Note: Hey, wow, three weeks late, I fail at life. Gah. I am so easily distracted, and I've got this job, guys. It sucks. But hey, I think next chapter will be speedier since it'll be majorly fun to write, which you'll know from the end of this long-belated chappie. It's amazing, though, how much you watch your own characters change in a story. They continue to surprise you, y'know? And that's what makes writing them so incredible. :)
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Metamorphosis
When do our mistakes happen? There has to be a starting point, somewhere—a path connecting each little nuance in our lives to lead to that one fault line. Perhaps it was a father's departure. A girl's misguided passion. A boy's lonely heart. Could you name a thousand of those things, and still never find an answer?
Skye thought so.
He didn't know Jill Dawn. Honestly, he didn't have to; the brunette had already sized him up and down, found him lacking, and planned to drill his pathetic existence into the ground. Strangely, knowing that made him calm. Empty. Unfeeling.
"Mr. Skye. Is it true that during your testimony just now, you've confessed to kidnapping Willow?"
"I'd say yes."
"And yet you're pleading Not Guilty?"
"That is correct."
Jill smirked; somehow she appeared older than Jack had been, more jaded by the world. "So how, do you figure, does it help you to tell the jury exactly the opposite of that—that you did in fact kidnap her?"
"I'm being honest."
"No, you're not. If you were honest, you would ask for a ruling that matched your claim."
"I—" The thief lowered his eyes. "I suppose," he murmured, "that would sound logical to you, wouldn't it?"
"But not to you?"
"I believe my crime doesn't warrant that…extreme…sort of sentence."
"Yet you've committed a crime, Mr. Skye. There is no denying of this fact. It doesn't matter if you blame your father, Ms. Claire's past, your paternal compassion, any of it. It cannot and will not change the simple truth that you stole this baby, who did not belong to you by law, and came into this courtroom expecting the world to turn a blind eye."
He looked up at her from behind long silver bangs, eyes dull. Every fact of reality hit him with a sickening thud, and yet Skye could swear he'd never felt so numb. "I expect the world to understand," he clarified.
"I think the world understands better than you seem to. You have no real reason for kidnapping the child except for spiting Doctor Trent and his wife; except wondering if you could be a decent father; except selfishness, really." She whirled on him, ponytail swaying, and pointed. "You've admitted to this. It is on court records."
"I know that."
"So why the Not Guilty?"
Why? Skye shut his eyes; oh God, he could think of a thousand reasons why. To still see that baby girl smile. To be able to hold Gwen close and apologize for all those tears. To walk freely in sunlight. To…well, to live.
The better question was why not, really.
"I see. Silence." Jill sighed. "You expect the jury to release you on feelings of pity and sentiment. But isn't it fair, Mr. Skye, to say that Claire deserves the benefit of these emotions, not yourself? You made yourself a victim. But don't forget—you made her a victim, first." Her eyes hardened. "Can you deny that?"
"I can," Skye whispered. "But I won't."
"Well. The prosecution rests."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You were brought to this courtroom expecting to handle a case about a kidnapping, and I'm sure that's exactly what Ms. Jill Dawn will say in her closing. Our country's laws state clearly that yes, taking a child without proper custody is kidnapping. Has Skye the Phantom Thief done this? He himself gave you his answer. But here is the side of the story that the law does not give.
"Convicting Skye the Phantom Thief protects no one. Convicting Skye the Phantom Thief robs a little girl of even the possibility of being close with her true father. Convicting Skye the Phantom Thief merely feeds a mother's need for justice, and isn't taking this child from him justice enough?
"The law states things in clear lines. However, what you the jury do is not required to follow those lines alone. Ask yourselves. Is putting this man behind bars, a man so humbled that he'd tell the damning truth in this courtroom, truly the purpose of your being here today? No one is asking you to give him that baby girl. This trial is not about custody. This trial is about how deserving this man is of the punishment you're ready to place upon him. Remember: you twelve will leave this courtroom and enter into your normal lives easily enough. However, the verdict you choose will decide the rest of Skye's life. Yes, Skye committed a crime. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, tell me, how much does one impulsive crime deserve?" Maria paused and gave them one single glance. "Decide wisely."
"For the past two seasons, Skye the Phantom Thief has lived free from blame. For the past twenty-two years of his life, he's lived free from repercussions, period. Ms. Monett has said to you just now that his crime may not warrant punishment. Ask yourselves, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, whether one act of drunk driving warrants arrest. Now ask yourselves that when it results in a car crash and an innocent death. Same crime, different outcome. Laws exist for a reason: breaking them can result in breaking more than order.
"If you let Skye the Phantom Thief leave this courtroom on a cloud of pity and well-meaning kindness, I want you to imagine his future. There will be a custody trial, no doubt. And assuming that jury is just as forgiving as you may choose to be, Willow will once again be taken from her parents to be with a man who felt his blood gave him the right to play God. He could have tried the law system; he could have merely asked Ms. Claire to visit his baby girl. This is a man who has no respect for the workings of society; this is a man who feels society should work around him."
