare as he forced himself to accept this without comment. He gave the tiniest nod and then followed the Hunts and Officer Guist out of the room. Lance let out a breath and sagged onto the defense table, head close to Keith's, inexplicably exhausted. He heard Shiro heave a sigh behind him. It had to be over now, right? Lance didn't think he could handle any more surprises in this building today. He glanced at Keith, who still looked rather stunned.
"Well," Krolia quipped, the least affected member of the party, inspecting her nails. "That's that. All right, Kit?"
At the sound of his nickname, Keith shook himself, blinking up first at Lance, who was closest to him, then at Krolia.
"What just happened?" He asked innocently, looking like he'd learned he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Krolia shrugged nonchalantly, used to winning her cases.
"You've been acquitted," Krolia told him warmly, on the verge of being self-congratulatory. "Or did you mean the part where your brother almost extended our torture with the Hunts by knocking William to the floor in a courtroom in front of half a dozen witnesses? Not that I wouldn't have loved to see it, but it would have cost us in the long run."
Lance smiled shakily at Shiro, who looked rather ashamed of himself. But Lance couldn't fault him on his momentary lack of discipline, especially when he'd pulled it together at the last second. Shiro had been through a lot the past couple of days, and he'd been defending Keith much longer than that. Lance was more surprised that he'd been able to stop himself than that he'd gone for the punch in the first place.
"I didn't touch him," Shiro said, quietly, as though he were giving himself the information, as though the desire to hit Mr. Hunt had been so strong it was messing with his memory of the event.
"Thank God," Krolia replied. "Though I can sympathize with the urge, I don't think even I could have gotten you out of that."
"Would have been worth it," Shiro muttered, casting a dark glare toward the courtroom doors. Krolia barely glanced; she was more focused on Keith.
"Can you stand up, Kit?" She was asking him, still looking worried, and Lance suddenly realized that every concerned look, every half-timid gesture, every hesitation that he'd seen in Krolia today had nothing to do with the case. She'd known that Keith would be let go. All of her worry was about Keith's health. Keith stared at her, not moving.
"Did he say six hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" Keith asked, processing everything slowly. "Did I hear him say that?"
"You did, and you're welcome," Krolia answered. "Now, really, can you stand up, or should I go hunt down that wheelchair?"
"Part of it is yours," Keith immediately offered, nodding at her.
"No," Krolia denied as Shiro walked around the defense table to take up position on Keith's other side. Lance hadn't moved, content to stand here and go through it all over again at Keith's pace. He wanted to be sure that everything happened the way he'd thought it did too. "I'm a public defendant, Kit. That means you pay me nothing."
"But you –" Keith challenged, looking confused. Like things were too good to be true.
"I do have some suggestions on what you can do with it, however," Krolia went on, steamrolling over whatever Keith had been trying to say. "I know a guy; he'd be happy to set it up for you. I'll put you in touch with him, ok?"
"Thank you," Keith said gratefully, thanking Krolia for more than her financial advice. She shook her head, looking toward the exit.
"You're a good kid," Krolia said dismissively. "Just . . . be careful on that vigilante stuff in the future, you get me?"
Keith nodded, eyes full of memory, and Lance wondered if he'd ever try to help anyone like that again. He hoped he'd never be put in the position where he'd have to decide about it.
Officer Guist returned, looking a little flustered.
"Kid," he said, exasperated, speaking to Keith. "You can go. In fact, I never want to see you in here again, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Keith toned, his voice very much separated from his thoughts.
"You got your life back, Kit," Krolia explained, looking at Lance playfully. "Make it a good one. Now go home and get some rest, will you? I'll call you once I get that check from Rozensweig. Don't disappear."
Finally, Keith moved to get to his feet. Lance and Shiro both took arms on either side, but Keith spread his hands to prevent them. He held on to the table, making his way over in order to shake hands with Officer Guist. Then he shook hands with Krolia, who could hardly look at him. Only afterward would he allow Lance and Shiro to touch him.
Krolia started fussing with her briefcase, assembling her files, packing it carefully. Officer Guist followed them to the door, opening it for them, but then he too fell back, remaining in the courtroom. Keith looked over his shoulder when he heard the heavy doors thud closed behind him, then he looked sideways at Lance.
"Told you," Lance said, forced to say something like that so he wouldn't get choked up. Keith's eyes were still enormous, full of relief and the worry that he was dreaming. He walked between them, shaky, staring at the walls, the windows, the passing security guards. He looked as though he expected someone to stop him, to call him back, that he couldn't quite believe he was actually free to leave.
"Lance," Keith began, after they were outside, waiting for Shiro to bring the car. Lance had wanted to rest again on the bench where they'd first waited for Shiro this morning, but Keith had asked to go outside, to not stay in that building, to not give anyone a chance to second guess what the jury had decided about his innocence. So they stood at the curb in the wind even though it was late afternoon now, the sun on its way to bed, freezing.
"Yeah?" Lance asked, shoulders hunched against the cold, trying to keep still so he could support Keith. "You want to go back inside?" He suggested hopefully.
"No," Keith denied quickly. "I just wanted to tell you thanks for coming with me. For everything, really."
There was something final about what Keith had just said, and it made Lance worried.
"No problem," he dismissed. Then decided that he didn't want to wonder about what would happen next. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to know if Keith were leaving with Shiro, if he would ever see him again after today. "So where are you going now that you're free?"
