MY4NCY

MY4NCY on wattpad

[my4ncy]

HURTING EACH OTHER (A MICHAELA PRATT FANFIC)

sarah drew as april coleman

MASTERLIST // HURTING EACH OTHER (wattpad)

SEASON ONE — 1: pilot — 2: it’s all her fault — 3: let’s get to scooping — 4: we’re not friends — 5: he has a wife — 6: kill me, kill me, kill me — 7: hello raskolnikov — 8: she’s a murderer — 9: mama’s here now — 10: best christmas ever — 11: the night lila died / it’s all my fault

SEASON TWO — 1: it’s time to move on — 2: she’s dying — 3: meet bonnie — 4: two birds, one millstone — 5: hi, i’m philip — 6: what did we do? — 7: what happened to you, annalise? — 8: it’s a trap — 9: something bad happened — 10: there’s my baby

SEASON THREE — 1: there are worse things than murder — 2: always get back — 3: don’t tell annalise — 4: is someone really dead? — 5: call it mother’s intuition — 6: who’s dead? — 7: we’re bad people — 8: go cry somewhere else — 9: he made a terrible mistake — 10: wes

SEASON FOUR — 1: i’m going away — 2: i’m not her — 3: it’s for the greater good — 4: was she ever good at her job? — 5: i love her — 6: stay strong, mama — 7: nobody roots for goliath — 8: live. live. live. — 9: he’s dead — 10: everything we did was for nothing — 11: lahey v. commonwealth of pennsylvania — 12: nobody else is dying

SEASON FIVE — 1: your funeral — 2: whose blood is that? — 3: the baby was never dead — 4: it’s her kid — 5: it was the worst day of my life — 6: we can find him — 7: i got played — 8: i want to love you until the day i die — 9: he betrayed us both — 10: don’t go dark on me — 11: be the martyr — 12: we know everything — 13: where are your parents? — 14: make me the enemy — 15: please say no one else is dead

SEASON SIX — 1: say goodbye — 2: vivian’s here — 3: do you think i’m a bad man? — 4: i hate the world — 5: we’re all gonna die — 6: i want to be free — 7: are you the mole? — 8: we’re not getting away with it — 9: the reckoning — 10: let’s hurt him — 11: what if sam wasn’t the bad guy this whole time? — 12: stay

[my4ncy]

MEET BONNIE

season two episode five

masterlist

"THE VICTIM IS FEMALE. GSW TO THE NECK AND CHEST!" The paramedics rolled April into the back of the ambulance before getting in. "We're losing her!"

The ambulance was speeding towards the hospital. A heart monitor had been set up, and the paramedics were stopping the bleeding while performing chest compressions. "Come on! Come on! Stay with us, ma'am! Stay with us!"

꧁ THREE WEEKS EARLIER ꧂

APRIL KNOCKED ON THE DOOR AND WAITED FOR HER MOTHER to answer it, which she did moments later. "April, what are you doing here?" Karen looked surprised to see her daughter.

"I'm giving this another try," April admitted. "Even though my gut is telling me this is a bad idea."

"... what can I do for you, dear?" She put on a fake smile.

"Henry Andrews." April watched as Karen's smile faltered. "I knew he had something to do with this." She stepped into the house.

"April—" she cut herself off mid-sentence when April continued into the house. Karen closed the door and went after her daughter. "You can't be here."

April turned to her mother. "Why not? I am your daughter, after all." She sat down on the couch. "So, why don't you sit down and face me like a woman? Tell me... what is your connection to Henry?"

Karen exhaled as she sat down opposite April. "There's nothing between Henry and me."

April raised a brow at her. "Anymore?"

"Ever," Karen scoffed. "Is this why you came over here? To ask me if I'm in a relationship with Henry?"

"No," April shook her head. "I'm here to ask you about his involvement in Sheri's death."

"I don't know anything."

"What about John Smith? What's his real name?" Karen didn't reply. "I thought we were family."

"We are."

"Family don't keep secrets from each other."

"... John's real name is George Matthews," Karen admitted. "Henry's friend."

"And you were involved with George, right?" Karen hesitantly nodded. "So Henry and his friend killed Sheri, right? Decapitated her— shot her and then raped her. Right?"

"April—"

"What do you know?" April stood. "You know both of them. You've been in contact with both of them. How are you involved?"

Karen stood too. "I'm not involved, April."

"That's bull. Is it true that George is dead?"

"... yes."

"Did you kill him?"

"How can you ask me that?!"

"... you know why. Did you know that they were going to kill Sheri?" Karen remained quiet. April stepped closer to her, with an angry expression on her face, "did you know?!"

"April—"

"You did," she stated. "You did know." April stepped closer, a dark look on her face— the same look that had terrified Rebecca. "I can't believe it! I cannot believe this! Why?! What did I ever do to you?!"

"You ruined my life!" Karen yelled back. April took a small step back. "You ruined me!"

April shook her head as she teared up. "No! I didn't do shit to you!"

"You left!"

"BECAUSE YOU SIDED WITH MY ABUSER!" Karen's eyes went wide as she took a step back. April exhaled as she tried to calm herself down. She blinked back her tears. "He abused me for years, mom. He abused me, and he raped me. I came to you, and I told you everything... and you didn't believe me. Do you know how hard that was for me? Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you that?! And for you to just tell me I was lying?! That I just wanted attention?! I just needed my mom, and you weren't there," she cried, not being able to blink back her tears. "He was going to kill me that night, and you didn't believe that either! I acted in self-defense, and again you didn't believe me! You testified against me in court! You're the problem, not me!"

"You're wrong," Karen whispered, her eyes filled with tears. 

"Am I?! Because last time I checked, dad killed himself! And I finally understand why! It was because of you!"

"No, he did it because of you!"

April shook her head as she wiped away her tears. "You're a damned liar! You always have been. There's nothing good inside you... nothing. So, maybe dad had the right idea."

"... you still believe him." April scoffed. "Nothing of that was real, April. He was a man, for god sake. Men don't get raped. It just doesn't happen and—"

"SHUT UP!" April yelled at her, cutting her off mid-sentence, taking her by surprise. "YOU DID ALL OF THIS!" Tears threaten to spill again. She took a step closer to her mother in an attempt to intimidate her. Her expression, which once was sad, had been replaced with vengeance and homicidal rage. "YOU'RE RESPONSIBLE FOR SHERI'S MURDER! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO RAPED DAD! HE IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! SO TELL ME WHY I SHOULDN'T KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!" Karen was speechless and genuinely scared as she looked at her daughter. She looked into her daughter's eyes— they were cold and dark— and it terrified her.

Karen stepped away from April immediately. "Let's not do something we will regret."

April scoffed. "I won't regret this."

"Stop." April stopped, but not because her mother said so, but to think about what was happening and what could happen. She didn't want more blood on her hands. "April, please... let's sit down and talk about this. I love you. I would never hurt you. I didn't mean what I said about your father... it's just been a long day." Her words reminded April of Nicholas— that was exactly what he would say after beating her.

April shook her head. "Those are just empty words that I've heard before, mom. I'm not going to do it again. I didn't mean to. You didn't say no. You wanted it."

"April—"

"No," she cut her off. This time she didn't fight back her tears. "Is that what you said to dad? It's that what you told him? I was nine years old when I found him... because of you. I lost him because of you. I-I-I can't look at you." April went to leave, but she couldn't get the door open.

"You can't leave," Karen told her.

"No," April cried— all being too familiar for her. "Open the door!" She pulled in the door handle, but it didn't budge. "Open the damn door!"

"I'm sorry."

April frowned at her mother. "What?" Before she could react, someone put her in a headlock, cutting off her air supply— and she struggled against his hold. The man squeezed more as April tried to gasp for air. Karen just watched as this happened. She just watched as her daughter stopped struggling and fell unconscious on the floor.

꧁  TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE FOLLOWING SCENE: RAPE!! ꧂

2013.

APRIL WALKED INTO HER HOUSE, CARRYING A BAG OF groceries in each hand. "I'm home," she called out to her husband as she closed the door. She was still wearing her lab coat.

Nicholas walked out of the bathroom. "Where have you been?"

"I finished work early, and I decided to go to the store." April went to the kitchen and tried to avoid the noticeable bulge in his pants. She placed the bags on the counter and started to take out the items.

Nicholas went behind April, pressing his body against hers. He rubbed his hard member against her behind, the sensation making him groan lowly. April tried to get away, but his hands had a firm grip on her. "I've had a long day," April tried to come up with an excuse to get away as he kept grinding on her.

"Me too." He moaned.

"I don't want to do this." April managed to turn her body around and pushed him away. Nicholas' eyes turned dark, making her gulp.

"April," he was breathing heavily, "I need you." Nicholas took a step closer, and April was pinned against the counter so she couldn't back away. "I need you." He slowly raised his hand, making her flinch.

"I don't want you."

Nicholas grabbed his crotch, rubbing it. "You know how to turn me on, April." He groaned. His hand went to her throat, and he choked her— not hard enough to stop her air supply. He stepped closer. "You know what happens if you say no, April," he whispered in her ear. Nicholas looked into her teary eyes, which looked scared. "I want you to beg, April. Beg me to stop." April shook her head— tears were rolling down her face. "DO IT!" The sudden noise caused her to flinch.

"Please," she cried desperately.

"Please what?"

"Please don't." Her words caused him to groan in pleasure. He turned her around so her back was facing him. Nicholas took her lab coat off and dropped it to the floor. She cried as he ripped her clothes off.

"I want to hear your voice," he growled into her ear as he took off his pants and boxers.

"Please, stop," she cried out. Her eyes were red from crying.

"You keep doing that, and I'll finish before I can start," he chuckled. But nothing about this was funny or amusing.

"I hate you," she muttered. April flinched when he shows himself into her. Nicholas let out a low moan. The same man who once gave her love and pleasure was now causing her pain. And she blamed herself for not fighting back. Nicholas picked up his pace— slamming into her.

"Ahh!" He moaned. Nicholas pushed her down, so she was bending over on the counter. "Let me hear you." April couldn't get herself to say anything. Instead, she cried and sobbed— which seemed to work for Nicholas because he was getting closer to his climax. He pounded into her, making her cry even more. "AHH!" He groaned loudly as he reached his climax. He leaned his head back as he breathed heavily. "Wasn't that amazing?" He pulled out before pulling his pants on and making his way to the bathroom. April is left alone— shaking and crying.

That was when she decided: enough was enough.

"Apriiil," Karen dragged out her name— this being the first thing April heard when she came back to consciousness. She blinked to adjust to the light. "Finally."

April looked around and realized she must be in the basement. She saw that she was tied to a chair— which felt like karma because of what they did to Rebecca. "Let me go."

Karen scoffed as she held up a knife— which April hadn't noticed before. She pointed the sharp object at her daughter. "You came into my home and threatened to kill me." Karen held the knife closer to April's face. "I can't just let you go."

"What are you going to do, mom, huh? Torture me? Is that what you're into?"

Karen let out a low chuckle. "Don't be making jokes now, April. I don't like what you did." April glared at her. "This is my home."

"Then go on with it. Unless this is how you've planned to kill me; boredom. It's working because I really feel like I'm dying." April gave her mother a sarcastic smile.

The knife touched April's cheek. "I haven't decided yet." She smiled.

April leaned forward, and Karen held the knife completely still, which created a deep cut in April's cheek. But she didn't flinch. Instead, she looked into her mother's eyes. Karen was taken aback by this and remained quiet. April leaned back— blood dripping down her face. "What about you let me go now?"

꧁ ꧂

AFTER LEAVING HER MOTHER'S HOUSE, APRIL WENT HOME, where she sutured the cut in her cheek and cleaned her shirt— because she didn't want to change it.

She was sitting in Annalise's office, which was something she has found herself doing a lot. "I had to handle something... with my mom."

"You missed class today because of your mother?" Annalise didn't look convinced.

April nodded. "Yeah." Annalise gave her an unconvinced look. "You don't believe me."

"Well, you can't blame me for that," Annalise shrugged, "you don't talk about her... ever."

"She's not a good person, okay? That's all I'm going to say."

Annalise glanced at her cheek. "Is she the reason you have that?"

"... it doesn't matter. I'm sorry for missing class."

"April—"

"I am," April cut her off mid-sentence.

"... is she hurting you?"

April looked down. "We fought... kinda."

Annalise sighed. "April..."

"It's fine," April brushed it off. She looked at Annalise. "Nothing I can't handle... right?" She nodded to herself before standing. "Well, it was nice talking to you." Annalise followed her out of the office.

Once they exited, they saw Michaela hovering over Bonnie, who was sitting by her desk. "— we're gonna fight."

"You get away from her," Annalise demanded. Michaela backed away immediately. "You want to know the truth? Asher was gonna testify against everyone in this house, so Bonnie told him that she killed Sam in order to save your asses!" Her words shocked April— she had no idea Bonnie did that. "Because that's what we do around here— ruin everyone's lives to save yours! Nate's, mine, and now Bonnie's. Who's next, huh? Whose life do you want to destroy to stay free?"

"Why didn't you just tell us?" Michaela asked.

"Because I'm trying to protect you like always! When are you gonna finally accept that?" Annalise glanced between her students. "Bonnie, Frank, in my office." April watched as the three older adults went into Annalise's office.

Michaela turned to face April, and that was when she saw the stitches on her cheek. She frowned. "What happened?" She asked in a low voice.

April turned to Michaela and then frowned when she realized she was looking at her. "What?"

"Your cheek."

"Oh." April shrugged, "just a little accident... I'm clumsy." Michaela nodded in return, believing the lie.

"So, about the drugs..." Connor trailed off.

April frowned. "Wait. Your drug problem is real? I thought you lied about that."

Connor nodded. "I did, but there's no harm in trying." He gave her a look.

"Have you tried it?" Connor shakes his head. "I have." He looked surprised. "It was amazing."

Connor grinned. "Don't encourage him," Laurel cut in before he could comment. Frank and Bonnie exited Annalise's office. April watched as Frank grabbed his keys from the table

"Uh, Bonnie..." Michaela trailed off.

"You're sorry," Bonnie said. "I know." She left along with Frank.

"Oh, my god." Laurel leaned against Bonnie's desk.

"What?" April asked as she sat down by the desk.

"You know who hasn't seemed worried this whole time? Who keeps sneaking off?"

April looked at Laurel for a moment. "You're not talking about me, right?"

"No. She's talking about Wes," Michaela told her. Her arms crossed. "He's the only one she really trusts. He knew what was going on all along."

"Wes?" April was confused, but she didn't really know him.

"Screw the puppy," Connor said. "He's a snake."

"How can you be sure? What are you going to do? Follow him?" The other three looked at her as if she just found the cure for cancer. "We're gonna follow him?"

Connor shrugged. "It's the only way to be sure," Laurel replied.

They were in Connor's car— he was driving, and April was in the front seat. Once they came to a stop, Michaela opened the door. "Levi?!" Wes and Levi turned towards the voice as they exited the car. As the four students made their way over to them, April realized who the other guy was. "What the hell is this? Are you two gay for each other?!"

"No!" Levi replied.

"I'll cut your balls off if you lie to me!" Michaela snapped at him.

"He's Rebecca's foster brother," Wes told them— taking them all by surprise

"What?" Connor was the first to respond— he was standing next to April.

"Oh, my god," she mumbled. Rebecca never mentioned him to her.

"No," Michaela was in denial. "I met him at the courthouse. He's just some guy who's—"

"He's eggs 911," Wes cut in.

"No," Michaela whispered as the rest turned to face her. "No, no, no, no, no. No!" She shook her head.

"Why would you keep this a secret from us?" Connor asked. He turned to April. "Did you know?"

"Rebecca never mentioned him," April replied.

"I needed to know the truth about Annalise." They turned to Wes.

"And we don't deserve that, too?" Laurel asked— clearly angry. "The people who've helped you over and over."

"Michaela, let me—" Levi stepped forward.

"Do not touch me!" Michaela yelled at him as April stepped in front of her, stopping him from touching Michaela.

"Hey! Keep your hands off of her!" She pushed him back harshly. "Where's Rebecca? Huh? Since you're her foster brother, you should know that."

"I don't," Levi denied her statement.

"Yeah, like we can believe anything either of you two say," Laurel said, her hands on her hips.

"Rebecca's dead," Wes said out of the blue. "Levi never heard from her again after the 911 text, so we think someone killed her."

"Not someone. Annalise and Frank."

"No. Frank would never do that." Laurel refused to believe that.

"Of course he would," Wes told her.

"What makes you think Rebecca's dead?" April asked them.

Wes took something out of his pocket. "This." He was holding a key.

April scoffed. "A key? Really?" That was when they heard the sirens. Two cars drove towards them.

"Oh god. It's happening," Michaela said. April nudged her side.

"Keep your mouth shut," she whispered to her. An officer exited the cop car, and a detective exited the other.

"Levi Wescott," the detective approached them. "This your car?"

"Yeah. What's this about?"

"Let's pop the trunk. We'll tell you."

"No."

"Fine. We got a warrant." Another detective broke into the trunk of Levi's car. He took out two bags that contained drugs.

"What the hell. What's not mine."

"Yeah, right, Heisenberg." The detective cuffed Levi. "You're under arrest for possession of meth with the intent to distribute." The student watched as the detective took Levi away— who was repeatedly telling them the drugs weren't his. He was brought into the police car, and they watched them drive away.

Wes opened the door to the storage locker— April, Connor, Laurel and Michaela behind him. There was a suitcase in the middle of the room and nothing else, which looked creepy. "I'm not touching that thing," Connor spoke up.

"Me either," Michaela added.

April sighed. "I'll do it."

"No," Wes held his arm in front of her to stop her from walking in further. "I should."

"Are you sure?" Wes nodded before walking up to the suitcase. He kneeled in front of it before laying it down. Wes hesitantly opened it as the others watched— except Michaela, who was leaning on Connor, too afraid to look.

"Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god," Michaela kept whispering in Connor's shoulder.

"Just warn us if it's her," Connor told Wes.

Wes lifted the lid and dropped it. April saw what was inside, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "That's not Rebecca." The others looked down at the suitcase seeing the same thing as April and Wes; money. A lot of money.

"Befriending a drug dealer, and now this?" Connor asked. "Now, once again, waitlist just drags us down the rabbit hole to hell. Great." He chuckled as he turns to leave.

"You let me have sex with eggs 911." Michaela went after Connor, who was in the car.

"It's a suitcase full of cash," Wes stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," April said sarcastically.

