Indictment

Helena looked in the mirror. The leather skirt and corset bound her, turning her body into a tuned silhouette. The outfit encased her, and it felt like armor. The restrictive, narrow hem of the hobble skirt made every movement deliberate. In stiletto heels, she took each step with full awareness of her body and posture.

She turned and smiled as the light played across the surface of the leather. Smoky makeup invited and intimidated at once. Satisfied, she put a long leather coat over the top.

Sliding into the backseat of the carshare, the driver turned and smiled, then, when he saw her makeup and hair, swallowed before greeting her.

“22-, 22351 Industrial Way?” he asked when he read the address.

“Yes, that’s it,” Helena said as she pulled the door closed.

She looked out the window, pretending not to notice his eyes returning to her in the mirror. She made small movements. Smiling, she enjoyed as his gaze followed each one.

Easing to a stop, the red light of a traffic signal bathed the car’s interior. The driver stared. Helena met the gaze, her expression neutral.

He looked to the dashboard before sneaking another glance. Helena looked into the rearview mirror, his eyes flicking between her and the road as the light turned. Helena smiled and looked out the window as the car began to move.

Further from the city center, the streetlights became less frequent. Many were shattered or burned out. Industrial parks and warehouses replaced retail storefronts.

Finally, the car stopped before a square, bulky building with an incandescent bulb illuminating the number 22351. Helena reached for the door handle.

“You going to be ok?” the driver asked.

Helena turned in the seat and put both feet  on the ground. She didn’t look back as she balanced on her heels.

He stared, and when Helena turned to close the door, she met his eyes, then ran an evaluating look over his body before raising an approving eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she said and closed the door.

Helena approached the door, her heels clicking on the concrete. The car crept away.

A muscled bouncer appeared out of the shadows. “Private party.”

Helena looked to the door, then returned to the bouncer. “But, my friend Leopold invited me.”

At the name Leopold, the bouncer’s expression softened, and he went to the door, pulling it open and holding it for Helena to pass. Warm air pressed out of the passageway, along with the muffled thump of a dance track.

Entering, Helena parted the curtains and passed through.

Red light bathed her hands. To her left, a shirtless man with the body of a swimmer wore a leather harness and pants. He stood in a small booth. Helena peeled off her coat and slid it across the counter. He took it, a hand stroking the leather as his eyes went over Helena’s outfit.

“That outfit isn’t playing fair,” he said.

“For what it takes to get into this thing, I should get something,” she said and ran a hand over the front of the corset. “And it’s a bear to keep clean.”

“Leather. Tell me about it,” he said, his eyes drinking Helena in.

“You volunteering to help?”

He shrugged. “Makes me wish I was into girls.”

She looked him up and down. “Wish you were too.”

He smiled and slid a hanger into the jacket before hanging it on the rack behind him. “Be safe.”

Helena winked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Pushing through the inner doors, the bass thickened so Helena felt it in her chest. A dance floor writhed in flickering lights and smoke machine fog, the moving crowd a shifting outline. Skirting the dance floor’s edge, she moved towards the rear of the room, finding a metal security door and another bouncer. His glance was appreciative, but he did not move.

Helena crooked a finger. The bouncer bent and leaned an ear towards her. “My friend Leopold invited me.”

In the din, he nodded and turned to the door, pulling it open. Helena passed through, and as it closed behind her, the din of the music fell back to a dull thump.

The swish of a whip greeted her, along with a thudding impact. A grunt and sigh followed. A nude woman was bound to a leather-covered St. Christopher’s cross. Leather straps held her body taut. Her back had been striped, and the man whipping her had begun on her backside and thighs. She lay with one cheek against the cross, and her face floated somewhere near bliss. The whip fell again, and she grunted, then relaxed into the blow. The man swinging the whip wore a dark shirt and trousers. He paused and ran fingernails over her back, whispering into her ear, then sliding a hand along her side.

She shivered, her body quivering.

