Let's just say that I thought my regular readers deserved a little extra chapter this week. Hopefully it will post properly this time...
Ends and Beginnings : Part I
As a new week dawned that Monday morning, some were busy with the hectic schedule of their final week ever of college; some were busy planning for a house move that as yet no-one knew anything about; and one angel was making his way back to a courtroom in Boston that he was now all too familiar with. Wes was about to see the third member of his so-called family face the justice that they badly deserved. He had mixed emotions about being here for his father's trial, after all that had taken place the previous week at his mother's. He was afraid that he could very easily end up losing his temper entirely this time round, and that would not be good for anyone concerned. He felt obligated though, given that his cousin Michelle would be there and expect his support, and he was certain that she would be able to keep him calm. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Mitch and Gabriel would be back again, if only so that they could stare daggers at a man that they had never met, but had proven responsible for so much of the heartache and pain that had affected Wes in the course of his life.
He had woken early, and unable to sleep, he had gone to work. Elizabeth walked into her office to find him sitting there, busily sorting through the pile of paperwork that had been deposited overnight in her in-tray. He had set some aside as being able to wait until there was more time, but had dealt with those that were urgent but minor, leaving only the more important things for her to deal with herself. "I wasn't expecting you to be here today, Wes," she said as he looked up. "You have more than enough on your plate already with everything in court. I can manage, not that I am not grateful as always for your assistance."
"I couldn't sleep, and I really don't mind. You've been so good giving me the time off, but I feel that I am neglecting my duties if I don't try and do at least some minor things. Also I find it very soothing. I always did. Sorting things out, removing the chaos and restoring order to the place always did satisfy me…"
"Nonetheless, I think that trying to get back to sleep would have been a better idea. It would have made you more relaxed for that moment when you have to confront him. If you are stressed and as a result you aren't able to stay calm when he starts to spread all of his lies and deceit…"
"I might go off on one at him, and get myself into big trouble?" queried Wes.
"Not at all, though there were some people that thought that your actions towards that woman were not entirely appropriate for an angel of your stature - and that is why I made the decision on Friday that you will not be going alone today," said Elizabeth, leaving Wes looking at her with curiosity. "I have decided that you should have another angel on hand with you at all times; somebody that can actually put a hand on your shoulder and restrain you, as neither your cousin or those boys can. It will also give them a break from their usual duties, something that we both know they are loathe to take. Finn will be here shortly, and he is under orders to keep a close eye on you at all times."
As the time for the start of the Montgomery trial grew near, Michelle was to be found sitting in quiet reflection in one of the lofty corridors of Boston's main court building. She had returned to New York on Friday, and had then worked long shifts on both days at the weekend, before she had caught the last Acela express train back to Boston on Sunday night. This had allowed both Elliott and Dani to get some time off. They had both told her that she didn't need to do it, but she had been insistent. She was like her cousin in that she needed an outlet, a return to the ordinary routine and rhythm of life, even if only for a couple of days. She had felt more relaxed as she served, as she checked the paperwork and found it all in apple pie order. She had had a chance to catch up with the staff and the partners, none of whom had pushed her for details, and had even had a chance to take a quick look at Jeff's drawing of Wes, which had made her cry with delight. On Sunday, Ollie Harwood had spent virtually the whole day working at her side so that they could see each other. He had proved to be a very inefficient busboy; as was so often the case, he was an expert in the world of medicine, but useless when it came to waiting on tables. He also spent far too long on cleaning them afterwards, but that was probably down to the fact that everything had to be kept so scrupulously clean at the hospital.