"Clearly, it has something to do with Rebecca." Wes ignored April's comment.

"Or it has nothing to do with her," Laurel said. Her arm crossed.

"No, this is obviously—"

"Wes, stop!" Laurel cut him off as he stood up. "Please. Just stop," her voice a little softer. She got in Connor's car.

Wes turned to April, who was standing by his side. "April..." he trailed off.

She looked at him. "I went to see Rebecca when she was tied up in the basement," she told him. "I told her that everything was going to be okay and that when she got away from there... she could stay at my place, and she agreed. Annalise told us she was gone, and she didn't show up."

"... you believe me?"

April nodded slightly. "It's the only explanation, and after everything that has happened... it doesn't seem so crazy. She was my friend, and I want to know what happened to her. We're going to find out what happened, but we have to stay low."

Wes nodded, agreeing with her words. "Okay. Fine."

"Hey, April!" Connor stuck his head out of his window. "Let's go!"

Wes nodded slightly. "Go. It's fine." April gave him a nod before she got in Connor's car.

"What was that?" Michaela asked from the backseat as Connor started the engine.

"Just a little warning," April lied.

[my4ncy]

SHE'S DYING

season two episode two

masterlist

"COME ON. COME ON," CONNOR KEPT MUMBLING AS HE DESPERATELY tried to stop the bleeding. His hands were soaked— there was a lot of blood. "Come on." His eyes were filled with tears and panic.

"Oh, god," the panic increased when he realized that she had been shot in the chest as well as the neck. She was gasping for air, and he knew that she wouldn't make it. "April," it came out as a whisper. This couldn't be happening.

꧁  TWO MONTHS EARLIER  ꧂

HAVING DECIDED TO MOVE ON, APRIL WAS AT HER PROFESSOR'S house. She wasn't leaving yet, so the best thing to do was attend the classes— it was better than being locked up in her apartment. "An alibi for the night that their parents were killed or their aunt?" She heard Asher ask when she entered the house. "I'm just trying to keep track. There's so many murders."

"Alleged murders," Annalise corrected him, "and we're only dealing with the aunt today." April entered the room, and the professor is the first to notice her. "Dr. Coleman, how nice of you to join us," she said sarcastically.

"Sorry I'm late," April replied in a low voice as she tried to avoid looking at her Professor. She made her way to the couch, where she sat down and took out her laptop.

Annalise watched her before turning to Frank. "Frank, try to get a copy of the sealed warrant." He walked away. "Bonnie, with me. But first," she turned to April, "I need to have a word with Dr. Coleman." April looked up from her laptop.

April followed Annalise out of the house. "You ignored my calls, and now you won't even look at me."

April forcefully moved her gaze to Annalise. "I was busy."

"Too busy to attend class?" April didn't respond. "Why are you doing this, April? You have so much potential and so much knowledge."

April huffed. "I'm here now, so why does it matter?"

Annalise paused before responding, "get in my car." Her words caused April to tense, but her professor didn't notice. "We're having this conversation."

"Talk," Annalise demanded.

April was looking out the window, not wanting to look at Annalise. "I don't have anything to say."

Annalise scoffed. "I don't believe you."

"What do you want me to say?" She snapped at her. "I don't know what you want to hear." She finally looked at her— but the image of Sam's dead body kept appearing in her head.

"I want you to tell me the truth."

"About?"

"What's going on with you?"

April scoffed. "Nothing is going on, professor Keating."

"That's bull."

April exhaled as she turned away. "I'm— I— I don't feel like talking about my feelings with you."

"Why not?" Annalise scoffed. "You've done it before."

April hesitated— she was gazing out the window. "It's everything that has happened. I'm just... trying to figure it out".

"Is this about Sam?" April didn't answer. "You've killed before, so why is Sam different?"

April scoffed at her words and turned to face her. "You think that because I killed my husband, I'd be fine killing Sam?"

Annalise shrugged. "I never questioned it when I heard you were all put together the whole night. That you were calm and collected when everyone else was breaking down. You came up with a plan. You decided to burn the body and chop it into small pieces. Then it hit me... murder doesn't bother you."

"You don't think it bothered me?" April almost growled at Annalise. She scoffed. "I took responsibility that night because I am the one who killed him. I grabbed the trophy, and I hit him," her voice was stern. "You don't think I wanted to break down? You don't think I wanted to leave? I couldn't do any of that because it was my responsibility to protect them and the only way to do that was to come up with my plan. My brain— it's all I have. So, of course, I stayed calm and collected. Someone had to. And now... every time... every time I look at you, I see him," her last words surprised Annalise.

"What?"

"The image of his dead body pops up in my head. I see his eyes staring right back at me. That's why I've been avoiding eye contact." April opened the car door and got out.

April was back in Annalise's living room— she was sitting on the couch and looking at her laptop screen. "Someone sext you a peen pic?" Connor asked.

April looked up and saw that he was looking at Michaela— who was glancing at her phone. "Uh, I was just looking up what judge is presiding over Nate's hearing," she replied as she sat down next to April.

"Michaela, you are not going to Nate's hearing," Laurel told her, her voice lowered but stern. She made her way over to Michaela.

"I never said I was. Okay, I can't be the only one who wants to go."

"I want to go too," April spoke up. "I'm thinking of getting an I killed Sam Keating tattoo on my forehead beforehand, though." Connor grinned as Michaela gave her an unimpressed look. "Besides, Annalise would kill us."

"I'd kill you," Laurel added.

"Why are we killing each other?" Asher entered the room. They all turned to face him.

"Uh, Oliver is HIV-positive," Connor spoke up, confusing April. "And Laurel was just saying that she would kill me if I had sex with him before my prep kicks in." Laurel went back to her old spot.

"Wait," Asher walked up to Connor. "He has HIV, and you're gonna have sex with him?"

"Yes. Lots of sex."

"Dude, no. Look, I get the O-man probably has a really sweet ass and all, but you could, like, die."

April had a thoughtful look on her face. "Who's Oliver?"

Michaela immediately looked at her. "Where the hell have you been?" April shrugged. "He's Connor's boyfriend." April nodded before looking back at her laptop. "Why are you looking up the University of Virginia?" Michaela was glancing at her screen.

The others started listening in to their conversation. "It's a good college."

"You're leaving?" Laurel asked.

April shrugged. "I've been thinking about it."

"You can't leave," Michaela scoffed.

"Why not?" Michaela remained quiet, not knowing how to answer the question. "I haven't made a decision yet. Don't tell professor Keating."

"... don't worry. I won't."

////

APRIL SPOTTED ANTHONY STANDING OUTSIDE HER DOOR WHEN SHE got back to her apartment. "What is it I'm hearing about you leaving?"

April huffed as she neared him. "Who told you that?"

"Michaela called me. She sounded worried."

"Yeah, right," April scoffed. "Michaela and I are not friends, and she wouldn't care if I left."

"Then why did she call me? Can you at least tell me why you're leaving?"

"You know why, Tony. I can't be here anymore. I feel suffocated— all the time."

"Look, I get it. I do, but this is your future. And after everything that has happened, Annalise hasn't kicked you out of her class. She could be the only one willing to give you a chance and... I wouldn't risk it."

"... I haven't made a decision yet, Tony. I'm gonna expose my mom... and then we'll see." April unlocked her apartment.

"You need to be careful, April. You don't want to make the wrong people angry."

"I'll be fine. Bye, Tony."

Tony nodded slightly. "Bye." He turned and left as April closed the door and locked it.

Her phone rang— seeing it was Tamara that was calling, she answered it. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, April. I just visited David."

April grew curious. "And?"

"He won't talk to me. He said that he only wants to see you."

April huffed. "Of course he does," she mumbled. "Do you think that's a good idea?”

"If you want to find out what happened. He's our only lead."

"Then fine," April nodded to herself. "I'll be right there." She hung up.

"It's good to see you, April," David spoke into the phone.

"You too." Her face was blank. The two would speak Spanish because the others didn't understand— and they would gossip.

"You never visited me. Not even once."

"... I need your help."

David smiled a little. "That's what I heard."

"Does the name John Smith ring a bell?" She watched as his expression faltered. "I take that as a yes."

"It's just an alias, though."

April leaned on the table. "What's his real name?"

"I don't know."

April sighed, annoyed. "What do you know exactly?"

"I know that this is bigger than you think, and you need to be careful."

"I've had many people tell me that, David, but that doesn't help me find out if my mom killed Sheri."

David sighed. "You're right. Look, the guy, John Smith, I think he was murdered a couple of days ago."

"Are you serious?"

David nodded. "You need to confront your mother."

"She won't talk, David. What else can I do? Come on— you said that you'd help me. Talk to me."

"... your mother was seeing this guy in Virginia. His name is Henry. He's some white guy. I'm pretty sure they were dating."

"You think he could be involved in this?"

David shrugged. "It's worth looking into."

"Anything else?"

"... I can't tell you everything now, or we won't have anything to talk about the next time we see each other." He grinned.

April looked less than impressed. "Fine. I'm leaving now." She hung up the phone. David gave her a little wave before he was taken away.

////

"IT HAS ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS," DAVID SAID. "Did you miss me?" He grinned.

"I came here to get answers. Sheri's death is linked to Nicholas's death. Whoever killed Sheri knew Nicholas, and I think you know something that you're not telling me."

David smiled. "Maybe."

"So, tell me."

"Why?" His smile faltered. "What do I get from this?"

"I could convince my professor to take your case. She's one of the best lawyers in the city."

"I don't believe you."

"Since when?" David remained quiet. "Sheri was your adoptive sister. You grew up together. Don't you want to bring her justice?"

"Why? It doesn't bring her back."

"No, it doesn't. But how can you live knowing the person who did it is out there?" David remained quiet again. "Please, Dave. Help me."

"... fine."

April opened the file she brought. Taking out some photos and lining them up. "Do you recognize any of them?"

David looked over the photos before pointing at one. "I've seen that one with your mother. Henry." April grabbed the picture and looked at it. "You know him."

April nodded. "He was my brother-in-law. Makes sense." She gathered the photos. "Thank you."

"You're gonna visit again, aren't you?"

"I'll try."

David smiled a little. "Good enough for me."

////

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" CONNOR ASKED MICHAELA. He was driving— they were getting Oliver to help them with the case.

"What do you mean?" She frowned at Connor from the passenger seat.

"You've had a stick up your butt since April told us she's leaving. I mean, you were already uptight, but..." he trailed off as Michaela glared at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Connor scoffed. "I know you don't hate her."

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't. Because if you did, you would let her confess to Sam's murder, but you haven't. And I noticed how you stepped in front of her that night... with Rebecca at Waitlist's apartment."

"This is ridiculous. What are you insinuating?"

"That you like her. I mean, you more than like her."

Michaela shook her head. "You're being ridiculous."

"There's nothing wrong with having a crush on her, Michaela. I mean, is she a murderer? Yes, but she's also gorgeous, smart, and a total baddie."

Michaela scoffed. "This is so stupid."

"Let's say I'm wrong... how do you feel about her?"

"I respect her because she's smart, and she pulled us through... that night. She's not afraid to stand up to anyone. And we're becoming friends. There's nothing there. I didn't even think of her that way, but now I will because you mentioned it," she snarled.

Connor grinned. "You're welcome." Michaela rolled her eyes.

"Welcome to the Philly PD database."

"That was easy," April said— sitting next to Oliver, who she just met for the first time. "You have to teach me how you did that."

Oliver chuckled lightly. "Sure."

Michaela sat on the couch, on Oliver's other side, with a glass of wine in her hand. "How do you do that?" She asked, amazed.

"I'm surprised my blabbermouth boyfriend hasn't told you already."

"I'm so sorry about that. Asher shouldn't have said anything about you being HIV positive. He's a jackass."

"That's what I said," Connor stated, walking in.

"Hey, buddy. You're not allowed to talk right now," Connor told him. "Consider it practice for keeping your mouth shut." He turned to Michaela. "Sorry about your fiancé."

"Oh, did Connor open up his big mouth about that too?" Michaela glanced at Connor.

Oliver chuckled. "Yep, said he was maybe bi or something."

April frowned. "I thought he was gay."

"Let's not talk about it," Michaela said.

"No, let's. Let's talk about how you have terrible taste in men. I mean, like that guy at the courthouse today."

"What guy?" April asked.

"His name was Levi, and he was hot and—"

"He wasn't my type," Michaela cut him off.

"What's your type?" April asked.

"Gay," Connor answered before Michaela could— his answer caused Oliver to laugh.

"I'm with Oliver," Michaela stated. "You don't get to talk anymore."

"Well, speaking from experience, I say go out on the date. I mean, look at me. I never thought I'd end up with a self-absorbed pretty boy." Oliver turned back to his laptop. "Oh, wow."

"What?" April asked.

"The police ran two DNA tests on the aunt's crime scene."

Connor went to stand behind the couch. "Why would they run two tests?" He asked.

"It's obvious," April stated. "They didn't find anything the first time. The DNA was planted in the crime scene before they ran the second test."

Michaela nodded along with her words. "This could help our case." Her eyes on April, who agreed with her. Michaela turned to Connor, who was giving her a knowing look.

////

"I'M SURPRISED YOU SHOWED UP," April said once her mother reached the table.

Karen sat down opposite April. "Why wouldn't I show up?" She smiled. "You're my daughter, and you needed to see me."

"Let's skip the small talk and tell me why you're friendly with my ex-brother-in-law." She watched as her mother's smile dropped. "Or better yet, you tell me which one of you killed Sheri, and then you tell why you did it, and I'll be on my way."

"April—"

"No," she cut her off. "Let's get one thing straight: I'm not here to waste my time. I'm not going to sit here and let you pretend like you care about me— like you actually want to get to know me. I contacted you because I want to know the truth, so you either tell me the truth or I'll leave. Your choice."

Karen shook her head slightly. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not the bad guy here."

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" Karen didn't respond. "Well, I wish I could say it was good seeing you. But that would be a lie." She stood.

"April, please."

"What? You want to lie to me? Stop wasting my time with your bullshit." She turned to leave.

////

CONNOR HAD ONE HAND ON HER NECK AND ONE ON HER CHEST— trying to stop the bleeding. "She's dying," he told Wes, Laurel, and Michaela, who were rushing over to the balcony. "She's dying."

"Oh, my god," Michaela mumbled. She was the first to reach Connor, and she was shocked. "Oh, my god." She couldn't move— and she couldn't look away from April, who was now passed out.

Wes and Laurel stopped in their tracks when they realized that April was seriously injured and covered in blood— as were Connor's hands. Laurel was the one who stepped up and kneeled next to Connor— her eyes on him. "We have to leave."

Connor shook his head. He couldn't seem to get himself to look away. "She's dying. W-w-w-we can't l-leave her like t-this," his voice was shaking, and his hands were trembling.

"Connor, the police are on their way right now. We have to leave."

"No." His eyes were filled with tears. "How are you okay with this?!"

"I'm not!" Laurel snapped back at her. "I'm not okay with this! But we don't have a choice, Connor! There's nothing we can do for her or Annalise."

"Laurel is right," Wes spoke up, sadness in his eyes. "We have to leave." He grabbed Connor's arm and ripped him away from April. And he dragged him away— Michaela and Laurel in tow.

"No!" As they were leaving, they ran past Emily— who was dead.

[my4ncy]

IT'S TIME TO MOVE ON

season two episode one

masterlist

TEN DAYS LATER.

"STATISTICALLY, IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE MURDERED, your killer will be someone you know... an acquaintance, a friend, a family member... your lover. Why is that? Why are we more inclined to hurt the ones we love the most? And what challenges does that present a defense attorney?" Annalise moved her gaze around the room, from one student to another, when they raised their hand to answer the question. April had noticed how the professor had been giving her weird looks ever since Rebecca disappeared— but she didn't know why. "Mr. Walsh?"

Connor closed his laptop and stood. "The challenge for the defense attorney is that—" the sound of the door opening cut him off mid-sentence. The students turned their heads to see Wes entering the classroom.

"You were saying?" Annalise asked Connor to get him back on track. April watched as Wes made his way to his seat— he had been acting differently.

Connor turned back to Annalise. "Right. Um, the challenge is that sometimes the police only look at loved ones when trying to find a suspect."

"It's a big uphill battle if your client knew the murder victim. So your best strategy is to... find a different acquaintance to pin it on," a student answered.

"But before you do that?" Annalise asked. "Miss Pratt."

Michaela stood. "Attack the police investigation. Use the idea that they're so used to thinking it's the husband or boyfriend that they fail to look at other suspects."

"Glad someone showed up to class today." Annalise gave Wes a look as she said this.

"The defense won commonwealth v. Ferber by proving the police had bias. Detectives' records even showed they never considered other suspects other than Mr. Ferber," Laurel stated.

"Now, what if your client is the spouse of the murder victim, and you know he did it? What would be your defense strategy... Mr. Gibbins? Mr. Gibbins?"

"Pass." This caused everyone to look at him, and some immediately started talking.

"I'm not professor Hahn. No one passes in my class."

"I just did." The tension in the room grew.

"Stand up." Wes did as he was told as Annalise started to make her way to him. "You come to my class late, and then you flaunt, in my face, that you're unprepared." This reminded April of their first day when Wes was unprepared. "Either way, this doesn't mean that we can't use this opportunity to exercise your brain. So, think. What would be a good defense for a spouse who's killed his lover?"

"Pass."

"Mr. Gibbins—"

"I don't know the answer. That's what pass means. So either keep wasting everyone's time or move on— your choice." Wes sat down. April shared a look with Michaela, who was sitting all the way down on the first row.

April walked up to Annalise as the rest of the class left. "What's this about?"

Annalise crossed her arms. "I need to know what's going on with you."

"Nothing is—"

"That wasn't a question," Annalise cut her off. "You're acting like you did when you were drinking. Did you relapse?" April remained quiet, knowing her professor would be disappointed. "April—"

"I have it under control."

"Is this about Sam?" Annalise lowered her voice. "You could talk to someone and just pretend you're talking about your ex-husband. You have it easy."

April scoffed at her words. "Easy? You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Why did you start drinking again?"

"Family trouble," April replied hesitantly. "Nothing I can't handle."

Annalise didn't look convinced. "Stay out of trouble." She grabbed her bag and left.

////

APRIL MADE HER WAY DOWN TO THE BASEMENT, where Rebecca was tied up. She walked up to her. "Didn't think you would show up," Rebecca snapped at her. She looked upset.

April remained calm— her expression blank. "I came to apologize." Rebecca frowned. "For all the things I said to you. I don't regret what I did... killing Sam. He was going to kill you."