Ms. Dawn took in a breath and pointed to the audience.
"If this were your child, here, would you want to see her kidnapper go free? If Willow were your baby girl and you woke up to see her taken, would you want to see him walk through these doors? Skye admits to making a mistake. However, he knew the possible consequences before going in. This is not a red-faced young boy standing before you; this is a full-grown man who knows he freely and willingly broke the law. Would you trust him with that freedom once more?"
Hammers beat within Gwen's head, all sounds around her deafening and ungodly loud. She'd put on her makeup so carefully today, and she could already feel it wear away as sweat wet her brow. Like a stone she remained unmoving, long after Skye had left the courtroom with his lawyer, after all those people she barely knew had shoved their ways back into their simple lives.
She'd never be able to do that. She knew that, now.
The closing statements had been grand, well-crafted, perfectly poised. They'd all been silence to her—angry, clamorous silence after Skye's testimony. Doug shook her by the shoulder. "Hey, missy? You ready to go?"
Her eyes itched. Bringing her sleeve up, she forced away all the moisture she'd forgotten laid there and fought to remember how to use her legs. "Why?" she choked out finally. "Uncle Doug, why does life work like this? It's so…unfair."
"Because it's life, Gwen." He squeezed her tight, a little girl again, and ruffled her hair. "And that's just why it can't be fair, you understand?"
"No. I don't."
"Well, I wish I could tell you that you will in time, but I'd be lying, wouldn't I?"
"They're going to say he's guilty," she whispered. "You know that, don't you?"
Doug hesitated. "No, and neither do you."
"I can feel it. In here." She clutched her chest and shut her eyes. "They don't care about him, they just see a criminal, and that's all they'll ever see. And there's nothing I could do to change that."
"Well, no, there's nothing at all."
"But I should've been able to say something on that stand! I should've been able to convince them—"
"—but you didn't, and honestly, you probably couldn't have." He held up her chin and looked at her with kind eyes. "Gwen. You love him. That alone makes them wary of you."
"But because I love him, they should listen," the blonde insisted.
"It is what it is, Gwen. Come along, now, I'm gonna cook you a big dinner and you're gonna get a good night's sleep and we're just…gonna calm down a bit, okay?"
He tried, Uncle Doug, Gwen had to give him that. She just wished she could say the same for herself.
Words are like feathers. Once you throw them on the breeze, they float away, and it's hard as can be to take them back into your mouth. Nami had begun to learn this, just when she should have learned her lesson long ago.
"I love you." Who said those things, unless they meant them? And if she meant them, then…well. Then what?
How had she come here, after all this time? What exactly had prompted her to learn how she fit perfectly in this musician's arms, to become addicted to the taste of his lips on her own? Three little words had put this spell upon her. Three stupid, idiotic, insignificant words.
"So. What happens now?"
"Whatever you want to happen."
Her pulse pounded; her breath drew in slow. "And if I don't know that?"
"Then we learn as we go along."
They'd left the mountain flushed and wide awake. How, Nami kept asking herself, did she wind up here? Was there an answer at all for his arm being around her now? No. She didn't fall in love, she didn't believe in it, and she—she was in love, now, simply put.
So now what?
Her eyes stole to the feather in his pocket once more. "Never say never," she muttered to herself.
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
Claire had forgotten the soft weight of a baby's head on her arm. She looked to the window with dry, dull eyes; she had forgotten the refrain to that lullaby Willow had loved. She couldn't recall where she'd put that one doll the baby had cradled. She couldn't tell you which baby food she preferred. Funny, how memory works. It all unravels so quickly.
And yet, it returns so soon.
"It's taking them all night, Ms. Dawn says."
"Do you plan to stay up with them?" The doctor closed his book and turned to see his wife, silent as she stroked her baby's head. "Worrying won't do you good. You ought to sleep."
"I can't. Not now."
"You want to hear them say it."
"Whether or not they say it, he's guilty, and they all know it."
Trent sighed. One hand fiddled with his reading glasses while the other turned to the lamp, letting darkness enter the room once more. "Either way, Claire, Willow is here, and that's the important thing."
"I know. But it's not the only thing."
"Their choice reflects no judgment on you, you know."
"So you say."
"If they find him Not Guilty, it's an act of mercy on their part, not a finger pointed at you."
"But a finger is pointed. And honestly, Trent, we know what they think of me." Her voice drew to a whisper. "More importantly, I know." She pressed her lips to Willow's brow and shut her eyes. Trent had come behind her like a shadow to hold her close, and she did not cry, she did not say a word, just let him hold her like that for a while. Time passed and somehow, Claire discovered with a little smile, three little heartbeats had become in synch with the hours: all in perfect harmony as one.
"Evening." She smiled up at him shyly, basket held aloft, and felt her cheeks blossom with shame. "I'm, uh, hoping to get a word in. Or just 'in' at all."