She had finally shared her experiences in court with Mike when he had come in to start his late shift, and Ollie had left to go and work his own late shift at the hospital. He had been full of concern for Wes when he heard just how nasty his own mother had been, but had been unable to stop himself laughing out loud at her description of Mrs Montgomery being blown over by the draught from her own son's wings. For her part, Michelle was curious about why Mike was in such a good mood; she knew that he had done exceedingly well at school, and had probably managed to graduate top of the class; she knew he had got his dream job with the City Ballet, which meant that she would need to look for a replacement for him soon; but she felt there was something else that was making him quite so joyous. She did not push, as she would find out soon enough, no doubt. She just took great pleasure in his happiness, as it stopped her thinking about the following day…
Now she looked up as she heard footsteps approaching the bench she was sitting on. She looked up to see Mitch walking towards her, smartly dressed with his Warbler pin pinned to his lapel. "Hey, Michelle! Firstly, Gabriel sends his apologies; he has a meeting to attend this morning that he can't get out of, but he will be here after lunch. I think he is coming so that he can see more of Wes rather than because he wants to see justice done, but don't tell him that I said that."
Michelle smiled, and then felt a now familiar draught in the corridor behind them. She turned and was surprised to see not only her cousin, but Finn too, both of them dressed smartly in dark suits and ties. If her eyes did not deceive her, Wes had a gavel tucked in his top pocket, and both had a pin similar to Mitch's on. They stood there for a moment as they drew in their wings, arms folded across their chests, and grim expressions on their faces.
"Oh, Lord!" whispered Mitch. "It's the mafia!" Michelle looked at him, then started to giggle, and both Wes and Finn smiled.
"Trust me when I say that seeing the Cosa Nostra would be infinitely preferable to seeing Randy," said Wes. "Ok, no point in stalling. Let's get this over with." With a nod, the four of them headed into the public gallery to await the start of the trial.
The two angels entered the court first as they could bypass the security checks. As he sat at Finn's side, Wes began to think. It had been a long time since he had seen Randy, the person that he had thought of as his rather nasty and twisted half-brother until just a few months ago. He still could not think of him as actually being his father without feeling extreme nausea. He had kept that fact hidden from all of his friends; not even his fellow angels were aware of it. Now as the moment approached when they would be face to face for the first time since it had all come out, he could feel the bile rising in his throat as he contemplated the man. That man had made his life a living hell from the first moments that he could remember; had poisoned his relationship with his uncle/middle brother by forcing the vulnerable Albert to take sides or face the consequences of his brother's displeasure. That man had tried to destroy his friendships, his reputation and his future, even after his death. He had ruined the lives of so many other people too; young woman that he had seduced, taken advantage of, and then thrown casually aside like a used tissue. Even now, no-one was exactly sure how many young woman he had prayed upon…
Wes was also sure that his father would plead his innocence from the start, by telling everyone that he had been the innocent boy seduced by a calculating older woman that was only interested in the money and status that being the next Mrs Randall Montgomery Snr could bring. There was an element of truth in that, Wes had to admit, but he very much doubted that Randy had been an unwilling partner in all of this. He had known what he was doing, but was just too stupid to have had the common sense to have used protection. He would have wanted to brag about his conquest to everyone of his classmates when he returned to his fancy prep school in Boston. Still, Wes very much doubted that he was so willing to boast about the fact that he was about to become a father….
"Are you alright, Wes?" Finn's measured tone interrupted his chain of thought. "It's just that your face is bright red, your fists are clenched… Look, you know that we don't have to stay. Michelle would understand I'm sure, and Mitch is here so she wouldn't be alone. I can tell them that there is a big emergency and that all hands are needed on deck…"
Wes breathed out slowly and let all the thought slip from his mind. He looked at Finn, and was touched by the concern that was written across his face. He had become a good friend since his death… "No, I'm ok, trust me. I am just so angry at him, and in all honesty, I don't know how seeing him again after so long is going to make me feel. Revulsion I think…"
"Well, just know that if you do need to get away, we'll go; just give me the nod, ok? Oh, and if you feel like going to his cell and haunting him," Finn added as he saw Mitch and Michelle approach them along the row, "I think we are allowed to do that."
"You guys are allowed to haunt people!?" exclaimed Mitch. "I didn't know that angels could do that! So Wes could go down to his cell right now and write 'Hello Daddy' on the wall, and stuff like that?"
