Disclaimer: Everything Law & Order related belongs to Dick Wolf and company, as in the show idea and known characters. But I do own the abstract created characters and plot line.
Disclaimer Two: I do not own any concepts or characters from the D.C comic book universe. Nor do I own the character Lex Luthor. He belongs to the original creators, company and present owners.
Wolfwood11: Well, I was never going to really add that to this story, but since you asked no. Vince Connors isn't involved with Lengsfield. Vince is really naive about the whole thing, he's convinced that he is really in control of the city, but he's not. Lengsfield is…I may elaborate more on that in future stuff…thanks for the review!
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Had the Derringer been a stronger caliber Jon Rice's head would have exploded.
But it wasn't.
Instead his forehead stippled with powdered burns that ringed around the hole lodged above were his right eyebrow used to be, singing his eye, turning it a gross gray and disintegrating the hair on the right side of his face.
Matted chunks of brain matter, bone fibers and blood burst from the back of his head, taking hair and scalp with the small plug of lead.
Jon Rice, the man who paraded as Andrew Gage Special Victims Detective for nearly two months died.
His body made a sick thud on the concrete, causing his skull to fracture again at the bullet hole, sounding like a watermelon being cracked.
Cate Monty wearily looked back at Elliot Stabler, her Derringer still firm in his hand, and now two rounds less.
"Thank you." She whispered, then begged, "Please let me go, Elliot."
He tilted his head some, "I can't do that, Cate. Its over, you know that."
She shook her head some and closed her eyes, "I have one more, Elliot. Only one more life to take," she slowly re-clotted her wound with a cold, wet fist.
"Just one more. Let me go and I will kill him tonight and I swear to you that I will return in the morning. Then you can do whatever you want with me. Imprison me, toss me in an asylum or give me the needle. I don't care! Please! I'm so close for—my—my children and for me to be avenged!"
Elliot looked down at her in pity, still holding the Derringer.
"Look at me with your eyes as a parent." She demanded, "Try and feel my agony. You know its true, all of it. He confirms it!" Cate gestured her head at Jon Rice's corpse.
"Tell me that you couldn't live without killing the bastards who could have killed your children! Think about it! What if it was you? Please, just let me finish it." She pleaded.
Elliot briefly felt his heart sway. For a moment, but for only a moment he thought about her words, 'Let me go and I will return.' He found himself thinking about it, Cate saw his eyes shift too; he looked at her with hypothetical similarity.
But his eyes quickly shifted back to their original state, New York City Cop.
He shook his head, drops of water running off the end of the barrel, "I can't, Cate. I won't."
She nodded feeling the rush of tears burn her eyes, "I know….but for a brief moment…you saw yourself in me. You considered and looked at me as a parent. You did something no one else ever has. You stopped judging me and I thank you for that." Heavy sobs followed as he helped her up and forced her to walk under the over hang to the dry parking lot and cuffed her to the gated fence.
He left one of her hands free so she could the clot the hole in her chest, she wasn't going anywhere he knew that.
Next he carefully carried Olivia to the dry parking lot, then called for back-up.
Soon the parking garage was filled with flashing lights, well armed officers and paramedics.
Cate was un-cuffed bashed in the face and forced on the floor of the parking lot, they grinded her face into an oil stain.
Elliot's protests didn't hold water as she was re-handcuffed and started to bleed allover the floor. She soon lost consciousness and was shoved in the back of an ambulance.
Elliot ignored Cragen's demands for an explanation and crawled in the back of the ambulance carrying Olivia.
I'll explain later, he thought as he looked down at Olivia's soaked and bruised body; as an oxygen mask was forced over her mouth and nose.
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It wasn't hard explaining to Cragen what happened out on the patio, wasn't as difficult as Elliot anticipated.
After Olivia was stabilized in a recovery room and Elliot was cleaned up and dried off he sat in a private conference room with his Captain, retelling what he had witness while sipping at warm coffee.
He omitted the obvious; that short conversation he had with Cate. It was slowly setting in that he did consider letting her go, that was something he wanted to keep to himself too.
Cragen took everything in stride, not saying a word until his subordinate was finished, but his eyes gave him away at every turn.
