Abyss (R) (Smash) PART 5
Title: Abyss
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: R
Character: Derek Wills
Disclaimer: NBC owns all, just playing drama with
Summary: Everyone knows he doesn't give a shit about anything but the show. So when Derek's life capsizes, will anyone give a shit about him?
( Part 1)
( Part 2)
( Part 3)
( Part 4)
Though Derek eventually lay back on the cot, he didn't really get any sleep because he was still poring over his situation -- and wondering if yesterday evening's preview went well or not. It was draining him that he had no chance of any contact but his attorney at the moment, to be completely shut out of information about the show, whether his arrest had screwed everything up or not.
Accordingly, his mood and his looks were lousy in the morning. He felt exhausted and queasy and would have done a lot for a hot shower, and fresh clothes, of course. But all he got was the same dry-looking white bread he'd already spurned the evening before, now accompanied by a tiny pat of butter, some unfamiliar kind of cheese and a small packet of jelly. What they served for coffee made Derek shiver after only a careful sip.
With a deep sigh he sat back on the cot and buried his face in his hands. No. Impossible. He could not stay confined. He would starve to death long before any court would ever see him. This Bellamy guy had to bail him out, no matter what! Though the prospect of being followed by paparazzi every minute didn't seem desirable, Derek was certain that he could deal far better with those hyenas than with imprisonment and smug officers.
Speaking of those, one of them unlocked his cell door. The very moment Derek reached the opening, the officer pulled out a pair of cuffs and ordered:
"Turn around, hands behind your back!"
Of course...
Though the custodial court rooms were in the same building, they would not be in the confined area of the jail. Derek understood the necessity of securing prisoners, not that it made any difference to his intimate feelings of fury and despair. Only his long-trained ability to focus on his personal aims prevented him from barking at or even threatening the guard, so he just clenched his jaw and obeyed, let himself being cuffed and marshalled to the courtroom quietly.
God, just wait until I'm out of here! I swear I will sue you all -- and whoever is responsible for this bloody mess!
***
"Your Honour, the forensic results showed no indication so far that Ms. Peterson had been raped and our investigations confirmed that the suspect drank seven shots of scotch, at least at the bar where he met the victim, which should have led to a blood alcohol level around 0.2l. This allows at least the possibility that he had a black-out. Nevertheless -- even if he really has no memory of what happened after he left the bar with Ms. Peterson -- that doesn't change the fact that there's still no evidence whatsoever that anyone else was in the apartment that night; so we can conclude that Mr. Wills was the one who tied and gagged the victim. Though he may not have killed her deliberately, his actions nevertheless caused her death. Prosecution office hereby will charge Derek Wills with involuntary manslaughter and, given his British citizenship and his wayfarer profession and lifestyle, applies for further confinement until trial."
Derek heard someone inhaling sharply and realized that it was actually his own reaction to the prosecutor's submission. Part of him was truly relieved that he was not going to be charged with murder; but obviously the authorities were still certain that he was the one responsible for the girl's horrific death and Derek was well aware of the fact that, if the prosecutor would convince a jury of this theory, he still would have to spend several years in prison…
"Your Honour... Mr. Wills has a permanent visa, he owns an apartment in New York, and I assure you that he will not leave the United States, but stay in New York and report regularly to the police, if necessary, until this case has been solved," Parker Bellamy started his own plea. "My client has no history of violence nor any other illegal act; his record is absolutely clean. So I see no necessity to treat him like the dangerous animal Mr. Nichols makes him to be, and therefore apply to set Mr. Wills free on bail."
The sarcastic snort prosecution deputy Nichols made when Bellamy mentioned the 'dangerous animal' forced Derek to swallow hard. In the theatre world, he was known as exactly that -- a prowling wolf. He just hoped that it wouldn't influence...
"Mr. Bellamy... Maybe you are not aware of your client's reputation," Nichols replied with a smirk. "Mr. Wills is famous for hunting down not only his so-called 'leading ladies', but any woman with a pulse. His nickname is 'The Dark Lord' because he is notorious for his bad temper in rehearsals -- and often enough outside the theatres as well -- and for trampling everyone necessary on his way to success. You can not seriously expect us to watch him walk away when it is obvious that he'll probably disappear the moment he leaves jail."