"He could, yeah," said Finn with a smile. "Me, Kurt and Blaine did it to Hunter before his trial, and best of all, he could actually see and hear us whilst we were doing it. Once we knew that, we really hammed it up for him, and drove him mad. It was a lot of fun…"
"How come that no-one has mentioned this to me until now?" said Wes indignantly. "Is it too late now, or can we go and spook the heck out of that low life?"
"I don't think that you will actually need to spook him," said Michelle in a whisper. She had been straining her ears to try and hear what the two court guards standing below the public gallery had been saying to each other. "Apparently, the accused is quite agitated already, as it happens… They don't now what caused it. One minute he was fine, the next… All that happened was that he asked for a newspaper to read whilst he waited, and someone gave him a copy of yesterday's New York Times."
Much to Michelle's surprise, Wes and Finn glanced at each other, then laughed out loud. "Ok, so I'm guessing that the two of you know something that we don't here," said Mitch.
"If they gave him yesterday's paper, then they will have given him it with all the supplements; Randy loves his supplements, and he would probably have gone to those first before he looked at the actual news and the commentary. I take it that neither of you saw it yesterday, and in particular, the Arts section?" said Wes.
"No, the diner was too busy," replied Michelle.
"And I read the Boston Sundays," said Mitch.
Wes nodded to Finn, and the latter vanished from their sight for a moment; when he returned, he was carrying a full and unopened copy of the journal in question, and handed it reverentially to Wes. In front of his two mortal friends, Wes carefully separated the Arts section from the rest of the paper, carefully keeping the front cover clasped to his chest as he did so. Then, with due ceremony and a flourish, he spun it round to show them the front cover; a cover showing Nick and Jeff standing beside The Judging Angel…
Michelle gasped, and Mitch, after a quick double take, smirked in happiness. "So our little Starling made the front cover of the Arts section with his picture! I must say, Wes, he has really got you to a tee…"
"It's priceless, isn't it," replied Wes, unable for once to keep a gloating note out of his voice. "He is about to go on trial for all of his crimes, and there is the face of his dead son, staring back at him from the newspaper, as he holds a gavel and frowns at him in judgement…"
Mitch was trying hard not to laugh as Michelle, also struggling to suppress a giggle, spoke. "It's karma, I will give you that! No wonder he has reacted badly to seeing you staring back at him like that…"
"There's just one thing I don't get," said Mitch suddenly. "How did a copy of yesterday's New York Times end up here? You would have thought that one of the Boston papers would have been more likely to just be lying around…"
"Yes," said Wes, turning now to stare at Finn, who was trying and failing to look nonchalant. "I suspect that maybe there was a tiny bit of angelic intervention from someone here…"
Eventually though, the moment that Wes had been dreading finally came; the moment that he was forced to set eyes on Randy. It was not quite as horrible a moment as he had expected it to be, but that was due to the demeanour of the man in question. If he had walked in as the cocky, smug, self-centred person that Wes was used to, then it would have smarted. Thanks to the reproduction of The Judging Angel in the newspaper, the man that walked in to take his place on the stand was pale, stammering and looking around him nervously. Then he spotted Michelle, and his face was suddenly convulsed and red with anger.
"It was her! She did it! She told them to give me that newspaper, with that picture of him in technicolor on the front. My little bastard of a son, with wings, judging me! I detest her! I want that bitch gone!" he screamed, silencing the murmur of chatter that had been coming from the public gallery and the already assembled jury.
There were rapid discussions between lawyers and court officials, with fingers being pointed up into the gallery. "If he forces the issue, then I will just go and wait outside for all of you in the main hall," whispered Michelle. "Maybe it would be for the best if I just left…."
"Not for me!" hissed Wes. "If you are forced to go, then he has scored a victory right at the start, and I am not going to allow that to happen. There is no way that you could have planted the paper, and no way that the court officials in question would have taken a bribe from anyone to hand it to him."
"Exactly!" agreed Mitch. "I don't think that you will be moving anywhere. Just sit tight. If they try to force you out, then I am sure that I can find a judge that will hear an official protest from us…"
"Speaking of judges…" whispered Finn, and they all rose to their feet as the presiding judge entered; a different judge from the one that had been in charge of the trial of the other two family members. They took their seats as he did, and almost at once, the proceedings began.