"Did Annalise send you down here? To make me talk?"

April shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's what I came here to say. This is all going to be over, Rebecca. Annalise will let you out, and my door is open if you need a place to stay— it's the least I can do."

Rebecca scoffed. "To keep me quiet?"

"You're my friend. An argument is not going to change that." After a short pause, Rebecca nodded, agreeing to April's suggestion.

////

APRIL WAS SITTING BY THE BAR WITH A DRINK IN FRONT of her, which she hadn't touched. She glanced at her watch, patiently waiting.

"Captain," a voice said.

April turned to the person, and she forced a smile, "you don't have to call me that anymore. I'm not Captain."

"Old habits." The woman took the seat next to her. "A cocktail, please," she told the bartender before turning back to April. "I was surprised when you contacted me."

"Why's that?"

"We haven't talked since you left."

April paused for a moment. "You know why I left, Tamara."

"Still," she shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt to stay in touch. How is Anthony doing?"

"He's not involved in this," April dismissed the question. "Keep his name out of it."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Tamara. "What do you want?" Her glare was set on April.

"I need your help."

Tamara scoffed as she shook her head. "You don't call or text me for over a year, and you expect me to help you? This is ridiculous, Gina, you know that."

"It's April." Tamara frowned. "Gina was just an alias."

Tamara scoffed at her words. "Unbelievable," she mumbled.

"I chose an alias to protect myself, but right now, I don't care about that. My girlfriend was murdered— beheaded— and my mom was involved somehow. And I can't figure out what to do, and I hate to admit that I need help."

Tamara nodded slowly. "I do know how much you hate asking for help."

"Will you please help me?"

"Fine," she sighed. "We haven't teamed up in a very long time. What about we go back to my place, catch up, and come up with a plan?"

April nodded, liking the plan. "Sure."

////

APRIL HAD BEEN AVOIDING ANNALISE'S PHONE CALLS AS WELL AS the texts she had been receiving from some of her classmates— and some from Bonnie and Frank. She was set on unraveling the truth.

"Why are you avoiding your professor?" Tamara asked as they made their way down the street.

April spared her a glance. "No reason," she lied, not wanting to reveal more than she had to. "Mind telling me why we're going to the tattoo parlor?" April asked before Tamara could comment on her answer.

They stopped outside a tattoo parlor. "The Artist works here."

April was surprised by this information. "Violet works here?" Tamara nodded. "Makes sense." They entered the parlor. "How cozy," April mumbled sarcastically as she looked at the black walls covered with human skulls.

"Hey, what can I do—," the woman stopped in her tracks when she recognized the people standing in front of her. She looked shocked to see them in the parlor. "What are you guys doing here? I quit that life a long time ago. You pardoned me."

"That's not why we're here, Violet," April told her.

"Then why are you here?"

April forced a smile. "To get tattooed."

"Obviously," Tamara added, not bothering to hide her blank expression nor forcing a smile.

Violet didn't seem to be believing their lie. "Fine. Follow me."

"So, what have you been up to?" April asked casually as Violet tattooed her arm.

"Cut the crap, Coleman," Violet snapped at her. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

April and Tamara shared a look before they both nodded. "What do you know about Sheri Bennett?"

"Nothing," Violet replied, but her facial expression suggested the opposite.

"What do you know?" April asked.

"I don't know anything."

"Cut the crap, Phelps," April used her own words against her. "What do you know?"

"I know that she had a dark past. She was a drug dealer... she was my dealer. There's a rumor going around that she killed her parents. That's all I know."

Tamara gave her a slight glare. "That's all you know? Girl, that's a lot of information. How do you know all of this?"

Violet shrugged. "You know me." She stopped tattooing. "All done." She wrapped the tattoo.

April looked down at the tattoo for a quick second, which was on her upper arm. "Looks good." She turned to Tamara. "Your turn." They switched seats. "What do you know about her death?"

"She was decapitated and then shot postmortem," Violet replied as she got ready to tattoo Tamara. "She was tortured."

April frowned. "How do you know she was tortured?"

"I know people," Violet shrugged.

"We think April's mom was involved."

Violet laughed as she started tattooing Tamara— same arm and side as April. "Obviously."

"What does that mean?" April asked, same confused expression as Tamara.

"David met your mom once, and he knew immediately that she wasn't good news. I trust his gut."

"You've been seeing David?"

Violet gave April a quick glance. "You haven't?"

"It wouldn't look too good if I went to visit someone in prison, now would it?"

"Right. You being a murderer and all."

April nodded. "Right."

"I could talk to David. He'd tell me everything he knows. Anthony works for the police so he could make some calls and—"

"We are not involving him," April cut her off sharply. "We can do this without him."

"Fine," Tamara sighed. "It'll take longer."

"I'm a law student. I could say that my professor is looking into re-opening his case."

"You're gonna lie?" Tamara raised a brow at her.

"I— is it... lying?" She held her arms slightly out.

"Yes," Tamara and Violet replied.

"Whatever," she brushed it off. "We need him, so who cares?"

"The family of the person he killed might care," Violet speaks up.

"You're right," April pointed at Violet. "The pedophile's family will definitely care." Violet remained quiet. "I'll make some calls, and hopefully, we can see him as soon as tomorrow."

"Do you really think they let us see him tomorrow?" Tamara looked doubtful.

"If I can manage to, casually, point out the fact that I'm white, they might."

Tamara nodded— she looked thoughtful. "It's worth a shot."

Violet shook her head slightly. "You guys are ridiculous," she mumbled.

////

"HOW MANY EXES DO YOU HAVE?" TAMARA ASKED BEFORE TAKING A shot of vodka. They were sitting in April's living room.

"One," April replied before taking a shot of her own.

Tamara immediately turned to April with a shocked expression. "What do you mean one? There's definitely more than one."

"I'm counting the ones that are alive. Cheryl killed herself, Daniel was killed by a cop, I killed Nicholas, and Sheri was killed by my mom."

Tamara looked at her for a moment before pouring vodka into her glass. "Damn," she mumbled as she shook her head. "If I were you, I'd be a raging alcoholic." April paused at her words— she quickly took a shot before Tamara could notice that she hesitated. "I have a lot of exes. I miss Vanessa. She was great in bed," she chuckled.

"You've told me," April recalled as she grimaced slightly.

Tamara turned her body towards April to face her fully. "I want to know more about you. I've told you literally everything about me. I'm leaving after this, and we might never see each other again."

April took a shot, then paused. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Your darkest secrets." April gave her a look— as if she was going to do that. Tamara scoffed. "I had a threesome in high school, I set the gym on fire, I screwed my history teacher... come on."

April chuckled slightly. "I—," she hesitated. "I never graduated from high school." Her statement shocked Tamara. "I was the valedictorian—"

"Obviously," Tamara cut in, still shocked.

"And I was supposed to be on stage, and I wrote my speech and everything," April continued, ignoring Tamara's input. "I got suspended before graduation."

"I— I wasn't expecting that." April nodded slightly. "Why were you suspended?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

"I started a protest... again. They gave me a warning and I didn't listen. I feel like a fraud."

"You've killed someone, and getting suspended is what makes you feel like a fraud?" Tamara frowned at her as she tried to wrap her mind around the situation. "How did you get into Columbia if you didn't graduate?"

"I told them which high school I attended and that I'm a genius, and I got accepted."

Tamara nodded slowly. "Was that your big secret? Do you have more?"

"I spent a hundred days in jail after the protest because my mom didn't want to bail me out. I found my dad's body. And also Cheryl's body. When I was six years old, I wanted to become a firefighter."

Tamara exhaled. "I— girl." She poured them more vodka. They took the shots.

"One more thing."

Tamara's eyes went wide. "One more?"

"It's not that bad. I'm considering going back."

"What? No. You're a law student, April. You could be going places. Become a good lawyer. Maybe get David out."

April shook her head slightly. "I— since we're opening up... I can't do this anymore."

Tamara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I killed my professor's husband, Tamara. I see her in class, and I'm reminded of that night— every damn time. They got the same title and the same last name— Professor Keating. I..." April trailed off. She blinked to stop herself from crying.

"April—"

"This is what I do," April cut her off. "I've done it before. I killed Nicholas, and I decided that I no longer wanted to become a scientist. I killed Sam... maybe I can become a firefighter after all. Or maybe a cop." She paused before shaking her head. "No. Firefighter."

"April, it would be a mistake. You don't want to go back."

April rolled her eyes. "You're making it sound like a cult, Tamara."

"That's how it feels."

"It's a fight club. And you're still in it."

"They need someone to lead them. You gave me your role. Remember?"

"Even if I don't go back... I can't stay here. I'm going to figure out the truth about my mom and Sheri... then I'll leave."

Tamara nodded. "Fine."

[my4ncy]

THE NIGHT LILA DIED / IT’S ALL MY FAULT

season one episodes fourteen & fifteen

masterlist

APRIL HAD BEEN QUARANTINED EVER SINCE HER CONVERSATION with Annalise at her apartment— in an attempt to sober up again. She had gotten her phone back, and the first thing she noticed was the text she got from Laurel about Rebecca.

She entered Wes's apartment building. "Took you long enough," Michaela commented.

April glared at Michaela. "What's going on?"

"Rebecca lied," Wes replied. "We think she killed Lila."

April laughed. "Seriously?" She stopped laughing when she saw the serious expression on their faces. "Rebecca?"

"Why else would she lie?"

"What is this?" April turned around, and Rebecca was looking at them more confused than ever.  

"We need to talk," Michaela told her.

"Spit it out, psycho," Connor demanded. "You killed Lila, right?" April was standing left to Laurel— both leaning against Wes's desk. "And you played Waitlist here," he motioned to Wes, "like— like some loser."

"You played April," Michaela added. "You played all of us."

"Why are you letting them do this?" Rebecca asked, her gazing moving between April and Wes.

Michaela stepped in front of April to block her from Rebecca's view. "No, you're not gonna get to manipulate your way out of this one."

"I didn't manipulate anyone!" Rebecca tried to defend herself.

"But you lied!" Connor snapped at her. "You said you didn't know this Rudy guy."

"I didn't."

"Then how come he ended up in a mental institution?" Laurel asked.

"How should I freaking know?"

"But you do know," April spoke up. She moved around Michaela to look at Rebecca. "You called the police on him the night Lila died."

"He was having a nervous breakdown."

"Caused by the drugs you gave him?"

"I didn't give him drugs!" Rebecca snapped at her.

"I don't believe you!" April snapped back at her. "He saw you that night, Rebecca. You were wet. You were there when Lila died— maybe you witnessed the whole thing."

"I didn't!"

"He saw you. The news would come out that Lila was found in a water tank, and he would put two and two together. He would rat you out— you couldn't let that happen, so you gave him drugs. Making him an unreliable witness and sending him to the mental institution in the process. It's a smart plan, Rebecca— I give you that. I mean, who would believe Rudy? Someone who uses drugs and is crazy on top of that?"

Rebecca shook her head— her eyes glossy. April knew that Rebecca didn't kill Lila, but knowing that she had kept so much from her, made her realize that she was hiding something. She knew more than she was saying. She turned to look at Wes. "Wes..."

"No, do not look at him!" Michaela snapped at her. "You ruined our lives! Don't you get that? I was supposed to be getting married, and I'm not anymore. Aiden called off the wedding because of you. You dragged us into the horror show that is your life, and now we're all screwed— forever. So, you're going to tell us the truth, every horrible secret about that night that you haven't told anyone, or I swear to god, I will personally destroy you. Tell us the damn truth, Rebecca. Did you... or did you not... kill... Lila?"

Rebecca turned to Wes, expecting him to defend her. "Answer the question."

"I found the campus cop. His name's Rodger Loftus. He was fired a couple of days after Sam disappeared. Some sorority girls filed a report that he was stalking them. I'm guessing that was Annalise and Frank, right? They knew we couldn't have him around, or he might remember what he saw that night. So, they just made him go away. He had to move to Delaware to get a job. He works as a security guard at the Mega Super Mart. Guess that's why he never saw the news. Don't make me call him."

April scoffed. "I should have let Sam kill you." Rebecca tried to look tough, but her words hurt. April got closer to Rebecca. "I know you didn't do it," she whispered, "but you're not doing yourself any good right now. And if I find out you were involved, you will wish you were dead." April's eyes were cold like Rebecca had never seen, and it frightened her.

Someone knocked on the door— knowing it was Annalise, Wes opened it. "What the hell's going on?" She sounded pissed. Wes didn't respond; instead, he just opened the door wider. Annalise stepped into the room, she was confused, and she looked between her students to figure out what was going on. Wes closed the door. Connor was sitting on a chair, and the women were standing. April was standing behind Connor's chair, her hands on his shoulders, in an attempt to comfort him— he was obviously freaking out. "Speak." No one did. Laurel made her way to the bathroom, Annalise behind her. She opened the door, and April could only imagine what she must be thinking— and it was nothing good.

////

THEY WERE ALL YELLING AT THIS POINT— all trying to explain why they did what they did. "SHUT UP!" Annalise yelled— which stopped the arguing— they all turned to her. "Wes... April.... please, make sense of this."

April looked down in shame. She was ashamed of herself for taking it this far. "Everything they're saying is true," Wes confirmed.

"So you think Rebecca killed Lila?"

"Sam might have been innocent."

April scoffed, gaining Annalise's attention. "He was a cheater, and he almost killed Rebecca. He wasn't innocent." Without a word, Annalise went into the bathroom and closed the door. 

Michaela turned to April. "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Earlier, you said that Rebecca didn't kill Lila. And now this about Sam not being innocent? You know something." The others turned to April too.

"I know that Rebecca and Sam were both involved. Sam killed her," April lied. "We fought him that night; you saw how strong he was."

"HELP!" Rebecca yelled from inside the bathroom before Michaela could respond to her comment. 

////

"I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING," WES STATED— Michaela, Connor, and Laurel had already presented their defense.

"Of course you do," Michaela said. "Rudy. He saw Rebecca the night Lila was killed wet, and— and she dozed him with PCP because she knew he was a potential witness."

"PCP doesn't put you in a mental institution," Rebecca turned the idea down.

"Rebecca's right," Annalise said. "And where's the actual evidence that this was a crime of passion? Or are we supposed to just trust you, Mr. Walsh? And the detectives could have told Rebecca that Lila was strangled before they started taping her confession. And Rebecca lying about having Lila's phone doesn't mean that she's a killer." Annalise turned all their ideas down. "I mean, where's the facts? An explanation of how she got Lila's body up to the water tank?"

"She didn't. They were already hanging out up there," Laurel responded, exhausted.

"We never did that," Rebecca said.

"Exactly. Because everything that you're presenting is speculation. You've been working with me for nearly six months now, and this is the crap case you present me with?" She turned to April. "Tell me you have something."

April shook her head. "I don't think she did it."

There was a knock on the door. "Do I need to get the tape?" Annalise asked Rebecca, who shook her head. Bonnie went to answer the door. They listened as Bonnie talked to the woman at the door. Then Annalise walked out and closed the door.

"So? Did you get anything out of her?" Laurel asked Connor, who was just having a conversation with Rebecca.

"You mean anything other than the fact that she insinuated that Waitlist killed his mother?" Connor sat down.

"Rebecca said that?" April asked— surprised.

"It's not true, is it?" Connor asked Wes.

"No," Wes replied.

"See? She's a pathological liar."

"Or maybe she's been honest this whole time," Michaela stated. "She keeps lying, yes, but isn't that what we would all do if we looked guilty of a crime we didn't commit? Meanwhile, we know Sam was on the roof that night."

"So, what? You team Rebecca now?"

"I'm team whatever really freaking happened.

Someone started pounding on the door. "Hey!" It was Asher. "Hey, let me in! Since when do we lock this door?"

"We've been here before, right?" April asked— pretending not to be sure. "I'm not imagining it?" Frank pointed at Rebecca— and the students silently made their way to her.

"Frankie D!" They heard Asher greet Frank. "What it do?"

"Office is closed today." They could hear their voices very clear.

"Then why is Connor's car out here? My guess is that you don't want me here 'cause you're pissed about me and Bonnie."

"Shut up and go home."

"No. First, I want your word you're not gonna tell A.K. about us." April and Laurel turned to each other— both are almost weirded out because Asher was in a relationship with Bonnie.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Michaela whisper yelled as she grabbed Rebecca's phone from her hands. Michaela covered her mouth with her hand, hoping that Asher didn't hear her.

"Basement," April whispered to Laurel, who she was standing the closest to. Laurel didn't want to make any sound, so she just nodded.

April went to grab Rebecca and immediately covered her mouth— knowing she was about to scream. Wes held Rebecca, and they dragged her down to the basement without making any sound.

"If everyone else is working today, well, then so am I," Asher's voice could be heard upstairs; he was inside the house. Wes was holding Rebecca, making sure she stood still and didn't make any noise. "Okay, fine. I was wrong. But I'm still not leaving this office until you swear to me that you're not going to tell A.K. about us. Seriously, man. Just 'cause my facial hair's not exactly as luscious as yours doesn't mean I can't still kick your ass."

"What do you need, Mr. Millstone?" Annalise walked in.

"She texted someone." Michaela was pacing back and forth.

"What?" Laurel asked. Frank was down in the basement with them, and he was tying up Rebecca.

"Eggs 911. Lawyer's house. What the hell does eggs 911 even mean?"

"And whose number is it?" April asked.

"I don't know. Why don't you call it and find out?" Rebecca asked, with attitude.

"Whoever it is, they have my number now." Rebecca used Michaela's phone to send the text.

"And they know Rebecca's here," Connor added.

"We'll deal with it later," Frank told them.

"Just like you'll deal with me later?" Rebecca asked Frank. "What are you going to do to me, by the way? Are you just going to leave me down here forever? Or are you going to kill me Sam-style?" She turned to April.

April scoffed. "I only did that to protect you." Michaela pulled her back— stopping her from getting anywhere near Rebecca.

"Everybody upstairs," Frank demanded. "Especially you," he told Wes. They did as he said.

"What do you know?" April spoke into the phone.

"Your mother keeps meeting this guy named John Smith, which is an alias. He was recently released from prison— the charges were dropped."

"And my mom knows him?" April noticed that the others were looking in her direction, minus Wes, who was in the basement. "How?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Has she contacted you?"

"Not since we met at my apartment. She won't tell me anything."

"Just give me some time, and I'll get some answers."

"Alright, thank you. Bye."

"Bye." April hung up.