Helena turned and proceeded deeper, passing a gorgeous woman wearing a severe military uniform sitting on a throne while a shirtless submissive ran a cloth over her gleaming riding boots and shiny spurs. He wore a head harness with a rubber bit between his teeth. Tapping a riding crop against his shoulders, she guided and scolded. Intent and nervous, he nodded and increased the pace of his polishing.

A nude woman hung from the ceiling, her body emeshed in an elaborate rope tie which arced her back so she seemed to be a ballerina who’d escaped gravity. Each scene drew two or three observers. They watched with careful neutrality while their body language vibrated with thick desire.

Helena continued to the back, found a small bar, and slid onto a stool. Crossing her legs with deliberate slowness, she let her shoe slip so it dangled from her toes before she snapped it back into place. Eyes went to the sound, then to Helena.

One of the people watching the woman have her boots polished looked to Helena. She looked back as she ordered a cocktail.

The drink was served, and she spun to pick it from the bar and thank the bartender. The man continued to look at her. Sipping the drink, she watched him over the rim of the glass.

He looked away, his gaze furtive and switching between the scene before him and Helena.

When Helena had almost finished, she turned and set the glass on the bar. The man approached. Noting his closeness, Helena swung back and brought her foot against his thigh. At the impact, she let her shoe slip off her foot and tumble to the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said.

Late-40’s with salt-and-pepper hair, he wore a tailored pinstripe suit. His brown eyes looked tired, but as she held her foot against his leg, he stared as though he couldn’t register the sensation. Then, he dropped to one knee and lifted the shoe. Rising, he presented it.

Helena extended her leg towards him.

“You’ll be dear, won’t you?” she asked. “Difficult to bend in this outfit.”

Swallowing, he bent, then paused.

“Kneeling is easiest,” Helena said.

He did, bending his head and going to one knee. He slipped her shoe on, and she tapped his shoulder with the sole and smiled. He looked up at her, uncertain.

“Now there’s a picture,” Helena said, looking down on him.

Remaining in that position for a beat, he rose, uncertain whether he should.

“My hero,” Helena said.

Behind her, a fresh drink had been put onto the bar. She turned on the stool, her foot brushing against his leg, and lifted the drink from the bar. When she turned back, he hadn’t moved, his eyes looking in every direction.

Helena let him fumble, enjoying how the motion of lifting the glass to her lips held him transfixed. She swallowed with deliberation, and he followed the subtle working of her throat.

“Poor thing. You should sit down,” she said and patted the stool next to her.

Relief spreading over his features, he slid onto the stool. Helena put an arm on the bar and leaned close as the bartender returned. The man ordered a Bloody Mary.

“Thank you. Just nervous,” he said.

“I won’t bite unless you ask really nicely.”

He blushed. “No, just-“

He shook his head.

Touching his forearm, Helena met his eyes, her smile gentle. “Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to happen.”

“I know,” he said as his drink arrived. He took a sip. “Difficult to talk about.”

“I’m very good with secrets,” Helena said.

Nerves relaxing, he examined Helena’s face. “Do we know each other?”

Helena shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I feel like I’ve seen your picture somewhere.”

“I can’t imagine where.”

He searched her face. “Do you have a website? Social media?”

“Why would I have a website?”

He pulled away, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He looked away and took a drink. Thinking, he turned back and leaned close, his voice a whisper.

“Please don’t be offended, but you’re a professional, right?”

Helena laughed and put a hand against his chest.

“You thought I was working you?” Helena asked and chuckled.

He leaned against her hand. “It’s just that I don’t come here often, and my job-“

Their faces remained close, voices bare sounds above the muted thump of the music.

“Difficult for me too. I can’t talk about this either. You looked at me, like you thought I was pretty-“

“Oh, you’re stunning,” he interrupted. “Just didn’t expect.”

“That a girl could think you were hot and imagine what might happen if you introduced yourself?”

He nodded. “I hope you’re not offended.”

Helena met his eyes. “Can I share a secret?”