"It has been brought to my attention that the accused has made a verbal complaint about the presence in the public gallery of his stepmother's niece. He has made an allegation that she planted a newspaper that was given to him by two court officials earlier today, which caused him mental distress when he saw an image within it. To resolve this complaint, I have asked that the two court officials in question be brought into the courtroom to see if they can identify the relative in question. If they can, then she will have to leave. If not, then the matter is resolved as far as I am concerned, and can be seen only as a coincidence; after all, the New York Times is a widely available journal. Whilst the officials are in the court, I want complete silence in the court. If there is any attempt to draw attention to the lady in question by the accused or his lawyers, then I will have a charge of frustrating the ends of justice added to the already considerable list. Do I make myself clear?"
There was a bit of grumbling from Randy, but in the end he sat as silently as the rest when the two officials were escorted in, made to swear the oath, and then were asked by the judge if they could identify anyone in the public gallery that they had spoken to that day. The response was an immediate no from one, but a yes from the other. A look of smug satisfaction filled Randy's face, and he waved a farewell at the gallery. Then the official identified a man that had asked him for directions to the restroom. The judge nodded, then thanked the two officials for their time, and directed them to leave…
As they did so, Randy started to scream and shout again, demanding lie detectors and polygraph tests. All he achieved by his actions was annoying the judge, who demanded that his lawyers deal with the irrational outbursts of their client; and make the jury question the mental stability of the man whose future they were about to decide upon. As the trial proper commenced, with Randy denying all the charges against him as everyone had predicted he would, Wes turned to Finn and whispered, "Maybe I will head down to the cell they are keeping him in after all. I could write a little something for him which might spook him all the more. That's if you are sure that such an action won't get me into trouble."
"It won't, trust me. I checked with Elizabeth before we came. I'm taking it then that seeing him face to face again has not be nearly as traumatic an experience as you had anticipated?" Finn replied.
"On the contrary, it has actually felt quite therapeutic so far. I'm afraid to admit that I am actually looking forward to seeing him suffer now. I want to see him punished, and for justice to prevail; not just for me, but for all those poor girls, my unborn siblings, and for Albert. I hope that they put my father away for a very long time…"
As the trial began in Boston, life in New York was going on as normal, although this time round a few more eyes were tuned in to the feed of information that was coming from Massachusetts. Nick had not been able to follow the two previous cases, as he had been busy with his own end of year exams, but now in the quiet of the Law Library he was able to sit at the information desk and watch as the case was relayed. He had already found and read over the transcripts of the two other trials, so he was completely up to speed. He had to write about a current case or cases for his first project next semester, and he had decided that he could make something from the Montgomery trials, given the added bonus that he had a connection. He had also had to deal with something a little less comfortable in that sphere though. He had been approached by one of his classmates, a girl that he liked, and she had asked if he would have any objection to her project being based on the trial of Hunter Clarington. Nick had after due thought agreed that it was ok, as long as she made no attempt to approach Jeff. It was still a touchy subject for his husband even now, and he could answer any questions that she had in any case. Nick had been shocked that Jeff had agreed to speak to Artie about the whole affair for his documentary film, but then Artie was a trusted friend. He did not think Jeff would be quite so happy baring his soul to a virtual stranger…
Whilst Nick was at work in the Law Library, his husband had embarked on an important mission of his own. He had popped across the landing to see Brittany, who was delighted to see him as always, and after a quick chat, he had spun her a tale about needing to take Caleb to see the vet, and not being able to find their own carrying basket, he wondered if he could borrow Lord Tubbington's? He knew full well that their own was buried underneath a pile of his art supplies in the back of one of the cupboards in the hallway, but he did not have the time or indeed the energy to unearth it, and so it was far simpler just to borrow one from a neighbour. He felt a twinge of sadness as he realised that very soon, Brittany would no longer be one. He managed to hide it though, as she would have picked up on it and pressed him to tell her what was wrong. He also managed to convince her that she did not need to come with him.
