Hello, my lovely readers. Elijah finds himself with a number of unwelcome things happening in his life. On with the show…

Chapter 17: Roommate (Un)Wanted

Sleep did not come easily after the Marcel Gerard case was unceremoniously plopped into Elijah Mikaelson's lap. He did not want to work the case. It made him uncomfortable to be prosecuting the boyfriend of his sister and his…Hayley's good friend. However, it was his case and he would just have to learn to handle everything that went with it. And if only that were his only problem…

On the day Elijah, Hayley, Klaus and Caroline returned to Chicago several unfortunate things happened at once.

"Mr. Mikaelson," Thierry greeted Elijah the moment Elijah walked in the door of the prosecutor's office. "He's feeling temperamental today." To emphasize this supposition, a loud bang from inside the office of the D. A. sounded. This was followed by: "God damn it!"

"Terrific. I see my absence has only left us on rocky shores. Let me see what I can do to calm him." Elijah offered a tight smile to his assistant before he went to the D. A.'s door.

Rapping on the heavy oak door, Elijah waited before a grumbled, "It's open," sounded through the wood.

Turning the knob, Elijah held back a comment he might make when Mr. de Martel whirled to face Elijah. His face was dark with anger and he tossed an open file on his desk. "Those idiots in the police station. You could lead them to a good case and they'd foul it up." His upper lip turned and he rolled his eyes.

Elijah waited, with as much patience as he could muster. Honestly, he disliked the man, quite a bit. However, he had little choice until the election. With any luck, someone else would be placed in his boss's current seat.

William de Martel gripped the back of his chair and his jaw locked. "You got my message?"

Even though it was stated as more of a rhetorical question, Elijah answered anyway. "Yes. I did. Returned as soon as the plane would carry me back."

"That means your moonlighting job with the brother ended?" Martel demanded, his eyes darkened and burned into Elijah.

Unfazed, Elijah nodded. "Yes. It's done. I'm available for a new case. However –"

"However—what?" Martel's brows rose. His glower increased. "Whatever it is you plan on saying here, you might want to rethink your next move, Mikaelson. You're already on thin ice in this office."

Elijah cleared his throat and straightened his tie. He needed his job. He would never, willingly, go crawling back to his father's firm. With a great hesitation, Elijah said, slowly, "I have a conflict, to do with the new case. It seems the man you'd like me to prosecute is currently dating my sister. And I believe that I might be having an affair with the defense attorney…"

For a moment Martel said nothing. "Which sister?"

"Rebekah. But I don't see what that has anything to do with –" Again his boss cut him off.

"It has everything to do with the case, Mikaelson. Are you so blind? Rebekah, your sister, too, works for Mikaelson and Gerard. Obviously Marcel Gerard wants to become the head of your old firm. And he will use anyone to get there. Yes. Your sister is part of his scheme. Hell, you should suggest to her that she seek a restraining order against him. Who knows if she is, or your father, are the next to be marked off of Gerard's hit list." Martel seemed to be warming to the subject. "Pretty young thing. Rebekah. Poor girl. Still not married. Perhaps Tristan should speak with her…"

Rolling his eyes, Elijah's fingernails began to dig into the chair he sat in. He would lose it, very soon. "If you'll pardon me, but I seem to have lost you at Marcel being a threat to my family."

"The man was caught—red-handed. Imagine this," Martel rounded his desk. "You're old Gerard. You're sitting in front of your fireplace, drinking a cognac, after a long day in the office, watching your underlings foul their cases, one by bloody one, and then you are beginning to doze off. Then your son appears. He's saying things. Raving about his inheritance. You're at a loss for words. Your relationship is already strained. Now, he barges into your home. You move to stand and to reason with him. But what is this? He reveals a baseball bat. You'd been enjoying your drink too much to note his having brought a weapon. You move to try to evade the first blow but he's younger, and faster."

Martel brings his arm down like a baseball bat, barely stopping so he won't hit Elijah. Unflinching, Elijah watched as Martel's face reddens as he continues to swing his arm from left to right. "And he hits his father. Over and over again. His father slides to the floor. Trying to crawl away from his murderous son, but he fails as the bat comes down. One. Last. Time. Over Gerard's head. Now, Young Gerard stands. His victim is dead. What does he do? He cleans himself off and gets rid of the bat before going back in and calling the police.

