Oh yeah, I do not own W.I.T.C.H. or any of the characters, the plot is totally a work of my twisted little mind...

Chapter 25: Do Things A Little Different

Taranee's POV

Okay, it's time. I can hear everyone starting to get up. I have to face this day. As I open my eyes to the day, I'm greeted by the smile and blue eyes of Elyon.

"Morning!" Elyon squeaks cheerfully. There's no telling how long she's been watching me waiting for me to wake up. But I'm nowhere near as chipper this morning as she is.

I roll to my back and reply, "Morning El." Looking around the Lair guest room, it looks exactly the way it did when I came in last night, but today something is different. Today, I'll be different. After today, I don't know where I'll be tomorrow, but I have to just have faith that everything will work out.

So I start my day, jostling with Cornelia, Hay Lin and Elyon for the bathroom mirror to get ready. Somehow we all finish in time for Mrs. Lair, uh Anna, to stuff plates of waffles and sausages at us before we leave. I'm so nervous, but I try to hide it and force myself to eat.

I must not be doing a good job of hiding my feelings because Mr. Lair leans over and places a gentle hand on mine and tells me, "Don't worry honey, it'll be okay – just you wait and see."

I can feel my eyes filling with tears and I really don't want to cry. I shouldn't cry right?

I mean, if I'm going to be an emancipated minor won't I have to be able to handle things like an adult without blubbering my eyes out?

So why do I feel the tears falling? Why won't my body listen to me? Why does it feel so comforting for Mr. Lair to hold me like my dad used to? Maybe just once more I can be a kid and let a big brave adult make it all better for a few minutes.

Will's POV

I really miss Matt. I'm not looking forward to sitting in the courtroom. His presence would be a much needed source of comfort. I think all of the girls feel the same way, since none of the guys – not even Irma or Cornelia's dads are present. I had been certain that they all would be here to make a united front of support for Taranee. But Matt dropped me at Irma's house and left with Caleb immediately for points unknown.

So we – Taranee, Irma, Elyon, Hay Lin, Cornelia and myself – trooped into the courthouse, following Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Lair as if to the gallows. Taranee did her best to look calm and composed, but the way she held my hand in a death grip let me know just how scared she was. We walk through the marble accented halls, too scared to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. The building is both beautiful and intimidating with all of its fine architecture. The elevator deposited our group on the second floor into a large looming hall with several sets of double doors spaced along its length. The doors were tall and looked to be made of thick pieces of intricately carved oak. Its not far to our destination: family court room 222. Inside, the judge's bench was large and imposing, flanked on one side by a mousey looking woman seated at a typewriter of some sort and on the other side was what I could only assume was the witness seat. A solidly built, middle-aged man in a police-like uniform, wearing a gun holstered prominently at his side, busied himself placing documents on the two tables directly in front of the judge's bench.

Mrs. Hale had warned us that any of us could be called to the stand. She coached us to remain calm and answer truthfully, keeping our responses brief. My stomach pitched woefully at the thought of having to take the stand. I shook my head and told my errantly nervous stomach to knock it off. What kind of friend would I be if I was too afraid to step up for one of my best friends? No matter what, I am determined to stand up for Taranee today.

Taranee moved to sit at one of the two tables in front of the judge. Mrs. Hale joined her as the rest of our entourage shuffled into the first row of seats just behind the rail that separated Taranee's seat from ours.

Behind us, Mr, and Mrs. Cook and another woman entered quietly. The woman, obviously the Cook's lawyer, wore a crisp navy blue pant suit – I guess it was what you could call a 'power suit', it made her look very serious. She had short brown hair with flecks of grey and looked to be older than my parents early 40's. They quietly placed themselves at the table reserved for the opposite side. I noted how Mrs. Cook directed a disdainful look in our direction after seating herself. I did my best to ignore the childish behavior.

Who knew that someday, I'd be viewing an adult as childish? But there's no other way to explain her behavior. Even with the seed of discord removed, the hate that it had fed off of continued to poison her. Mrs. Cook had no room for love and forgiveness in her heart – and it was sad to see. It was sad to watch as her family fell apart while she failed to realize what effect her actions were having.

The sounds of feet tapping impatiently, shuffling papers, and throats being cleared echoed in the room, devoid of conversation as we waited for the judge. Shortly after we settled in to wait, Officers Manly and Dane entered and sat behind the Cooks and their lawyer. After about twenty minutes, the bailiff called the room to attention and introduced the judge.

"All rise, for the Honorable Judge Tiffany Rizoli," the bailiff intoned.

A short round woman in a black robe with silver collar and silver framed glasses entered from a rear door, climbing to the elevated seat of honor. The judge had pure silver hair cut in a flattering page-boy style, a pug-like nose and soft brown eyes – one look at her made you thing she could be someone's grandma. She carried a manilla folder which she set on the desk carefully before seating herself. Once seated, she looked around the room, taking in the parties at both tables then review those of us in the gallery. When she finished her perusal, she nodded to the bailiff and said, "Good Morning. The first case this morning is docket Number, 915256, Cook versus Cook."