As for Caleb, he was immediately reluctant to come anywhere near Jeff when he saw him with the basket; from previous experience it meant either a long car journey, which was boring and too noisy to allow a cat to get a decent nap; or a trip to the person whose name was always spelt out by his humans one letter at a time… Like Jeff though, Caleb could be easily persuaded by a bit of food. He soon found himself sitting in the basket as Jeff stood on the 'L' Train as it rattled towards Manhattan. Caleb had memories of being on a train before, although then he had been much younger, small enough to be wrapped in a hat and placed inside a book bag… Eventually they emerged back out into the daylight, and Caleb found himself observing a world that was different to the one he was used to. The streets gradually grew quieter as Jeff walked purposefully along; there were trees, but not in tubs; and as for the smells, they were very interesting…
He was set down for a moment on a doorstep as his blond human dug into his pocket and abstracted a set of keys, then the door was opened, and he found himself carried into a hallway. He was set down again on the floor, and this time, the door to the basket was opened. He cautiously stepped out onto the tiled floor, and looked up at the man next to him. "Well, Caleb, this is going to be our new home. I felt that you deserved a preview like everyone else. So, firstly you are going to have to learn to deal with steps, as this house is positively palatial compared to the loft…" Caleb looked at him, not really understanding, and in any case, it was the smells that interested him. They were new, and pleasant. The room was bright and spacious. This place was new, and needed to be explored if he was given the chance.
As he found himself carried from room to room, Caleb picked up on the happiness that was exuding from the man carrying him, and that made him content. Then, in the final room, he felt the waves of happiness increase markedly. As Jeff took in his new studio once more, his grin broad, Caleb suddenly saw something that made his heart leap for joy. Jeff knew what to do, and set the cat down in the sunny spot on the window seat; Caleb immediately stretched out to bask in the warmth. He realised that if this place was his new home, then as long as he could do this, he would be a very happy cat indeed. As he purred in delight, he closed his eyes, and therefore did not see how broad Jeff's smile was as he took a seat on the stool by the easel, pulled out a drawing pad, and began to add a new sketch of Caleb to his collection. As he did so, he relished the silence that he had there, even though he knew they were in the very heart of the city. He had no doubts about the house now; accepting it had been the right decision for everyone.
Back in Boston, Randy Montgomery was performing on the stand every bit as well as Hunter Clarington had, Wes thought to himself. His immediate and categorical denial of everything that he was accused of had set several members of the jury against him from the word go. He had for instance tried to deny that he had been in Providence on the day that the restaurant had been set on fire, even when he was shown a blown up, clear image from the CCTV camera outside the place which showed him and Wes guessed Albert walking out the door; he couldn't be sure, as his uncle's face was obscured. His own lawyer had a look of resignation on his face, as if he had been expecting every single word that Randy was saying, and was trying to make the jury believe true. Randy's immediate pointing out of Albert's presence in the picture and his subsequent guilt for the fire looked all the more silly when the jury was shown another CCTV image, taken from across the street. This one showed a man, of Randy's height and build, in the same clothes as he had been wearing in the first picture, and with a smug look on his face, walking away lit by the orange glow of flames. His immediate declaration that Albert must have stolen his clothes, or that the image had been photoshopped had made half the court laugh as the others shook their heads in disbelief.
"I hope that he likes prison food," whispered Mitch. "If he carries on like this, he will wind up on a charge of time wasting and lying on top of everything else." Wes nodded, wondering how he would have coped if he had been in the position of his father's lawyer, having to try and defend an inveterate liar. He doubted that he could have stood this rubbish for very long…
After the lunch break, Gabriel joined the small group in the gallery. Mitch had filled him in with that morning's happenings over a quick lunch in the court's cafeteria, and he had spent most of the time rolling his eyes and stifling his urge to laugh. His attention was really on Wes, and on Finn. He had been shocked to see a second angel; had not really believed that he was one until he had unfurled his wings as proof.
