Chapter 14—Doubt

October 2, 2016

Miles had been in a form of depression ever since he lost to Wright. He took a week off from work to pull himself together. During that time, he took no calls, regardless of the caller. When he returned, he was ready to prosecute again, the same Demon Prosecutor he had always been. With the exception of "that case," he managed to maintain a perfect record. There was a difference, though. He was distant whenever he wasn't prosecuting, as though he was contemplating something so deep that no one else had the right to give him their input.

She had been debating in her mind ever since the trial whether or not to speak with him on the matter. So far, she had been convinced that he was going to be fine.

A knock sounded on the doors to her office.

"Come in," she said. Both doors were pushed open hard. Jake walked in as though he was some outlaw walking into a saloon. She had had the foresight to place doorstops a fair distance from the wall before calling Jake to her office. After getting a glare from Lana, Jake turned around and closed the doors. He then sauntered up to the chair in front of Lana's desk and placed his heels on her desk after seating himself, tipping his hat down. "Please take your feet off the desk, Officer Marshall," Lana said with a slight hint of distaste in her voice.

Sometimes I wonder how I ever had feelings for this man, she thought.

Jake shrugged and put his feet on the floor.

"You called, ma'am?" he asked, maintaining a tone of voice that was meant to make him sound like some star from a Western film.

"I did," Lana replied flatly. "It's about your job performance."

"Lemme guess: I haven't been showing up at my saloon."

"Exactly. A few detectives have complained that they couldn't access the evidence room because the ID Card Reader was turned off. You're supposed to be guarding the evidence room."

"A real desperado doesn't do stuff just 'cause he's supposed to."

"And a real desperado has no place in the police force. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you—"

"You're thinking about your prince, aren't you?" Jake interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"You're petting that cat he got you." Lana realized that she had been stroking her cat statuette with her right hand.

"What I'm thinking about is irrelevant. I'm arranging for your salary to be cut. If you only guard the evidence room on rare occasions, then your pay should reflect it."

"You should go talk to him. He's been staring at the moon like a coyote, but he ain't howling. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"You may go, Officer Marshall," Lana said. "And as for a destination, I'd suggest your post."

Jake shrugged, tipped his hat to Lana, and walked out of the office. Maybe he was right. Gumshoe apparently wasn't doing too well cheering Miles up. However, she also didn't want to risk her secret. Still, there was no harm in talking to him.

She waited a few minutes until she was sure Jake had left, then she got up from her desk and went to Miles's office. She knocked on the door once, even though it was about a foot open.

"Is this important?" Miles asked wistfully from behind the door.

"It is to me," Lana said, pushing the door open and closing it behind her. She walked in. Miles was sitting at his desk, his back to the door. She could smell fresh tea. The speakers on his computer were playing In the Steppes of Central Asia. "Can we talk?" she asked, standing near his desk.

If he's listening to music on the job, he really must be depressed.

"It depends on who you mean by 'we,'" he replied. "If by 'we' you mean me and Lana, then yes. If you mean me and Ms. Skye, though, I would rather not."

Lana sighed. A small smile crossed her lips. "Very well," she said, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the sofa, placing her arms in her lap. "You can talk with Lana, but on one condition."

"No discussion of your blackmailer? I accept." Miles turned around to face her. A cup of tea was in his right hand. A faint smile was on his face. "It's nice to see emotions on your face again," he said. "Thank you for that."

Lana closed her eyes. Okay, now what? If you keep this up, you'll be telling him about Gant in no time. She sighed. "I'm worried about you," she finally said.

"That's understandable," Miles said. "I've been concerned about myself. After White was proven guilty, I became ashamed of myself."

"How so?"

"I was so foolish that I allowed myself to believe without question that the defendant was always guilty." He put his tea cup down and looked out the window again. "I could have proven innocent people guilty, deprived them of thousands of dollars, sent them to prison, destroyed their families, ruined their lives… even ended them." He then looked down, his eyes closed. "I let myself be manipulated. I'm no better than Manfred von Karma!"

"Yes you are," Lana said.

"How!?" he demanded, turning to face her again.

Lana got up and took one of Miles's hands in her own. He wheeled his chair toward the sofa so she could sit down. "Miles…" she said, stroking his hand. "Von Karma only cares about his record—you said so yourself. For him, it doesn't matter if the defendant is innocent is guilty—all that matters to him is perfection. You're not like that. Yes, your record was a symbol of pride for you, but you care about justice."

"What does my reason have to do with this? I still did what I did. I prosecuted mercilessly, never once questioning the investigation."

"You would never knowingly prosecute an innocent person. It's not in you."

"Again, it means nothing. Whether I knew about it or not, the fact remains that I tried to prove at least two innocent people guilty."