"What was that?" Michaela asked, confused.

"A private phone conversation," April replied casually.

"What language was that?"

"Russian. I don't need your nose in my business."

Wes walked in. "She was hiding in the water tank," he said. "She went onto the roof to find Lila, and she did, dead in the water. And she heard people coming. And she knew they'd assume she killed Lila, so she panicked. She was on drugs, not thinking—"

"Then why didn't she ever tell us that?" Laurel cut him off mid-sentence.

"Because she knew no one would believe her." Connor and Michaela started disagreeing with what he was saying almost immediately. "She's messed up! That's what happens when you grow up like she did. People take advantage of you. You think everyone's out to screw you, so you do stupid things like lie and deal drugs and hurt people before they can hurt you. But that doesn't make you a murderer. Please... I believe her."

"We're done trying this case," Annalise declared. Connor and Michaela started arguing. "What have I told you time and time again? There's no truth in the courtroom. There's just your version of what happened versus theirs. That's how the justice system works. It's not what's right and what's fair; it's who tells the most convincing story. And right now, none of you have been able to convince me that Rebecca did this."

"So what do we do now?" Connor asked.

"The hell if I know."

Bonnie walked over to Annalise with her phone, which was ringing. "Annalise."

Annalise entered the house once again. "We know what to do," Michaela said as she stood.

"It's not gonna work."

Michaela ignored April. "We pin Sam's murder on Rebecca. We know that seems hard, especially since we already did the same thing with Nate, but it makes sense. Sam killed Lila, so Rebecca killed Sam."

"And then those of us that actually killed Sam, we testify that Rebecca was the one that did it," Connor added. "You just have to convince Waitlist."

"We thought we can get the surveillance tape from the store where Nate first approached Rebecca. That way, we can establish that she came to the house with the thumb drive, and she put—"

"Stop," Annalise interrupted Laurel. "We can't go changing stories with the police, telling a different version every time we feel like it."

"Told you," April pointed out.

"But—"

"It's over, Miss Pratt. We have to let it go."

"What? No!"

"We haven't proved guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."

"How do we prevent her from talking to, you know, the police?" April asked. "That's probably her first stop."

"Not if I convince her not to."

"How?"

"I'm gonna ask her nicely." Annalise walked away.

"That's not gonna work," Michaela stated.

"We abducted her. Taped her to a chair," Laurel listed the things they had done.

"She'll get over it," Frank brushed it off.

"No, she won't! She only thinks of herself."

"That's not true," Wes declined Michaela's statement.

Michaela scoffed. "You're not still into her?" Connor asked.

Laurel turned to Frank. "Please, Frank. There has to be something else we can do."

"Don't you dare put this on Frank," Bonnie told Laurel. "We have gone above and beyond here to try to fix this for all of you because this, from the very start, has been your mess, each of you. And Frank and I have been more than willing to try to save all your stupid asses. Not to mention Annalise, who, for reasons beyond me, continues to protect you. And after what you did to her, what you took from her." Bonnie shook her head as the others remained quiet.

"It's not their mess," April scoffed and broke the silence in the process. "It's my mess. I did it. We can still go with my plan."

"I'm not letting you confess," Michaela turned it down immediately. "We've talked about this."

"Rebecca!" They heard Annalise yell. "Rebecca!" Frank was the first to exit with the others behind him.

"What the hell happened?" Frank asked.

"She was gone when I got down there. Who was it? Tell me. Who let her go? Who let her go, damn it?!"

[my4ncy]

BEST CHRISTMAS EVER

season one episode eleven + twelve opening

masterlist

CHRISTMAS BREAK WAS OVER, AND APRIL was back to class. It was too crowded for her to be able to find her seat. "Hey there, killer," Connor greeted her.

"You get funnier and funnier each day, Connor," April said sarcastically. "How do you do it?"

Connor raised a brow at her as they started walking. "Was that sarcasm?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I only pretended not to know sarcasm just to annoy Michaela?"

Connor grinned. "If you did, I'm mad I didn't think of it."

"Hey," Laurel walked up to them. She pulled April into a hug, who was surprised by the sudden affection. "Oh, god. Thank god you're both here. I was— I was getting really anxious." She pulled away.

"Why?" Connor asked. "Are you worried that I finally went to the police without you and Waitlist keeping an eye on me?"

Wes and Michaela walked up to them. "Happy new year. How was everyone's break?" Michaela seemed cheerful.

"What is that?" Connor asked, referring to her ring.

"It's a fake. I bought it with cash at a jewelry mart in Chinatown. So, did everyone have a nice holiday?"

"Yeah," Connor replied sarcastically.

"Well, mine was great. Aiden and I spent most of it in east Hampton with his parents, then went to the mayor's New Year's party at Gracie mansion."

"Is there any news about the sister?" Connor changed the subject.

"What sister?" April asked, confused.

"Sam's sister." April wasn't the only one who looked confused. "She got here right before the break. She went to the police, said she didn't believe any of it. She at least told you, right?" Connor turned to Wes.

"No."

"Welcome back, everyone," Annalise greeted them as she entered the classroom. "Vacation is over. This is how to get away with murder, the second semester, where things get even harder than the first."

////

ANNALISE EXITED HER OFFICE AND walked up to the woman who could be their next client. "What precinct gave you the D.U.I.?"

"Excuse me?"

"D.U.I.s are issued with paperwork from the precinct that pulled you over. You don't have it?"

"Can we talk alone?" She tried to keep her voice low.

"No, because I don't believe you. Have you got a good enough look yet at the house where the Middleton Strangler lived?"

"No, that's not why I... I don't care what your husband did. I'm here for you."

"I see. So you want to see the freak that sold out her husband up close, huh?"

"No, I don't think you're a freak. I... I want to do what you did."

"I'm no role model. You need to leave." Annalise turned to get back to her office.

"Please. I don't have anybody else."

"That's not my problem."

"I think you're gonna want to take my case."

"I've already decided I don't."

"My husband's holding two girls captive in our basement." Annalise stopped in her tracks, and they all looked at the woman, all taken aback by her statement.

"I ran away when I was 16, slept on the street. He said he would look out for me. So we got married, but I could never get pregnant. Then he showed up with Rachel, and I didn't know what to do. I just knew I didn't want him to hurt her the way he hurt me. Then Lynn came. She's pregnant again, about to deliver. The last time, the baby died. So this time... that's why I'm here. That can't happen again," she finished telling her story.

"Call the D.A," Annalise told Bonnie, "tell them that we want to make a plea deal."

"She's helping lock girls in a basement," Asher pointed out. "Why would we want to protect her?"

"Did you hear her? She was 16 when she met him. She's a victim of his abuse, too."

"But she's an adult now who held those two girls captive in her own house," Laurel said, clearly not okay with their professor's decision to defend this client.

"And she's finally doing the right thing," Annalise told her.

"Or," April started, "perhaps she's coming forward to cover her own ass— to look like a victim rather than a suspect. Whatever it takes to get away with it."

"She is a victim, Dr. Coleman," Annalise looked upset by her comment. "What? Have you never done anything bad that you need a lawyer for?" She looked between April, Laurel, Michaela, Wes, and Connor.

April shrugged slightly. "I don't trust her— that's all."

////

"SOMETIMES YOUR CLIENT WANTS TO PLEAD GUILTY," Annalise said. "And it doesn't happen often, but when it does, you have to make sure you get them the best plea deal possible. If the D.A. agrees to the terms of the plea deal, then it's your job to make sure that every word out of your client's mouth is an element that you use in their defense. Of course, there's no guaranteeing that the prosecutor will keep up their end of the bargain, which is why you record everything your client says in the room."

"Dr. Coleman, you can stay," Annalise called out to her as the other students gathered their things, "I would like a word." April sat back down.

Once all the students had left, April made her way down to Annalise. "Yes?"

"Don't you think I've noticed your recent behavior?"

April shifted her position. "I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

"I think you do." Annalise stepped closer to her. "Your mood has changed, for starters. The way you speak is different. And, yes, I know about the day drinking— before the winter break."

April paused for a moment. "I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm dealing with it."

"And how's that working out?"

April let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, just great."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. Sarcasm?"

"It's a way to interact and socialize with other people," April defended herself. Once she realized that Sheri used to say that, she froze for a moment. "I'm fine."

"You better be— otherwise, I don't want you in my class. Do you understand?"

April nodded. "I understand." Annalise gave her a nod before walking away.

////

"MY CAR WAS STOLEN," CONNOR TOLD THEM— they were in the courthouse.

"Are you kidding?"

"You think I would make a joke about this, Michaela?" Connor was annoyed with Michaela.

"And you're sure you didn't just forget where you parked it?" April asked, not that bothered with the situation at hand.

Connor's glare shifted from Michaela to April. "Yeah. I'm not an idiot."

"You didn't tell the police?" Wes asked.

"No, I didn't tell the police. Obviously, I can't. There's traces of... you know."

"Ask Frank what you should do," Laurel told him.

April frowned. "Why are we asking Frank?"

"Because he knows," Laurel explained, giving her a look, which April understood immediately.

"Does anyone else think it's weird that those two are butt buddies?"

"And we're murderers. Big whoop."

"Technically, I'm the only murderer here," April told Michaela— her expression blank. "Get your own thing."

"Frank," Connor stopped him. "So, uh, my— my car was stolen."

"Bummer. You report it to the police?"

"No. Do you think I should?"

"Don't you want the insurance money?" Frank walked into the courtroom.

"That's great," April said sarcastically. "I'm just gonna take a moment and pretend to be surprised." She walked into the courtroom.

"Was there a time that you saw Jackie's husband hurt her?"

"Yes," one of the victims answered.

"And did she ever hurt you?”

"She was always nice, like a mother."

"Did Jackie ever try to help you— bring you food, clothing?"

"She snuck us things when she could."

"I like to crochet, so she'd bring me yarn."

"Was Jackie ever there during the times that Mr. Groves visited you at night?"

"No, but she would visit us before, give us milk. She said it would help put us to sleep so we wouldn't have to... know what he was doing."

////

"SO, SHE DRUGGED THESE GIRLS, lied to us about it, and we still haven't dropped the case," Asher pointed out as they entered Annalise's house. "Remind me why."

"This isn't a democracy," Bonnie replied. "If Annalise believes a client is worth saving, then we save her."

"Huh, you know, that would have sounded a hell of a lot more convincing coming out of A.K.'s mouth."

"He's not wrong," April spoke up— surprising Asher. "Her husband may have committed the crime, but she's a part of it."

"She's our client," Bonnie told April— she sounded annoyed and wished Annalise was there with them.

"I'm aware of that, Ms. Winterbottom, but I have every right to speak my mind. And I don't have to be okay with us defending a rapist."

"She's not a rapist, April."

April scoffed. "Because she's a woman? Women are just as capable, Ms. Winterbottom. Rapists are women too, and you would be ignorant to think otherwise." The two stared each other down.

"Look into the evidence they found at the house, the girls' testimony," Bonnie went back to the case. "Just find us something that will help us go to the judge." She walked away, and Laurel went to the kitchen.

"Wow. I can't believe you agreed with me," Asher stated, a small grin on his face.

April sat down. "It's not a big deal."

Asher ignored her comment. "I think we're becoming besties."

April hummed. "Sure."

////

"SO, WE NEED TO TALK," LAUREL SAID. They were standing on Annalise's front porch— it was dark and cold. "We can't just go back to being strangers like nothing ever happened."

"Why not?" April asked. "It worked for me."

"You had a murder trial," Laurel pointed out.

"Because I turned myself in. I pleaded not guilty, kept quiet, and life's been great." April didn't mean for her comment to sound sarcastic.

"This is stupid," Michaela cut in. "I'm going inside."

"Michaela." Laurel sounded annoyed. "What happened to you over the break? Everything can't be as perfect as you said."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're pretending to be fine. But how could you after what we did?"

"That's enough group therapy for me," Connor spoke up.

"Connor, unless we all start talking, we are all going to fall apart, and that is exactly how we're going to end up in jail... I got back together with Kan. I am trying to get over Frank. I saw my family over the break. It was the worst thing ever. So I actually missed you guys."

"Gross," April mumbled.

"You— what's going on with you?" Laurel asked Wes.

"I can't sleep without having nightmares. I'm scared I might be going crazy."

"Great. That's great." Connor scoffed.

"Connor—"

"No. Look, you wanted to talk. Let's talk about how you lied to Michaela and me, how you sold us out to Annalise."

April rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's so rich coming from you, Connor. Don't even try to deny the fact that you and Michaela were more than ready to throw Wes and me under the bus. Wanna talk about that? Don't be a hypocrite."

Connor scoffed. "It's not the same thing. Besides, you're the one who killed him."

"Yes. And if I remember correctly, you're the one who chopped him up into pieces. You're no saint, Connor."

"Guys, stop," Laurel cut in. "This is how we get caught; by arguing on our professor's porch. So, you need to stop."

"What's going on here?" A woman walked up to them. She was holding a box. "Hi. I'm Hannah, Sam's sister. Who are all of you?"

////

ANTHONY ENTERED APRIL'S APARTMENT, and she closed the door after him. "So?"

"I found out that Sheri was murdered approximately five to ten hours after leaving the apartment. She was decapitated postmortem. And the security footage at the airport shows your mother arriving several days before the murder occurred."

"So, I was right. My mother was involved."

Anthony gave her a nod. "And the other thing you asked."

"Lila's murder?"

"Yeah. I think you might have been right about that too. He might have been involved."

////

"NUMEROUS SOURCES WITHIN THE PHILADELPHIA police department do confirm that the tests showed it was, in fact, his body found at the Nayatt Landfill one week ago," the news reporter said.

"She's setting us up," Connor said. They were at Wes's apartment.

"What are you talking about?" Michaela asked.

"You don't just find body parts in a landfill," Connor looked through the blinds. "A body, sure. A head, a hand, but not charred-up bits of someone. Not unless you're told where to look."

"They wouldn't have found him at all if you had listened to Wes and incinerated the body," Rebecca spoke up.

"We did do that, Rebecca," April stated. "We burned the body. Burning often doesn't destroy all evidence. And why would Annalise want to set us up? What does she gain from that?"

"Annalise wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't do that," Connor cut Wes off. "Okay, we know, Waitlist. You suckle at the teat of our dear, old professor."

"All I hear is that Annalise doesn't have any reason to sell us out," April said before they started arguing again. "We are her students, and Rebecca is her client."

"Who do you think the police want to take down more? Us or her?" Rebecca added.

"All of us," Michaela replied.

April scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Michaela. A person dies, and the spouse becomes the first suspect. No offense, but who the hell do you think you are?"

Michaela glared at April. "You know, you've been at me since we started—"

"Shut up, Princess," April cut her off. "You called me a murderer on our first encounter, so you don't get to call me out for shit. Actually, when it comes to Sam's case, you have no right to speak." Michaela glared at her more but didn't say anything.

Laurel entered the apartment abruptly, making Connor, Michaela, and Wes jump at the sudden noise. "God! Can you knock next time?"

"I just talked to Frank." Laurel ignored Connor's comment. "He said we're being watched, so it's important we don't freak out."

"Too late for this one," Rebecca said, referring to Connor— who sent her a glare.

"What did he say about Annalise?" Wes asked.

"Uh, he didn't."

"Well, call him back," Connor insisted.

"I can't. The calls we make can become evidence used against us."

Connor chuckled. "Of course. We can't call the one person who said they'd protect us. Great."

[my4ncy]

MAMA’S HERE NOW

season one episode ten

masterlist

"NATE'S PHONE SHOWS SHE TALKED TO REBECCA THE day Sam died," Wes told April, Laurel, Michaela, and Connor, who were all at Annalise's house. "The police want her to come in as soon as possible. It's fine. Annalise can prep her."

April was sitting on the chair. She was wearing sunglasses because she had a major headache after a long night of drinking. "Of course," she mumbled.

"Frank says she hasn't left her room since Nate was arrested," Laurel said.

"Aww. You know, we should all go give her a hug, thank her for saving our butts," Connor joked.

"How can you celebrate the fact that an innocent man might go to jail for us?"

"For me, you mean?" April took her sunglasses off, immediately regretting it. She turned to face the others, who are already looking at her. "And he's already in jail because Annalise put him there."

"April—"

"She's right," Michaela cut off Laurel mid-sentence.

April looked surprised. "Did Michaela just agree with me?"

"Don't push it." April just smiled in return.

"You know what?" Wes spoke up again. "I'll go talk to her."

"No, you won't." Bonnie walked in. "She's sick, and we have a new case to prep."

"How?" Connor asked. "You just said Annalise is sick."

"I'm handling the case."

"That's great," April laughed as she put her sunglasses back on. There was a knock on the door.

"That must be our client." Bonnie went to answer the door, ignoring April's comment.

"Are you hungover?" Michaela asked April in a low voice— clearly disapproval of April's behavior.

April shrugged. "Something like that."

"Oh, yeah, dawgs," they turned to Asher, "time to see the bonbon get her legal eagle on! Justice!"

"I would turn my bedroom into an I.C.U.," their new client, Jolene, said, "make my little brothers pretend to be trauma victims. The idea of helping people just always made me feel better about myself, which is why this is so hard. I mean, doctors can kill a patient and keep their jobs, but for a nurse, we don't get off so easy. And I get it— why people would think I did this. I'm not the prettiest girl in the room, but this will ruin me. I'll be forced onto some sexual-predator registry. But I didn't do what that man says, I promise you. I didn't rape him." April took her sunglasses off, and she could see right through her lie. She laughed to herself— gaining the others' attention.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"April, can I talk to you in private?" April looked at Bonnie for a moment before nodding.

"What do you want to talk about?" April asked casually.

"How about the fact that you're hungover?"

April sighed. "Well, I'm not drunk."

"It doesn't matter. This is inappropriate behavior, April. You can't go on like this."

"Then throw me off the case. Problem solved."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "I know you'd rather have Annalise tell you what to do—"

"This has nothing to do with Annalise and everything to do with our client." April stood, getting upset. "I don't defend rapists, Bonnie. We should be defending the victim, not the attacker."

"It's our job."

April shook her head. "It's not my job. It's not even your job."

"April—"

"I can't do this, Bonnie. I don't want to be responsible for a rapist walking free."

"You don't have to like it, April, but you want to become a lawyer. That's why you're here."

"He deserves justice. She deserves the chair."

Bonnie's expression turned cold. "She's our client."

"Yeah, you've made that very clear. I'm not on board with this."

Bonnie frowned. "What—"

"Maybe I was wrong to choose this profession. I'm way too soft to do this. I should just go back to science."

