Note: I'm so sorry about last week! My math grade was in the toilet and I had to study, so the Internet and the chapter both suffered for it. Hopefully you're not all boycotting me now for ditching. Anyway, this chapter is majorly Gwen-based, and I didn't have much room for anything else, so next chapter will encompass more characters. Promise. Please read!

Chapter Twenty-three: Damsels

Once upon a time, a lovely princess waited alone in a tower for her hero. She'd waited a long, long time, and had first seen her two parents devoured by her dragon's flames. Yet she never gave up hope, dreaming and dreaming of her knight. Then one day, a strong, kind young man found the door to her prison—yet this knight had another dragon to slay, another princess to rescue. Spurned, she turned back to her dreams, but soon lost them as well. She'd given up, this damsel, by the time that promised hero knocked on her door. She'd lost hope, until she saw his shining sword drive away that dragon of loneliness from her gates.

This is where the story should end. This is where the happily ever after belongs.

Who knew, Gwen thought to herself, that the princess had to slay her prince's dragons in the end? And who'd have thought Prince Charming would have been a dragon in disguise from the beginning?

"Could you state your name and occupation for the jury?"

The girl's eyes scoured the courtroom, imagining fire surrounding her on all sides. "Gwen. I'm a waitress, a cook, and an Inn manager." She fidgeted. "Mostly a cook."

Maria fought to keep from seeing Jack O'Neil's face; this was her first witness, and it terrified her that she could mess up the beginning to the prosecution's advantage. Especially with her star witness. "Could you tell the jury your relation to the defendant?"

I can do this. I just can't look at him, that's all, because if I do it'll be all over. "We…worked together."

"Is that the extent of it, Miss Gwen?"

"No." Then, in a moment of instinct, she swerved to face the beautiful demon who haunted her dreams, and oh, how it hurt: handcuffs on those wrists that had wrapped about her waist; no light shining in those lovers' eyes; an apology waiting on his liar's lips. How had he transformed so quickly from the smiling, romantic fool she'd known? The fool she'd loved. "N-no."

Quickly she averted her stare to something more foreign, less intimidating. And then, as Gwen scoured the crowds, that other face caught hers. The figure wore a haunted look, cloaked in something Gwen could only call desperation, and her mouth formed silent words Gwen could hear all too well: "I lost my baby because of him. You'd defend the man who stole my child? The monster who ruined my life?"

"You don't want to be here, do you?" Maria asked, gentler now.

Gwen covered her eyes. "No. I don't." What had she planned to say? Everything swam in her mind now: the rehearsed replies, the insistence on remaining on-topic, and then the memories, the kisses, the laughter, the lies lies lies—!

"Ms. Monett." The judge leaned over, a frown on her lips. "Your client isn't ready to take the stand, I gather?"

"Your Honor—"

"Before you speak, Counselor, it might help if you actually gave the girl in that seat a second glance. Look at her."

Gwen buried her head on the stand in shame, crying and crying in a way she'd never thought a body could. Everything slammed her at once: the anguish, the heartache, the loneliness, the inability to decide which side was truly right, and the embarrassment of letting all this free in a room of strangers and fools. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm…I'm sorry!"

Every member of the jury's heart was breaking, and Gwen hadn't even spoken her piece yet. Maria ached for the girl, too—but in this trial, those tears were dangerous. Blame them on Skye, and not a single juror would forgive his crime. Blame them on the court, however…

"Ms. Monett. Compose your witness. Now."

"That," Maria replied, "I will do."

Her nose was running, and all that make-up that she'd painstakingly applied to her face had washed off with tears. "I'm sorry," Gwen repeated again, off-key. "I can't do it."

"Is it too painful?" Maria asked, the very picture of sympathy. "Do you still hate him for what he did?"

"I don't know. I can't decide, I just—I don't know!" Gwen shouted, covering her eyes. "I don't know what I want to say on the stand, what's right, what's true, what's…I just don't want to lie."

"No one's asking you to."

"Are you so sure about that?" Gwen whispered. Her whole body trembled, but at least she seemed to be relaxing more; her breathing had become regular once again. "You have to understand. I'm standing in front of a woman who's been wronged, Ms. Monett. I'm standing in front of a mother whose child was kidnapped from her, and at the same time, I'm standing in front of a man I'd have jumped hurdles for—a man who, despite everything I want to believe, is a liar and a cheat. What am I supposed to say in front of them both? I can't just stand on the fence, Ms. Monett, and I can't pick a side, either. I don't think I can do this."