The judge opened the folder and began, "We are here reviewing the reported abuse of a minor and hearing a the petition for emancipation of said minor. The petitioner of emancipation, Taranee Cook is here, represented by attorney Elizabeth Hale." The judge paused and looked up as in response to their names and titles Taranee and Mrs. Hale nodded dutifully. The judge continued, "And the respondents, Lionel and Theresa Cook, are here, represented by attorney BryceAnn Johnson."

Likewise the Cooks and their attorney identified themselves to the judge. The judge pushed her glasses up on her nose and dove right in, explaining to all, "I have already reviewed all of the notes and medical records associated with this case. It is with great disappointment, I am tasked to sit for a case of a peer, someone I would normally hold in great esteem...someone that by virtue of our chosen profession I should not have in my courtroom. But history is full of situations where we are forced to accept that people are people – no matter what their profession or life passion. That being said, let's begin."

The judge then focused on Taranee and said, "Taranee, I want you to come and take a seat here in the witness chair so that I may better see your face.

As Taranee stiffly moved to comply Ms Johnson interjected, "Your honor, that's not-." It was obvious that she did not want the judge to get a close up view of Taranee's swollen face, bruised jaw, cut lip and lingering black eye.

"I'm going to do things a little different today," the judge cut her off sharply. Removing her glasses, she peered stone-faced at Mrs. Johnson. Judge Rizoli continued, "It is obvious she has suffered severe violence, so let's just wade through all the crap of trying to deny it. I have multiple affidavits - from several officers, her school nurse and teachers stating her physical status in class the days prior as well as the medical team that treated her not once but twice in the last 24 hours for injuries sustained in her home. I want to see for myself what was done to this child."

I noted how Mrs. Johnson flinched back just the slightest bit deflated. I was also surprised at the mention of so many sworn statements, obviously Mrs. Hale had been very busy yesterday.

As Taranee eased into the seat, the bailiff stepped forward and swore her in to tell the truth and only the truth.

Judge Rizoli looked over the left side of her desk and said in a soothing tone, "Taranee, can you look at me, please? I need to see your face clearly."

I could tell she was self-conscious about the request but she complied meekly giving the judge a good look at the slowly healing skin of her face.

After a moment the judge clucked her tongue and asked, "How did you get so beaten up?"

I could see Taranee's lip quiver at the question. But the judge said with concern, "Take your time, we just need to get to the bottom of this so we can decide what is best for you."

"Your Honour!" This time it was Mrs. Cook that spoke up.

The judge turned and banged her gavel as she warned sternly, "You are out of order Mrs. Cook. You may be confused by the familiar surroundings, but this is my house, we will do things my way. You will get your turn to be heard – when I'm ready to hear you. I suggest you wait patiently for it, lest you find yourself the recipient of a contempt charge."

Chastened, Mrs. Cook reseated herself and look appropriately chagrined. Mr. Cook remained silent and passive at her side.

Taranee stared stricken at the judge, her mouth open but no words coming out. From the back of the court room, the faintest sound of the doors opening could be heard. I turned to see Matt, Caleb, Nigel, Eric, Mr. Hale, Mr. Lair and another gentleman file in. Taranee peeked up and caught sight of Nigel and her posture relaxed just the slightest bit, but still she seemed to lack the words the judge wanted to hear.

I think the judge understood how hard it was for Taranee as she asked a more simple question of Taranee, "Let's start small, tell me about Monday night."

Looking more confident, Taranee took in a deep breath and began relating how after school she came home to her mother demanding she sign a rape complaint against Nigel and her refusal leading to a left hook that caused her deeply bruised jaw and eye.

When she finished speaking, the judge asked, "And what happened after you were hit?"

"Um, I was sent to my room with my dinner and told to stay there."

"Did you receive any medical care?"

"My brother, Peter, managed to get me a bag of ice. The next day, I was sent to the nurse's office at school when my first period teacher saw me. Nurse Tanaka also notified the police," Taranee replied softly.

"And what happened on Tuesday?" Judge Rizoli inquired.

Again, Taranee obediently answered, telling the tale of how she was beaten and saved by Nigel and three policemen. Again the judge asked about how and when she received medical attention.

As Taranee related her two trips to the hospital, I scanned the room. I realized that even more people had quietly entered – Susan Vandom, Nurse Tanaka and two of our teachers. The gallery was literally full of people that I could only hope were there to help Taranee.

"Okay, Taranee why don't you return to your seat and we will begin the formal proceedings now," Judge Rizoli gently ordered.

As Taranee found her way back too her seat, the judge announced, "Mrs. Hale, you may proceed with your opening statement."

Mrs. Hale rose and eloquently began to summarize Taranee's situation and the dire need for the court to intervene on her behalf. The judge listened intently, occasionally thumbing through the file she had carried into the court room.

As her opening argument, the Cook's lawyer droned on about the upstanding character of her clients and their desire to hold their family together through their daughter's rebellious period. I wanted to gag then I thought it would be better if she gagged on all of the poop she was spewing.