"What are you saying?"

April swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't want to cry in front of Bonnie. "I quit." Bonnie was speechless— it was the first day of her taking over for Annalise, and she had lost the best student. April took the silence as her cue to leave. And it pained her that she couldn't tell anyone the real reason she was quitting. She ignored the others when she exited the house.

Bonnie walked out of Annalise's office. "What was that?" Asher asked.

"April just quit," Bonnie's statement shocked the rest.

////

APRIL ARRIVED AT HER APARTMENT, and Frank was standing by the door. "What are you doing here?"

Frank turned to her. "Why'd you quit?"

"Does it matter?"

Frank paused for a moment. "So that's it? You just quit?"

April shrugged. "Yeah. If you're here to convince me to come back, don't bother. Turns out being a lawyer isn't my thing— guess I'm still trying to figure it out."

"That's bull." Frank was not convinced.

"I don't care what you think. Science is my field. I could find my way back and— find the cure for cancer or something."

"No. You can't just quit. You're Annalise's best student."

April rolled her eyes. "So?"

"So? She'd want you back."

"I don't care. If I can't defend this client for personal reasons, then I'm not fit for this. You know that."

"Beautiful thing about being a lawyer is that you choose your clients. You don't have to like this one, but this changes when you become a lawyer. Besides, I might get fired if I don't bring you back. Think about it." With that, he left.

////

"WHY DID YOU QUIT?" ANTHONY ASKED, holding his infant daughter in his arms. They sat on the couch.

"Did Frank tell you?"

Anthony nodded. "So, why did you?" He grabbed a small bottle of milk to feed his daughter.

April exhaled. "Our client raped their patient."

"That's awful— but there's more to it."

April shook her head. "Nope. That's it. I don't think I have to explain to you why I don't like rapists."

Anthony chuckled lightly. "Tell me, April. Come on. We trust each other."

April hesitated. She had never told anyone. "I've never told anyone this. My dad... was raped." Saying the words out loud made her feel weird but somewhat relieved. "No one believed him because he's a man. He became depressed, and he ended up committing suicide. It's people like her— they— ruin lives, and they don't even care. My dad's rapist is still out there. I've tracked her down before. She is happy, and she has a family. My dad's dead because of her, and she doesn't even know— or maybe she doesn't care."

"I'm sorry. That's awful."

April nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I don't know what to do. I could go back to my old job or go back to Annalise's class."

"I think you need to sober up first." April looked at him, a frown on her face. "I'm not an idiot."

"I don't want to go back to rehab."

"Fine. Then I'll help you."

"How?"

"I'll keep an eye on you. We throw away all your alcohol. You give me your money and credit card, so you don't buy liquor."

April exhaled. "Is that necessary?"

"I doubt Annalise wants you back if you're drunk."

"What if I don't want to quit?"

"I know what you had to do, April—"

"It's more than that. I don't regret doing what I did, but— I killed him, and everything came back."

"What do you mean?"

"I had nightmares after I killed Nicholas, and small things, like the woods, would be triggers. I went to therapy, and eventually, my life became somewhat normal. Then I killed Sam, and everything I worked so hard to forget about, came back. I killed Nicholas in the woods— we burned Sam in the woods. It's the little things. I started having nightmares again, but this time they were about Nicholas and Sam. I figured that I sleep better after drinking— and my nightmares became less intense. I— then Sheri— and there was Cheryl."

"April, it's okay to feel the way you do, especially after everything you've been through. It's okay to get help."

April blinked back her tears. "I have to go." She stood. "See you." She walked away.

////

"HERE YOU GO." APRIL SERVED A CUSTOMER AT the bar. She grabbed a cloth and wiped the counter and didn't see Annalise walk in.

"I thought I might find you here." April stopped working and turned to Annalise. "Frank told me you quit. So I need you to tell me why."

"This is what I'm destined to do."

Annalise scoffed. "We both know you're destined to things far better and greater than this, Dr. Coleman."

"I don't go by doctor anymore."

Annalise sighed. "Look, I'm sorry."

"For what?" April frowned.

"I've been so busy looking out for my other kids that I forgot to look after you."

April smiled sarcastically. "Always good to know you're forgettable."

"I thought you would be able to handle it."

"But I obviously can't," April snapped at her. "Right? Is that what you're here to tell me? That I'm the shooting star and not Michaela? I'm the weak link, and I'm going to ruin this for everyone? I already know, so you've wasted your time."

"I'm here because I failed you, April. You feel guilty because you're the one who pushed the button, and you called the shots. And I was ignorant to think you were doing okay. And I should know you well enough by now to know that you're not fine. Take a break, and let's talk somewhere private." April hesitated but nodded— Annalise had her way with words.

April was squeezing the pillow against her chest— they were in her apartment. "April, talk to me."

"I've killed two people," she broke the silence. "I guess that's why it's so hard."

"It's supposed to be hard, April. I would be more worried if it were easy."

"I almost confessed," this took Annalise by surprise, "then my mom showed up, which just brought up more..."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't confess. You're not close to your mother, are you?"

April laughed bitterly. "Understatement. Look, what are we doing here? Is this some sort of therapy session?"

Annalise shook her head. "We're just talking. I need you back in my class."

"I can't come back. He was professor Keating too, you know."

"I know."

"I'm not as strong as you thought."

"No, you're stronger. I'm going to help you, April."

"Last time you said that, an innocent man went to jail for me."

"Let me worry about that. We're going to get you out of that deep hole you've buried yourself in. You're going through something so dark and so horrifying, but it doesn't define you." April started tearing up at her words. "Keep having faith in me." April didn't respond— she just nodded instead.

[my4ncy]

SHE’S A MURDERER

season one episode nine

masterlist

"NEGLIGENCE IS A FAILURE TO, UM..." a student was trying to answer the professor's question— clearly struggling. "I-it's a failure to, um..."

"This was all in your syllabus, Ms. Chapin," the professor said.

"I'm sorry, professor Dozier. I just, um... is the heat on really high in here?"

"No, that's just your nerves." Annalise walked in.

Mr. Dozier turned to her. "Dean Sumner said you weren't coming in, considering—“

"Sumner was mistaken," Annalise cut him off. "I'll take it from him." Mr. Dozier left. "I've opted to depart from the syllabus today." The students watched as she wrote on the board. "Ms. Chapin. Can you tell us what the fifth amendment is?"

"The fifth amendment? Um... right, it, um... assures your right to protection from self-incrimination?"

"Are you asking me?"

"No, that— that's my answer."

"And it's a correct one." The girl sat down. "When clients talk to the police, they think clarifying or being helpful can aid in their case. They're wrong. Whatever you say to the police can and will be misconstrued to support the prosecution. So when in doubt, shut your mouth." Annalise subtly glanced between the five students involved in her husband's murder.

April approached Annalise after class. "Professor Keating."

"What do you want, Dr. Coleman?" Annalise kept walking. Annoyance was evident in her voice.

"We need to talk." Annalise stopped and turned to April. "About Sam."

"There's nothing to talk about. Especially here."

"I just need to know if you're doing anything about it."

Annalise scoffed. "You want to know if I'm doing anything about it?"

"This is not my first, professor Keating. I'm allowed to be worried."

Annalise exhaled. "I'm handling it. And, Dr. Coleman, don't talk about it where people can hear you." With that, she walked away.

////

THE KEATING SIX WERE BACK AT ANNALISE'S HOUSE— their professor had messaged them. "What's this?" Asher asked Frank, who was carrying binders.

"New client."

"Is this a joke?" Connor looked up from his phone. "She's in the middle of a murder investigation." Frank handed out the binders.

"Since when do we give up on our clients, Mr. Walsh?" Annalise walked in. "Bonnie."

"The client's name is Paul Lombardo." Bonnie showed them a picture. "President and owner of import/export operation known as Lombardo Distribution."

"Lombardo as in Lombardo crime family?" Michaela asked.

"Is this a mob case?" April added.

"He's a businessman," Frank stated.

"What's the charge?" Asher started doing a Vito Corleone impression. "Did our capo take out the rival family's capo? Did the don bury his goomah in some concrete?"

"Drug possession with the intent to distribute. Three hundred kilos of heroin, to be exact. I need two of you to look at the cargo container's chain of custody— who has access to it, whether it was a frame job. Go to port security and look at any available surveillance footage. The drugs were found by customs agents when the container failed a random weigh-in, so the question is, why did the feds select that container over the thousands that come through the port each day? Look at the personnel at the yard and see who had the motive to take our client down."

April's phone rang as she exited Annalise's house. "Hey, Tony. What's up?"

"I hate doing this over the phone."

April frowned. "What is it?"

"We found her body." April stopped in her tracks. "She was buried in the woods. They're performing an autopsy right now to confirm the cause of death."

April nodded, getting the sudden urge to drink again. "Tanks for calling me."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"You better, April. I didn't enjoy finding you the way I did."

April sighed. "I'll be fine," she repeated. "Stop worrying. Can you call me when they figure out what happened?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Uh, Tony. Do you know a guy named Pedro Hortua?"

"I know that he disappeared."

"He's linked to a new case, and I was hoping you would help out."

"I see what I can do."

////

"HEY," APRIL ANSWERED THE DOOR. "Come in." Anthony entered.

He was confused when he saw the boxes on the table. "What's all this?"

April closed the door. "Sheri's belongings. I forgot to send them to her parents."

Anthony nodded. "Speaking of— the autopsy came back. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

April nodded. "I need to know."

Anthony hesitated for a moment. "Alright. She had red marks around her wrists— she was bound. There are signs of resistance, and her knuckles were bruised, which means she fought back. She was raped postmortem. I think whoever did this is a sex offender— definitely a necrophiliac."

"The cause of death?" April held back tears— she didn't want to show weakness. Anthony didn't respond, and he looked worried. "Tony."

"I'm sorry, April."

"Spit it out, Tony."

"After the autopsy on the body, we realized that we were wrong about the autopsy that was performed on the head. The official cause of death is decapitation— she was shot postmortem. I'm thinking they tried to send you a message by shooting her."

April's frown dropped when she realizes. "That's how I killed Nicholas."

Anthony nodded. "Exactly. So, now we know that the killer was close to Nicholas."

April nodded. "What about the other thing I asked you?"

"My C.I. is tracking him down as we speak."

"Good."

////

"SOURCES TELL US SAM KEATING'S REMAINS WERE PLACED in four separate garbage bags, much like this one, after they were severely burned and dismembered," the news reporter said. "Police are compiling a list of local stores that sell this brand of bag in the Philadelphia area, hoping to provide a lead to the professor's killer."

"You mean the professor's idiot killer?" Ashton said as he chews on his food. "You treat people like trash, the fuzz gon' find yo' ass."

"Turn that off." Annalise walked in. "The criminal informant angle is off the table."

"But if we could prove there's a C.I., I don't—"

"If I say it's off the table, it's off the table," Annalise cut him off mid-sentence.

Bonnie walked up to Annalise. "A friend at the court just called. Detective Bryce is in the process of getting a warrant to search the house. Hannah made a statement saying you threatened Sam, which gives them probable cause."

"Wait, they think you killed Sam?" Asher asked Annalise.

"Of course they're gonna think the wife did it," April told Asher— as if it wasn't obvious.

"Call the judge and tell them that you're on your way to challenge the warrant," told after a brief pause.

"Me?"

"It's a conflict of interest for me to defend myself in court, and I have to meet with our client." Annalise went to her office. "And Bonnie," she turned back around, "don't screw it up."

////

LAUREL WALKED OUT OF KEATING'S HOUSE, where the police were. They were looking for evidence. "What's that?" Wes asked once Laurel approached them.

"A burner," she referred to the cellphone in her hand. "Frank said he'd let me know the second anything happens."

"Oh, like when they find microscopic bits of Sam's blood splattered in the cracks of the floor," Michaela's words made April roll her eyes in annoyance.

"Everything has been cleaned," Wes told Michaela.

"That's what she wants us to think," Connor said. "What? You ever think the reason why Annalise didn't go challenge the warrant herself was because she wanted Bonnie to lose it?"

"No, you're paranoid."

Michaela turned to Laurel. "Or maybe he's just being smart."

"No," April told Michaela. "He's just paranoid."

"Hello again." Hannah walked up to them. "You're all dedicated— to stand watch at your boss's hanging. Though I will say, I'm surprised that you've all stuck around. For the best and the brightest, it seems like a foolish move. Law is not my field—"

"Then stop talking," April cut her off.

Hannah turned to April, and her expression didn't falter. "You're Coleman. I know all about you."

April gave her a sarcastic smile. "I doubt it."

"Get off my property," Annalise told Hannah as she exited her car.

"It's my legal right to stand here on this sidewalk. Plus, I want to be here when they drag you out of my house in handcuffs."

"That's what you always wanted. You could never stand the idea of Sam's mistress living in mommy and daddy's precious house."

Hannah chuckled. "Mistress? Is that still how you see yourself, Annalise?"

"Better than the sister obsessing her entire life over her brother. How's the saying go? Incest is best— put your brother to the test." Annalise walked away while Asher walked up to the rest of Keating Six.

"Yeah, I got to disagree with her on that one," he said. "My sister is not attractive. My cousin, on the other hand, oh!" He chuckled.

"Sounds about white," April mumbled.

"They didn't find anything," Laurel announced, relived.

"What did you think they'd find?" Asher asked. "A bloody knife Annalise hid under her mattress? Our boss would be a better killer than that, yo."

They're back in the house— the police have left. "The debris gets them to the woods, and the woods gets them to us," Connor was freaking out.

"That's not true," April told him. "Anyone could have gone to the woods that night— there's no way they will know."

"We can't talk about this here," Laurel told them.

"Look, we dodged a bullet with the search," Connor said. "But that report, I-it proves they know way too much."

"You're still talking."

"Save something for the group therapy, Connor," April said, annoyed.

"And the three of you have your heads up your asses." Michaela seemed stressed too. "She's telling us to act normal when she's the one who needs to act normal."

"Will you two stop?" Wes looked between Connor and Michaela.

"Her husband was just found murdered. She should be grieving instead of blowing off the cops and taking on mobster drug dealers who she cares more about than saving us."

"Mr. Walsh," Annalise took them by surprise. "My office." Connor followed their professor to her office.

"Oh, he's in trouble," Michaela mumbled. "What if she kicked him out?"

April scoffed. "Before me? Don't think so."

There was a knock on the door. "I got it." Frank went to answer it. Moments later, he walked in with Anthony.

April frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I found Pedro Hortua. Thought you wanted to know. Also, I need to talk to you... in private."

April and Anthony exited the Keating house. "What's up?"

"We don't have anything on your mom— her record is clean."

April was disappointed. "Nothing?"

Anthony shook his head— disappointed that he couldn't help more. "I'm afraid so. There's only one more thing we could do, and you're not going to like it."

"What is it?" She frowned.

"You're gonna have to contact her yourself."

April shook her head immediately. "No."

"I know you two haven't had the best relationship in a while, but this is the only way. You have to do this if you want the truth."

April paused to think— to consider her possibilities, but this was the only way. "Fine. I'll do it. So, how do I contact her?"

"You don't have to make direct contact. I have her address so I could tell her that you're looking for her."

"So, we meet, and then what?"

"Then you make her confess."

"Easier said than done."

"This isn't going to be easy, Captain, I know. But Sheri deserves justice."

April nodded. "And my mom goes to prison. I like the plan."

Anthony chuckled. "Good."

////

WHEN FRANK EXITED ANNALISE'S HOUSE, April was there, waiting. "What do you want, red?"

"The truth." April was leaning against her car. Frank approached her. "You know what I did, so it's only fair that you tell me the truth. Make it even."

"What are you talking about?" April knew that he was only pretending to be confused. 

"Lila Stangard."

Frank tensed up for a moment. "You should leave." He turned to walk away. 

April caught up to him quickly. "Hey, I won't judge you." He stopped walking. "I don't even need an explanation, just a confirmation."

Frank sighed. "Fine. You happy?"

April forced a smile. "Very. I'm going to leave now."

"Yeah, you do that." He left. And she did the same.

Rebecca entered Wes's apartment, where the Keating Six were— minus Asher. "Oh. We're all here!" Connor chuckled. "Should make it easy for the cops to round us up." He, along with Laurel, Wes, and Michaela, tensed when Anthony entered after Rebecca. He closed the door.

"He knows," Rebecca told them. No one said anything— they turned to April.

"I didn't say anything," she shrugged.

"She didn't have to tell me. You two," Anthony pointed between Connor and Michaela, "were very obvious. Look, I'm on your side here, and I'm here to tell you that a ring was found in the woods. That's why they brought Annalise in for questioning."

Michaela started to hyperventilate while Rebecca went to comfort Wes. April, Connor, and Laurel were quiet. Realizing she was having a panic attack, Anthony went to Michaela. "Breathe, Michaela. Breathe with me." All April could do was stare at the wall— getting away with it was maybe not possible.

"And so it begins."

"An arrest has been made in the death of Middleton University professor Sam Keating," the news reporter announced. "The suspect in question, former Philadelphia police detective Nate Lahey, who was been romantically linked to Annalise Keating, the wife of the murder victim."

"She did this," Connor acknowledged.

"How?" Laurel asked. "How did she do this?"

Michaela turned to face them. "Does it matter? She's doing what she said she'd do. She's taking care of us." April wasn't as accepting of Annalise's method— especially not when someone went down for something she did. April watched the news, and she was upset— she couldn't let Nate go down for something she did.

"I need air." April walked out before anyone could ask or say anything.

April had parked her car outside the police station— she needed a plan before going in. She took a big breath and exhaled before exiting the vehicle. Before she could close the door, someone grabbed her arm. So, April turned to face the person, and anger filled her immediately— her expression faltering. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

April scoffed. "Hey, mom." Her mother smiled.

April and her mother were sitting in April's living room. Karen was drinking wine, which she brought with her. They had been sitting in silence for a while. "You want a glass, honey?"

"No."

Karen sighed. "You're no fun." Her comment didn't amuse April, and she saw this. "Oh, come on, April. Lighten up."

"I'm sure you know why I contacted you," April said, ignoring her mother's comment.

"We will get to that," Karen waved her hand, "but first, tell me what you did over the holidays." She smiled.

"The winter break?" Karen nodded. "Hmm. Alright. First day of winter break, I started drinking— a lot. I emptied the cabinet. I blacked out, almost died, and I spent the rest of the break in rehab." April forced a smile at the end.