He didn’t speak, but his eyes were an invitation. Helena lifted her lips to his ear.

“You’ll give to me because you won’t be able to help it.”

She pulled back. His face had gone from nerves to open desire. Looking to the rest of the room, he returned to Helena.

“I want to. I can’t. Not here,” he said. “But, I have a place.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Helena said.

He whispered in her ear. “Lester, my friends call me Les.”

“I’m Helena.”

“Would you, I mean. I’d love it if you’d come to my place. I’d do anything.”

“Anything,” Helena repeated. “Now that’s what a girl loves to hear, Les.”

He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a cellphone, made a call, then rose and offered his hand.

Helena rose and moved to pay for her drinks, but he was quicker and laid cash on the bar.

“Please, let me,” he said.

“Giving already,” Helena said and slid an arm into the crook of his elbow.

They walked out together, Helena leaning against him. Lester tipped the coat check, and the coat check winked at Helena as Les helped her put on her coat.

Outside, a limousine waited by the curb. The chauffeur stood by the rear door and opened it, allowing Helena to enter. Lester slid in beside her. The privacy screen was up, and once the door was closed, they were alone.

Lester leaned over, wanting to give Helena a kiss. She leaned back and put her hand over his mouth.

“No, no, no,” Helena scolded. “You’re going to need to earn that.”

“A man who rides in a limo probably gets what he wants with a snap,” she said, snapping her fingers.

She leaned over, her lips inches from his. “But, I don’t care. I want you to impress me.”

“How?”

She put a hand to his chest and made slow circles. “Patience. Sacrifice.”

He didn’t respond, but his body pressed against her touch. She slipped his jacket off his shoulders and gripped the lapels, cinching it around his chest and pulling his arms against his body.

He winced.

“You ok?” Helena asked.

“Cell phone,” he said, “Digging into my ribs.”

Helena reached into the jacket, fishing the cellphone out.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Should I call for help while you still have a chance?”

He laughed. Helena tucked the phone into the seat by her leg, then cinched the coat  harder. Her fingernail found a nipple and began to circle.

His eyes closed, and he sighed. She continued.

“We could just sit here like this,” she said. “And I could watch while you went insane.”

She pinched. “You might even beg if we kept up long enough. Have you ever begged a woman before, Les?”

He shook his head, his mouth a grimace of pleasure.

“Never?” Helena asked, switching sides. He gasped again. “Never been teased until tears spilled from the edges of your eyes, until your body shook all over, and you promised everything and meant it?”

He gasped in a sharp release. “No.”

“Would do you good.”

She slid a hand between his legs. It had become a rigid mass. She traced the outer edges with a fingernail.

“You’d let me torture you, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know.”

“It’d be really hot, Les. For both of us because I’d be wanting you too.”

“Helena,” he gasped.

“Do you think I’d give in first, or would you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Fun to find out, don’t you think?”

She squeezed between his legs.

“Helena, please,” Les gasped.

“No, Les. Don’t beg yet. We haven’t even gotten to your place yet. I haven’t even been mean, bringing you to the edge, then pulling it away at the last second. Then doing it again, then again, and again. It would be so mean if I did that.”

He shook his head. “Awful. Don’t know.”

She released his coat and pushed the center of his chest. He gave in and lay back against the seat, his arms limp at his sides.

“Or, maybe, you’d reach a point where you couldn’t tell anymore? You’d say yes to anything, even more teasing. How messed up would that be? You’d beg me to torture you more…”

“Yes, Helena.”

The car had eased to a stop, and the door opened. In a flash, Les’ eyes opened. He looked from Helena to the door. Clenching his eyes shut, he arranged his jacket and took a deep breath.

“Still want me to come inside?” Helena asked

His head snapped to her, confused. His dilated eyes spoke of need and disorientation. “Yes, please.”

Helena took his cellphone and extended her hand.

“Help me out? Dress is a little constricting.”

Les stumbled out and reached back in. Helena grasped his hand and climbed out of the car.