The police come and Young Gerard is beyond himself. However, he is not so grief stricken that he does not call his good friend, a fellow lawyer with Mikaelson and Gerard, Miss Hayley Marshall. A young, bright girl, with a wonderful future ahead of her, but horrible choice in friends. Now, it is up to us to stop Miss Marshall from convincing the jury that Marcel Gerard is anything but a cold-blooded, ruthless killer."

Elijah nodded. "Right. Well, that is if you do not mind how the general public might view this case…"

Martel's brows rose. "What?"

Sitting back in his chair. Elijah thought before speaking. "Well, it seems to be that we are living in a time in which it would look very bad for a prosecutor, one with political ambitions, to try a black man who may or may not be the killer. Should we tread lightly with this case? Make sure that police do not find evidence which might damage the case, or even show that Marcel is not the murderer?"

Letting out a laugh, Martel shocked Elijah out of his focus. "Yes! You're brilliant, Elijah! The defense will try to make this case about race. American media will eat it up. A jury will not care what the evidence is, they'll care more about not convicting a man and looking like a bunch of jackasses." He slapped his hands together. "That is why you make sure that they do not make this case into anything to do with race. Make them forget all of that. Make sure that at least half the jury are people of color. And make sure they see Marcel as a threat. That this case hinged upon money and power."

Now wanting to curl up and hide under his boss's desk, Elijah forced himself to be quiet. Martel began to smile. "Yes. We can make sure we win this case. We can't not win it. If we don't, I might lose the confidence of the people."

Elijah bit his tongue and did not remind his boss that he was one of the people, and that his vote counted as well.

Chuckling, Martel went back around his desk. "You're dismissed, Elijah. Have a good day."

Forcing himself to stand up, Elijah tried not to think about how horrified he was to be taking this case. He knew he could make a jury understand that the facts of the case were that Marcel would have motive for killing his father: including a general dislike of the man, for many issues including the fact that his father was horrible to him—and not withstanding that, yes, there was one hell of an inheritance on the line.

However, Elijah felt disgusted with the possibility that Marcel was not guilty. Whatever the case may be, the evidence would speak for itself and Elijah would find out whether he believed Marcel to be a killer.

~0~

Going home that day, Elijah thought he could get some sleep, but that did not seem to be in the cards. A knock on his door made him force himself out of his bed.

Grumbling to himself, Elijah ran a hand over his face and yawned. He answered the intercom. "Yes?"

"It's Klaus. Let me in!" Klaus shouted.

Falling back on the balls of his feet, Elijah allowed his head to fall forward. He gave it a good shake before he hit the buzzer and then went to open the door. Klaus stood in the hallway, a pair of suitcases in hand. "Move," he snapped.

"What?" Elijah groaned, already moving as Klaus plowed his way inside. "Niklaus, what is the meaning of…this?" He waved a hand at his brother's suitcases.

"I gave up my flat. Like a fool. Thought Caroline wanted to move in. Turns out she wants to take things a bit slower than she made it sound yesterday. I thought she was planning our honeymoon. The minute we get back to her place, she freaks out and says Fiona won't understand Tyler being gone and Caroline's moving in. So, here I am." Klaus plunked his suitcases down on the floor.

"What?" Elijah still felt uncertain. "You must be joking."

"Joking?" Klaus scoffed. "Not me. Caroline! She's the one who's joking! She's going to have to grovel to get me back! That is for sure! Where is your bottle opener?" Klaus had marched over to the alcohol cabinet and begun to rummage through it.

Then the buzzer rang again. Elijah looked at it with an accusatory glare before he went over. "Hello?"

"You wanker!" Rebekah shrieked into the intercom. "How could you, Elijah!"

"What's that about?" Klaus asked, uncorking a bottle with his teeth and spitting the cork into the sink before taking a long gulp from the bottle.

"Use a glass, you animal," Elijah grunted, buzzing Rebekah up before someone called the police.