Especially at the odd circumstances of Andrew Gage, someone Cragen had hand picked over shinning rookie detectives like; Edward Gardner, Terri Rourke, or Denise Jones just to name few.
It seriously caused him to rethink his sifting process.
"Did you have any idea?" Cragen asked after he was done.
"About Ga—I mean Rice?"
He nodded.
"I've always felt something odd about him, something I couldn't quite pinpoint. Do you remember what Nathan Thorne said?" Elliot replied taking another sip, Cragen nodded recalling the child's chilling words; "I don't like him, he's like Lex Luthor."
"I wonder how Sands will take it." Elliot grumbled.
"I'm more concerned about the press and Chief of Detectives. She'll have a cat no doubt." Cragen mourned.
Soon John, Fin and Nadia arrived, after being quickly briefed; Nadia extracted herself from the group and sat a few chairs away.
Consumed in total shock about her now deceased and ex-partner, No…No way…Why didn't I see it before? Or notice? Fuck! They must all think I'm totally incompetent.
She knew Internal Affairs would be grilling her for days over this, and the inking that she would be stripped of rank wormed itself in her mind.
I can't go back to thievery, she moped.
Cragen ordered a CSU team and several Detectives to swarm Andrew Gage's last known address. There they found a .thirty-eight. Ballistics would later match that gun to the same one that shot Elliot at East River Pier sixteen.
M.E. Marquette Virgo who would perform Andrew Gage/Jon Rice's autopsy would also find that he had a recent gunshot wound in his left leg; she guessed a .three fifty-seven.
Same caliber Elliot carried, but it was all still speculation.
His gun would also be recovered in a few hours; it was fate that the dropping Glock didn't smash into anyone's head or car below when Cate kicked it off the side of the building.
It sailed unnoticed to the street and skittered into a street drain. Rorsarian would clean it up good as new though. What a blessing that it didn't discharge or hurt anyone.
Later Andrew Gage/Jon Rice's body would not be claimed by anyone and would be buried without any mourners in one of the state's potter fields.
Olivia woke-up a few hours later, groggy with the beginning symptoms of a cold.
After she was informed by her doctor about the bruising to her face and the mild concussion, she quickly inquired about the health of her baby.
The doctor reassured her that the fetus was fine.
Too close. Way to close, she lamented.
Next she requested to see her Captain and immediately told him she was pregnant.
He was shocked to say the least, then smiled and told her congratulations. He asked her not to worry, that everything would be taken care of at the station. Basically, she still had a job.
A few seconds later he informed her of Jon Rice's passing and that Elliot was fine and Cate was in surgery.
Through it all Cragen was thankful that it was over, well, most of it.
Several hours later, Olivia was released and driven home by Elliot, who insisted, he saw her up to her apartment and into bed. He was relieved when she mentioned that she had told Cragen she was pregnant.
That gag he had been wearing had finally been lifted. Then it was replaced when she added that no one else in the Squad was to know, yet.
Damn it, he thought.
Meanwhile at the station Cragen received a phone call. It was now 8:06 a.m. the next day; it came from Cate's surgeon Ezekiel Gaines.
He informed Cragen that Cate lived though the surgery, but needed several blood transfusions; thankfully she had the most common blood type.
He repaired not only one gunshot, but cleansed three others on her body, all still relatively new.
"Self-stitched and cauterized?" Cragen asked.
"Yes, fine work too. Is she a doctor?" Ezekiel questioned.
"Sort of."
Cragen had four guards posted outside her recovery room; he refused to have a repeated escape.
She also remained anemic; Ezekiel found it a wonder that she was still alive. Someone told him years ago that people don't just die; they die because they lose the will to live.
Cate Monty refused to give up that will, it was the only thing Ezekiel could determined that kept her alive.
Within in hours of Olivia's release and Cate's recovery, word of the now almost fabled gun battle at the precinct's garage reached the public.
The spying cop, the vigilante and two of the cities finest locked into a fierce battle, with a fairy tale ending, good prevailed over evil.
Just as Cragen predicted Chief of Detectives Caitlin O'Connell chewed him out at first light.
Demanding to know how a fake cop managed to gain entry to the Squad.