The neighborhood was unremarkable. Cottage-style homes lined the narrow, residential street. At this hour, there was no sound, save crickets and the faint hum of distant traffic.

Les looked at Helena and swallowed before turning to the driver. “That’s all for tonight, Phil.”

The driver tipped his cap and departed. The limousine slid away, leaving them alone. Les fished keys out of his pocket and walked towards the house.

Instead of opening the front door, he circled to the back. A cellar door was held closed by a thick padlock. Inserting a key, he opened the lock and stepped down.

Helena followed, her heels sinking into the grass, and when he descended into the basement, she braced herself against the walls and stepped down.

The low-ceilinged basement had a smooth concrete floor. The walls were cinderblock, and on each, various cuffs, whips, ropes, chains, and other restraints hung from hooks embedded in the concrete.

Helena scanned the room and found a cage on the floor, along with a cross bolted to the wall and a leather-covered bondage table.

“You have a lot of secrets, Les,” Helena said.

Not waiting for a response, Helena went to the walls, her hands tracing over the leather and chains. She came to a metal cabinet. Pulling the top drawer open, she found a set of heavy leather cuffs. Without touching them, she looked at Les.

“I wonder if these would hold you when you were really desperate.”

Uncertain, he took a step and stopped.

“Well?” Helena asked.

He came to her. She lifted one of the cuffs and touched his wrist, then pulled it away.

“Far too many clothes, don’t you think?”

He hesitated. Helena raised an eyebrow, and he began to strip

Clothes forming a pile at his feet, he’d stripped to his underwear. Helena smiled and leaned against the cabinet, arms folded, a bent smile on her face.

“No, please. Don’t stop on my account.”

In a moment,  he stood naked before her. Sliding the first cuff over his wrist, she looked him in the eye as she cinched it closed, then ran a hand over the leather. He shivered.

“Cool at first, isn’t it?”

Les nodded.

She repeated the process with the other wrist, then kicked off her heels and had him sit on the bondage table before cuffing his ankles. Pushing him onto his back, she selected chains and secured all but one arm.

“Last chance.” She said.

“Please,” he said.

She pulled the last chain taut and stepped away. The cabinet contained every device she could imagine. She arranged several clamps and a Wartenberg wheel beside him on the table.

Seeing each toy, Les squirmed against the restraints, his arousal straining. Helena glanced from it to his eyes and patted his chest before pinching a nipple. He gasped and arched his back. She increased the pressure, watching him strain as his arousal grew, then he gasped at the pain. Helena giggled.

Lifting a clamp, she released the nipple and flicked the skin, making it stand up before easing a clamp over it, watching his face as she let the spring tighten. His face screwed up in pain. She closed a second clamp over the other nipple. He hissed.

Her hand drifted to his sex and traced a single finger up the underside. He shuddered and tried to press against her hand, but she pulled away.

“Only what I give you,” Helena said.

He relaxed, and she repeated the sensation. He squirmed.

Sweat broke out across his forehead, Helena smiled and continued her search of the dungeon, noticing a small clock near the doorway. It read 1:35 am.

When Helena noted the clock again, it read 3:03 am. Her skirt and corset lay next to the door, and the leather of the bondage table was coated with sweat.

His voice had been reduced to babbling, and Helena sat next to him, a vibrator held against his sex. His body arched against it, thrusting mindlessly. His face, drenched with sweat, lolled from one side to the other.

“Please, please,” his hoarse voice repeated.

Helena flicked the vibrator’s switch and pulled it away.

Straining, his hips rose by animal instinct, reaching and holding. He held the pose for seconds before collapsing back against the table and panting.

“Helena, please. Anything.”

She turned the vibrator to its lowest setting and swirled it near his twitching member. He searched for it with his hips, but she kept it just out of contact.

“You’ve said that,” she said, feigning doubt. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“I mean it. Please.”

“You’re just a little turned on, not really desperate yet. If you were desperate, you’d offer something.”

