damned_institute | Day 53: Sun Room

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Day 53: Sun Room

When the intercom came on to announce the shift change, the feeling of dread returned. Anise had calmed down considerably since the morning, and she felt more ready to discuss the previous night with Ilia... but not as ready as she wanted to be.

Since the Music Room was bound to be noisy and crowded, Anise opted for the Sun Room instead, hoping that Ilia would come to the same conclusion. She took a seat on one side of a couch in the middle of the room, and waited there. If Ilia didn't show up after a while, she'd go try the Music Room.

Even though this talk had been on her mind all day, Anise still didn't know what she would say. And if she explained the truth behind her shadow's words last night... what would Ilia think? On the one hand, Ilia had shown herself to be a compassionate person, and it was hard to picture her treating Anise differently. But on the other hand, Anise hadn't known Ilia that long... and Ilia was a soldier. She would understand the gravity of Anise's actions, and the sorts of consequences that usually waited for people like her.

With these worries weighing on her mind, Anise leaned against the arm of the couch as she waited.

[For Ilia.]

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Lana was quiet as they walked to the corner of the room, where a chair and a sofa sat invitingly. Lana considered them with more gravity than furniture would usually merit, and then sat down on the chair, perched on the edge. Let's start this off with the illusion of being on friendly terms, though I don't suppose we'll end there.

"Information, as it happens. I know you told me," she said, though he hadn't, at least not in so many words, "but what is the last date you recall being at home?"

He had to recognize the technique; Lana couldn't count the number of interrogations they'd run together, either as fellow detectives or as prosecuting attorney and lead investigator, and most of them started with questions like these. Re-establish the facts, and walk over each of the suspected lies amid the truths.

Gant made himself comfortable on the sofa near Lana's chair, clasping his hands in front of him. It was unusual not meeting with Lana in an office, with one or the other of them behind a desk. Almost felt too informal for a meeting between them, but Gant didn't let it bother him.

Almost as soon as he heard her speak though, he lost all comfort and the headache that had died down after lunch came back in full-force. He understood immediately what was going on. After almost five days of being stuck here, but he hadn't forgotten what it could feel like being in court with a lawyer aiming their guns at you, so to speak.

Still, he couldn't be entirely sure what this was about, but he had an inkling... "Let me think about that," he hedged, his mind blanking for a few moments. What had he said to Ema the night before last? "Um, sometime in February, I believe. 2017."

The equivocation was all the answer Lana needed. That was that, then; he knew, and he'd been deliberately hiding it from her. It shouldn't have been the least bit surprising, given everything else she'd learned in the past twenty-four hours, but it was.

Innocent until proven guilty. She'd said that so many times, while working under the assumption of just the opposite to build a case; holding contradictory viewpoints simultaneously was a prosecutor's job, especially under the initial trial system, since so few cases had a defense worth their breath in the courtroom. She'd tried to maintain it even as she'd covered for evidence lists that bore little relation to the crime scene, witness depositions that went beyond leading questions to outright coaching, and the phone ringing to tell her that the case lying open on her desk, overflowing with solid, unforged evidence, was closed as a suicide, effective immediately.

Damon had just used up his ration of reasonable doubt. "I find it hard to believe that a man with such an eye for detail could forget such a trifling matter as the date."

"Very well. By your own admission, it has been two years, give or take a few days, since you murdered Prosecutor Neil Marshall and then framed my sister for it. All in the service of persuading me to, in turn, frame Joe Darke for the murder, and enlist your assistance...and be beholden to your silence on the matter." Her tone was conversational, with no hint of emotion. He ought to have that on his conscience as well; she'd spent so long detaching herself from her own emotions she wasn't entirely sure where to start on getting them back. Fear and love had come tumbling through the cracks, but anger, righteous or otherwise, was still sequestered behind the wall she gas built. Whether that made this easier, or just delayed the inevitable, she wasn't sure. This conversation couldn't wait on the answer, so she dismissed the thought like a recalcitrant witness.