Bob had expected her. To be honest, it did his poor heart a good deal of hurt to see Gwen standing there like that: piteous and fragile. Her ponytail had almost slipped out from its tie, and those eyes seemed so downcast, had lost so much luster. "Well. I'm afraid I can't let you give him that."
"Why not?" she choked out.
"Because I didn't see you cook it." Bob felt the guilt more acutely now; her expression looked so pained. "Ah, hell, Gwen, I don't make these rules. There might be a key in there or something."
"And where would I get a key?!" she demanded. "I've known you eighteen years, Bob! I just want to give him a stupid cake and you…no, never mind, I shouldn't have bothered." She shut her eyes. "Well, you eat it. Don't let it go to waste, okay?"
The food was shoved into his hands violently, and Gwen began to stomp off, eyes wet. "Wait. Wait a second, now. Hold on." He held her back with just the lightest grip, sighing. "I said you couldn't give him the food. I didn't say you couldn't see him."
"So I can talk to him?" Gwen murmured, hope shining through.
"Frankly, you can talk with him all night if you want to. I won't tell a soul."
Eyes open. Eyes shut. Either way, the room remained dark, and Skye couldn't tell you how long he'd been lying in those four walls. He wanted to sleep, but sleep made time pass, and no curiosity this morbid should ever be satisfied. To live or to be imprisoned. To be free or to learn to let your soul die.
Funny how, now, Skye had finally got something worth losing, right when reality had decided to catch up with him.
"Hey there."
The words fell soft like raindrops on his ears. A silhouette inched forward, and a sliver of light revealed amber eyes and a little red smile. Gwen's arms were folded tight round her, and her chest heaved up and down with a fear Skye couldn't name but knew all too well.
"What are you doing here?" he breathed.
"I needed to see you. Tonight." She cast a look at the cuffs on his hands and swallowed. Self-conscious, he pulled them away from her sight. "I can't…I can't imagine what's about to happen to you."
"Then don't."
She bit back a wry grin. "If only it were that easy. Oh, Skye, I wish it were that easy." Her head pounded, and she held her brow with cold, clammy hands. Everything shook, and it killed Skye to know he couldn't comfort that girl's crying spirit. "I've thought so much about this. I know what you did results in consequences, and I know that girls like me move on after boys like you. But…knowing and feeling…they don't go hand-in-hand. Not really."
A creak sounded outside the window and they both jumped, tensing at the night. Then silence returned, Gwen wiped her eyes, and Skye tried so hard to memorize the look on her face while he still could. "If I'd known, in the beginning, how this would hurt you, I'd never have done it at all."
Unexpected and simple, Skye heard the words form on his lips, and strangely they felt right. Yes. If he could go back, and do it all again, for once he didn't see the same mistakes taking place. Did he love Willow? God, yes. But had Willow chosen to love him as Gwen had?
Had Willow been hurt by his actions at all?
He wanted to break those damn bars. He wanted to pull Gwen close, never let her go, never remember any of this nonsense that his stupid actions had produced. As always, he wanted to run away. Or was it finally running toward?
"Whatever happens tomorrow, know that I'm a fool, Gwen. Know that none of this was worth it, none of it at all, if I never get to see you again." The words were running over each other with emotion; oh, God, words weren't enough, he wanted to brush away those fears with his hands. "I lied to you so much, I know I did, but I love you, and I did love you, and I wish with all my being that I could have a chance to keep loving you." She didn't even look at him now, and he felt himself beginning to tremble as well in this uncertainty and turmoil. "I don't deserve that chance. And I don't expect it."
Gwen weighed each word with silence. It was then Skye noticed the movement of her hands, turning and turning as something bright glimmered on her fingers. "You deserve that chance," she whispered. "In fact, I'd say…you deserve more than that chance." She began to pace the cell's doorway, and her clear voice continued, "That courtroom didn't see what I saw these two seasons. And true, it wasn't all of you I saw, but I saw enough to know you for what you are. I saw how you held that child, I saw how you looked at her and at me, I…felt…how deeply you loved." Her hands closed into fists, and Skye strained his eyes further, trying to see in the night. "Damn it all, if loving someone is a crime, yes, go to that jail tomorrow. If wanting to love your child is a sin, sure, go rot in there. You made mistakes, okay, fine, who hasn't? That's human," Gwen snapped. "But to admit them in front of the people who can end your future and your freedom? No. That's not human." She squeezed her eyes shut. "No. That's divine. And so help me, it will not be the reason they choose to send you to that hellhole."
Her boots clacked on the stone and he heard a vague click, something so faint that it shouldn't have set his heart racing. "Gwen?" No. No, she didn't, she wasn't, where was Bob? Desperately the thief stole to the door, and only then did he see it cracking wide, light pouring in from behind Gwen in angelic beams. "Gwen? What are you doing?"
The silhouette smiled at him, pitch black and mysterious as any shadow. To the side, he could see Bob lying on the ground, a strange expression on his face and bits of cake left on his lips. "We don't have much time until he wakes up. Skye, darling," Gwen began, stealing towards him and kissing him fiercely, "I'm kidnapping you."