“What do you want? Anything. I swear.”

“Why should I have to do all the work?” she teased. “You should think of something I might like to have.”

“I have money. In my suit-“

“No, Les,” Helena said. “That’s boring.”

She touched the vibrator to his sex. His jaw trembled, and a tear rolled from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he repeated. “I can’t think.”

Helena shook her head. “Get a little turned on, and you lose your head. Do I have to think of something?”

He nodded, his eyes squinted shut. “Yes, I can’t. Can’t think.”

Lazing the vibrator along his sex, Helena seemed to think. Les opened his eyes; they were deep pits of desperation.

“Poor thing,” she teased. “Let me think.”

She returned to his sex, and his arousal started towards release, his body rising at her touch like a marionette. He tensed and froze. Helena pulled the vibrator away.

A sob escaped his lips. “No, please.”

Helena turned the vibrator off. “How about a confession?”

Through panting, he stared at the ceiling. “Anything.”

“That’s it,” Helena said. “Admit that you’d give me anything.”

“I’d give you anything, Helena. Please.”

“No, that’s too easy. You’ve been saying that all night.”

She hopped down from the table and went to the table by the door. She lifted his cellphone off and returned to the table, holding it up for him to see. Not understanding, he watched.

“Your passkey?” she asked.

A hint of doubt, then her hand touched his sex. He whispered the code as though entranced. She entered the code. The camera app was on the home page. She pushed the button and centered the camera on his face.

“Ok, Les. What would you give me?” Helena asked and increased the pressure on his sex.

His eyes were damp with frustrated tears, but he looked at the camera. “Anything, Helena. I’d give you anything. I don’t care. Anything.”

Helena smiled and stopped the recording, putting the phone aside. She lay against him, her naked body against his side. Her hand moved with purpose, feeling his body’s jerks and pulses until she found the edge.

Holding him there, she sighed and felt her own frustration as he repeated whispered pleas. She added a tiny increase in pressure, and his body clenched. He cried out as his body collapsed into spasms that echoed for several minutes.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered.

“Hmmmmm,” Helena said. “Anytime.”

Les drifted and seemed to sleep. Helena slipped from beside him and lifted the cellphone. She entered the passkey and found the video, emailed it, then returned the cellphone to the table by the door. Then, she used his phone to call a car service. It would be there in twenty minutes.

She released him from the straps. He stirred, and she kissed his cheek.

“Anytime, Les,” Helena said. “This was fun.”

He murmured some kind of agreement, and she left him as she closed her coat over her naked body and lifted the rest of her clothes from the floor.

She closed the door behind her as she departed. Les had fallen asleep and turned on his side.

The car service arrived, and she slipped inside. The driver’s eyes were tired, and they departed without speaking.

***

The following morning, Helena yawned as she pulled into her marked parking spot at the asylum. Her hair was still wet, and the scent of leather lingered in her nose. After turning off the engine, she rubbed her eyes, then stepped out of the car.

The guard at the security checkpoint smiled and waved her through, but Helena paused after she passed through the metal detector.

“Louis, is Jason awake yet?” Helena asked.

The security guard frowned and picked up a phone. Dialing a number, he listened for a beat, then spoke.

“Dr. Webb wants to speak with Sentinel. Is he up?”

Louis nodded to Helena. Helena pointed to the phone.

“Tell him I’m coming down.”

Louis nodded. “She’s headed your way.”

He listened and hung up the phone.

“He’ll be waiting, Dr. Webb.”

“Thanks so much,” Helena smiled.

“Anytime.”

She went to the elevator and pushed the button for the lowest subbasement, her stomach rising as the elevator plummeted six floors.

When the door opened, she stepped into a bare hallway of basalt rock. A security door with rivets along its edge stood before her. Helena put her badge to the lock, then waved to the camera mounted to look at the door. After a heavy clang followed by an electronic buzz, the door edged open. The guard inside leaned against its bulk to scrape it open a sliver. Helena slipped into the gap. The guard pulled the door shut, and the bolt clanged back into place.