Though his attorney had instructed him right before the hearing to stay quiet under any circumstances, Derek wasn't able to suppress a wave of rage at Nichol's words. "Oh bloody hell, just because I push everyone to their best performance doesn't mean I..."
"Mr. Bellamy! Advise your client to stay quiet or I will impose an administrative penalty for contempt of court!" the judge interrupted in a cold tone.
"Yes, Your honour. I apologize for Mr. Wills," Bellamy said hastily, and looked very angry at Derek, who took a deep breath and then lowered his head. He knew very well that his outburst just fed Nichol's argument, but he couldn't help it. He was not used to needing anyone to defend him. Far from it. He wasn't used to the need of defence at all.
"As I said -- Mr. Wills is unable to master his temper. I see no reason why he should roam freely and potentially lose control again," the prosecutor added.
"I agree. Mr. Wills will remain in custody until trial." The judge slammed his gavel down. "Officer -- take him away!"
Derek bothered neither with Nichol's pleased expression nor with Bellamy's disappointed one. He could only stare at the officer approaching him, cuffs already in hand, and though he longed to run straight away from everything he would have to endure now, he was absolutely unable to move at all. Only seconds later he was bound and helpless again, feeling nothing but utter despair and a frightened weakness he never experienced before. When the officer grabbed his arm and started to walk, Derek refused to move but addressed his attorney.
"Mr. Bellamy, we need to talk, I have a lot of things to re-organize!"
"I have further obligations today, Mr. Wills. But I will call on you afterwards, in the late afternoon or early evening," Bellamy replied and turned to the door, but hesitated and looked back to his client. "Please, do yourself a favour and try to stay calm in the meantime; will you?"
Derek bit his lower lip and shrugged as far as he was able to with his hands cuffed behind his back. The next moment he was dragged away, back through the door he'd come in, and to the area of confinement. Only this time he was led into another section, even more secured with two safety lock entrance controls. He was taken into a room where three officers sat at a table, and finally relieved of those bloody cuffs.
Before he could say or at least ask anything, the bored-looking central officer faced him and demanded:
"Strip!"
Continued in Part 6.
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: R
Character: Derek Wills
Disclaimer: NBC owns all, just playing drama with
Summary: Everyone knows he doesn't give a shit about anything but the show. So when Derek's life capsizes, will anyone give a shit about him?
( Part 1)
( Part 2)
( Part 3)
( Part 4)
Though Derek eventually lay back on the cot, he didn't really get any sleep because he was still poring over his situation -- and wondering if yesterday evening's preview went well or not. It was draining him that he had no chance of any contact but his attorney at the moment, to be completely shut out of information about the show, whether his arrest had screwed everything up or not.
Accordingly, his mood and his looks were lousy in the morning. He felt exhausted and queasy and would have done a lot for a hot shower, and fresh clothes, of course. But all he got was the same dry-looking white bread he'd already spurned the evening before, now accompanied by a tiny pat of butter, some unfamiliar kind of cheese and a small packet of jelly. What they served for coffee made Derek shiver after only a careful sip.
With a deep sigh he sat back on the cot and buried his face in his hands. No. Impossible. He could not stay confined. He would starve to death long before any court would ever see him. This Bellamy guy had to bail him out, no matter what! Though the prospect of being followed by paparazzi every minute didn't seem desirable, Derek was certain that he could deal far better with those hyenas than with imprisonment and smug officers.
Speaking of those, one of them unlocked his cell door. The very moment Derek reached the opening, the officer pulled out a pair of cuffs and ordered:
"Turn around, hands behind your back!"
Of course...
Though the custodial court rooms were in the same building, they would not be in the confined area of the jail. Derek understood the necessity of securing prisoners, not that it made any difference to his intimate feelings of fury and despair. Only his long-trained ability to focus on his personal aims prevented him from barking at or even threatening the guard, so he just clenched his jaw and obeyed, let himself being cuffed and marshalled to the courtroom quietly.
God, just wait until I'm out of here! I swear I will sue you all -- and whoever is responsible for this bloody mess!