"You celebrated the new year in rehab?"

"Well, I didn't have a choice. Now, could you—"

"I spent the winter break with someone special," Karen cut her off. "Your father. Oh, how I miss him." She smiled, remembering her late husband. "I still remember his smile, his cologne, and the way he—"

"Oh, give me a break," April cut her off, annoyed. "Cry me a river and get over it. Mom, we are not here to talk about dad."

"Then what shall we talk about?"

"Sheri. And how you killed her."

Karen gasped. "I did no such thing."

"Then you hired someone to do it."

Karen scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, April. I know you don't like me, but don't dare blame me for your girlfriend's death."

April chuckled slightly, confusing Karen. "I never told you who she was." Karen's expression faltered. "Now, are you going to tell me who was involved and your role in the operation, or are you going to leave? Though I feel compelled to tell you that once you leave, I won't speak to you again, and you won't speak to me. No contact whatsoever. You get that, right?"

Karen paused for a moment. "I'll tell you everything."

"What are the conditions?"

Karen took an empty glass and poured wine in it. "You drink with me."

April looked at the glass on the table, and she was considering it. She wanted answers more than anything. So she grabbed the glass. "Promise me that you will tell me everything."

Karen nodded. "I promise. Drink up." She watched as April drank the wine.

[my4ncy]

HELLO RASKOLNIKOV

season one episode seven

masterlist

"THEY DON'T KNOW ANYTHING," Wes tried to assure his classmates. April was leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest.

"Really?" Michaela asked. "'Cause last I heard, we were all being interviewed by the police."

"That's because we work at her house," April told her, bored. She would rather be solving a case.

"We need to stay calm," Wes added, "stick to the story."

"How do we know she's not setting us up, you know?" Connor asked; he had been on edge ever since they killed Sam. "That she knows everything, and she's using these interviews to get one of us to confess."

"Or maybe you're just paranoid," April stated.

"What if one of us cracks, hmm, goes to the police, and tries to get a lesser charge?"

"Then the rest of us will pin everything on that person," Laurel replied. "It's five against one, so don't even try it."

"Looks like we have to make sure none of us cracks," April added.

"Mommy's home," Connor said when he saw Annalise walking up to the house.

"What are you all doing out here?" Their professor asked. Bonnie was by her side.

"The police asked us to wait outside," Michaela answered as Bonnie walked into the house. "We didn't want to get in their way, which reminds me, are we gonna be excused from the final exam now that we're involved in the investigation?"

"Not a chance, Ms. Pratt. Exam's still on," Annalise replied. "Mr. Gibbins, my office." She walked in, and Wes followed her.

"April?" Anthony looked surprised to see her. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs. "What are you doing here?" The other students turned to April— all trying to piece together how she knew the man.

"This is my professor's house," April answered. "What are you doing here?" Anthony showed her his detective badge. "Right."

"Excuse me," Michaela spoke up, "but who are you? And how do you know April?"

"He's my ex-boyfriend— Anthony," April told Michaela— who was surprised by the answer. "And apparently one of the detectives on the case."

Anthony forced a smile and walked up to the porch. "If you'll excuse me— I have work to do." He entered the house.

They turned to April immediately. "He's hot," Laurel stated without hesitation.

"You're so lucky you're gay, man," Asher told Connor, who gave him the usual look he gave whenever someone said or did something idiotic.

"He's straight, man."

"He's also married, man," April told Asher. "He's got a kid."

Asher shook his head. "What a shame." He proceeded to pat Connor on the back, in his own way, showing comfort. But Connor looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

Annalise and Wes exited the house. "Dr. Coleman, a word in my office." April was surprised when their professor asked to see her, and when she saw the guilty look on Wes's face, she realized that Annalise knew what happened. She followed Annalise inside.

"Wes told you," April stated.

"He didn't have to, April. Although he did say he did it. But I knew he was lying."

April sighed and wondered why Wes would try to take the blame. "I'm sorry."

"For killing my husband or for getting caught?"

April shook her head slightly. "For pulling you into this mess."

"I'm afraid it's the other way around, April." Annalise folded her arms.

"No, this is on us. Well, it's on me, to be specific. You didn't force us to do anything. I chose to pick up the trophy, and the others chose to stay and help. This isn't your fault. It's mine."

Annalise paused for a moment. "How noble of you," she said, sarcastically.

"I'm not sure how you feel about me, professor Keating."

"You're the best student in my class, April. And when Wes told me what you did... I was surprised."

"The killing part?"

Annalise shook her head. "You stayed strong while everyone else broke down. You pulled through, April. You're a good leader. You came up with the plan."

April felt as if she was going to tear up, but she pushed it down. "I don't know what to say."

Annalise chuckled slightly. "That's a first."

"What happens now?"

"Only you and Wes know that I'm involved, and I intend to keep it that way. Don't tell anyone. And I know that Rebecca is your friend, but you can't go spilling secrets."

"I won't." There was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

Bonnie walked in. "You should come."

April exited the office after Annalise. "I said you could wait outside," Frank told the woman

"It's okay, Frank," Annalise told him.

"My condolences for your husband, Annalise," their visitor said, looking rather smug. "He's been gone for how long now— 15 hours?"

"You think this is a game?"

"I think you don't like your odds in Rebecca's trial, and this is how badly you need to win, even if it means throwing your own husband under the bus. Why? Did he finally tell you he was leaving you? Is this your version of a woman scorned?"

"I just found out that my husband was sleeping with a young woman who was killed," Annalise walked up to her, "and you have the audacity to come in here and mock me? Get out now, or I'll throw you out."

"Your husband didn't kill Lila Stangard. That was Miss Sutter and Mr. O'Reilly, and I will do everything in my power to put them in jail." She turned to leave. "See you in court, kids." They watched as she went.

////

WES WALKED OUT OF THE INTERROGATION room. When April saw him exit, she stood. "I'll wait for you."

April nodded. "Thanks." She walked into the interrogation room. The room was dark, and there was a table in the middle of it. April sat down.

"Can you tell us where you were last night?" The man asked after a brief pause.

"I studied, and then I went to the bonfire," April answered— she tried to keep her answers short and simple.

"Studied?"

"Yes," April nodded. "We have exams this week."

"So, you studied, and then you went to the bonfire. Did you go alone?"

"No. I went with my study group— some other students from class."

The woman nodded. "I see. Did you see Mr. Keating during any of this?"

The image of his dead body popped into her head at the mention of his name. "No. I did not. The last time I saw him was a couple of days ago, but I can't be sure when... exactly."

"Where did you see him?"

"My professor's house. That's where we work on cases and occasionally do our homework. He lives there, so he would obviously be there."

"Notice anything about his demeanor?"

"I don't really know the guy, and we only ever introduced ourselves to each other. I wouldn't notice if his behavior changed, because like I said, I don't know him. My focus has been and always will be on the case and the client."

"You don't talk about him in past tense."

April shrugged. "Why would I?"

"You think he ran away?" April nodded. "Is he a type of person who would run away?"

"I just told you that I don't know him. We exchanged two words; our names."

April walks out of the interrogation room. "How'd it go?" She walked up to Wes.

"Let's just say I didn't miss the place." Wes chuckled under his breath. "It wasn't always that dark in there," she stated as they left.

////

"I CAME HERE LAST NIGHT LOOKING for the trophy," Asher said. They were at Annalise's house. "I mean, what if they don't think that he's missing? What if they think that there's foul play and I'm somehow involved?"

"Sounds like you might need a lawyer," Connor told him, which only seemed to make Asher more worried.

"Professor Keating," Michaela greeted their professor, who just exited her office.

"We have work to do," she said. "Rebecca goes to trial in three days unless we get the charges against her dismissed. Now, how do we do that? We have to prove that my husband murdered Lila Stangard." Annalise glanced between Wes and April— the only two people who knew about her involvement. "First, we need motive. Next, we have to prove that Sam had means to kill Lila, that he was in Philadelphia the night she was killed. We have proof that he left the hotel parking garage in New Haven, but we need more. We have to prove that he drove back here that night."

"Maybe he paid cash at the tolls or took the train," Connor suggested.

"He checked his car out of the hotel garage," Annalise said.

"Maybe he drove to the train station." Michaela came up with the suggestion, which was quickly shut down by Bonnie.

"His credit-card receipts don't have him buying a ticket."

"There is another way to track him," April spoke up. Annalise had her back turned to her, so April didn't see her smile a little. "Newer phones keep track of where you go and saves every detail of it to a secret file on the device, which is then copied to the owner's computer when the two are synchronized. The file contains the latitude and longitude of the phone's recorded coordinates along with a timestamp, meaning that anyone who stole the phone or the computer could discover details about the owner's movements using a simple program. We just need Sam's computer."

"Great idea," Annalise said and pushed back a smile. "Bonnie, I want you to go down to the police station to retrieve Sam's laptop. Take Mr. Millstone with you for backup."

Annalise turned to leave. "Professor Keating." She stopped and turned to April. "Could we have a word in private?"

April entered the office, and Annalise closed the door. "They're not gonna get that laptop," she didn't waste time and got right to the point. "I know a detective who is working on Sam's case, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but it's possible that I could get him to get the computer."

"What detective?" Annalise crossed her arms.

"Detective Ivanov. I'm not sure if you've met him."

"Russian?" April nodded. "I've seen him around here."

"I trust him, professor Keating and I don't trust a lot of people— three, actually. I'm not sure if he can do it, but I feel like I have to ask him— I just had to ask you first."

Annalise paused for a moment. "You really trust this guy?"

"Yes," April nodded. "If he gets his hands on the laptop, I'll look through it, and I'll be able to find Sam's location."

Annalise frowned. "You can do that? How?"

"I have a Ph.D. in forensic science."

"Of course you do," Annalise mumbled.

"I'll find the location, and Ivanov could take the stand."

Annalise paused before nodding. "Fine, but you better be sure, Dr. Coleman. Don't screw this up."

"I won't."

////

"LOOK, I'M JUST SAYING THAT WE SHOULD get drunk," Connor said when April enters, "enjoy our last days of freedom before Annalise gives us up." She sat on the floor, next to Connor.

"How would Annalise know?" Wes asked, defensive.

"I don't know," Connor shrugged. "I mean, maybe Laurel told her boyfriend."

"I didn't tell Frank, okay? And Wes is right. No one knows anything."

"We're about to find Sam's location, though," April spoke up. "Once we get Sam's laptop."

"Asher texted saying they didn't get the laptop."

"I know," April replied. "Remember the detective that I dated? I talked to him, and he said he would try to get us the laptop."

"Is that why you needed to talk to Annalise?" Michaela asked.

April nodded. "Yes. Back on the case, the motive. We know that Lila was pregnant with Sam's baby."

"That's not a motive," Connor argued.

"It is, though," April argued back. "Sam didn't want anyone finding out that he slept with one of his students, and if people found out that Lila was pregnant, that would eventually lead to people finding out he's the father. That could potentially ruin his career. He would want her to get an abortion, but maybe she didn't want to— he kills her. I've said it before." April shrugged. She then grabbed food from the box. "We just need proof."

"Lila asked me what clinic I get my birth control at," Rebecca spoke up.

"She was pregnant, idiot," Connor snapped at her. "She clearly wasn't on birth control."

"No, but she asked me the week that she died when she would have already known she was pregnant. Lila would have been weird about getting an abortion. So maybe April is right, and that's why she asked about the clinic. That would prove motive, right?"

"What's the name of the clinic?" Wes asked.

"The Weisenstock Women's clinic."

"Someone should call Annalise."

////

APRIL WAS WAITING FOR ANTHONY BY HER CAR. Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning against the vehicle. "Hey." Anthony walked up to her— the laptop in his hand.

"Hey, Tony. Thank you for this."

Anthony gave her the laptop. "No problem."

"I owe you one."

Anthony shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We're friends." He smiled.

April smiled slightly and gave him a nod. "Thanks again."

April entered the Keating house. "Is Annalise here?"

"In her office with Bonnie and Michaela," Laurel answered.

"Thanks." April made her way over to the office; the door was a little open.

"That's a good idea, Ms. Pratt," she heard Annalise say.

April knocked on the door, gaining their attention. "Professor Keating, I just wanted to let you know that I got the laptop."

Annalise smiled a little. "And he agreed to take the stand?"

"Yes."

"Good work."

////

"IT WAS OBVIOUS SHE DIDN'T WANT TO be there." The woman from the clinic had taken the stand. "I don't think Dr. Turner spent more than five minutes talking to her before she came back out."

"And how did Mr. Keating react to that?" Annalise questioned.

"He seemed, yeah, pretty angry. Like, clearly, he wanted her to go through with it."

"Your honor, in addition to the video, I'd like to introduce findings from an independent lab, confirming that Sam Keating was the father of Miss Stangard's unborn child."

"Chain of custody, your honor," Ms. Parks stood.

"Run as many tests as you like," Annalise told her. "You'll find that they all prove that Sam Keating is the genetic match to this fetus."

"Which still doesn't prove he had anything to do with the murder. Sam Keating is not set to stand trial for this crime.”

"Cell coordinates will show Mr. Keating's whereabouts around the time of Ms. Stangard's murder," Annalise shut Mr. Parks down. "The defense would like to put Detective Ivanov on the stand."

Anthony had taken the stand, and a tv had been brought too. "Detective Ivanov, were you able to access the GPS data on Mr. Keating's cellphone?"

"Yes," Anthony answered. "From the laptop, to which he backed up his phone."

"Were you able to pinpoint the location of Mr. Keating's phone on the night of August 29th?"

"I was. As you can see from the monitor here," he clicked on the remote, "I outlined his path of travel in red, along with the time he spent at the various locations he visited that evening. We begin with Mr. Keating here, in New Haven, at 7:02 p.m., then if you follow the red line, you can see how he traveled along I-95 south and continuing all the way down to Philadelphia. Now, if I zoom in, for greater detail, now we're looking at his various points of travel once here in Philadelphia. We can see he arrived at a coffee shop here, but he was only there for a few minutes and then continued on and was traveling along the southern border of the Middleton University campus, until finally coming to a stop at 3204 Spruce Road. That's the address of Kappa Kappa Theta sorority house."

"And what time was Mr. Keating there?"

"From 1:10 a.m. until 1:29 a.m."

"The medical examiner places Miss Stangard's time of death between the hours of 12:00 a.m and 6:00 a.m. Your honor, the record shows that my client, Rebecca Sutter, did not impregnate Miss Stangard, nor did she take her to an abortion clinic with hopes of terminating said pregnancy, nor did she drive through three states to spent 20 minutes on a rooftop where Ms. Stangard's body was found in the water tank. And yet, my client stands accused of murder. To allow this trial to proceed would be a gross miscarriage of justice."

////

"THEY WHAT?" APRIL WAS SURPRISED AT WHAT Laurel was telling her on the phone. "Michaela and Connor want to turn themselves in? Why?"

"It doesn't matter. We have to do something."

"You should just tell Annalise."

"She wouldn't listen to me. I told Wes, and I was hoping that the two of you could talk with Annalise."

April nodded. "Fine."

"Good, because I told Wes you're picking him up. Thanks." Laurel hung up before April could protest.

"What?" She mumbled.

April and Wes were on their way to Annalise's house. "Here's the plan, I talk to Annalise, and you wait in the car."

"Why can't you wait in the car?" April raised a brow at him.

"You drive faster than me, which is what we need right now."

April frowned. "You can drive?" Wes gave her a look. "I mean— you can drive. You have that bicycle with you everywhere, so how could I know?" She parked the car in Annalise's driveway. "Hurry." Wes gave her a nod before exiting the vehicle.

They arrived at the police station, where Connor, Laurel, and Michaela were. They got out of the car and approached them. "Screw this."

"Mr. Walsh." Connor stopped in his tracks. "It doesn't matter how I know. I just know. But I can give you a million reasons why this plan won't go your way, or you can just trust me." Annalise walked up to him. "Listen, you're scared. I know. I understand. And what you've been through— there's nothing more horrible. But, listen, I don't blame you. If I did, I would have turned you in the night that it happened." She turned to the others. "Let me help you. Let me help you. Because if you do, I promise, you will get away with this."

[my4ncy]

KILL ME, KILL ME, KILL ME

season one episode six

masterlist

APRIL WAS MAKING HER WAY TO WHERE WES LIVED so they could study— but was confused when she saw the rest of her study group leaving the building. "Where are you going?"

"After Rebecca," Laurel answered— and April followed her to Connor's car. 

"Shouldn't we study?"

"Apparently, this is more important," Connor said, annoyed. They got into the car and drove away.

The students were roaming the road, making it hard for Connor to drive. "If one of these idiots touches my car, I'm gonna run them over." Connor was pissed.

Wes put his phone down, he had been trying to call Rebecca, but she hadn't answered. "Still not picking up?" Laurel asked.

"Hey, how do you know that she's even at Annalise's?" Connor asked before Wes could answer Laurel's question. "I mean, maybe she got hungry or went to score some drugs."

"She went there," Wes insisted.

"I know that that's what you keep saying, but I'm suggesting otherwise."

"Why would Rebecca go to professor Keating's house?" April asked. Rebecca hadn't mentioned anything to her.

"Because Sam killed Lila, and she's trying to prove it," Wes replied, his answer taking Connor and Laurel by surprise. "That's why she went over there."

"W-wait. You're serious? This isn't a joke?" Connor asked, not convinced.

"I don't care if you believe me. Just drive faster."

"What else do you know?" April asked Wes.

Connor scoffed. "You believe him?"

"Lila was pregnant." The news shocked Connor and Laurel.

"Then, it makes sense. If Sam impregnated Lila, people would find out about his affair with his student. She wanted to keep the baby, but he didn't, so he killed her— there's motive."

"This is insane," Connor muttered.

"Or maybe someone else did it. He is a cheater, but I doubt he's a killer. So, why would Annalise defend Rebecca if she thought Sam was involved?"

"Because I said I'd go to the police if she didn't," Wes replied.

"Oh," Connor laughed. "Right. You blackmailed Annalise. The kid that was so scared that he almost crapped his pants on the first day of class. This is ridiculous."

"Connor, shut up," Laurel told him, annoyed. She turned to April. "You really think Sam was involved?"

She nodded. "I do."

"I guess it's true what they say; takes one to know one, right?" Connor chuckled. "This night just keeps getting better and better."

Wes's phone rang. "Michaela?" He picked up. "Whoa, whoa. Michaela, slow down. Who's fighting?" There was a pause. "Is Annalise there?... Sam was involved in Lila's murder, and Rebecca is trying to prove it."