“I put him in six, Dr. Webb,” the guard said.

Helena had begun placing her purse and laptop bag in the lockers.

“Thanks, Harold. They get the vending machines down here yet?”

“Day before yesterday. I appreciate you taking care of it.”

“Of course.”

Closing the locker, Helena moved to the security door labeled six. She peered through the mesh-glass window. A bulky figure sat at the table.

“Ready?” Harold asked.

Helena nodded, taking a deep breath. The door buzzed, and she pulled it open.

Ice blue eyes stared up, and the shackles holding him to the table rattled. His muscles bulged against the sleeves of his fatigues. Helena let the door close itself behind her, standing just inside the room as the door clanged into place.

The hard stare burned into her, and she let the force of it hit her and waited. It took several beats before it softened into desire as the after-effects of the spray caused him to react.

“More gloating, doctor?” He asked.

Helena frowned, pulled out the chair, and sat.

“Jason, there’s nothing to gloat over. There’s no victory for anyone.”

He glanced at the camera, then back to her. He glared, then closed his eyes. “Always perfect in public, aren’t you? Always arranged, just so.”

“Jason, I will do anything to let us be honest with each other. You want the cameras off? You want me to have them remove the shackles? Anything.”

“Yes, remove the shackles,” he said.

Helena reached across the table and put a hand over his. He tried to jerk away, but the shackles held him. “You might hurt me if I did. But, I’d like you to acknowledge that you might do something entirely different, something you struggle to admit to wanting.”

He glared, then his eyes betrayed him. He looked at her lips, then down over her body. He released a shaking breath.

“Should I call the guard?” Helena asked.”

Shrinking a faction, he shook his head. “No.”

“I just want to get to your true feelings.”

He looked at her, then closed his eyes as a rush of arousal coursed through him. He smiled and shook his head. “How long did you test the drug before you used it on me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s spider pheromone.”

He looked at her, shaking his head. Gritting his teeth, his body shuddered. Eyes betraying him, he looked from her face to her body.

“It wasn’t-,” he began.

Helena held up a hand. “Jason, I’m not here as your therapist today.”

The shackles clanged. “You’re not my-“

“Julian,” Helena said.

Jason relaxed. “What about him?”

“His hearing is tomorrow. He needs you.”

“Julian will be fine.”

“Sixteen counts of felony accessory, along with a dozen regulatory fines waiting that will break the company. All because he remains loyal to you.”

“Not to me. Loyal to what we were attempting.”

Helena sighed. “Yes, fighting corruption, exposing institutional rot. But, does that really matter when he’s going to go to prison when he doesn’t need to?”

“We agreed.”

“Jason, your diminished capacity defense saved you, put you here instead of prison,” Helena said.

“I didn’t want to be locked up in here with you. I wanted prison.”

“Yes,” Helena said and looked into his ice blue eyes. “But, because of my testimony, it happened.”

“Yes,” he replied. “You pulled it off.”

“Jason doesn’t have that protection. He’ll go to jail, but he doesn’t have to.”

“How?” Sentinel asked, narrowing his eyes,

“Agree to testify that it started as an agreement, but as time went by, and as your persona took over, it became a hostage situation, and instead of agreeing, Julian began to identify with his abuser.”

“I never threatened him. We always agreed.”

“I heard you threaten him, Jason. I was in the room.”

The hard surface of his personality cracked for an instant, and the Sentinel softened. Guilt broke through before he caught it and shoved it down. He shook his head.

“No.”

Helena sighed. “Julian strikes me as one of the sweetest men I’ve met. Brilliant, gentle. Even imagining him in prison is upsetting.”

Jason looked at the table.

“There are no guarantees, but if you testified, even sent a letter, it would help.”

Jason didn’t look up. He shook his head. “We agreed.”

Helena nodded. “Ok. I had to try.”

Standing, she looked to the camera. Leaving Sentinel staring at the table, she went to the door. It buzzed, and she pushed it open.

