Title: Never Know My Sin
Author: Lady Starblade -- ladystarblade@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: Drama/Angst
Spoilers: Slight mention of "Sanctuary"; not a real spoiler
Warnings: Slight discussion of racial issues; one use of "n" word.
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.
Feedback: Pretty please? (makes Bambi eyes)
Disclaimer: The Law & Order Universe and the wonderful characters that inhabit it do not belong to me. I make no money from this writing.
Author's Note: I've been a Law & Order fan for a long time, so I finally decided to try my hand at fic for it. I've always been fascinated by the Ben/Shambala dynamic. And since I've seen little on the subject, I took it on. I am making up all of Shambala's background here.
Summary: Shambala Green thinks about sins, battles, and Ben Stone.
**
Sometimes, in my more fanciful moments, I see myself as a avenging angel, a swordswoman riding in to protect the weak and the downtrodden. I've been a protector my entire life. I protected my little sister from her drug-addicted boyfriend. I protected my mother from the truth of my brother's death. I even learned how to protect myself against the hatred and epithets that have been slung at me ever since I dared rise above my "station." I decided I wanted to be more than little Shambala from the ghetto. I decided I wanted to be something better than just another poor black girl.
I have been paying for that decision ever since. I've lost track of how many times I've been called "that uppity nigger bitch." I've had people I grew up with look down their noses at me with disgust. Not so much because I'm a lawyer, which is far from an honorable calling these days, but because I didn't do what I was supposed to do. Not only did I have the audacity to go my own way, I did it loudly, decisively, and finally. I burned bridges behind me, and I do not regret it. But in doing so, I became a walking sin in the eyes of so many.
That audacity has served me well. I learned to strike hard and quick, moving before my opponent could react to my gender or to my race. Don't give them time to think. Leave them confused, leave them dazed, leave them angry. They're more likely to make mistakes. I became an expert at courtroom guerilla warfare. And with it came the reputation as the most passionate, sneaky, and damned irritating public defender in New York City. I liked the fact that prosecutors were known to groan when my name came up on the calendar. I was satisfied with my new protector role.
Then I met a man who was willing to meet me on equal ground. A man to cross swords with, one to truly battle, not hit and run. Ben Stone, no matter how much he might disagree with me, never treated me as anything less than a colleague. After a while, we became friends as well as opponents.
In time, he slowly became the first person that I could ever show my pain to. That case where I defended the black kid who killed a man during a riot--that one cut deep. It reached down into my soul and hurt me, bringing back old pain that I didn't want to deal with. And when my voice cracked, when my audacity failed me, he saw. Though he didn't say it, I could see it in his eyes. He cared. He was hurting because I was hurting. Of all the things Ben is, no matter what I may say in the heat of battle, he is not heartless.
Because of that noble heart, the job finally got to him and he walked away. I can't decide whether I admire or loathe him for it. It takes a special kind of courage to just get up and leave. But Shambala the Protector screams "coward." He left behind all these people who needed his help. And sometimes, after I've had a drink or two, I know that I'm mad at him for leaving me too. A little light inside me went out when he left.
Now that he's gone, I don't have to admit it. I don't have to face it. He will never know my sin.
He will never know that I love him.
END
Author: Lady Starblade -- ladystarblade@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: Drama/Angst
Spoilers: Slight mention of "Sanctuary"; not a real spoiler
Warnings: Slight discussion of racial issues; one use of "n" word.
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.
Feedback: Pretty please? (makes Bambi eyes)
Disclaimer: The Law & Order Universe and the wonderful characters that inhabit it do not belong to me. I make no money from this writing.
Author's Note: I've been a Law & Order fan for a long time, so I finally decided to try my hand at fic for it. I've always been fascinated by the Ben/Shambala dynamic. And since I've seen little on the subject, I took it on. I am making up all of Shambala's background here.
Summary: Shambala Green thinks about sins, battles, and Ben Stone.
**
Sometimes, in my more fanciful moments, I see myself as a avenging angel, a swordswoman riding in to protect the weak and the downtrodden. I've been a protector my entire life. I protected my little sister from her drug-addicted boyfriend. I protected my mother from the truth of my brother's death. I even learned how to protect myself against the hatred and epithets that have been slung at me ever since I dared rise above my "station." I decided I wanted to be more than little Shambala from the ghetto. I decided I wanted to be something better than just another poor black girl.
I have been paying for that decision ever since. I've lost track of how many times I've been called "that uppity nigger bitch." I've had people I grew up with look down their noses at me with disgust. Not so much because I'm a lawyer, which is far from an honorable calling these days, but because I didn't do what I was supposed to do. Not only did I have the audacity to go my own way, I did it loudly, decisively, and finally. I burned bridges behind me, and I do not regret it. But in doing so, I became a walking sin in the eyes of so many.
That audacity has served me well. I learned to strike hard and quick, moving before my opponent could react to my gender or to my race. Don't give them time to think. Leave them confused, leave them dazed, leave them angry. They're more likely to make mistakes. I became an expert at courtroom guerilla warfare. And with it came the reputation as the most passionate, sneaky, and damned irritating public defender in New York City. I liked the fact that prosecutors were known to groan when my name came up on the calendar. I was satisfied with my new protector role.
Then I met a man who was willing to meet me on equal ground. A man to cross swords with, one to truly battle, not hit and run. Ben Stone, no matter how much he might disagree with me, never treated me as anything less than a colleague. After a while, we became friends as well as opponents.
In time, he slowly became the first person that I could ever show my pain to. That case where I defended the black kid who killed a man during a riot--that one cut deep. It reached down into my soul and hurt me, bringing back old pain that I didn't want to deal with. And when my voice cracked, when my audacity failed me, he saw. Though he didn't say it, I could see it in his eyes. He cared. He was hurting because I was hurting. Of all the things Ben is, no matter what I may say in the heat of battle, he is not heartless.
Because of that noble heart, the job finally got to him and he walked away. I can't decide whether I admire or loathe him for it. It takes a special kind of courage to just get up and leave. But Shambala the Protector screams "coward." He left behind all these people who needed his help. And sometimes, after I've had a drink or two, I know that I'm mad at him for leaving me too. A little light inside me went out when he left.
Now that he's gone, I don't have to admit it. I don't have to face it. He will never know my sin.
He will never know that I love him.
END