"I'd pay to see her face right now," Connor mumbled.

"You can't leave her alone with him. Promise me you won't leave... what's he doing? Michaela, talk to me."

"Connor, go. Go," Laurel told him, her voice low. Connor drove faster once they realized that something was seriously wrong.

"What's happening?" Wes asked Michaela on the phone. "Michaela! Answer me! Michaela!"

Once they finally arrived at their professor's house, they get out of the car and made their way inside. Wes ran in first, the others followed.

Wes bursted into Annalise and Sam's bedroom. "Stop!"

"Get out of my house," Sam demanded.

"Let her go, and then we'll leave."

"She took my computer. What the hell is she trying to get?" Sam was getting angrier.

"I don't know," Wes lied. "Just... calm down, and we'll leave."

April stepped forward, calmer than the others. "We're all adults here, Mr. Keating. We can work this out. You just let us get Rebecca, and we'll be out of here.”

Sam stepped away from the bathroom door, and April and Wes slowly made their way to it. "Rebecca, April and I are here, so you can come out now."

"Give me a minute," Rebecca responded. Everyone remained quiet as they waited for Rebecca to exit the bathroom. The tension was building, and everyone was tense. "Okay, I'm coming."

"That's good," April told her. "We're here." Rebecca opened the door and was greeted by April and Wes, making her feel a little at ease.

"What did you do?" Sam asked Rebecca— he was pissed.

"Nothing," Rebecca told him. "I didn't find anything."

"See? All good," April told Sam— her hand holding onto Rebecca's. "We'll leave now. Just let us go."

Sam paused before stepping aside. "I'm not gonna do anything." April, Wes, and Rebecca slowly walked past him, but they didn't get far— because Sam tackled them to the floor to get the USB.

"Grab it!" Connor tried to get the USB but got punched by Sam— who April and Wes were trying to fight off.

April rolled from under Sam and jumped on his back. "Laurel!"

Laurel rushed forward and desperately tried to take the USB away from Sam, which she managed to do. She ran out of the room. This pissed Sam off, who pushed April off of him and ran after Laurel.

Michaela screamed in panic, and she pushed Sam, who fell over the railing. April heard the thud and rushed over to the others. They were all looking down at Sam— they just killed someone. "Oh, my god," Michaela kept whispering over and over. They killed Sam.

"We need to call an ambulance," Michaela said, her voice trembling.

"Why?" Connor asked. "He's dead. You killed him, Michaela." They were in the living room area.

"Me? H-h-he was coming at us."

"Yeah, and he was alive until you shoved him over the railing."

"I was protecting Laurel."

"She was," Laurel added.

"It doesn't matter," April stood from the chair she was sitting on. "It doesn't matter who did what. A man is dead because of us. We could be charged with felony murder."

"No prosecutor would do that. We were defending ourselves."

"We broke into his house," Laurel said, siding with April. "he was defending himself."

"I was just trying to turn in the trophy," Michaela mumbled.

April turned to Michaela, annoyed. "The trophy? Why do you care so much about the damn trophy? Do you have that low self-esteem that you need a piece of metal to prove your worth? I thought you were smarter than that, Michaela."

"Let's call an ambulance."

"I think you mean the police, idiot," Connor stated. "He's dead!"

"Fine. Then the police. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

"Then we leave," April announced. "Sam was drinking, and he fell over the railing— shit happens. No one knows we were here."

"April is right," Wes spoke up. "Rebecca—“

"I don't care about Rebecca!" Michaela cut him off. "I care about my future!"

"Well, this is your fault, Michaela!" April snapped back at her. "You pushed him. If you want to have a future as a lawyer, I suggest we get the hell out of here before Annalise gets back home and finds out that you killed her husband. We killed her husband."

"But maybe that's okay," Wes added. "He was involved in Lila's murder, and he was going to let Rebecca go down for it. It's not—" Wes cut himself off when they heard the sound of someone choking. They were shocked when they saw Sam on top of Rebecca, strangling her.

"Oh, my god!" Michaela stood.

"Do something!"

"Get him off her!"

"Do something!"

Rebecca was trying to push Sam off of her, but his grip around her throat was tight. And it happened fast. One moment he was strangling her— and he was hit over the head in the next. His blood splashed on her face— she froze. Then he fell on top of her. No one dared to move or talk. All they could do was turn to the person who killed Sam. While everyone was shaken by what just happened, April kept a straight face. And then she dropped the bloody trophy.

"Now he's dead," April was the first to break the silence.

"He's dead. He's dead." Michaela slid down the wall, crying.

"We have to go— right now."

"He's dead. He's head," Michaela kept whispering. Her voice was shaking.

Wes went to get Sam off of Rebecca. "Wait," April stopped him. She went into the kitchen and found a pair of yellow kitchen gloves— and she put them on. "I lift him, and you get Rebecca."

Wes nodded. "Okay." April grabbed Sam's arm and pulled it, enough that Wes could help Rebecca up. Once Rebecca was standing, April dropped him.

"You okay?" Wes asked Rebecca— who was shaken up like Michaela, Laurel and Connor were.

"She's not," April answered as she took the gloves off. "Take her upstairs and clean her up. We need to leave. I can't think in here." Wes lead Rebecca upstairs while April put the gloves down.

Connor walked away. "Where are you going?" Laurel asked, but he kept walking. She turned to April. "What do we do now?"

"We go to the woods and figure out what to do next. Wes can take care of Rebecca."

"Wes, hurry the hell up!" Connor yelled.

"Why the woods?"

"Because we can't exactly talk about murder in a crowded place." Connor walked back in. Laurel tried to comfort Michaela, and then Wes and Rebecca walked down the stairs. "We have a plan. Wes, you need to get Rebecca someplace safe."

"You're gonna let them leave?" Connor asked her.

"She can't be here. You know that," Wes said.

Connor laughed. "We're so screwed."

"Hey!" Asher yelled from the outside. "Are you guys in there?!"

"Who is that?" Rebecca whispered to Wes.

"Asher."

"I see your car in the driveway, Connor! Open up the damn door!"

"Okay, what is he doing here?" Laurel whispered. Asher was pounding on the door. Then he knocked on the window, making Laurel take a step back and hide. "Everyone get down." They got down, except for Connor, who was trying to conceal his laughter. "Connor," Laurel scolded him.

"Are you bitches seriously trying to ignore me right now?!" Connor got down. "Let me in! And you guys call me immature? I'm, like, the most grown-up.. grown-up ever compared to your dumb asses!"

"We should just let him in," Laurel suggested as Asher continued to pound on the window. "If he's been in the house, he'll— he'll suddenly be a part of it, you know? The six of us have witnessed him here."

"Then daddy Millstone can help get us off," Connor added.

"We could get him to step in the blood. It's not a bad idea," Rebecca spoke up.

"That plan is messed up," April turned the idea down. "And that is coming from me. We don't need more people involved in this— especially not Asher. Besides, are you willing to trust the man who put an innocent man on death row? Even if he helped us— let's be honest, he would keep Michaela and Wes out of the deal for obvious reasons— maybe Laurel too. And Asher is gone, so let's get out of here."

"What if they got caught or went to the police, or she convinced him to pin it on us."

April shook her head. "Wes wouldn't do that, Michaela." She trusted Wes.

"No, think about it. How we got here— it's all her fault."

"It's not her fault," Laurel argued.

"Stop acting like a little bitch baby," Connor's voice brought April out of her thoughts.

"Do not tell me how to feel right now," Michaela argued back— which was something they had done a lot tonight.

"Stop arguing." April was somewhat annoyed. They had done something terrible, something that would ruin their lives and careers unless they worked together— but all they had done was argue.

"Hey," Wes returned. The sudden noise startled Michaela, who let out a little yelp. They were all on edge. "Sorry it took so long."

"Where were you?" April asked, her brow raised at him.

"I went back for this." Wes took out something from his bag— the trophy.

"Now, you— you take that back right now," Michaela said, her voice shaking.

April's eyes were wide, and she stared at the murder weapon. "You brought the murder weapon?"

"It's smart," Laurel spoke up, rather calmly. "Commonwealth V. Deloatche— a case the prosecution should've won but lost because there was no murder weapon."

"So, what are you saying?" Connor asked.

"We clean it," Laurel answered. "And we put it back. Hide it in plain sight. After we bury the body."

"Laurel is right," April said, her voice stern. She was doing her best to stay calm despite the situation. The rest turned to look at her— Laurel was surprised that April agreed with her. "She's right about the murder weapon, but we can't bury the body; we don't have time. The best way to dispose of the body and destroy the evidence is to burn it."

"Absolutely not," Michaela said and looked at April and Laurel as if they were crazy.

"Yeah, I- I- I- I'm with Michaela," Connor stuttered, clearly freaked out by all of it.

April shook her head, annoyed that they were still standing there and talking about it, considering she came up with a plan. "You need to think this through. It's the best chance we have to get away with this, and we don't have time to argue."

"The trophy— we need, yes. But the body stays where it is."

"No, the body is what gets us caught," April pointed out as if it wasn't obvious.

"You are not thinking straight," Michaela pointed at April and Laurel.

April glared back at Michaela. "And neither are the two of you," she was referring to Michaela and Connor. "You guys are in no position to make any decisions right now, considering your mental state."

"Don't tell me how I'm feeling, April!" Michaela snapped at her.

April scoffed. "It's not like you have any ideas or suggestions."

"Anything that doesn't involve carrying a body across campus on the busiest night of the year!"

"I have a plan, Michaela, but we can't execute the plan if you don't stop crying about it."

Michaela turned angrier. "Screw you!" The argument escalated quickly, and they were all yelling at this point.

"Heads— we get the body. Tails— we leave it where it is. Okay?" The others nodded, agreeing. Wes flipped the coin. Their eyes followed the coin as it flipped through the air. Wes caught the coin. "Heads."

April nodded slowly. "We go back for the body."

They were back at Annalise's house. They walked into the living room area where the body was. "So, what's the plan here?" Connor asked. "Are we gonna chop him up into bbq-friendly pieces now, or are we gonna wait till he's broiled to a crisp?"

"We roll him in the rug and deal with it in the woods," April replied.

"Good times."

"A little help?"

"Happy to." They pulled the body to the center so they could roll it in the carpet.

Michaela was standing by the doorframe, and they all turned to look at her.

Michaela hesitated, not wanting to be more involved than she already was. "Fine."

They stumbled a little as they lifted the body but managed to steady themselves and not fall. The body accidentally bumped against the wall as they tried to make their way out. They got to the door, and April left her arms shaking due to the lack of exercise, and she tried to catch her breath.

They stumbled through the woods, with the body in their arms— their flashlights making it easier to see in the dark. They got down once they heard someone getting closer. A phone started ringing— Laurel's phone. She took out the phone from her pocket and tried to turn it off, but her gloves wouldn't allow her. She took the glove off and turned the phone off.

"Okay. Last chance," Wes said. "Either we all agree, or we stop right now."

"Just do it," Connor told him, impatiently.

"We've come too far to go back now," April muttered.

"Before the bonfire ends," Laurel said.

"Michaela?"

"It's the only way to destroy the DNA," she replied, her eyes on April. Wes turned the match on, making Sam's face more visible in its light. He dropped it, and the body caught on fire. All they could do was watch as it burned.

Connor was chopping up Sam's body, and the rest were watching— except Michaela, who had also covered her ears. "Hey, guys," Connor stopped his movements. "I think I just detached the tibia. Or is that a fibula?" He chuckled. "What do you see, Madam President?" His eyes on April.

"That's the femur," April replied after observing the body parts. Connor continued to chop up the body— he laughed as he did so.

April returned to her apartment— she locked the door. She proceeded to close the blinds to all the windows in her apartment. All night she had kept herself together to pull all of them through it, so once she decided to give in, she started crying. Her whole body was trembling, and her cries turned into silent sobs. She held her hand against her chest to feel her heartbeat, to assure herself that she was breathing— that she was alive. She slid down the wall and tried to catch her breath. Over a year's worth of pain and suffering was crashing down on her. And she couldn't stop.

[my4ncy]

HE HAS A WIFE

season one episode five

masterlist

ANNALISE LET APRIL BACK ON THE CASE after Rebecca convinced her to. At the house, April laid her eyes on Sam, Annalise's husband, and she soon realized that she had seen him before— with Lila. April knew that the two had an affair, which made her think that Sam was definitely involved in her murder.

April was still contacting Nate about Sherri's case, and he was doing his part in finding out what happened to her. "So?"

Nate sat down next to April on the bench. She was holding an open book, pretending to read it, so she didn't look suspicious. "Word has it that Sheri was involved with some shady people."

April furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"She used to deal."

"So, perhaps someone felt betrayed by her leaving," April kept her head low, "and wanted to take revenge."

"Maybe. Did you know that she used to deal?"

April shook her head slightly. "No. Have you found the remaining part of the body?"

"No. Not yet. Finding a body isn't as easy as it seems."

April hummed. "Right."

Nate paused. "You need to be careful."

"I am."

"April." She looked at him when he said her name. "I mean it. Especially since you think your mother might be involved."

April gave him a nod. "I'll be careful. Do you trust Annalise?" She changed the subject after a short pause. "Her husband was involved with Lila before she went missing, and I'm certain that he had something to do with it."

"April—"

"Don't tell me you trust that man," she cut him off. Nate stayed quiet. "Call me if you find anything."

"Sure." She got up and left.

////

"SOMETIMES, WE'RE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR OWN actions, because sometimes, we behave not like thinking, thoughtful human beings, but as animals," Annalise informed her class. "Such is the case of Gretchen Thomas," a picture of a woman popped up on the screen, "a successful real-estate agent, wife, mother. Like many a high-powered professional, stress and anxiety are part of her daily routine, so she takes a prescription sleeping pill before bed. Its side effects have caused her to buy clothes online, cook gourmet meals, and even initiate sex with her husband, all while completely unconscious. And then this happened."

The students turned to the screen and watched as their new client dragged a body out of the house. "This is Ms. Thomas on her home-security system, dragging her nanny's dead, bloody body out of the house. And then what does she do? She begins to clean up the mess. Now, we all know the feeling— we've had a bad dream, we know we're asleep, but try as we might, we just can't seem to wake ourselves up."

They met their new client, and then they were at Annalise's house— ready to get started. "Since we can't put Gretchen on the stand, we're having the people who love her— her family— testify to her history of sleepwalking. So tomorrow, each of you will act as prosecutors, prepping each of the Thomases for their moment in the sun." Bonnie was handing out files— she held one in front of April and Wes. "You two talk to the husband." Wes took the file. "Dig in." Bonnie walked away.

"Anyone else feel like we do all her work for her?" Michaela asked as April walked past her.

"Just figuring that out now?" Connor asked her. April and Wes sat on the couch next to each other to talk about their new assignment.

"I was fine with it before exams, but now that everyone else in our class is locked away in their apartments, studying, we're falling behind, working as free labor."

"We're not your therapists, Michaela. No one here cares about your problems," April spoke up as she flipped through the file.

Michaela glared at April; she went to say something, and then she noticed how fast she was flipping the pages. "You're supposed to read that, smart-ass."

April closed the file. "I did." She gave the file to Wes so he could read it. "You can study after the assignment. Better get started." Michaela didn't respond; instead, she just sat down.

Asher stood. "While you guys all go be boring, study. I'll be at the bonfire, partying it up, mackin' on the chickadees."

April was writing down questions in her notebook. "Hey," Connor greeted her and Wes in a low voice. "You guys want to study-group this weekend?

Wes scoffed. "Since when do you need to study?"

"Well, you take notes, April is a walking encyclopedia, and I have Adderall. We'll make a great team."

"Wes," Bonnie called out to him before he could answer Connor. "Professor Keating wants to see you." Wes got up and walked away.

Connor turned to April. "So?"

April gave him a short nod. "I'm in."

Connor grinned slightly. "Awesome." He turned to Laurel, most likely to ask her the same question.

////

IT WAS GETTING LATE, APRIL ENTERED HER APARTMENT, and she was ready to sleep. Once she closed the door, the smell hit her hard— vodka. She stopped in her tracks and turned the lights on. "Captain."

To say April was surprised was an understatement. "Tony, what are you doing here?"

Anthony stood from the couch where he was sitting. "I came to see you."

April looked doubtful. "You came all the way from Virginia to see me?"

Anthony stepped closer to her. "I was promoted to detective, and they transferred me here a couple of days ago. I found out that you live here, and I just had to see you."

April smiled slightly. "It's good to see you, Tony."

"You too, April," he smiled back. "I'm sorry about Sheri. I heard what happened."

"It's fine. I'm moving on."

Anthony nodded slightly. "No one is really doing anything to find whoever is responsible."

"I know," April sighed. "I'm trying to figure it out. I'm considering going back for information."

"No," Anthony shook his head. "That's not a good idea. I'm a detective now, Captain. I'll help you find who did this."

"Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely. You saved me, so I owe you one." He gave her a card. "Stay in touch, April."

She nodded. "I will."

////

"SO, LET'S BE CLEAR," WES STARTED— they were at their client's house, he was talking to the husband along with April, "you actually saw her take the sleeping pill that night?"

"No, but she told me she took it when we got into bed," Mr. Thomas answered.

"How can you be certain?" April questioned.

"She took it every night— right before we went to sleep."

"Experiencing a period of stress or anxiety has a significant impact on your mental state and can make you more forgetful. It wouldn't be abnormal if she simply forgot to take it that night." Mr. Thomas didn't respond.

"It was awful," Cody had taken the stand, "for all of us. Like, it's one thing for your mom to kill your nanny... it's a whole other thing if she had no idea what she was doing. It sounds fake— I know— like we're making it up, but we're not. It's the pill's fault."

"Your witness." Annalise walked back to her table.

"Is it possible your parents told you to lie on the stand today, Cody?" The prosecutor asked.

"Your honor, there's no good-faith basis to this question," Annalise objected.

"Let me rephrase. Do you love your mother?"

"Yes," Cody replied.

"So you'd do anything to protect her. Lie, even?"

"He's badgering my witness, your honor," Annalise argued.

"Lying under oath is illegal, Cody." The prosecutor ignored Annalise.

"Mr. Rodriguez, this is bordering on witness intimidation," the judge informed the prosecutor.

"Are you lying, Cody?" He ignored the judge as well.

"Your honor, I ask the court to cite the prosecutor for misconduct and allow my witness to leave the stand."

"I'm not lying about my mother," Cody spoke up as Mr. Rodriguez made his way to his desk. "She loved Elke. We all did. Especially me." This gained everyone's attention.