Jason never looked up, his voice small. “We agreed.”

Helena pushed the door closed and departed up the hall. Finding the elevator, she rode it to the top of the tower.

Her secretary, Samantha, smiled when Helena entered the outer office.

“Good morning, Helena,” she said, then her face looked concerned. “You look tired.”

“Good Morning,” Helena replied and rubbed her eyes. “Just came from speaking with Jason.”

“That’ll do it,” Samantha said. “The mayor called. Coffee?”

“When?”

“A few minutes ago. He said you could catch him for the next half hour.”

“Coffee would be great,” Helena said.

“Sure thing.”

Helena entered her office and crossed to the desk. She lifted the phone and dialed.

“Hello Jessica. It’s Helena. I’m returning his honor’s call.”

Samantha entered and set a steaming cup of coffee on Helena’s desk. Helena mouthed a thank you as Samatha departed.

“Good morning, your honor,” Helena said into the phone.

“Dr. Webb, I wanted to let you know that I did my best on the Julian thing, but the DA won’t budge,” the mayor said.

“You talked about what I said?”

“The full spiel. Stockholm syndrome. Influence under distress. The whole thing. He said the case was a slam dunk, and the city deserved something after the diminished capacity stunt you pulled with Sentinel.”

“Stunt?”

“His words, Helena. I believed you. Sentinel’s off the streets. Who cares about the rest, but if you want the real truth, it’s that he wants my job in two years. He thinks this will get him there.”

“I don’t understand any of that, your honor.”

“Be grateful you don’t,” the mayor said and laughed.

“I’m grateful you tried. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he said, dropping his voice. “Appointment still on for Thursday?”

“Yes, of course, your honor.”

“See you then.”

“Until then, your honor.”

Helena set the phone in the cradle and closed her eyes, a small smile on her face.

***

The following morning, Helena found a parking spot near the courthouse. The mob of reporters on the steps milled around like a wolf pack sniffing the air for blood. She went to the rear of the building and showed her security badge. They let her through after a brief search.

Finding the correct courtroom, she entered and found a crowd milling in the aisles, a mix of lawyers, police, and bailiffs. Looking like a lost puppy, Julian sat at the defense table, watching the bustle and conversations with wide eyes.

His defense attorney spotted Helena and touched Julian’s shoulder. He looked, and his face brightened, happy and vulnerable. Helena approached, and they embraced across the barrier between the visitor seating and the defense table.

“I’m so glad you came,” Julian said.

Helena put a hand to his face and kissed his cheek. He blushed.

“I had to. You still owe me a date,” she said.

The defense attorney had waited, and he extended a hand. Helena shook it. He gestured for Helena and Julian to join him in a huddle, his voice low.

“Please understand that this is a long shot,” the lawyer said. “It’s unusual to take testimony during a charging hearing, especially for the defense. But, I’ll give it a shot.”

Julian looked at Helena. “You don’t have to do this. Jason and I agreed.”

Helena touched Julian’s forearm. “You’ve been through a deeply traumatic experience. I understand you would defend Jason. He was larger than life, but he hurt you, and I worry you won’t let yourself see it.”

“It’s not like that, Helena.”

“Ok,” Helena said. “Just know I’m on your side, no matter what.”

His expression softened, and he looked at her with raw affection. “I know.”

She touched his face as the crowd behind them stirred.

Julian looked up towards the motion. She continued looking at Jason, watching his eyes track what happened behind her. He stared.

“District Attorney,” Julian said.

She saw the man from the corner of her eye. He went to the prosecutor’s table and sat, but Helena kept her eyes on Julian.

Ahead of them, a door on the back wall opened, and a bailiff entered. He gestured to the crowd, then announced the court was in session. Everyone moved to their seats as the black-robed judge entered and took his place. He surveyed the room, then sat. Helena squeezed Julian’s arm before retreating to an empty seat.

