TITLE: Delicieux *grin*
AUTHOR: Alexandra K. (I *think*...)
RATING: PG-13 => R
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine in any way, shape or form. 'Nuff said.
TIMELINE: Ummm... somewhere a few months down the road, in "alternate reality" mode. So just disregard all the inconsistencies with the script, 'kay?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm dying here without Larry, and I felt I needed something to fuel things up a bit (*wink wink Lav* Yes, in fact, I've got some "nice" scenes written out on paper here... LOL :) How inappropriate of a 14-year-old to think such impure thoughts about a grown man... God. I should be ashamed of myself... But I'm not. Heh heh :))

So here it is. It kind of seems depressing at first, but I'll end it in a very happy way, I promise :o) I just wanted to write a fic with some kind of romance development...

P.S. Forgive any legal mistakes in the case. I'm not a lawyer... YET. *wink*

P.P.S. Think about the very last scene here... Wouldn't it be awful to see Ally be one of *those*?! I was trying to come up with the most horrible picture I could manage...



"I... I don't know what happened. At one point I remember thinking "this is way too f*cking hard", but I was completely sure we'd pull through... But she just kept coming back, like Freddy Krueger in those Elm Street movies... She always found an excuse to show up. And not only did *she* do it, his ex-wives did it, too... Women just can't stay away from him. They don't understand - or even WANT to understand - that it's over when it's over and there's nothing they can do about it... And the sad thing is, I'm exactly like that, too. Right now. But whatever. F*ck it. I don't care.

I freaked out. I admit it. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't live, breathe, without him, but I was suffering *with* him. I hated myself for it. I tried to be strong, but... I just couldn't manage it... And he was blowing up, too... And I don't blame him. We didn't have the time or the strength for each other anymore... And, through my inexpressibly torturous hysteria, I understood that. And so did he. And we ran away. From each other. From love. As far as possible. But I couldn't forget him.

Each night was like being thrown into a dark, cold dungeon. Each day, burying myself in work, I strived to forget. To move on. And I couldn't. I even managed to get a boyfriend at the time - yes, in fact, he's a rather nice guy... But in each word, I hear Charlie's voice. Each touch is Charlie's, not Brian's. And I can't get over him. I'm addicted. I need my dose of him, or I'll collapse. Die."

Ally's eyes ran down the screen, reading the note inclosed in the therapist's depo, getting wider & wider with every sentence. "We're..." she finally breathed out. "We're... DEFENDING this woman?"

Nelle & Ling nodded in synchrony.

Ally's eyes got wider still.

"She *murdered* someone..."
"Yeah, we kind of got that..." Ling replied.
"No..." Ally continued. "She actually *MURDERED* someone..." her voice took on a creepy tone on the dreadful word.
"And she's nuts... which REALLY helps her out..." Nelle continued.
"This is ridiculous! She's not nuts! She was in love! And being love doesn't give her the right to just go out and whack whoever she wants!"

This time, it was Ling's turn to be surprised.

"Ally, are you ill?"
"You just don't sound like your normal self, that's all..."
"I sound exactly like my very own perfectly normal self, thankyouverymuch, Ling..." Ally growled. Ling's return growl was more intimidating, though.
"Anyway..." Ally went on. "Why bring this case to me? I don't even do criminal cases!"
"You're the closest thing to connecting with wackos that we have, considering John being away... Whom would you suggest for the job? Richard? And as for you not doing criminal cases, in this firm, cases aren't divided into "civil" and "criminal", they're divided into "money-making" and "time-wasting-because-there's-not-enough-money-involved"... So?" Nelle looked at her questioningly.
"I can't defend her!"
"No one's asking you to... *I* will." Nelle replied. "You just have to meet with her and third-chair in case something goes a little wrong. Which it will. So we need you. Cross her. Do whatever. Meet with witnesses. And if everything goes really really *REALLY* wrong, THEN we'll need you for the closing. But if all goes as planned, the most she'll get is a mental institution, not prison, which is exactly what we're pushing for here..."

This was vomit-inducing. But Ally had no choice other than to agree.

"Okay..." she mumbled.
"Great!" Ling smiled.
"Dandy." Nelle remained icy.
"Go." Ally motioned for them to leave. They did. Ally was left alone.