"All of this was predicated on the fact that I would do whatever it took to keep Ema's manufactured guilt from coming to light. You were half right." She could have stopped the look of fond exasperation at Ema's stubbornness from reaching her face, but she didn't. "I would, and evidently did, exactly that. It just wasn't enough. Not in the face of the truth, and a few people who remembered what we forgot."

She looked at him, gaze level, withholding the question for as long as she dared. Let him do the squirming, for once. The department -- both departments -- had been doing a fine job before any of it started. There had been excesses, and mistakes, some of them extremely suspicious, but there had been limits, and inquiries. All of that had changed on that cold, rainy night, and half the blame was hers and hers alone. The other half was Gant's.

"Why did you do it, Damon?"

He listened to all she had to say, and his spiraling dread led to a cycle of the entire gamut of emotions--confusion, rage, fear, defeat, amusement and resignation. If this had been any other person, he might have tried to hide everything, find some excuse or say they had been misinformed. But this was Lana. Lana Skye. Probably the best of partner he could have ever asked for, someone he knew had talent and a strong conviction to see justice done. And of everyone, she was also the one person he might have conceded to having wronged.

He must have missed the memo that said today would turn into a day of confessing. First, Badd, then Niikura, and now Gant himself. Really, what a day.

"So, you've been told the whole account, hmm?" Someone here must have also been to that trial. He didn't event bother asking who. Lana wasn't going to rat out her witness, even if she had confidence they could handle themselves around someone like Gant. He could respect that. But that didn't mean he wouldn't do his damnedest to find out later.

"Well, first, I need to know what 'it' you're referring to," he said at last, his tone the same as ever despite the resignation he felt inside. "Why Neil? Why Ema? Why you? Feel free to ask me anything! I won't lie to you, Lana." Probably. Everything that was important to hide was now out anyway.

"Any. All. Take your pick. I have no pressing engagements." Her heart was pounding in her chest, but her voice didn't waver.

"But if you'd like a specific point, why kill Neil in the first place? Your promotion was already assured, and, while the Prosecutor's Office wouldn't have been quite the cakewalk, you already had at least one of the judges ready to believe anything you said. A few prosecutorial objections wouldn't have made much impact."

It was true, every word of it. Or he could have done the right thing, and needed none of it. They'd solved so many cases together, solid leads and solid evidence and thirty-minute trials that were little more than a formality, all of them honest and fair.

As for the ones they hadn't caught -- Darke had been one, and would have continued to be one if he hadn't turned himself in. Mia had spent years amassing evidence against White, and they'd missed that, too. But no amount of forged evidence could make a trail when they didn't have a destination in mind, and once they had a suspect, well, they'd almost always gotten their man.

Damon had had it all -- power, prestige, and a comfortable position, and he'd risked it all. For what? Was power really so addictive?

Edited 2010-12-12 05:12 (UTC)

So she wanted all of it, huh? Typical Lana. Leave no stone unturned. But if she was going to focus on Neil first, then that at least gave him a concrete place to start. It was simple really. Maybe she had figured it out already, but just wanted him to confirm. Wouldn't surprise him.

"Neil's death was a guarantee. The 'nail in the coffin,' you might say, for Darke." It might have been said jokingly had this been more of a laughing matter, but the past was never a laughing matter. Not concerning the SL-9 incident, at least. "Some people may believe the simple act of turning himself in was enough to get him convicted, but when he decided to back out at the last minute and bolted,"--Gant held up his hands--"unless he was planning on sticking with a guilty confession, there was no evidence to convict him otherwise.

"And it's not like there wasn't an attempted attack on your sister that day. Even little Ema could attest to that." He gave Lana a stern glare. Still no kidding here. "It just goes to show that he wasn't past his murderous tendencies. I was fully convinced if we didn't have something to tie him to the murders, he was going to walk free. So... I did what was necessary to keep that scumbag from getting away."