***
"Your Honour, the forensic results showed no indication so far that Ms. Peterson had been raped and our investigations confirmed that the suspect drank seven shots of scotch, at least at the bar where he met the victim, which should have led to a blood alcohol level around 0.2l. This allows at least the possibility that he had a black-out. Nevertheless -- even if he really has no memory of what happened after he left the bar with Ms. Peterson -- that doesn't change the fact that there's still no evidence whatsoever that anyone else was in the apartment that night; so we can conclude that Mr. Wills was the one who tied and gagged the victim. Though he may not have killed her deliberately, his actions nevertheless caused her death. Prosecution office hereby will charge Derek Wills with involuntary manslaughter and, given his British citizenship and his wayfarer profession and lifestyle, applies for further confinement until trial."
Derek heard someone inhaling sharply and realized that it was actually his own reaction to the prosecutor's submission. Part of him was truly relieved that he was not going to be charged with murder; but obviously the authorities were still certain that he was the one responsible for the girl's horrific death and Derek was well aware of the fact that, if the prosecutor would convince a jury of this theory, he still would have to spend several years in prison…
"Your Honour... Mr. Wills has a permanent visa, he owns an apartment in New York, and I assure you that he will not leave the United States, but stay in New York and report regularly to the police, if necessary, until this case has been solved," Parker Bellamy started his own plea. "My client has no history of violence nor any other illegal act; his record is absolutely clean. So I see no necessity to treat him like the dangerous animal Mr. Nichols makes him to be, and therefore apply to set Mr. Wills free on bail."
The sarcastic snort prosecution deputy Nichols made when Bellamy mentioned the 'dangerous animal' forced Derek to swallow hard. In the theatre world, he was known as exactly that -- a prowling wolf. He just hoped that it wouldn't influence...
"Mr. Bellamy... Maybe you are not aware of your client's reputation," Nichols replied with a smirk. "Mr. Wills is famous for hunting down not only his so-called 'leading ladies', but any woman with a pulse. His nickname is 'The Dark Lord' because he is notorious for his bad temper in rehearsals -- and often enough outside the theatres as well -- and for trampling everyone necessary on his way to success. You can not seriously expect us to watch him walk away when it is obvious that he'll probably disappear the moment he leaves jail."
Though his attorney had instructed him right before the hearing to stay quiet under any circumstances, Derek wasn't able to suppress a wave of rage at Nichol's words. "Oh bloody hell, just because I push everyone to their best performance doesn't mean I..."
"Mr. Bellamy! Advise your client to stay quiet or I will impose an administrative penalty for contempt of court!" the judge interrupted in a cold tone.
"Yes, Your honour. I apologize for Mr. Wills," Bellamy said hastily, and looked very angry at Derek, who took a deep breath and then lowered his head. He knew very well that his outburst just fed Nichol's argument, but he couldn't help it. He was not used to needing anyone to defend him. Far from it. He wasn't used to the need of defence at all.
"As I said -- Mr. Wills is unable to master his temper. I see no reason why he should roam freely and potentially lose control again," the prosecutor added.
"I agree. Mr. Wills will remain in custody until trial." The judge slammed his gavel down. "Officer -- take him away!"
Derek bothered neither with Nichol's pleased expression nor with Bellamy's disappointed one. He could only stare at the officer approaching him, cuffs already in hand, and though he longed to run straight away from everything he would have to endure now, he was absolutely unable to move at all. Only seconds later he was bound and helpless again, feeling nothing but utter despair and a frightened weakness he never experienced before. When the officer grabbed his arm and started to walk, Derek refused to move but addressed his attorney.
"Mr. Bellamy, we need to talk, I have a lot of things to re-organize!"
"I have further obligations today, Mr. Wills. But I will call on you afterwards, in the late afternoon or early evening," Bellamy replied and turned to the door, but hesitated and looked back to his client. "Please, do yourself a favour and try to stay calm in the meantime; will you?"
Derek bit his lower lip and shrugged as far as he was able to with his hands cuffed behind his back. The next moment he was dragged away, back through the door he'd come in, and to the area of confinement. Only this time he was led into another section, even more secured with two safety lock entrance controls. He was taken into a room where three officers sat at a table, and finally relieved of those bloody cuffs.
Before he could say or at least ask anything, the bored-looking central officer faced him and demanded:
"Strip!"
Continued in Part 6.