"Then don't." The voice was male, familiar, soft. His pale face turned from Maria's shocked expression to Gwen's weepy eyes, and Skye murmured, "I don't see why you're apologizing, Gwen. I should be, not you."

"Shut up. I don't want to talk to you." Gwen rubbed at her eyes and fixed her eyes on Maria, ignoring him pointedly. "Please, Ms. Monett, I don't know what I should—"

"Don't get on the stand. Step down. It's fine if you do."

Maria whirled on her client, all those heresies from his mouth spoken calmly, sanely, and damnably out loud. "You can't be serious," she hissed to him.

"I can't step down even if I want to," Gwen snapped back. "I'm stuck here, you know why? Because of that silver tongue of yours, Skye, and that stupid heart of mine you broke. It's official: I can't get out of testifying."

"You can if Maria lets you."

And Maria will most certainly not. Okay, so Gwen didn't want to testify. Not many people did. And maybe this was tough on her, but hell, it'd been tough on Claire, and she'd stood up there, hadn't she? Gwen didn't need to pick a side as far as Maria Monett was concerned; she just needed to make Skye's side look good in some small way to make up for what O'Neil had done to ruin it. Basically, without Gwen? The case would fail.

And damn Skye, but he had to know it.

"What are you saying?" Gwen whispered—exactly what Maria was thinking.

Skye picked at the cuff of his clothes, shrugging slightly. "I've made you experience enough pain already. I don't see why…well…I don't want to keep hurting you." He shut his eyes, and Gwen could swear something moist laid there. "Especially if it's just to save myself."

Oh, for the love of God, he wasn't. "Think about what you're doing," the lawyer urged, and both Skye and Gwen took her words to mean themselves.

"Gwen." The thief paused, wishing more than anything that his hands were free to hold her own. "Say something. Please."

"If I go up there or don't, I'm not doing anything to protect you," she spoke in a tone of frost. "You begged me to come here. Why do you want me to go away now?"

"Because you deserve better than this. And I'm not entirely sure…if I don't."

Maria caught a look from the judge, and she grimaced. "Would someone please decide something now?"

Gwen's eyes flitted from the floor to Skye's meek expression. Lifting a single eyebrow, the cook murmured, "I'm not testifying. You know that, don't you?"

A slow, steady nod. "I understand."

No. No no no. This was not happening. Maria Monett's case was not falling through the cracks over one weepy little witness. It simply wouldn't happen. And yet, Skye had already taken his seat, shaking his gorgeous head of silver hair as he imagined all the horrors to befall him in the future behind prison walls. Maria wanted to throw up; something seemed to be clogging up her throat—regret, anger, maybe both.

"Ms. Monett?" Gwen tugged on her arm, and Maria seethed at her, wondering how this selfish girl could dare to speak a word to her now, after turning her back on both Skye and the case. "I'm ready."

"For what?" was the dry response.

"To testify," Gwen answered, wiping her eyes. "Not for Skye. For me." She laughed to herself, a beautiful sound in Maria's ears. "I meant everything I said, Ms. Monett, about lying or protecting him. But I just needed to know if he was using me, or if he truly cared about me all this time. And I think…I think I know now." A tiny smile lit up her tear-streaked face. "No, I'm positive of it."

"Counselor! Today!"

"Absolutely, Your Honor." Ms. Monett cleared her throat. "I'd like to bring Miss Gwen back to the witness stand."

"Wonderful. Then please tell the witness to get her butt over here. We don't have all day, you know."

"My apologies. It won't happen again."

Not on my watch.

"I am sure," Maria began, pacing as she re-worked her questions, "that the jury and the court are wondering why you were crying just now. Would you please tell them?"

Gwen cracked a small smile. "Um, that's surprisingly direct. I'm just a little…overwhelmed right now, haha." Understatement of the century.

"Maybe if you told the jury your relationship with Skye the Phantom Thief, they could understand why."

"I'm his girlfriend." The words sent a shockwave through the jury, half of them sighing and shaking their heads, the other half leaning in closer to listen. "I'm also technically his boss, for the past two seasons, anyway."

"Girlfriend," Maria repeated. "You must not want him to go to jail, correct?"

"I honestly don't know what I want," Gwen admitted. "I guess…justice? I don't know. This trial isn't about me, anyway."

Well, Maria couldn't argue with that. "How did you meet Skye the Phantom Thief?"

"I caught him in my kitchen one night," Gwen began. "He was starving, and I had some curry out. I kinda brought out my broom and threatened him, but then we talked, and I found out he had a baby he was trying to take care of. So of course I tried to help him out."

"What did you do?"

