FIC: Next Case
Title: Next Case
Author: Scifijunkie
Character: TC, with some Ryan and Teyla thrown in for good measure.
Rating: Some swearing, that's about it.
Summary: TC's got some issues, man.
Not beta'd but spellchecked. First fic EVAH in any realm of SG-1. Go me.
Feedback is loooooooved.
You know, as much as life sucks sometimes, you have to sit back and admire its audacity. Its balls, as it were. Life could put you through your paces, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. Not really, anyway. You might think you could, and you could try, but there was no way in hell you were actually going to get anywhere.
Life was a colossal bitch like that.
The cop finally managed to realize that his ID was current and valid, and TC was let through. He dreaded this. Every single time the chain link door opened, he could feel his steps getting heavier and the air around him get thicker with every foot he traveled. He walked down the narrow hallway to the room set aside for lawyer/client discussions.
He paused outside, looking through the one way mirror at his son, who’d somehow managed to get a cigarette and lighter past the cops, and was currently draped across his chair in a way that could not possibly be comfortable, blowing the pale cigarette smoke out the side of his mouth. A flash of parental alarm sped through his mind before he stomped it down fiercely.
He opened the door swiftly, slamming his briefcase on the table and ripping the cigarette out of his son’s mouth before the boy could even move.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?”
Ryan merely scoffed at his father, slowly pulling another cigarette out of some pocket and lighting it with that flair of his, blowing the smoke from the first breath in his father’s general direction.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t you take that tone with me.” TC stepped forward, but before he could reach him, Ryan was out of his chair and across the room.
Damn his reflexes, they were good.
“Like fuck you care. The only reason you’re here is because of that bitch defender. What’d she say this time? That I ran over some cat? That I stole a car? That I stole a car and then ran over a cat?”
“Dammit, Ryan, this isn’t a game! I can only bail you out so many times!”
“Who says I want you to bail me out?!” He pushed forward until he was face to face with his father, jamming his finger into the other man’s chest. “I don’t want anything to do with you, you lying sack of shit.”
TC gripped his son by the shoulders and shoved him backward into the wall, barely managing to restrain himself enough so that the boy didn’t break his back against the concrete.
“I never lied. I was completely truthful about Shauna.” With every word, he took a carefully measured step towards Ryan, who wasn’t moving from the wall, seemingly content to let the blank concrete support his weight.
“Yeah, right up to the fucking part of the story.”
He couldn’t help it, he slapped his son across the face so hard, a bruise was already starting to form.
“You will watch your language around me. Understand?”
Ryan glanced at his father with contempt before spitting in his face.
TC stood there and calmly wiped the saliva off his face. When he spoke, it was with a cold voice, hard and solid.
“Fine. Have fun in the federal prison. Call me after you’re gang raped by three life cons, all named Bubba and three times your size.”
He turned, picked up his briefcase, and walked out the door, leaving his son behind.
“I don’t know what to do, Ray.”
He glanced up at his mentor, sitting down the couch from him, keeping his silence for the 23rd straight minute, refusing to tell TC what to think.
He sighed heavily, leaning back and sinking into the couch’s deep leather cushions, sliding down a bit. He grimaced internally as Janet Fraiser’s voice rang in his head about how he was ruining what was left of his posture.
“He still hates me. It’s been almost seven years, and he just won’t drop it. Fuck, Drea’s almost made her peace with it.”
He paused, rethinking his words.
“What am I saying? Drea still hates me too. Still fucking insisting that I was sleeping with Shauna before I served her divorce papers along with the stir fry. She knew it was coming. She had to. She knew that we only got married because of my goddamn parents…. fucking socialites. She knew that Shauna was my first love… she knew it.”
He sighed again, running his hands down his face.
“Ryan always liked his mother better than me. Hated me from birth, I swear. Leaving Drea just… compacted it. Made a bad situation worse.”
Ray shifted in his seat and spoke for the first time.
“Ryan never felt like he had a trustworthy father, and won’t accept a second mother.”
TC raised an eyebrow in agreement.
“Don’t I know it.”
Three minutes and twenty nine seconds off.
That damn courthouse clock was always slow.
TC stood outside Courtroom #4, waiting for the previous case to release and eyeing his watch with suspicion. Was it the courthouse clock or his watch that was three minutes and twenty nine seconds off?
“Mr. Murray?”
He turned and came face to face with Teyla Emmagen, his wannabe thug son’s public defender. He instantly turned on the charm that came so easily.
“Ms. Emmagen, so lovely to see you again. I wish we could meet under different circumstances.”
She smiled that benign smile of hers that made Family Court prosecutors underestimate her, right before she tore them a new one in the courtroom.
“I’m sure,” she demurred, “but unfortunately, we must meet under these inopportune circumstances. I was hoping to discuss your son’s current case with you. Do you have a moment?”