He hoped that was sufficient to answer that one, but as for the others they would be a little harder to explain without getting Lana's feelings a bit hurt. Not that much could be done to prevent something like that at this point. "Your sister... she probably could have been left out of it. Except I was worried, more because you would likely discover the real perpetrator behind this crime with your keen eye. So, I did what I could to distract you from the crime scene and... maybe because I wanted to guarantee your cooperation in later cases as well..." No use denying it now.

There had been no maybe about it, and now she'd have more than enough evidence to stick the charge on testimony alone. Not premeditated, no; none of them could have predicted that tableau in their office, but his complete indifference to the fact that he'd killed an innocent man was more than sufficient to claim malice aforethought, even if the judge were a friend. He'd had other options -- he'd gone straight for Neil rather than, say, killing Darke and arguing for self-defense on any of the three believable candidates.

That Lana had become so indifferent to illegal evidence that forging a different scene came most readily to mind was a subtler crime. One that would, by design, crumble in the face of a well-constructed accusation. Could she had seen through it from the beginning, if only she'd had the courage to look? Certainly. But the lion's share of the blame still laid on the shoulders of the man who'd chosen murder over waiting on Prosecutor Marshall to wake and offer testimony describing the attack. That might have been enough on its own. If the system were functional,, a little voice whispered, sounding awfully like Damon's, on the few occasions he had to turn the volume down for a conspirator's conference.

"And you expect that makes it alright? We were all frustrated by Darke, but that's what makes us the law, rather than a pack of vigilantes. We have to lose sometimes."

She settle back into the chair, and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. The next question wasn't one she wanted to ask, but she was done with secrets, in both directions. She wouldn't lie for him again, whether under threat or in unrequested charity to a man she'd once called a friend and mentor.

"What are you going to do now?" It was one final chance for him, too -- he couldn't start over, not after what he'd done, but maybe he could stop. Let it end here. And if not, Lana would do whatever was necessary, but this time, if staying within the law meant that that was nothing at all, so be it.

Funny she mentioned vigilantes after he had just finished talking with one the previous shift. A dangerous one, too. For a brief moment, an icy feeling took hold of Gant's heart and he could feel a quiet panic raising in his spine. He had to keep Lana away from Showy. He didn't know what methods the kid used to kill those evil ones he went after, but Gant had a feeling even the small transgressions he had committed would be enough to put him on the teenager's black list.

Then he relaxed, shoving the fears away. Really, the likelihood of Lana meeting up with Niikura were slim to none in this big place. And the likelihood of Gant's name coming up? Zero. Probably. And even if that did happen to be the case, Gant could always twist things around if he needed. Lana's word was strong, but Gant had known the kid longer. Surely Showy would give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Hmm, I'm going to have to disagree with you there." He smiled, but it wasn't his gentlest of smiles. He wasn't playing around, though he kept his tone light as usual. "The law should never have to lose against crime. Anyone who feels the law can't or shouldn't stop all criminals has grown rather halfhearted about their job." On this he would not budge. Really, the law losing to crime? That would only serve to prove his job, and hers, pointless.

Her next question threw him for a moment, though. Folding his arms, he briefly fought the urge to pull at his bangs. "Now? Well, I would imagine getting out of here would be just about everyone's first priority."

He smiled again, but not quite so darkly this time. If anything, it was more amused. "If you meant to ask whether I plan to turn myself in or not, don't count on it. As much as I accepted Wrighto's and Worthy's win in the trial, I'm not going to take this second chance for granted."

As much as he doubted he would ever be chief again, there were plenty of things other than a noose he would rather have liked to experience. Like maybe retirement.

He was waltzing around the question, with his usual unexpected grace. Unexpected by anyone who didn't know the Chief, that was; the mere fact that anyone had made anything, let alone murder, stick was impressive. Rumors had been crowding in elbow-to-elbow, but none of them had stood near him.

She wanted to ask about Worthy's win, given that that was a sizable alteration from the drawn, grouchy Miles Edgeworth who'd walked out of his last two losses, but now wasn't the time. If she wanted to play his game, certainly; he'd dropped enough conversational hints in there that they could keep up appearances all afternoon. Longer, perhaps, but it took two.