Cragen couldn't explain that, Andrew Gage had a past, had credentials and spotless record, one fish that managed to escape thorough the net was one way to put it.
Next the witch-hunt began, Nadia was the first to be crucified by Internal Affairs, prodded and interviewed again and again.
Cragen's good word was the only thing kept her in the Squad.
The others would soon interviewed relentlessly by Internal Affairs.
Six days of punishment.
Coincidently six days later, Cate was also released into police custody, locked in a magnetized cell at Cragen's precinct.
Guarded heavily, she never tried to escape and merely waited for her trial to begin.
She wasn't interrogated this time; there was no need for it.
Vahik Aboolian did return to Cate, disappointed that she had escaped, but excited at all new press and multiplied protestors on Cate's side.
She waited eight days in her cell for her arraignment to arrive; she didn't really pay attention to what was happening in the courtroom that day, everything seemed surreal.
The Squad was cleared of any 'wrong-doing' or 'mislead intentions' four days after her arraignment by Internal Affairs.
Now they would have to wait for the trial to begin too.
Slowly new cases filtered in and were handled accordingly by the detectives, Nadia still flying solo at the moment, which was fine with her, she still felt burned and betrayed.
Cate remained silent in her cell, didn't scream or yell, or ask for anything, but kept up with her medication and exercised everyday and was watched like a hawk.
She didn't have a plan of escape right now, not with uniforms everywhere, so she made the decision to ride it out.
Just as Vahik Aboolian requested the first time she was imprisoned, he warranted another psychiatric evaluation.
Cate went through five grueling days of extensive interviews, not hiding anything being bold and truthful.
Three days later the highly publicized trial began.
One good omen that adorned before the trial was that it stopped raining; the morning after Cragen received the phone call that Cate survived though the night, the rain had stopped.
Almost immediately.
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The Sixty-Ninth Day
October 10, 2005 Monday
Cate pinned her hair up herself with the soft colored tortoise shell clip and applied the make-up, concealer, lip liner, eye shadow and water-proof mascara herself.
Smoothed the long, dark charcoal colored skirt that nearly reached her ankles, effectually concealing the terrible burn scars on her legs and slipped into the darker charcoal dress shoes.
Straiten the gray button blouse, staring into the full-length plastic mirror recently bolted to her cell wall.
She huffed at her appearance, and shrugged pulling on the charcoal jacket.
Vahik's assistant, Andrea Foxx had taken her measurements a day earlier and picked out six different outfits for the long trial ahead, along with the basics of make-up and hair ornaments. Vahik's firm footing the bill.
Something refreshing compared to the drab, yet blinding orange jumpsuit.
"Monty, come on lets go." The sound of the rattling Billy club along the outside of her cells' bars, pulled her back to reality, it shifted the sliding curtain also recently bolted in place in to the top of the cell, placed for privacy.
She took one last lingering look at the mirror, focusing on her burn tissue then pulled the curtains aside.
"'Ou look nice." Uniform Joseph Perrine compliment slipping his Billy club back in its loop.
"Thanks." She murmured.
"You know the routine." He added reaching for his cuffs; Cate stepped forward and maneuvered both wrists through the slot in the cell door.
He cuffed in the front, "Too tight?"
"No, its fine." She answered pulled her shackled hands back in the cell.
"Percy, number three." Uniform Delia Simpson called down the corridor, the barred door slid open and Joseph gestured for her to step out.
She did as she was asked, flanked by four uniforms as they walked down the corridor.
Her heels clicking synchronously with that of the four uniforms.
The journey to the unmarked was uneventful, same with the ride to the courthouse, but when the caravan of vehicles hit a high raise in the road she couldn't help but gawk at what she saw crowded around the city's courthouse.
Protesters.
There must have been over two-hundred, maybe more, brandishing signs like talismans, screaming and shouting, marching and convulsing.
People demonstrating freedom of speech from both sides of the spectrum, some for the release of Cate Monty the hero and others for execution of Cate Monty the killer.
Apparently Riot Teams had been deployed to keep what little peace was left.
"Shit." Cate whispered watching through the front windshield.
"All of this you." Joseph observed from his seat next to her in the back of the unmarked.
"It was never supposed to be like this." She said to no one in particular.