He glanced at his watch, then at the courtroom clock. He still hadn’t figured out which one was right. Sneaking a peek into Courtroom #4, he saw that Albert Pophis was arguing something fierce at a witness. The blowhard hadn’t even gotten to his first question, it was going to be a while.
“Why not?”
Setting her briefcase on the table in the open conference room, Teyla pondered TC Murray as he got settled.
A tall, imposing man, who wanted to do right by his son, but didn’t quite know how. Sometimes he let his anger get the best of him - like yesterday at the juvie center, apparently - but he was a good man, essentially. He was passionate about all things in his life, from his cases to his son to his wife - and possibly some other women.
She smiled to herself at her last thought, and sat down.
“Mr. Murray, as I’m sure you know, the court will most likely not show leniency towards your son this time. Not only is he on his last legs in Family Court, he has committed Assault and Battery, in addition to one of his petty crimes. I cannot seem to get through to him that he’s already passed his last chance. I’m reasonably sure Judge Hartell is going to transfer him right out into Criminal Court, where his chances are less, and where I won’t be his lawyer. The least amount of time he could do is five years.”
“So let him.”
She paused, not quite sure what to make of TC’s casual tone and nonchalant demeanor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He doesn’t want my help, and he doesn’t want yours. Let him face the consequences.”
“Mr. Murray, you are aware that by law, I am bound to do what I can for your son.”
“And you have done a magnificent job, but it hasn’t been enough. Let him try to be the man he thinks he is.”
She tilted her head to the side and contemplated his words.
“We will see, I suppose.”
“I suppose we will.”
Pophis was still going strong. God, but that man loved to hear himself speak. TC personally couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.
“Well, Mr. Murray, it seems we meet again.”
He smiled as he turned to face Isa Cohen, ADA.
“Not the most unpleasant situation, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Cohen?”
She merely raised an eyebrow and turned toward the courtroom.
“See you in court, Mr. Murray.”
As she walked into the courtroom, TC could see why his own partners said they were having an affair, as most people did. The chemistry was wild, and she was a beautiful woman. But TC considered himself a loyal man, for whatever that was worth these days, and he was married to another beautiful woman.
And then there was the case of Miss Cohen’s own personal history. A young widow who still wore her wedding ring two years after her husband died in the war overseas, some godforsaken little village TC couldn’t remember the name of. She was still in love, and still hesitant to trust her new feelings for other men. That he wouldn’t push. That he wouldn’t touch.
But, oh, how he was tempted.
He grinned to himself as he sauntered into the courtroom, moving to set up his next big win.
[FIN]
Author: Scifijunkie
Character: TC, with some Ryan and Teyla thrown in for good measure.
Rating: Some swearing, that's about it.
Summary: TC's got some issues, man.
Not beta'd but spellchecked. First fic EVAH in any realm of SG-1. Go me.
Feedback is loooooooved.
You know, as much as life sucks sometimes, you have to sit back and admire its audacity. Its balls, as it were. Life could put you through your paces, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. Not really, anyway. You might think you could, and you could try, but there was no way in hell you were actually going to get anywhere.
Life was a colossal bitch like that.
The cop finally managed to realize that his ID was current and valid, and TC was let through. He dreaded this. Every single time the chain link door opened, he could feel his steps getting heavier and the air around him get thicker with every foot he traveled. He walked down the narrow hallway to the room set aside for lawyer/client discussions.
He paused outside, looking through the one way mirror at his son, who’d somehow managed to get a cigarette and lighter past the cops, and was currently draped across his chair in a way that could not possibly be comfortable, blowing the pale cigarette smoke out the side of his mouth. A flash of parental alarm sped through his mind before he stomped it down fiercely.
He opened the door swiftly, slamming his briefcase on the table and ripping the cigarette out of his son’s mouth before the boy could even move.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?”
Ryan merely scoffed at his father, slowly pulling another cigarette out of some pocket and lighting it with that flair of his, blowing the smoke from the first breath in his father’s general direction.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t you take that tone with me.” TC stepped forward, but before he could reach him, Ryan was out of his chair and across the room.
Damn his reflexes, they were good.
“Like fuck you care. The only reason you’re here is because of that bitch defender. What’d she say this time? That I ran over some cat? That I stole a car? That I stole a car and then ran over a cat?”
“Dammit, Ryan, this isn’t a game! I can only bail you out so many times!”
“Who says I want you to bail me out?!” He pushed forward until he was face to face with his father, jamming his finger into the other man’s chest. “I don’t want anything to do with you, you lying sack of shit.”
TC gripped his son by the shoulders and shoved him backward into the wall, barely managing to restrain himself enough so that the boy didn’t break his back against the concrete.
“I never lied. I was completely truthful about Shauna.” With every word, he took a carefully measured step towards Ryan, who wasn’t moving from the wall, seemingly content to let the blank concrete support his weight.
“Yeah, right up to the fucking part of the story.”
He couldn’t help it, he slapped his son across the face so hard, a bruise was already starting to form.