Lana cleared her throat. "I'm not asking you to bear witness against yourself. Everyone has rights, even convicted criminals." Her tone was gentle, but only someone unfamiliar with it would call it kind. It was the soft, explanatory tone she used to lull suspects into doing precisely that, although that was not her intention today. "I was just wondering if I should expect to stumble upon more corpses? And if so, what you expected me to do about them?"

Not everyone gets a second chance, and not everyone who gets one, deserves one. I'm not sure where I fall, but I know where you do. What will you do with yours?

Edited 2010-12-24 04:34 (UTC)

He knew what rights she was talking about. In fact, he had used those guaranteed rights in her trial. The privilege to remain silent and withhold one's testimony should it incriminate oneself. Unfortunately it had failed to protect him. Wrighto and Worthy knew the game too well, or he had simply misplayed his hand. Either way, a loss was a loss with evidence that conclusive.

Lana certainly was unhappy today. No, 'unhappy' wasn't the word. Neither was 'disillusioned' though that seemed a bit closer. He could tell, just by that little change in her voice, this was serious. Not that it wasn't serious before, but how he answered would be a deciding factor in how she approached him in the future. If she felt like approaching him at all after today.

"Murder isn't one of my hobbies, so you have no worries in that regard." He clasped his hands together again and returned to his serious stare. "I won't ask you to trust me, Lana, but you should know better than to think I would try such a thing in a place like this. The cat's out of the bag so there's no point, not to mention it would be counterproductive." He didn't sugarcoat his reasoning either. Really, it might have been in his best interest before to take someone out had he known there was someone else here with information about the trial, but now? No, nothing that could be done to change things now. Not even a convenient death of a nosy lawyer or a guileless little sister, or whatever the squealer had been before coming here.

"I think all this has made it very clear that I didn't know you at all." Open sorrow was something she'd avoided as carefully as happiness, until now. Her eyes. The last word was little over a whisper. "Sir."

She'd seen it so many times; heck, she'd seen it with Darke. One little crime, one tiny transgression, just a pebble cracking loose, too small to hurt anyone. Then another, to cover the first, and then panic was an avalanche sweeping over anything in its path. That's how Darke would have been caught, eventually; some things couldn't be hidden. But the death toll might have been staggering.

Lana didn't know where Damon had started; she'd never caught him in a lie before SL-9, not one she could prove, but she couldn't claim she hadn't had suspicions. Mia had been so certain that the rot went deep; she hadn't lived to learn that Lana hadn't been able to escape it, either. It wasn't a blessing. Death never was; too final, when humans were fallible. Executions couldn't be taken back; neither could oversights.

All Lana could do was give them both a second chance. Not a free hand, mind you; she didn't presume to let Damon Gant run this case any more than he'd be running any others back home.

"Further killing would be grounds for suspicion." She'd told Harvey. She'd tell others. "There are quite a few people here who know, but I'm prepared to keep that number small," she said, making sure he knew that concealment really was off the table. She had to make that clear before revealing her key condition; it wasn't one that would surprise him, but listing conditions meant opening the door to compromise, and that was never without risk. "If you agree to leave Ema out of it."

That was perhaps the hardest thing he'd had to hear throughout this entire conversation. As easy as taking advantage of her weaknesses was, hearing that she had taken his betrayal to heart... Well, he should have expected it. But it was still startling to see the stone woman lose her cool. What could he say? Nothing that would make her feel better about it, that was certain.

"The world is full of disappointments, Lana. Wish I could say your old partner was squeaky clean but..." He shrugged. Nothing could change the past. Not even a time-flippy institute like this place.

Her condition was surprisingly simple. He couldn't help the raise of his eyebrows. "Keep Ema out of it? Sure. No problem." Really, that was the least he could do, and it's not like it would be all that difficult. Using Ema to control Lana here just wouldn't yield the same results as it would be home. And Damon held no ill will towards the girl either, even if she had helped Wright put him in chains before.