Rebekah began to pound on the door and almost punched Elijah in the face. She stopped her balled fingers from making contact with her brother's cheekbone with an inch to spare. "What have you done?" she growled out.

"What has he done?" Klaus asked, taking a seat on the counter.

Elijah glared at Klaus who ignored him. Rebekah moved in between them as Elijah closed the door. "He!" she pointed at Elijah with a shaking finger. "Is going to prosecute my boyfriend for killing his father."

"Father's dead?" Klaus choked out. Then he smiled. "Cheers to that."

Rebekah let out a snarl. "Not our father, his father. Gerard. The son of a bitch!"

"Careful, Bekah. Someone might think you're the who-done-it," Klaus waggled a finger at Rebekah.

Letting out a growl, Rebekah stalked over and ripped the bottle from Klaus' grip. She lifted it and took a long swallow before continuing. "I can't believe you! How could you do this!" she cried, beginning to cry, and glare at Elijah.

Elijah moved to take the bottle from Rebekah when she brandished it like she might hit him. Holding up his hands, Elijah said, "Bekah, I am sorry –"

"Sorry! You're sorry!" Rebekah let out a bitter laugh. "That won't make up for this!" She turned and pressed her face into Klaus' shoulder. "The man I loved is going to prison. And it's all our brother's fault."

"For once I'm not getting the blame," Klaus said with a look of cheer as he rubbed Rebekah's back.

As if this was not bad enough another knock came on the door. Who could that be? Elijah wondered as he went to the door. Opening it, he let out a breath. "Kol?"

"Brother, miss me?" Kol exclaimed. He threw open his arms and walked inside, embracing Elijah. "Heard you're prosecuting one of Father's employees. That's a grand way to get the old man's goat." He stopped speaking upon seeing Rebekah. "Ah? Who broke Bekah?"

"Elijah," Rebekah wailed.

Kol turned to give Elijah a look before dropping a bag on the floor. "Whose bags are these?" Kol asked.

"Mine," Klaus said. "I'm moving in with Elijah."

"No. You're not," Elijah snapped, waving a finger at Klaus.

Kol grinned. "Me, too." He walked over to the couch and plopped down. "What's on the TV?" he used the remote to turn on the TV and like someone had it out for Elijah, the news came on with a report on Marcel's arrest. Rebekah let out another wail and Elijah decided to go into hiding.

Heading back into his bedroom, Elijah stared out the window. He wondered if Hayley was dealing with her end of their up-coming work any better than he was.

Considering the idea of calling Hayley; Elijah squashed the thought. He needed to focus on his family's crisis. Or was it crises?

Elijah moved back into the hallway and into the living room. Rebekah now sat in front of the TV, staring at it while clutching the bottle she'd stolen from Klaus. Klaus was raiding Elijah's fridge. "You're out of cheese." Klaus said, moving to the counter.

Glancing at the counter, Elijah noted that he would be out of many things. Bread. Roast beef. Mustard. Tomatoes. Right. Now, Elijah knew he had an escape. He would need to go to the grocery store.

Rebekah glanced at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "Are you happy with yourself?" she demanded.

Shaking his head, Elijah walked around the couch and took a seat on the coffee table. "Rebekah, you know that I do not wish to persecute anyone –"

"Then why are you doing it!" Rebekah demanded, wiping at her eyes. "You must know that Marcel would never do something like this." She crossed her legs and fell back on the couch. "Drop the bloody case. Before you end up looking like a fool."

Elijah sighed, linking his fingers together, he looked his sister in the eye. "Rebekah, I have yet to look at the facts of the case. When I do, I will make my decision about whether Marcel should be tried. You know that I would not prosecute this case unless I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Right thing!" Rebekah demanded. She let out a bitter laugh. "You think this is about the right thing? This is about de Martel's ego! He wants a big win! That's why he's so busily trying to prosecute that bloody drug cartel in the Quarter! And if you fail to win; then it will not be he who takes the blame. It will be you."

Without uttering another word, Rebekah got up, straightened her skirt and stomped past Klaus.

"Does that mean she won't be joining us for dinner?" Klaus asked, setting a plate in front of Kol.

Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, Elijah decided not to contemplate what his life would be like over the next weeks and months to come. It couldn't get worse…

~0~

Deciding to go to the grocery store as a means of escaping his family, Elijah pulled into the parking lot and spotted Marcel Gerard. Wonderful. Nothing like running into the man you would be prosecuting. Elijah drove past and felt happy not to be noted. Perhaps it was because Marcel had his hood up and his eyes on the ground.

A part of Elijah felt guilty. But another part wondered if Marcel was as innocent as his sister wished to believe him to be. It was not a secret that Gerard, the elder, treated Marcel with contempt and rued the day he lost his eldest. Marcel being Gerard's sole heir had left the old man bitter. He'd been noted saying that Marcel was only his heir because he had yet to create a spare.

Hideous man indeed. A man with enemies. However, as far as anyone knew thus far, Marcel was the only enemy who was found in the home on the night of the murder, with his father's blood on his shoes and clothes. This alone did not make him guilty. They would need witnesses. Character testimony. Forensics pathologists.

These were Elijah's thoughts as he locked his car and headed toward the entrance of the store, list in hand. His family intended on eating him out of house and home.

Elijah stopped when he spotted Hayley. She seemed to be having a disagreement with the cashier. A baby wailed. A man said something stupid. Hayley's voice went up as she spoke.

Moving without thought of what would happen next; Elijah jumped into action. "Excuse me. Can I help?" Elijah watched Hayley's eyes widen at the sound of his voice and then she turned to meet his gaze. He could not read her expression.

"Drop the charges," Hayley retorted. Now her eyes burned into him the way that Rebekah's had. His first instinct was to become defensive.

"I can't do that." Elijah stopped himself from adding. "You know I can't." That would just be rubbing salt in an open wound. Hayley's gaze flicked away from him and he inhaled sharply.

"Fine. Then go away," Hayley said.

Trying not to lose his temper, Elijah fished out his wallet. He was not done talking to Hayley. He removed the cash needed for her purchase and he handed it to the cashier.

"Thank you, sir." The cashier offered Elijah a smile and Hayley made some unkind noises, pushing the cart out, barely missing Elijah's toes.

All thoughts of his chore forgotten, Elijah followed Hayley out of the store. "Hayley, please, I only wish to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you," Hayley snapped, pushing the cart across the lot and closer to Marcel. Elijah could now see the man he was prosecuting in Hayley's car.

"Are you living with him now?" Elijah demanded. He took hold of Hayley's arm. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

Scoffing, Hayley jerked her arm away from Elijah. "I'm thinking that getting the hell away from you is a good idea."

Elijah stopped himself from making another move toward her. "Hayley, you do not know what happened that night. Just because he is your friend –"

"What, Elijah!" Hayley stopped pushing the cart and stomped over to stand in front of Elijah. "I don't know him? Do I know you? For all I know, you have motive to kill Gerard? Or Rebekah? Or Mikael? It could be so many people! You don't know! You weren't there! But you're happy to make a paycheck off of helping to send my best friend to prison where he could die, Elijah, did you even think of that? Will you be able to sleep at night then?"

Ending her speech, Hayley shoved the cart to her car. Marcel got out and they spoke while unloading the cart.

Shoulders rising, Elijah made his way back inside the grocery store. He found himself standing in front of the fresh fish, sniffing tuna that might be slightly off. What if Hayley was right? What if he was making a large error? What if there was another suspect, as he had just as much said to de Martel?

Sighing, Elijah went back to his shopping. Until a new suspect presented his or herself, Elijah would have to continue his work on this case and see where it led him. It did not matter if his sister would be left heartbroken, or if he might lose a woman who mattered to him more than he cared to admit; Elijah would see his work through.

Perhaps this is why his father had become that man he was today, somewhat jaded, cynical to a degree that astounded Elijah with an outlook on the justice system that perplexed Elijah's younger mind. The thought left Elijah feeling a chill. Or maybe that was because he'd found himself in the freezer section for some reason.

Thank you for reading, faving, following and reviewing.

Answer to guest reviews:

Anna: And we're moving up before we find one of those dippy things. Marcel is going to need to hold on tight as this ride goes on. You're welcome.

Peace,

-J