"It's like I said the other day, Gabe," said Wes. "Now that you can see me, you are likely to be able to see all angels. You will probably not even realise it as you walk about everyday, but you will pass by a few of us without even noticing."
"It is still a heck of a lot to take in," his friend replied. "I mean, I always had the hope of an afterlife; it was drummed into me at church every Sunday back home, but it is still fantastical to actually be able to see and converse with angels. My only wish now us that we can bring Louis and Connor in on this too - and to that end, I have invited them to come up and witness the pantomime too. They will be here on Wednesday. My hope is that your father will say something about you, as your mother did, that will make them speak out in your defence as I did, and that will be enough as it was with me, to trigger their ability to see you - and Finn for that matter, if he is still going to be with us…"
"I'm not certain that it works quite like that," said Wes, "but I agree that it is worth a try. I am guessing that you chose Wednesday for their visit, as that is the day that we are scheduled to move on to his part in the fraudulent activities, and he is most likely to start attacking me and my very existence?"
"Of course," said Mitch. "I said as much to Gabriel when he first mooted the idea of getting the guys to come up here for a day. We want the two of them to be left so outraged on your behalf that they have every reason to defend you in words, and hopefully that will make the final connection that will let them see you in all of your angelic glory…"
Wes nodded, but could not reply as they were all called back to the court for the restarting of the case. As it began again, Wes couldn't help but think that if it wasn't all so close to home, the whole affair would be so comical, given his continual denials in the face of glaringly obvious proof. Wes wondered whether his brother would verbally attack another witness this afternoon as he had just before they adjourned for lunch. That had lead to him arguing with the judge, and had quite correctly earned him a contempt charge on top of all the others. He was also aware that the whole trial was being streamed, blow by blow, online to anyone with an interest. He considered for a moment whether Albert would be watching the feed in Florence, then dismissed it; his rekindled relationship with the woman that he truly loved took up so much of his time and had left him looking happier than Wes had ever seen him. He was sure though that a number of his boys would be monitoring it; he was certain of Nick, and possibly David and Thad. He discounted Trent though, as he would be in exams; if he hadn't been, he would have been glued to the screen. He could almost picture the smiles on their faces as they read the garbage his brother was coming out with. As the judge came back out, and Randy's response to the calling of the name of the next witness was a not too quiet "Another moron!", Wes anticipated that there would be more moments of near hilarity as the day went on.
Wes was correct in his assertions as to who was watching proceedings, but he might have been surprised to learn that Mike was also following it avidly as he worked a counter shift at the Spotlight. His sudden snorts of laughter caused Elliott to look at him strangely until out of curiosity he came over and read what Mike was reading. Then we walked away shaking his head. He was glad of a momentary distraction from his own woes if he was honest. The rent increase on his apartment was about to hit, and what made the 25% increase all the worse was that the plaster in the bedroom was still cracked at the point where Beats' head had hit it on Valentine's Day. Repairs had been promised 'soon', but that had been the case for weeks now. He had been searching for somewhere new, like so many others, but he was constantly out of luck in finding somewhere affordable, accessible and in a good area, even though his budget had increased thanks to the money that Beats would be bringing with him when he moved in.
The idea of the two of them living together had not even been something that they had seriously discussed until Elliott had finally screwed up his courage enough to ask him the previous month. He had been half expecting a refusal, on the grounds that it was too soon, but instead he had been given the answer "I was beginning to think that you were never going to ask me, Ell!" That had been a very good night, he thought. His boyfriend was of course still in Princeton, working hard on his finals. As if that wasn't enough, he had also had to deal with the final auditions for his and Flint's replacements at the club. It still amused Elliott greatly when he pictured the two of them sat in a room, interviewing strippers, particularly now that his Nate had his gorgeous preppy glasses, and also for the fact that he was reliably informed that Flint had been writing his notes in a leather bound book with a fountain pen. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when they had finally whittled down the candidates from the interview and dance sessions, and had to move on to the 'assets' stage, as he had teasingly called it to the pair of them…