The DA stood and began reciting the charges. He’d run through a half dozen before the defense attorney rose and interrupted, saying that his client understood the charges and that a full reading was unnecessary, especially since the district attorney himself was here and shouldn’t have his time wasted.

A chuckle rippled through the courtroom, and the DA agreed that he could waive reading the charges. The judge then asked if Julian was ready to enter his plea.

The defense attorney said that before his client spoke, perhaps the judge could hear expert testimony regarding Julian’s mental state during the events in question.

“Your honor,” the DA said, rising to his feet. “This is improper at this stage. The defense had their chance to offer a diminished capacity plea and did not take advantage of it.”

“Your honor,” the defense attorney said. “This information is new to us, and we believe every avenue should be explored. My client was put under stress that most people can’t relate to- “

“His client acted as armorer to a vigilante who terrorized the city for two years. He had plenty of opportunity to look himself in the mirror and wonder over what he was doing,” the DA replied.

“Please, our expert is here and ready to testify.”

“Then let them testify at trial.”

The judge held up both hands, and the DA and Julian’s attorney fell silent.

“I’m sorry, but the DA is correct. This testimony is untimely. You can offer it at trial.”

“Your honor, please,” the defense attorney turned and gestured to Helena. “She’s right here. The director of Selene herself.”

The DA shook his head. “Your honor, no. Dr. Webb-“

The DA turned and saw Helena. She met his eyes and smiled.

The DA blinked and repeated. “Dr. Webb.”

His voice became a whisper. “Dr. Webb.”

The crowd in the courtroom stirred, and the judge looked at the defense attorney. “Mr. Weissman?”

The DA continued to stare. The judge leaned forward and rapped his gavel. “Les?”

The DA, Lester Weissman, blinked and turned to the judge. He coughed and stared.

“Your honor,” he said and fell silent. “Diminished capacity is-“

He coughed. “Diminished capacity-“

Confusion rippled through the court. Julian looked at Helena, who shrugged.

“A five-minute recess?” Les asked.

The judge rapped his gavel. “Five minutes.”

Murmurs broke through the room as Lester Weissman glanced at Helena, then strode out. Helena rose and went to Julian, gripping his hand.

The defense attorney looked at the exit doors. “What in the world?”

Helena held Julian’s hand, and he looked at her with wide eyes. They didn’t speak while the defense attorney sat and scribbled on a legal pad.

Behind them, the crowd stirred, and Julian’s eyes went to it. “He’s back.”

Helena nodded and gave Julian’s hand a gentle squeeze before returning to her seat.

The judge returned a moment later and called the courtroom to order.

Helena crossed her legs and looked at Les. He sneaked a glance in her direction, coughed, and straightened his tie.

“Mr. Weissman?” the judge asked.

Les rose to his feet, “Um, your honor. In light of new information, the district attorney requests that all charges against Mr. Watt be dismissed.”

The judge blinked. “Dismissed?”

“Yes, your honor.”

Julian’s attorney rose to his feet. “Your honor, if that is the DA’s wish, we request that they be dismissed with prejudice. My client has been through enough; we don’t want the DA to change his mind again and try to refile.”

The judge looked at the DA.

“Yes, your honor,” Les said and glanced at Helena. “Dismissed with prejudice.”

The judge shrugged. “Case dismissed. You’re free to go, Mr. Watt.”

Stunned, Julian looked at Helena. She rose and embraced him.

“You still owe me a date,” she whispered.

“Anytime,” he said and squeezed her against him.

A bailiff appeared and said Julian would need to be processed out. Helena blew him a kiss as they led him away.

The DA remained at the prosecutor’s table, his head in his hands. Helena approached and touched his shoulder.

“Mr. Weissman?” she asked.

He turned to face her, his eyes going wide. Helena extended her hand.

“I’m Dr. Webb. Director of Selene. We’ve not been formally introduced.”

Eyes searching the courtroom, he rose and extended his hand.

“I’d enjoy going for drinks sometime. I know where they make a wonderful Bloody Mary,” Helena said.