- - -

"You know what the most terrifying thing is? That woman... she's not nuts... she's actually quite right to have..." Ally made a motion with her hands to illustrate the words she didn't want to use, "*ya know*... I mean, no, she didn't, she shouldn't have *killed* her all the way, but a little..."
"...itty-bitty tiny kill would be okay?" Renee caught on quickly.
"Y-yeah..." Ally looked down at her piece of chicken.
"Say that in court and you're golden..." Renee suggested with a sarcastic smirk.
"Oh, shut up..."
"Ally, come on! She MURDERED someone - as in INTENTIONALLY KILLED - out of jealousy!"
"I'm not defending what she *did*, but... maybe she had "pure" motives at the beginning or something..."
"'Pure'? As in 'I'll just knock her unconscious and chop off her limbs, but no, I *won't* kill her'? 'She just sort of happened to die, Your Honour... I just cut her up, so it wasn't really my fault...'" Renee made teary eyes to portray what the defendant would look like up on the stand.
"What I'm *saying*," Ally continued, "is that women shouldn't be told "just deal with it and move on" after their lover dumps them for someone else... women should be allowed to react with some emotion! And I know perfectly well that she shouldn't have gone to *such* lengths, but sitting at home and crying her eyes out would be as much of a crime as what she did!"
"Say *that* in court... I'm sure Nelle will be delighted!"
"Nelle will *agree*! I mean, come on, we're building a society based on *strong* women! And if he cheated - smack them both! *Strong* women do NOT equal unemotional, okay!" Ally's arms flew out, trying to capture the entire width of the phrase, and ended up hitting Larry in the eye as he walked up behind her.

"Ow! What did I do?"
Ally covered her mouth with her hand and winced a very apologetic "sorry..." He bent down to kiss her, she reciprocated, Renee looked away. Too mushy.
"Oh, whatever..." Ally glowered at Renee. Larry just smiled & sat down.

"What's the big fight on about?"
"Ally's defending a *murderer*..." Renee replied, almost with pride.
"Is that my cue to say something?" Larry asked.
"Say what you want, but I think - though I *again* stress that I fully support the notion that she *shouldn't* have gone this far - that it was quite acceptable for her to react with some emotion..."
"Such difficult sentence structures..." Larry looked at her, smiling.
"See, if *I'd* said that, her hands would be on my throat right now..." Renee piped in. Ally glowered at her again.
"What are you doing here?" Ally turned to Larry. Her eyes were warm, but had a certain sharpness to them Larry didn't like seeing. He knew all too well what she was thinking.
"I'm very happy to see you, too, Ally... gee, what *am* I doing here? You wanna use a lifeline on that one or take your chances?"
"Ha-ha. Very funny." Ally grinned & leaned over to kiss him again, noticing how Renee's face mushed up.
"I'm off to work, kids..." she stood up.
"We were just getting to the interesting part..." Ally grinned again.
"Yeah, you'll tell me every single detail later, okay?" Renee waved bye and marched out.

Ally looked down. Larry's arm, previously around Ally's neck, dropped down her back and ended up on the table. He leaned forward a bit and took a deep breath. Ally sighed. Their smiles faded.

"You okay?" he finally asked.


"Yeah..." Ally sighed out.


"Let's... um, let's not talk about this, okay?"

He turned to look at her, but her eyes were still focused on the table. She looked tired, lonely and tormented, which was quite understandable, but there was also a quiet beauty to her even at moments like this that he adored, and couldn't imagine ever leaving. He didn't have the heart to push her into an open discussion on the topic at hand. He wanted to tell her everything he was thinking, he wanted to hear what *she* was thinking, but he just couldn't... He would just have to agree.


"Okay." she repeated. It was better like this. In silence. She couldn't talk to him about it, and she couldn't talk to anyone else about it. She couldn't talk to him because she would end up in tears, and she understood that either way around she'd definitely end up in tears still, but there was a difference between sobbing into a pillow and sobbing into his shoulder. And she couldn't talk to anyone else about it because she didn't want anyone to know - she'd start getting the sympathetic glances and the whispers when she walked by and breakfast in bed and the whole package all over again - she couldn't take it a second time. When "the time" came, as it inevitably would, she'd forcibly smile and say something like "we had differences we couldn't overcome"... And then, she decided, she'd grow up. She'd drop the sheep pjs, the neurotic behaviour, the theme songs, the hallucinations, she'd go to work in some top-notch straight-laced serious firm where everyone wore Clarice Starling outfits and discussed politics in snobbish tones, she'd start dating accountants in dark suits who themselves discussed politics in snobbish tones, and possibly even settle down with one of them, have children like all normal people her age do, and quietly die in boredom. She'd had enough fun in her life already. Eventually the time would come to return to the real world. She'd always known it would.

*Strong* women. That's what she was going to go into that courtroom prepared to defend - STRONG women. Was the ditz on Prozac - errr, the "client" - really a "strong" woman? Ally didn't know. But she'd defend her anyway, just for the sheer time-wasting process - to make loads of money (for Clarice Starling outfits, no less), something her future politics-crazed accountant hubby would approve of. Good.

See, she was growing up already...

(end of part 1)

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