"Offered him a job at the inn. He worked as a waiter for room and board, and we never got a single complaint from any of our customers about him." Gwen straightened up. "He was a perfect gentleman, actually."

"Is it fair to say that you can account for every day Skye has spent with Willow from his being hired in early Fall to this day?"

"Yeah, that's about right."

"How would you describe his interaction with Willow?"

Could you give giggles a description? What about hugs? That warm fuzzy glow you get from watching someone radiate with love? "He adored her," Gwen said simply. "More, even, than he loved me." She wondered if the jury cared that Skye couldn't work a diaper his first day at the Inn, but that he learned how to work it damn fast. She looked at the men in the jury and thought, would any of them sing a lullaby to a little girl? Rock her to sleep? Treat her like a princess not for a day, but for a lifetime?

"Did he ever harm her?"

"Never. Nothing violent or aggressive at all."

"Did baby Willow act unhappy at any point?"

"Let me tell you, I've met some unhappy babies," Gwen laughed. "Willow? She's not one of them." It was as if Gwen had never cried at all; suddenly the girl felt giddy, being able to recall legit memories without the cross of guilt on her shoulders. "This isn't so bad. Go ahead, Ms. Monett, ask me another."

"…This isn't a game, Miss Gwen."

"O-oh, I wasn't saying that at all!" the girl replied, blushing. "I was just…" Answering the questions right for once. "Sorry."

Suddenly the star witness wasn't looking so stellar in Maria's eyes. Then again, what did she expect from an eighteen-year-old girl? Perfection? "Did Skye ever do anything to suggest he'd be a bad parent?"

This Gwen pondered. Maria didn't like pondering; the answer was supposed to be a straight-out "No" spoken with absolute confidence. Gwen was trailing off-script so far that Maria was getting lost. "I'm not sure," Gwen spoke finally. "I haven't had a parent for so long that I can't really say what makes one bad. I don't know if there's such a thing as a bad parent, to tell you the truth. There's something good about everyone, isn't there?"

"Objection," O'Neil called. "This is a courtroom, not a Hallmark card."

"Overruled," Judge WP stated. "If you were listening, Counselor, her statement actually corresponded with your argument. Don't burn bridges."

Embarrassed, O'Neil sat down. Maria couldn't help but smile at that, even if the judge had been completely correct on that point against her case.

"Did Skye ever have second thoughts about Willow while working at your Inn?"

"No—wait. Yes." Gwen bit her lip, the information coming slowly but surely. "Um, I was in this race back in Fall, and Skye packed up with Willow to leave. I caught him by accident half-way to the town gate. He decided against it in the end."

"Any reason, Miss Gwen?"

"The one he gave me," Gwen replied, "is that he loved me." And you can take that however you damn please.

"Miss Gwen, if Skye the Phantom Thief walked out of this courtroom with his daughter in his arms, what do you believe their fate would be?"

Here Gwen took in a steady breath. "We'd rehire him at the Inn. I'd stay by his side and help raise Willow. Everything would be…well, it wouldn't be the same, but it'd be pretty close, wouldn't it?"

"Would he steal?"

"Objection! The witness isn't a mind-reader."

"Withdrawn. Do you believe, based on your time spent with Skye, that he would steal?" Maria rephrased.

"He never stole during his two seasons with me," Gwen answered. "He didn't run, either. I don't think that would change."

"No further questions."

Skye, too soon, let himself breathe.

Jack O'Neil remembered Gwen from the Inn. He remembered the soup of the day even better, probably because his other Armani suit was still soaked with it. "Gwen." He smiled, and Gwen thought, What sharp teeth you have. "Do you still love Skye?"

"Steiner, technically. But I do."

"How old are you again, Miss Gwen?"

"One season until I'm nineteen."

"So you're only eighteen?" Jack whistled. "Man, when I was eighteen, I was just learning how to work out taxes, live on my own, and grow a goatee." He winked. "Obviously that last one didn't work out."

"Objection," Ms. Monett drawled. "Relevance of Mr. O'Neil's life story?"

"It's not hurting either side, Your Honor," the prosecutor chuckled.

Judge WP sighed. "Overruled. But Mr. O'Neil, so help me, if we start hearing about your baby years, I'm agreeing with Ms. Monett on this one."

"When you're eighteen, you're just starting life, aren't you?" Jack rephrased. "Had you ever been in love before meeting Skye, Miss Gwen?"

The blonde held her head high. "Yes. As a matter of fact."

"Really?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "How about kissed a boy?"

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. "Well. No."

"Interesting." Jack O'Neil enjoyed watching her squirm in the witness seat before questioning her once again. "Are you a virgin, Miss Gwen?"