A very systematic progression began of Mrs. Hale calling up witnesses from the mass gathered in the gallery. She had them explain their knowledge of Taranee and their part in aiding her after the start of the abuse. It was unanimous that everyone was shocked at how quickly Mrs. Cook's normally protective and strict behavior had become openly hostile and physical.

For her rebuttals, Ms. Johnson focused on Taranee's relationship with Nigel, trying unsuccessfully to cast Taranee as a diva daughter gone wild. Then while Ms. Johnson, was interrogating Ms. Salter, our homeroom teacher, Dr. Singh entered and walked straight to Mrs. Hale's seat tapping her lightly on the shoulder and handing her an official looking file. Mrs. Hale looked up then lifted slightly indicating that the doctor should join her and Taranee at the table. Mrs. Hale skimmed the file focusing on flagged pages.

When Ms. Johnson sat down, Mrs. Hale stood and asked, "Your honor, may we approach the bench?"

In reply to Judge Rizoli's questioning look, Mrs. Hale stated, "We have the results of the tests run during Taranee's last visit for her kidneys. I believe her current health situation is pertinent to today's proceedings."

"I will allow it, counsel please approach the bench."

Mrs. Hale and Ms. Johnson approached the desk and Mrs. Hale handed the file to the judge. Both lawyers waited as the judge reviewed the new information. After a moment of perusal, the judge looked up and said, "Court is in recess for 1 hour, I want both counsel in my chambers immediately."

Then before leaving she added, "Miss Cook, please use this time to meet with your doctor. Based on these lab results they will need to administer more medications immediately." Her gaze lingered on Taranee and that's when I noticed how tired and uncomfortable she looked. We had been sitting in the stiff, unforgiving chairs for close to three hours and it was taking a toll on her wounded body.

As the judge and two lawyers left through the side door, the bailiff came over and offered to take Taranee to a room she could more comfortably rest while receiving the medications.

We all followed quietly down the hall to a small unmarked door that the bailiff opened with a key from a chain at his waist. Inside was a small sitting room furnished with a couple of nice couches, and a small round table surrounded by four padded chairs. Dr. Singh and his nurse pushed to the front of our crowd of support and asked everyone to step out while they administered the medication. We left reluctantly, no one more upset at being pushed out than Nigel. He paced like a caged animal until the nurse opened the door. Needless to say Nigel was the first person into the room, perching as close to Taranee as possible as she reclined comfortably on one of the couches.

The doctor had mounted a portable IV and had the line attached to Taranee's arm. Looking at her close-up for the first time since we had arrived I noted a yellow tint to her eyes.

"Taranee!" I exclaimed, forgetting how many people were in the room.

"What's wrong?" Hay Lin asked and I heard several feet working through the press of supporters trying to get closer.

"Her eyes...they're yellow," I said aghast – while I didn't know what it meant I know its not normal.

Doctor Singh looked up for the table where he sat making notes in a file and said in a calm voice, "Everyone remain calm. Taranee has a mild case of jaundice that is making her eyes discolored. By the time court returns to session you'll see a marked difference and hopefully Taranee will be feeling the difference in her back too."

No one knew how hard Taranee had been fighting against the pain in her kidneys as she sat through the testimonies. But she finally confessed how bad she was feeling for the last two hours, describing the pain in her back as unbearable. Dr. Singh commented how surprised he was that she had not passed out yet and it was good that they were responsive to her need for treatment and called for a break immediately.

Hearing this, Mrs. Lair began to shoo everyone but the doctor, the nurse and Nigel from the room – ordering us all out to allow Taranee to rest.

I walked out of the room feeling numb. One of my best friends was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do to help. I felt anxious, wanting to use my guardian powers to heal her, but I couldn't. So I was left with the hope that she could make it through today, through all the obstacles child protective services could throw at her until we could find a time and place to help her.

Matt came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders offering comfort. I felt my body sag as I let out a heavy breath. He turned me in his arms and pulled me to his chest. I struggled to pull in air to my heavy chest, finally giving in to sobbing gasps that took over my body.

Matt held me and coo'd soothing words while I fell apart. I clung to him... Matt...my lifeline, my love, the other part of my soul.

"Don't let go," I whimpered.

"Shh, baby, I'm not going anywhere. Just let it out and I'll be here to keep you safe," he intoned softly as I continued to weep.

"Will," my mother's voice broke into my thoughts and the solace of Matt's arms.

Matt pulled me closer and told my mother in a no-nonsense voice, "If you plan to say or do anything to upset her, just know that I will take my Shaygon form and make you regret it. So I suggest you walk away now before things get out of hand."

I kept my face pressed into his jacket and listened to the sound of shoes clicking away from us. I dared to peek up at Matt, to see his jaw set stonely. I know that look, that's his protector face. He's protecting me and soothing me while I'm vulnerable.

"I love you so much," I whispered. As Matt pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead, I realized how much I need him. Finally able to look around, I see my friends and family sharing similar moments of comfort. Its such a calming feeling to know that you are surrounded by people that love and understand you.

It renews my determination to stand by Taranee as she fights for her love, the other part of her soul. I feel stronger and start to wipe the tears from my eyes and prepare for court to resume.

Cheers!

6/1/2015 6:11 PM PST