And when all was said and done, there was one thing they were all striving for. "Look, we're all trying to find a way out of here and give Landel what for. I'd rather we all cooperated in this." And just for good measure, he added, "I'm not out for revenge. No worries there."

Then what are you out for? The truth? Justice? The latter was possible, if for Martin Landel was added to the end. They all wanted that. Ema's safety from Gant was part and parcel -- Landel was the one who could hurt her, not her old partner. She nodded, accepting his assent at face value. He couldn't hurt either of them with Darke any more, and he had nothing else.

Now, when everything seemed resolved, when there didn't appear to be traps lurking in any of his statements -- now she was nervous. What was he expecting her to say? Did he sincerely expect her to pull out her notes on Landel and start strategizing? He just might. That was one thing she had to give him credit for; an indefatigable, occasionally insufferable ability to take everything in stride. A smile, and a few laughing words couldn't make a murder accusation go away like some minor slip-up, but he was trying. Did having her tolerance, if no longer her trust, still mean something to him? Could she even allow herself to think that?

She'd faced him almost every day for the past few years. She could do so now.

"I'm afraid I can't share all of your optimism. Landel seems well aware that co-operation is one of our few assets. Last night saw the demise of a number of working relationships, if I don't miss my guess." Tacit in her statement was the trust they'd once had in each other's gut feelings; she had never lied to him. It also stood as one final warning -- she was guessing, not stating a fact drawn from experience, and she'd laid that neatly between the lines.

No dismissal. No complete break off. Gant wasn't sure what their relationship was at this point, but it didn't seem completely ruined at least. Whatever it was, he would take it!

And, surprisingly, he found himself breathing easier. Did the thought of loosing her support really bother him that much? Sometimes he wasn't sure what to think about their partnership. He hated the idea of relying on someone, but when it was Lana he had no qualms. Well, like before coming here, he wasn't going to dwell on it. It would serve no purpose in the long run.

"All the more reason to co-operate, don't you think?" He smiled a little too widely. He really was much too happy about retaining her support. "If he fears our strength in numbers, maybe that's what we should all strive for. I've been trying to make ties with people outside our normal circle of friends. I'm sure if anything would unite them, it would be a mutual abhorrence of his place and the Head Doctor."

Other people. Strategies. Yes, she could do this. It was harder, when the lines were so much less clearly drawn. Funny how freeing a lack of choice could be, if one was willing to ignore how much it hurt. Focusing, as he had suggested, on Martin Landel would have been a better choice if she'd chosen it herself, though it helped a little.

They had a lot in common, at times. Landel and Gant, or perhaps she had too vivid an imagination, conjuring up a smile to go along with the intercom messages.

"Oh? Anyone I should be aware of in particular?" Who had he been talking to? She had her own list, which she was prepared to start giving if it seemed prudent, but it would be better if she could send advance warning.

Edited 2011-01-06 04:17 (UTC)

As far as Gant could tell, he would lose nothing by being truthful with Lana in this matter. While her presence in his affairs could potentially leading to a revelation about his past, there was also the chance that having her around would guarantee him some security. Not that he expected her to stick her neck out for him but she wasn't likely to betray him, either.

"Well, I believe you've already met Dent," he began, starting with someone they were both aware of. "As for the others, I think the only one of interest to you would probably be this pesky vigilante kid. Goes by Niikura. He's..." Gant wasn't sure how he wanted to represent the kid to Lana. Best to just keep it vague, and hopefully Lana would keep her promise about keeping her mouth shut concerning her trial. "... a little extreme. And then there's Grenny! He's a musician! But he seems to be good at information gathering."

Gant pulled a bit at his bangs, thinking of the other acquaintances he'd made. Most of the others were still fairly shaky relationships. "I'll have to let you know a bit later on some others. But on another note, I met up with Detective Baddo today! Seems he's an ex-detective nowadays, though." Certainly was a lot of ex-officers and attorneys around this place. More depressing was they were just about all from L.A. area.

Two names before he switched to nicknames, and Dent instead of Harvey. He was taking this at least somewhat seriously.