Shiro pulled up then, and their half-started conversation paused as Lance helped settle Keith into the backseat, folding himself in beside him. Keith ripped off the mask almost before Lance had closed the door, leaning forward and resting his head on the back of Shiro's seat.
"Sorry, Keith," Shiro apologized from behind the wheel. "I hurried as fast as I could. How are you doing?"
"I don't know," Keith answered, like he was answering both Shiro's question and Lance's at the same time.
"Your back still hurt?" Lance asked an easier question. Even though the trial had taken much less time than he'd thought it would, it still felt like hours and hours since he'd last taken Keith's temperature.
"Yeah," Keith acknowledged, sounding drained. "Hey Shiro?"
"What is it, Keith?" Shiro asked, pulling away from the courthouse, heading back to the Stephenson Expressway.
"Were you really going to hit him?"
"It would have been a mistake if I had," Shiro responded coolly, controlled. "I went farther than I should have as it is."
"But were you?"
"I wanted to," Shiro confessed, in a voice that suggested he wished Keith hadn't asked him. "It wouldn't have solved anything, though. I would have ended up facing assault charges if I had. But I couldn't stand listening to him talk like that about you anymore. He was wrong, you know that, don't you?"
Keith didn't answer; he was fidgeting in the seat again, trying to get comfortable.
"So, Lance, I guess we're dropping you off?" Shiro said, changing the subject when Keith went silent. Lance watched Keith, drinking in the sight of him, feeling as though something were being torn away from him.
"That'd be great," he said, somehow keeping his voice calm. "But I thought Keith would be staying with me again tonight?" Lance met Shiro's gaze in the rearview mirror, and felt conflicted about what he saw there. He knew that Shiro wanted to take Keith home with him, start their new life. But they both remembered what Dr. Delacroix had said about staying close to the hospital. Keith's fever hadn't broken, meaning her stipulations remained in place even though the trial was over. Lance watched Shiro force patience onto himself, watched him nod to Lance. He'd waited this long, that nod seemed to say. He would wait as long as he needed to.
"I want to try one of those damn cookies," Keith whispered, though he pierced Lance with a look of intense gratitude.
"We've got plenty," Lance responded, smiling.
Keith stayed quiet all the drive back to Stony Island after that. No one really had much to say. Lance texted ahead to let Hunk and Pidge know that Keith was coming back with him. It was not quiet when they returned to the apartment. Hunk was blaring Queen's "We Are the Champions," and it seemed that every light had been turned up, making the apartment as bright as possible. They cheered for Keith and for Lance as they walked through the door, but things settled down a little once they saw how out of it Keith still was, how tired. Lance felt that way too. The emotional strain of the day was catching up to them all. Lance felt as though he hadn't slept properly for years, though it had only been a few days.
Lance stationed Keith on the couch again, Shiro taking his place beside him. He forced Keith to take yet another cup of Gatorade while Shiro absently held the tea Hunk had prepared. Keith tried to eat a cookie, but only managed a couple bites. Hunk kept the music playing while he and Pidge prepared a celebratory, though still spiceless dinner. Which Keith didn't seem to be able to eat.
Hunk and Pidge demanded a play-by-play of the day, what had happened, what had been said. They wanted all the details. Lance had some of them, but he faltered a little when it came to the part where he'd jumped over the bar to get to Keith. Shiro wouldn't let him leave it out.
"You should have seen him," Shiro reminisced, shaking his head. "He'd been so mad at Krolia for saying he'd be an unpredictable liability in the courtroom, and then he goes and just vaults himself over the bar. Like it wasn't even there."
"I had a job to do," Lance muttered, not wanting to go too far into it. He caught Keith looking at him strangely as Shiro retold that part and Pidge hooted that it sounded just like something Lance would do.
Shiro allowed the conversation to move on. Hunk told the story of the day from the apartment side, what they'd done while they waited, how hard it had been since Lance hadn't been able to text them any updates at all. They spoke a little bit of the future, but they noticed abruptly that Keith had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of it.
"Lance?" Shiro once again called Lance over to the couch where he hovered worriedly over Keith. "Can you come check him?"
Lance obeyed readily, coming to kneel at Keith's side once again, noticing a difference in his color, in his breathing.
"He's soaking wet," Shiro observed, but Lance could see that for himself. Keith's black hair hung around his face in damp waves, his white suit shirt sticking to him. Lance smiled, relieved all over again because Keith had been released.
"It's a good sign," Lance said. "His fever's broken."
"Lance?" Keith murmured, not fully awake, but starting to squirm. "Why's it so hot in here?"
"Because you're getting better, Lobito," Lance told him. "Come on, let's get you out of that suit and into bed."
With Shiro's help, Lance guided a half-asleep Keith into his room, changing him from the suit to his last pair of clean pajamas. They tucked him under the quilt, but he just as quickly kicked it off, muttering about heat. Shiro promised to come and check on him the next morning, gripping hands with Lance before heading out.
Lance stayed next to Keith's side for a long while, enjoying the peace on his face. He looked as though he were sleeping comfortably for the first time since he'd been there, and for once he didn't talk in his sleep. He allowed Lance to set cool cloths on his forehead without protest now. Lance continued watching him long after Pidge said good-bye, long after Hunk had gone to bed. He just wanted to look at him, happy that he was still with him. He wasn't sure at what point he fell asleep himself. The only thing he did know was that he didn't see Keith awake again until Wednesday.
Author's Note: More to come, please stay with me, guys. I've got SO MUCH LEFT FOR YOU. I'll try to hurry; I know it sucks waiting on me to get some writing time.