“You will watch your language around me. Understand?”
Ryan glanced at his father with contempt before spitting in his face.
TC stood there and calmly wiped the saliva off his face. When he spoke, it was with a cold voice, hard and solid.
“Fine. Have fun in the federal prison. Call me after you’re gang raped by three life cons, all named Bubba and three times your size.”
He turned, picked up his briefcase, and walked out the door, leaving his son behind.
“I don’t know what to do, Ray.”
He glanced up at his mentor, sitting down the couch from him, keeping his silence for the 23rd straight minute, refusing to tell TC what to think.
He sighed heavily, leaning back and sinking into the couch’s deep leather cushions, sliding down a bit. He grimaced internally as Janet Fraiser’s voice rang in his head about how he was ruining what was left of his posture.
“He still hates me. It’s been almost seven years, and he just won’t drop it. Fuck, Drea’s almost made her peace with it.”
He paused, rethinking his words.
“What am I saying? Drea still hates me too. Still fucking insisting that I was sleeping with Shauna before I served her divorce papers along with the stir fry. She knew it was coming. She had to. She knew that we only got married because of my goddamn parents…. fucking socialites. She knew that Shauna was my first love… she knew it.”
He sighed again, running his hands down his face.
“Ryan always liked his mother better than me. Hated me from birth, I swear. Leaving Drea just… compacted it. Made a bad situation worse.”
Ray shifted in his seat and spoke for the first time.
“Ryan never felt like he had a trustworthy father, and won’t accept a second mother.”
TC raised an eyebrow in agreement.
“Don’t I know it.”
Three minutes and twenty nine seconds off.
That damn courthouse clock was always slow.
TC stood outside Courtroom #4, waiting for the previous case to release and eyeing his watch with suspicion. Was it the courthouse clock or his watch that was three minutes and twenty nine seconds off?
“Mr. Murray?”
He turned and came face to face with Teyla Emmagen, his wannabe thug son’s public defender. He instantly turned on the charm that came so easily.
“Ms. Emmagen, so lovely to see you again. I wish we could meet under different circumstances.”
She smiled that benign smile of hers that made Family Court prosecutors underestimate her, right before she tore them a new one in the courtroom.
“I’m sure,” she demurred, “but unfortunately, we must meet under these inopportune circumstances. I was hoping to discuss your son’s current case with you. Do you have a moment?”
He glanced at his watch, then at the courtroom clock. He still hadn’t figured out which one was right. Sneaking a peek into Courtroom #4, he saw that Albert Pophis was arguing something fierce at a witness. The blowhard hadn’t even gotten to his first question, it was going to be a while.
“Why not?”
Setting her briefcase on the table in the open conference room, Teyla pondered TC Murray as he got settled.
A tall, imposing man, who wanted to do right by his son, but didn’t quite know how. Sometimes he let his anger get the best of him - like yesterday at the juvie center, apparently - but he was a good man, essentially. He was passionate about all things in his life, from his cases to his son to his wife - and possibly some other women.
She smiled to herself at her last thought, and sat down.
“Mr. Murray, as I’m sure you know, the court will most likely not show leniency towards your son this time. Not only is he on his last legs in Family Court, he has committed Assault and Battery, in addition to one of his petty crimes. I cannot seem to get through to him that he’s already passed his last chance. I’m reasonably sure Judge Hartell is going to transfer him right out into Criminal Court, where his chances are less, and where I won’t be his lawyer. The least amount of time he could do is five years.”
“So let him.”
She paused, not quite sure what to make of TC’s casual tone and nonchalant demeanor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He doesn’t want my help, and he doesn’t want yours. Let him face the consequences.”
“Mr. Murray, you are aware that by law, I am bound to do what I can for your son.”
“And you have done a magnificent job, but it hasn’t been enough. Let him try to be the man he thinks he is.”
She tilted her head to the side and contemplated his words.
“We will see, I suppose.”
“I suppose we will.”
Pophis was still going strong. God, but that man loved to hear himself speak. TC personally couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.
“Well, Mr. Murray, it seems we meet again.”
He smiled as he turned to face Isa Cohen, ADA.
“Not the most unpleasant situation, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Cohen?”
She merely raised an eyebrow and turned toward the courtroom.
“See you in court, Mr. Murray.”
As she walked into the courtroom, TC could see why his own partners said they were having an affair, as most people did. The chemistry was wild, and she was a beautiful woman. But TC considered himself a loyal man, for whatever that was worth these days, and he was married to another beautiful woman.
And then there was the case of Miss Cohen’s own personal history. A young widow who still wore her wedding ring two years after her husband died in the war overseas, some godforsaken little village TC couldn’t remember the name of. She was still in love, and still hesitant to trust her new feelings for other men. That he wouldn’t push. That he wouldn’t touch.
But, oh, how he was tempted.
He grinned to himself as he sauntered into the courtroom, moving to set up his next big win.
[FIN]