"Objection! This holds absolutely no relevance to the prosecution's case!" Maria shouted, Gwen's cheeks a decided shade of red. "I fail to see how bullying my witness does anything but make Mr. O'Neil look nosy."

"Sustained. Mr. O'Neil, for God's sake," Judge WP groaned, "make this testimony get somewhere. Now."

He shrugged. "So you're 'in love' with Skye the Phantom Thief," he commented, smirking at the two words. "You've never kissed a boy but him, all he's done is lied to you, and yet you get on this stand and proclaim that you 'love' him and that he's the perfect portrait of a father?"

"What do you want me to do, Mr. O'Neil?" Gwen retorted. "Lie?"

Jack sidestepped her rage; this was looking better and better for the jury, wasn't it? The angrier she got, the more defensive she looked, and the worse Skye appeared for seducing a sweet young girl to his side. Excellent.

"How well did you know Willow, Miss Gwen?"

"Wonderfully well. I changed her diapers, I played peek-a-boo, I held her when she cried, and I watched Skye do the exact same thing—except better." Determined, she added, "I even heard her first word."

Jack almost laughed. "Really? Could you share it with the court?"

"Ma," Gwen answered. "She called me Ma." A little sob broke out in the court, and only when Gwen turned did she see Claire shaking in her seat. Oh, no. Why did I say that?

"So Skye had kept this baby with you for so long," Jack stated, "that Willow had begun confusing you to be her mother? That psychologically, by being pulled away from her real mother, Willow found herself needing a substitute?"

"How should I know, Mr. O'Neil?" Gwen snapped. "I'm not a psychologist. I'm just a cook."

"And you're not Willow's real mother. You're just an eighteen-year-old cook in love with a lying, kidnapping thief, aren't you?" Jack whirled away from the witness stand and shrugged. "No further questions, Your Honor. The prosecution brings Miss Gina Aires to the stand."

Gwen got out of her seat and ran.

There were times Gwen had wanted a mother. When making cards in school for Mother's Day. When learning how to use make-up for the first time. When shopping for her first bra. When Bob rejected her. When Skye got arrested.

Now.

Bathrooms always had the scratchiest paper towels, but they were out of tissues, and Gwen couldn't believe she'd broken down crying twice in one day. She'd thought she was doing well. She'd thought that her defense had been honest and true.

She'd thought wrong. Again.

In her mind, Gwen imagined someone hugging her tight, telling her she'd done her best no matter what. Someone was whispering in her ear that she was beautiful, the best daughter anyone could ever ask for, and it didn't matter that some prosecutor thought otherwise, or that the whole jury probably thought the same. She imagined it, because if she didn't, Gwen knew she'd just break down all over again.

There was a creak, and Gwen jumped at the sound of someone exiting a bathroom stall. The woman walked over to the sink, running the water over her hands, and tried to ignore the tears and sobs coming from this girl's tiny body. "Is there any soap in the dispenser?" the lady asked, and only when she spoke did Gwen hear the hitch in her voice.

"Um. Y-yeah."

The water ran in the silence.

"Do you need a tissue?"

Gwen shook her head, but the woman fetched one out of her purse just the same. "You know," the lady murmured again, "I'm, uh, I'm sorry about what happened out there." She stared at the drain. "It wasn't supposed to be about you."

"…I know."

"You're a complete stranger to me," Claire whispered, marveling. "I barely know a thing about you. Just your name, and the fact that you're the woman who's loved my child while I couldn't." Her knees buckled. "Did she…was she happy?"

Gwen nodded slowly. "Absolutely."

"And he truly cared for her, didn't he?"

The mother stared at her anxiously, and it stunned Gwen that she needed to know the answer to that question so desperately. "He treated her like God's gift to Earth. I didn't lie on that stand, Ms. Claire."

"I know," Claire whispered. "But neither did I."

They stood in silence, woman and girl, and it occurred to them both how similar they were: both born in trying circumstances, both once in love with the same man, and hurt consequently for it. But mostly, both wished, with all their heart, for the baby they both loved to be back in their arms.

"Baby Willow looks just like you," Gwen offered finally, breaking the trance. "She's beautiful."

Startled, Claire blushed. "Th-thank you." Strange, wasn't it, how the words of a stranger could fill a heart with such warmth? I want to return the favor, she found herself realizing. I want to apologize for bringing her here. "The way he looks at you?" Claire spoke, staring at the floor. "I've never seen that before. Never directed at me."

With these unexpected gifts between them, Gwen and Claire smiled—weak, unsure smiles—and crossed past each other to the courtroom.