"What was it supposed to be like?" Delia questioned with slight scorn on the opposite side of Cate.
"Silent."
The caravan pulled to the side curb, Joseph got out first as other officers came to his side.
Each securing the area then Joseph motioned for Cate to follow, when she set foot on the curb more screams erupted from the protesters, most on the verge of foaming at the mouth.
The officers circled her as she was escorted up the massive stairs.
Dozens of derogatory comments, racial slurs, sexist shouts, combined with various cries of positive praise and religious squalls of being a God Sent filled her ears.
Cate ignored them, refusing to look any of them in the eye.
She didn't expect what happened next, but didn't mean she didn't feel it.
A raw egg smashed against her face, exploding in her unprotected eye. Cate gasped and veered to the side trying to wipe the sharp bits of shell and yoke from her eye with her cuffed hands.
Uproar of laughter filled the air; it reminded her of history class in High School when she learned about heathens, heretics, the mentally ill and deformed, murderers and rapists and unwed mothers being lead to execution blocks and fixed trials.
Stones, dead animals, shit and mud, rotten fruits and vegetables, along with eggs would be thrown and smeared in their faces.
I thought we had grown beyond this, Cate thought tearing at her eye while Joseph practically dragged her within building before matters could get worse, Human nature I suppose. And the people of New York have become the Roman Mob.
Once inside she was herded to the nearest ladies room with Delia and another female uniform.
"Let me see your face." Delia ordered taking Cate by the shoulders as she hunched over some, her brown hair, still bleached near the tips had fluffed and tousled out of her clip.
Cate looked up her vision still blurry and smelling now.
"Improvement, if you ask me." The other uniform commented crossing her arms, smirking and leaning against the closed door.
Delia cut her eyes some, "Well, I didn't ask you did I."
The uniform smacked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance, "She's just a psycho, scar-face. Big fucking deal."
Delia ignored her this time, but Cate leered over her shoulder making disturbing eye contact with the uniform; she seemed to respond to that, nervously.
A second later Delia was keying Cate's cuffs.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The other uniform demanded stepping forward; her hand went instantly to her firearm's hilt.
"Un-cuffing her." Delia replied removing the bracelets, Cate looked at her in confusion.
"Why?" The other uniform hissed coming to Delia's side.
"Wash your face and fix you hair." Delia ordered taking a step back; Cate looked tensely like wild animal just being released from its cage into the wild, unsure if it's a trick.
Timidly Cate moved over to the nearest sink, turned it on and cupped her hands beneath the clear stream and brought it to her face several times, un-sticking the dried yolk, the white and shell and ruining most of the concealer.
So much for that, she thought depressingly unclipping her hair and trying to rework it the best she could without a brush.
Doesn't matter, she started at the results in the mirror, No one cares.
Tousled and smeared she was cuffed again and escorted to the courtroom, where the antics, disorder and blame would begin.
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"All rise for the honorable Judge Jordan Bailey." The tall bailiff boomed as the almost over crowed courtroom occupants stood in unison, as the middle aged judge entered from her chambers, confident and territorial of her courtroom.
After she seated herself she voiced for all to follow.
The formalities started and Cate felt herself stray, as her eyes lingered over to the jury.
Twelve everyday average people of the city, chosen and sifted though, poured though crucible after crucible, tested again and again, summoned then discarded until twelve unbiased stones where left in the sifted sand.
How many were called upon before these twelve where finally chosen?
The jury consisted of five men and seven women.
Cate hated observing race and stereotypical claims but in this event she did. She noted the four Caucasians, three African-Americans, two Asians and three Hispanics.
People claim in trials and in society race isn't a factor, but it is. We have overcome, but that inkling remains in the back of some minds, when some wonder 'what if'.
What if he or she that is not of the same color as I, holds that against me?
Cate pushed the thoughts away already knowing the outcome of her second trial and it was only the first five minutes, they would find her guilty. But where she would begin her sentence was a mystery, insane asylum or maximum security penitentiary?
She looked back and focused on Judge Bailey listening to a summary of her actions and crimes against the city.
The courtroom was packed.
Cate recalled walking in and noting several faces she recognized; Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, both looking healthy and recovered, although Olivia still had bruising on her face.