Which meant Lana needed to supply at least some information in return. She didn't dare mention Detective Gumshoe; she didn't trust herself not to give him away as her informant. Prosecutors von Karma and Gavin could quite honestly claim innocence in that regard, as well as demonstrably not fingering Gant as a murderer despite ample opportunity. For that matter, neither had Gumshoe, though whether that heralded prudence or ignorance, she wasn't entirely sure.

She was still cataloguing names when he mentioned Detective Badd. So that's who had torn Kay's note, hmm? And from the future, too. There was a story there, though she couldn't tell whether Damon knew it, or was just piecing together fragments from the bulletin as well. Gant hadn't known about his retirement before coming here; that much she could tell, which meant there was another one who post-dated them both. If he thought he could keep everything a secret, he was deluding himself.

She could keep her silence, then, in good conscience; if it needed to be said, it would be, and not by her.

"I've met a few others from home as well. Prosecutor von Karma's daughter, and a young man named Gavin, both also prosecutors. It's good to hear the office has some fresh new faces to look forward to." She meant that, too. Both of them seemed friendly enough, and Gavin's odd behavior on the bulletin was easily explained as caution. "Other than that -- Dent, obviously, and both my roommate and Ema's are scientists, which makes for pleasant company." Except when Agatha had been brainwashed and armed, but that didn't need to be mentioned.

Edited 2011-01-09 05:09 (UTC)

He almost expected her to keep quiet, or to change her mind about believing him and just walk away. Instead, she listened quietly, processed his information and offered some of her own. Nifty! Almost felt like they were back sleuthing together in the precinct. Almost.

"Oh, right! Little Fran!" He had sincerely forgotten about that little meeting. Probably not his best move. If she had anything like her father's skills and hadn't inherited just the cold heart and attitude she would be worth remembering. Well, remembering was too much to ask when they hadn't had very long to talk. "'Fraid to say I haven't met with Gavin, but it certainly is good news! What with so many of us older folks dropping out..." Gant, Lana, Badd... and with Manfred dead and gone, even if he was alive here, it was enough to make one worry about the state of law enforcement's future in L.A.

The mention of scientists really caught his attention. He had yet to run into someone so valuable. Maybe he could count Showy in there... but no. He was more of a specimen than a scientist, if he had understood their conversation well enough at lunch. "I'm sure little Ema's been enjoying the company. Didn't get to ask her myself, but I hope she hasn't lost her taste for the field after a tainted place like this."

Really, it would be a shame to lose such a dedicated young woman to this place. And if Ema had half the drive Lana did with her work, surely she was bound for greatness. Really, the crimes the Skye sisters might have solved together! Shame it would probably never be, not after that trial.

"If what we did didn't blunt her enthusiasm, I don't think anything could." Lana's expression was perfectly, perfectly composed, the same false carelessness she'd used for every report she'd delivered to him after SL-9.

The difference was that this time it covered triumph. She couldn't change the past, but she'd never expected to have a future, or to be able to give Ema such a bright one.

Prosecutor Gavin had confirmed it, after all. Though Lana had the sneaking suspicion he hadn't told her everything. Nothing bad; she wouldn't have let him slip away so easily if it had been more than a bit of childish glee in knowing the future.

That, of all things, cemented her opinion of his sincerity; he hadn't, as incredible as it seemed, known the details of what she'd done, and he didn't seem to hold any of it against either of them. She hadn't asked him to trust her, though, and she wouldn't. Merely to work together to a common cause, the same olive branch Damon seemed to be offering.

"Well, I believe that's all I can offer at this point. I'm afraid personal concerns have put a damper on my ability to investigate freely, but that shouldn't be at issue any longer." Bland, bland, but if she pushed it any further, something would break. Power was intoxicating, and she'd do well to avoid the temptation. She'd made her points. She gathered up her notes, made a bit of a show of putting them in order, and walked over to the bulletin board, turning her back firmly on Damon Gant in one final, oblique show of, if not trust, the wary truce they'd agreed on.

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Day 53: Sun Room

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