sunnydalealum | (no subject)

It's not a trial. It's a hearing; a chance for the accused to speak on her own behalf, or for anyone else to speak for her. Two hearings, really, in succession.

The only reason Beth's doesn't take a lot longer than the earlier hearing for Jordie, Tricia and Sara is that she has almost nothing to say in her own defense. Hands clasped on the table in front of her, head down, barely audible: I didn't know what she was going to use it for. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I'm sorry.

The reason it doesn't end right there is that someone else has gotten in to speak for her.

We're here today to see that justice is served, says Lorne, we can all agree on that. We all know that this is necessary, myself included, but I'm not here to in any way patronize anyone, or to trivialize the crimes of Beth Lehrer. I'm here as her friend, to act as advocate, or Champion, if you will. I won't say that I'm Champion material, I'm not, not the way you'd expect of one, but I know Beth just as well as anyone of you here. I won't say I know her better than you, but I do know her in a different capacity.

She doesn't feel the need to hide who she is from me. True, I didn't know her real name until recently, but a name is just a name most often, and I'm talking about something more than what's on your birth certificate. I know Beth as one of the sweetest young women I've ever had the pleasure of calling my friend. She's a hard worker, she's always on time, she can charm the bejeezus out of the toughest crowd if you just give her some time, and half of the time she doesn't even try to be a charmer. There's an innocence about her that pulls you in, makes you want to know just what she's all about.

First and foremost, she's a friend, and a good one. She never expects lucky breaks, never expected to be able to make herself a new life away from the Council. But with a little help from her friends, she's at a good place in her life. She's got something like hope in her eyes again, and it breaks my heart to see her not even standing up for herself.

What I'm trying to say is, she's human. I've heard it's quite common for humans to err, and not always on the side of caution. Sometimes you make really big mistakes. Sometimes, you do really stupid, bad things; evil things.

But that doesn't make you evil. Evil is when you take pleasure in doing evil.

I only ask that you bear this in mind when laying down your sentence. Thank you.

He's left to cool his heels outside afterwards, for about fifteen minutes. No sound at all emerges from the room -- and no psychic aura either, if he's listening for one.

The door opens, and closes again very quickly behind the person who's slipped through.

It's Andrew.

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He nods, but doesn't really feel like elaborating. The gates are coming closer and this time around he can't wait to be on the outside looking in. "Like I said... I don't know her like you do, I know her like I do."

He shrugs. "I don't know her at all. I don't really know you either, come to that."

"And yet here you are, attempting to lift my spirits." Lorne glances to the side, at the wavy haired Watcher. "Makes me wonder what you think you'll get out of it."

A beat, and then comes more of his voicing observations, "Makes me wonder if you're just a Samwise kinda guy."

Andrew glances at him with an involuntary smile.

"What, hyper-protective and suspicious of strangers?"

"Yeah. Something like that. Most of all you seem like a decent guy with his heart in the right place." It's a weird little tangent, but it made the fella smile, so Lorne decides to run with it.

"People tend to overlook Sammy's role in the story. I mean, sure, Frodo was the pure of heart one, the only one who could resist the lure of the Ring, but he wouldn't have made it halfway without his best bud. Frodo's pure of heart, but Sammy's got faith and a 'Don't Mess with my Friends' badge the size of--...well, of something very big."

"Frodo wouldn't have got very far without Sam, would he," quotes Andrew. "Yeah. He's the one who carries Frodo through the worst of it. And he's loyal, unshakeably loyal, that’s his defining trait."

Beat.

"And that's the important one, isn't it."

"It wouldn't be his defining trait if it wasn't muy importante."

Lo and behold, an answering little smile.

Edited 2009-07-05 23:05 (UTC)

"Not what I meant."

They've reached the gate. One of the sentries glances at them and away again.

He's surprised, and intrigued, and most important of all, it shows. "Then what did you mean?"

The guards get only the most precursory glance, as is only fair. They're not involved in the conversation, and odds are they wouldn't want to be.

"I meant it's what's important to you."

He brushes his hand along the palm lock, and the gate starts to swing open.

Busted. Busted well and good, and boy does it feel strange.

Not funny ha ha or funny strange, just...weird.

"Yeah," he replies at last, after a long moment of looking into Wells' eyes, to try and see if there's any sort of guile hiding anywhere in their depths. Finding none, he nods, then turns to walk away.

It's the most important thing there is.

"Wait," Andrew hears himself say.

It's enough to halt the demon, even though maybe it shouldn't be. He looks back, expecting a clarification of some kind. The What for? lies suspended in the air between them.

"Give me some way to get a message to you. Phone number, email address, classified ad, something."

His gaze holds Lorne's.

"And I'll tell you what they decide."

"Oh."

Glancing at the Slayers, he leans in a bit closer, which isn't to say this is his usual sidling up against someone, it's just a teeny little gesture. "I'm staying at Milliways until I find a new place. Just leave a note there."

"When I can." Andrew nods.

And in an undertone: "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be, sugar. It ain't your fault, you're just the middleman."

He reaches out, stops mid motion, then goes through with it, patting Wells on the shoulder. "I'll see you around."

Another nod, this one silent and sober.

This time he turns to head back to the building as soon as the gates start to close, before Lorne's even reached his car.

There's work to do.