Then there was John Munch who looked somber as usual behind his colored glasses, next to him Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola dressed nicely and looking stern, a seat down from him sat Nadia Sands who looked drawn and stressed.
Preceding her was Captain Donald Cragen who looked placid and neutral.
Then there where the others peppered about, Connors's family, and several hidden operatives of Lengsfield Philips, she knew they where there. Cate tried to maintain her composure.
Cate didn't say anything as Vahik and Casey Novak fired against each other in the courtroom; this went on for days, each lawyer fighting to gain the favor of the jury.
Casey was after life imprisonment without parole, Vahik after an institutionalized sentence.
Then the psychologists where called in, including George Huang. They all stated various things, 'Cate Monty is not insane, she knew what she was doing. And knows it was wrong, she's more vigilante then anything.'
Others announced that Cate Monty was insane and belonged in an institution.
Conflicting evidence bombarded the jury.
Later the Squad was called in on the witness stand, all lamenting what had happen over the last few months.
Days passed and the arguments continued and soon all the evidence had been seen and heard by the jury, along with witnesses, except for one, Cate Monty herself.
She dreaded the next day.
Fifteen days of listening to lawyers, professionals, officers and witnesses taking the stand while she stayed quiet.
Now it would be her turn.
Nathan Thorne had taken the stand, as had Petra Ramirez. Cate hated watching the two, but was relieved that they both looked so healthy and recovered.
How much sway did they have on the jury?, she wondered.
Then Sheriff Oscar Davis had appeared with others from Waterville, Wyoming, demanding justice for Jasper Davis, Peter Davis and Jeremiah Winslow. The three men she murdered with a shotgun.
Doesn't matter, she thought, I'm going to prison for multiple murders, all I can do tomorrow is tell the truth. All of it.
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The Eighty-Fourth Day
October 25, 2005 Tuesday
She couldn't eat that morning, far too nervous, dressed in another outfit and made the usual trek to the courthouse.
The protestors had dwindled some, over the last few days, not by much though, today was no different, except she wasn't pelted with anything.
Soon she found herself in the packed courtroom on the high witness stand swearing on a Bible with cuffed hands.
Vahik requested in his slick suit for her to tell her story to the jury.
Timidly she rubbed her cuffed hands together then started the disturbing tale beginning the night she and her children where attacked and ending with the gun battle in the police station parking garage.
Left nothing unsaid or censored, she wept during bits of the tale palming and wading up the tissues in her chained hands. She finished quietly and was asked a few questions by Vahik and Casey.
Next each lawyer gave their closing argument and then Judge Bailey adjourned the court.
Jury deliberation had started.
Cate was quickly returned to her cell and deposited herself on the hanging bed, wound up in sadness and anger.
She wondered how long deliberation would take. She recalled the jury's faces as she retold her story; had she seen any sway on their minds?
She wasn't sure.
Cate shyly unbuttoned her top and found her thoughts ranging over the last few days, then months. Seeing all the faces of the people she murdered seared into her mind, Was it worth it?
She knew it was and she wasn't done. She would never have peace until Lengsfield Philips's blood was on her hands.
I'm justified in what I've done, I know it.
Cate interlaced her fingers and tapped her foot against the paint coated concrete and found herself thinking about Jon Rice. He had been so hard to find, then she saw a wisp of his face the night he tried to kill her at the piers with Elliot.
A few days after she recuperated some from her gunshot wounds she set out to find him, starting her own investigation and research.
One thing she couldn't understand was why he was apart of a police squad.
What was Lengsfield Philips playing at?
Why did he have an implant in the Special Victims Unit?
He wasn't there for her sake that's for sure; he was there way before she started her path of revenge.
In a fit epiphany she slung her body against the bars of her cell, "Guard!"
She screamed again when no answered her, "Guard!"
Percy appeared a few minutes later, cursing.
Delia and Joseph had yet to come on shift, "What?" He demanded looking taken aback; Cate had never screamed for anything or caused any problems during her temporary incarceration.
"I want to speak with Elliot Stabler, now." She answered.
"I'll see what I can do." It was out of thanks for her being a well-behaved prisoner as he said those words, otherwise he wouldn't have done anything.
(End Chapter Eighteen)
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