"It happens," Lana said, keeping sympathy in her voice.

"It happens!?" Miles repeated, taking his hand away and looking out the window again. "That doesn't excuse my actions! People may have died because of me—innocent people!"

"Miles, look at me." Miles turned his head to face Lana. He was almost glaring. "You're not perfect. No one is. You've said yourself that there is never any way to know for sure that the defendant is guilty or innocent. All you can do is hope the investigators arrested the right person."

"Again, that's no—"

"You're right, it's no excuse for proving innocent people guilty. But look at it the other way around. Few people who are put on trial actually are innocent. For the few who are, we have the trial system so that our mistakes can be caught. Even then, the system's not perfect. Sometimes, innocent people are convicted. Sometimes, criminals are acquitted. At the least, you should be proud that no criminal has gone free on your watch."

Miles's face looked somewhat calmer, but it was obvious that he was still struggling. Lana took his hand again, this time with both of her hands. She looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes avoided hers.

"I can tell this is hard for you. But I think I also understand why. You thought you were always right. You always focused only on the task before you. As long as you had no doubt, you would feel secure. It was only when you lost to Wright—"

Miles jerked a little at the mention of Wright. Lana held his hand a little tighter and waited for him to settle down. She looked back into his eyes.

"It was only then that you saw that the investigations weren't perfect. As a result, you saw that you were not perfect, and so you began to doubt yourself. Thus, your current state of mind."

"And what do I do about it!?" he begged. His eyes were still evasive.

"Accept it."

"Accept it!?"

"Doubt's not something you can get rid of, but you can limit its effect on you. It's going to keep torturing you like this until you accept its presence."

"You mean I have to live with this weakness?" he muttered, almost inaudible, facing away again.

"Don't be fooled into thinking you're weak. Even strong people doubt themselves. Sometimes even the right choice is one you'll regret. Accept the few weaknesses you have and return to your more plentiful strengths."

Miles didn't respond. He sighed through his nose, still avoiding Lana's gaze.

"You're stronger than you're letting yourself think. The only weak thing you can do in this situation is let yourself be tortured like this." It then occurred to her that Miles probably also felt weak because he had to be comforted. "Am I helping at all?" she asked.

"You are…" Miles managed to say, turning to face her, but still not looking her in the eyes. "I'm just bothered that I need your help…"

"I told you. No one's perfect. Even people like you need help from time to time."

Miles didn't have a response for that.

"Well, you certainly can't get married alone," Lana said. "Besides, isn't that part of marriage? Depending on one another?" She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "You didn't think I'd just let you work alone once we got married, did you?"

Miles finally looked Lana in the eyes. Whether it was because he saw the smile or because he really was willing to look at her was beyond her.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," he said, closing his eyes. He opened them after a few seconds, looking directly into her eyes. "Thank you for talking to me." His voice sounded much calmer now. "I needed your help." Lana felt her smile change. She was no longer smiling to cheer Miles up. She smiled because she felt like smiling.

"Thank you for listening," Lana said. "I think you'll do just fine."

"One more thing: could you please keep this moment of weakness a secret?"

"I don't think you were weak at all, but I will."

She let go of Miles's hands and stood up to leave. Miles stood up quickly and embraced her before she could leave the office. Sighing, she put her arms around Miles. The sigh was not one of annoyance, but not one of pleasure or amusement, either. Miles's hug had been a bit of a childish impulse, but she had no problem with it.

"I love you," Miles said, still holding Lana.

"I love you, too," Lana replied as Miles released her. She then walked out of the office, fighting to remove her smile and return to her "normal" self as she did so. She closed the door behind her.

"Sounds like a couple of prospectors found gold," a familiar voice said a moment after Lana closed the door. Jake was leaning against the wall, his hat covering his eyes and his arms crossed.

"Consider yourself lucky I can't fire people for personal reasons," Lana said. She no longer needed to fight to remove her smile. Jake simply laughed. He tipped his hat back as he straightened up.

"I don't care what you think about me, Chief. But I do care what happens to you. If you're happy with that caballero, I don't got a mind to drag you away from him. He won. I lost. End of story."

"Get back to your post, Marshall."

With a shrug, Jake walked to the elevator to leave. Whether he left for his post or somewhere else was something Lana did not know, and at the moment, she did not care.

I'll bet he had that whole thing planned out from the start, she thought.

Lana returned to her office and seated herself. She saw the porcelain cat and began stroking it as though it were Barbara or Katara. It had been a long time since she had been able to be herself, and it would probably be a long time before she could again. Miles was not the only one who had needed that conversation. Not only did it relieve much of the stress Miles had, it had also relieved much of hers.