"What did you just say?" Mr. Rodriguez asked.

"Your honor, he's just a young boy." Annalise kept calm.

"I loved her," Cody answered the prosecutor's question. "That's why I was awake at 3:00 a.m. that night— because I was going to her room, just like I had been every night. We loved each other." To say the people in the court were shocked would be an understatement. April leaned back— it was possible that they couldn't win this one.

April was leaning against the wall, patiently waiting for Annalise to return. Michaela was on the phone, and Connor was pacing back and forth but stopped when their professor arrived. Annalise walked straight up to Connor, and she was pissed. "Are you good for anything, or can you only do your job when you're screwing evidence out of someone?"

"Annalise, he did his best," Bonnie defended Connor. "We were all blindsided by this."

Annalise turned to her associate. "No, you were blindsided. Because you can't do your one simple job, tell me what's coming my way! That's all I ask, and in return, I tolerate your pathetic, mousy presence in my house."

April stepped forward, somewhat annoyed, as the others remained quiet. "With all due respect, professor Keating, but I think you're wrong." Annalise turned her sharp look towards April— while the others looked tense, not knowing what was going to happen next. April didn't seem intimidated by Annalise in the slightest. "We are all doing our best to win the case. We had a little fallback, but the case isn't lost. The precious time you waste scolding us is the time we could use to find a defense that will keep our client out of jail and clear her name."

"Dr. Coleman—"

"The higher they rise, the bigger the fall," April cut her off.

Annalise stepped closer to April. "Your big mouth is gonna get you punched one day."

April hummed. "It already has," she mumbled. "We have faith in you, professor Keating. Have a little faith in us." Annalise remained quiet for a moment before she walked away.

"You're insane," Michaela told her.

"I assure you that I'm not," April said, again missing the sarcasm.

Michaela shook her head. "Why do I even try?"

"Hey. How's it feel to have your ass handed to you just days before she hands out our final grades?" Michaela asked Connor, with a smug look on her face.

"I'm not worried," Connor stated. "Because I got a copy of the exam that she gave last year." This caused Wes and Laurel to look up from their books. "And I'm happy to share it with my new study group if they have things to give me in return."

"I'll trade you all my notes," Wes quickly confirmed.

"And I'll give you copies of all of Kan's old outlines," Laurel added.

"It's like you said, I'm a walking encyclopedia," April recalled Connor giving her that nickname a day earlier.

"I have every criminal-law hornbook ever written," Michaela stated confidently.

"And I memorized all of them," April told Michaela.

"I think four people's enough for this study group," Connor told Michaela as he passed the copies to April, Wes, and Laurel.

"I'm actually surprised she hasn't kicked you out, April," Michaela acknowledged as Laurel grabbed her buzzing phone and left the room.

"Why would she kick me out?" April asked.

Michaela scoffed. "After what happened at the courthouse," she replied. "Arguing with our professor."

"Lawyers argue, Michaela. Isn't that why we're here? To become lawyers?"

Michaela rolled her eyes. "I noticed that you only talk nerdy when Keating is here."

"I've known you for a little while now, and I've realized that I can't talk nerdy to you."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you're not the brightest person in this room."

Michaela glared at her, a little offended by her statement. "It's like you want everyone to hate you." April only shrugged in return.

[my4ncy]

WE’RE NOT FRIENDS

season one episode four

masterlist

THEY STUMBLED THROUGH THE WOODS, with the body in their arms— their flashlights made it easier to see in the dark. They got down once they heard someone getting closer. "Flashlight," Wes stated, referring to Connor's flashlight still being on— he turned it off. April looked up and saw two people making out— she rolled her eyes, very convenient. A phone started ringing— Laurel's phone. She took out the phone from her pocket and tried to turn it off, but her gloves wouldn't allow her. She took the glove off and turned the phone off.

"Who's there?" The guy called out. They stayed quiet.

April noticed that the pair have left. "They're gone." She turned to Laurel. "Homicide 101; you turn your phone on silence."

"Why is Frank calling you?" Michaela asked Laurel.

April frowned. "Frank was calling you?"

"Laurel, please don't say you told Frank about this," Wes said.

"You people tell me that I can't call Aiden, and you called Frank?" Michaela sounded annoyed. "I swear to god, Laurel, if you told him anything—"

"I slept with him," Laurel cut her off, surprising them, "okay? And I didn't call him. He's calling me bec— w— whatever. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. Otherwise, how do we know you're telling us the truth?"

"Why would I tell you? We're not friends."

"Wait," Connor said, "so, you screwed Frank while you were still seeing Kan?"

"I'm a cheater, yes. And a slut and a bad person and now a murderer."

"Which we don't have time to discuss," April said. "We still have a body to get rid of."

////

"HE DIDN'T DRINK ON THE WEEKDAYS. Said it made him slow. And, being a cop, he couldn't afford to be slow. Otherwise, he'd make a mistake, or people would suffer. I mean, the fact that he was a cop just made it impossible to get help. And calling them was only going to make him come down harder on her later." April was carefully listening to what he was saying, and she somehow understood what he was going through.

"And the night your father was killed?" Annalise asked.

"It was normal. He started yelling as soon as mom walked in. And... I don't know. I guess I just couldn't do nothing anymore. So I walked into his bedroom... got his gun... and the next thing I remember is the gun in my hand— it was still hot— and dad on the floor. He wasn't yelling anymore. I was so relieved. But things are better now... that he's dead."

"Ryan, please don't say—"

"I'm glad I shot him," he cut his mother off mid-sentence.

"We're not just fighting a murder charge," Annalise said. "We're fighting the police. They've used politics and the media to fuel public outrage and turn Ryan, a boy who spent his entire life witnessing his mother's abuse, into a sociopath who hated his father. So, how do we win this? Not based on evidence, but the emotions of the jury."

"In emotionally driven cases, jury selection isn't a science. It's the art of human study. So how do we ensure the least amount of bias when picking a juror?" The students raised their hands. "Miss Pratt."

"By making sure the bias swings in your favor. For example, men tend to be punishment-oriented and favor the prosecution."

"What have you heard in the media about my client?" Annalise asked one of the jurors

"The short version? That he's a sociopathic cop-killer."

"I'd like to challenge juror 505 for cause," Annalise told the judge.

"Juror dismissed."

"Beyond gender, what else do we look for during voir dire? Dr. Coleman."

April stood from her seat. "Similarities between the juror and your client— any personal connections that will help the juror sympathize."

"Are you married?" Annalise asked the juror.

"Divorced."

"Happily?"

"Happily divorced? Oh, lord, yes."

"The defense accepts this juror."

"When police testimony is pivotal to the prosecution's case, we have to look for jurors who are prone to distrust authority. What are some of the signifiers of this? Mr. Walsh."

"Number one is race. There's a larger distrust of police among black Americans."

"You don't call the police in my neighborhood," the juror said.

"Excuse."

"Every juror you let in that box can decide your client's fate."

"Some cops are bad, some are good— like all people."

"Accept."

"That episode of NYPD blue where detective Simone died still makes me tear up."

"Excuse."

"Grace Kelly and I have tea together quite often."

"Dismissed for cause."

"Accept, your honor."

"Excuse."

"Excuse."

"Accept."

"Accept."

"Excuse, your honor."

"Accept, your honor."

"Accept, your honor."

"Excuse, your honor."

"Excuse."

"12 complete strangers will make or break your case before you've said one word of your opening statement."

"I direct you not to discuss the case with anyone," the judge told the jurors, "form an opinion or search out any media coverage of this matter. Report back at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow." The jurors left the courtroom.

"Your honor, I'd like to file a motion to exclude the testimony of the alleged abuse of Sharon Remini."

"Your honor," Annalise stood from her seat, "the prosecution has had weeks to file this motion. She deliberately waited until after voir dire to undermine my defense."

"Ms. Keating, what evidence do you have supporting the abuse claim?" The judge asked.

"The testimony of the woman who has suffered the abuse for the last twenty years. Mrs. Remini is here right now. She could tell you firsthand."

"Sharon Remini is the defendant's mother and has every reason to fabricate abuse claims in a desperate attempt to save her son. In fact, Mrs. Remini never once filed a report with the police."

"How could she, when the people that she'd call for help, are the drinking buddies of the abuser?!"

"So, you're admitting you have no actual evidence of the abuse?" The judge asked.

"I have the testimony of my client, the online diary he's kept for three years that documents the abuse."

"It's self-serving hearsay. I have no choice but to accept the prosecution's motion and block any testimony of abuse, either oral or written, from the defendant or his mother."

"Your honor—"

"My hands are tied, Ms. Keating." April leaned on her chair, annoyed.

"In cases where emotion is currency, we have to cater our defense to the jury, which means knowing the jury— learning to read reactions, body language," Bonnie said as she handed out files to the Keating 6. "I'm assigning each of you your own pet jurors to watch."

"Lumberjack?" Connor showed the picture in the file. "I don't— I don't want this guy."

"Oh, not your type?" Asher asked. "I'll take him if you give me sexy librarian."

"What about the two hairy guys?" Bonnie handed him the files. "Enjoy." Asher looked less than pleased.

"Can we track them outside of court, too?" Laurel asked.

"Yes, but absolutely no contact. Jury tampering is illegal. Don't get us thrown in jail."

"This is all fun and everything, but what's our defense? We picked a jury based on arguing abuse," Michaela stated.

"Yeah, what's our play?" April asked. "Now that abuse is off the table."

"If Ryan was on drugs, we can argue diminished capacity," Wes suggested.

"So we add drug addict to sociopathic cop killer?" Annalise walked in. "I don't think so. We need a Trojan horse to allow the abuse in, a back door."

"Oh. This guy knows how to use a back door," Asher joked.

"Ryan's blog," April stated.

"Exactly. If we could get one of the prosecution's witnesses to mention it on the stand, then everything he ever wrote can be allowed into evidence. Stay up all night. Take notes. Know the blog inside and out before tomorrow."

"There are like 800 entries," Michaela said.

"Then you better start reading." Annalise walked back to her office.

"Ms. Coleman, may I have a word?" Bonnie asked, a blank expression on her face.

April was confused. "Alright." She followed Bonnie out of the room. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I think you should talk to Mr. Keating."

April frowned. "Why?"

"Sam Keating is Annalise's husband, and he's a psychology professor. He could help you."

"Thanks, but I don't need help."

Bonnie stopped April from leaving. "What you saw is traumatizing. You need to talk to someone about it."

April sighed. "I will think about it," she lied. She hated therapy.

////

"AS RYAN'S ENGLISH TEACHER, did you ever suspect he had negative feelings towards his father?" Barker asked the woman who had taken the stand.

"Yes. Ryan... was a troubled student. Everyone at school was aware he had problems with his father."

"Why is that?"

"He performed a song at the talent show once. The lyrics were... disturbing."

"Can you remember what they were?" Barker asked.

"I'm going to put some hot lead in my daddy's head."

"No further questions, your honor."

April turned to Laurel. "He wrote that in his blog."

"He did?"

"Yes. January 2014. That's three months prior to the talent show." Laurel scrolled down Ryan's blog.

"Got it." She leaned forward and gave her tablet to Bonnie— whispering something in the process. They watched as Bonnie gave the tablet to Annalise.

"Mrs. Medick, are these the same lyrics of the song that you just stated for us?" Annalise walked over to the teacher with the tablet.

"Objection!"

"I'm just corroborating the facts presented by the prosecution's own witness."

"Overruled, Ms. Barker," the judge declared. "Sit down."

"Yes, they're the same lyrics," Mrs. Medick said.

"Your honor, these lyrics were first published on Ryan's blog in January 2014, three months previous to the talent show. Therefore, all entries are open to testimony, including the entries where he describes his father's physical abuse against his mother."

"Objection! Your honor already ruled—"

"That was before you walked the abuse into this courtroom with your own witness."

"I need to see this blog, Ms. Keating," the judge said.

"Of course, your honor." Annalise gave him the tablet. They watched as he read it.

"I'll allow it into evidence— and, therefore, the abuse." He gave the tablet to Annalise.

"Your honor—"

"Rule number 106 of the evidence code, Ms. Barker. Overruled."

April left the courthouse, ready to go home and study. "Dr. Coleman," a voice called after her. "We need to talk."

"Then talk," April kept walking. Bonnie caught up to her.

"Did you think about what we talked about? Have you decided to seek his help?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to decline."

Bonnie grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. "Why don't you want Sam's help?"

"Let go." Bonnie released her arm. "I don't need help."

"But you do need help."

"I have homework to do," April changed the subject. She walked away, and Bonnie didn't stop her this time.

////

THEY WATCHED THE BODY BURN. April was holding her hands out in front of her to keep them warm in the heat. "You're a psycho. You know that, right?" Michaela stood from her kneeling position.

"I'm not psychotic," April replied. "I'm not mentally unstable or afflicted with a psychosis."

Michaela scoffed. "You're warming your hands in the fire that is currently burning our professor's husband."

"My hands are cold," April explained, not seeing anything wrong in what she's doing. A phone started ringing— it was Laurel's phone.

"That Frank again?" Connor asked. Laurel declined the phone call. "Guy's whipped."

"You should answer," Wes told Laurel.

"He's the last person I want to talk to right now."

"No, Wes is right," April said. "He'll hear the bonfire, and it will strengthen our alibi."

Laurel picked up the phone. "What?"

////

AFTER HER SHIFT AT THE BAR, April went back home and did her homework. The night ended with an empty whiskey bottle and the next morning started with a hangover. Although April did take aspirin, it only took half of the pain away— she had a major headache.

Now she was sitting in the courtroom— next to Laurel— and she was rubbing her forehead. Oh, how she hated hangovers.

Before April arrived at the courthouse, she got a phone call from Detective Nate Lahey, who told her that Sheri's case had been closed. April contacted Nate because it didn't seem like the police were trying to find the killer, and she was right.

"We received an anonymous tip that someone informed the jury as to how nullification works," Ms. Barker said. "Clearly, it was a member of the defense team."

"Based on what evidence, your honor?"

"We all know who benefits from this act."

"Again, where's the evidence?"

"Stop," the judge advised. "Bring in the jury."

The jury had been brought in. "Has anyone spoken with or contacted any of you about this case in any way, including a discussion of the concept of jury nullification? Lying is a criminal act for which I can hold you in contempt."

"It was me, your honor." A woman stood up. "I found information that we have the legal right to vote our hearts. I shared it with the rest of the jury."

"In the case k7439080, I have no choice but to declare a mistrial. Jury is discharged."

"Well, it seems we've done irreparable harm to the public opinion of Ryan," Annalise stated. "Due to the abuse defense, the D.A. no longer thinks he's a sociopath. Therefore, they've bumped the charge to juvenile court. You're looking at probation, community service, and counseling."

Ryan and Sharon were both relieved by the news. She turned to her son. "Did you hear that?" Her voice cracked. "You're gonna be okay." Sharon hugged her son.

"I mean, is this happening?" Ryan smiled, clearly surprised by the news.

"It's happening," Frank confirmed. Sharon and Ryan thank Annalise. April turned and caught Asher crying.

"Oh, my god. Are you crying?" Michaela asked.

"No." Asher sniffled. "Allergies." He grimaced at Connor, who was staring at him.

////

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" April asked once she opened the door. It was late, and Rebecca was standing in front of her. She looked distraught.

Rebecca entered the apartment. "I can't trust Annalise." April closed the door.

"What happened?" She was confused. Did Annalise do something? Rebecca was pacing back and forth. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Rebecca stopped in her tracks and turned to April. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"I'm not the right person to talk about trust."

"Right. Because you have major trust issues."

April nodded. "I do." Rebecca exhaled and sat on the couch. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Rebecca paused. "Well, you still owe me pizza and beer.”

As much as April wanted to say no, she didn't. Instead, she nodded. "Pepperoni?"

"Yes. Do you have any beer?" She stood.

"In the fridge." Rebecca went to get the beer, and April grabbed her phone.

"What's with the chocolate?" April turned and saw the chocolate wrappers on the kitchen counter, which Rebecca was leaning on.

"I'm menstruating," April answered blankly, thinking it was not a big deal— but Rebecca was taken aback by it. "Hi," she spoke into the phone, "I'd like to order two pepperoni pizzas... no, I'll pick them up... no soda.. alright. Bye." She hung up.

"I'll pick them up?" Rebecca repeated, confused.

"I don't want strangers to know where I live." April shrugged, not thinking much of it. That was just her normal.

Rebecca nodded slowly. "And they say I'm paranoid. And you have no filter; you know that, right?"

April frowned. "I don't know what that means."

Rebecca grinned slightly. "I know you don't."

April returned to her apartment building with the pizzas. Once she unlocked the door and entered, she was confused when she saw that the lights were off.  

She placed the pizzas on the table next to the door, which she closed. Slowly, she walked further into the apartment but stopped when she heard footsteps behind her.

Someone grabbed her arm, and her instincts kicked in; she flipped the stranger to the floor and put her pocketknife against their throat. "Wow, chill out, it's just me."

"Rebecca?" April let her go and turned the lights on. And she was more confused than ever. "What's going on?"

"I didn't know you could fight."

April had a blank look on her face. "Why were the lights off?"

"I thought I heard someone, so I turned them off. It's easier to hide in the dark."

"You heard someone? Someone is in here?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I don't think so. It's just my brain tricking me."

April was doubtful but nods. "Alright. Let's eat." She grabbed the pizzas.

"Your middle name is Virginia... because you were born in Virginia? I think your parents hated you," Rebecca said, with pizza in her mouth. "Wait... is your birthday in April?"

April paused. "Yes."

Rebecca chuckled. "Be happy you weren't born in October then."

"That would have been awful."

"That would be child abuse." Rebecca kept laughing.

April chuckled. "I wouldn't take it that far."

The laughter died down. "Do you believe me? You know, when I say that I didn't kill Lila?"

April nodded. "Yes. I do."

"Why?"

"You're not a killer. It takes one to know one."

"So, you have a gaydar, but for serial killers."

April frowned. "I don't know what that is."

"If you meet someone... are you able to tell if they have killed someone?"

April shook her head. "I get this nauseating feeling in my solar plexus, and their behavior either confirms or denies my suspicion."

"Yeah. I didn't get any of that. Have you met Annalise's husband?"

"No, I haven't. Why?"

"No reason. Thanks for the pizza and beer, but I have to go now. It's getting very late." She stood. "And thanks for not killing me."

"Sorry about that." April walked her to the door.

"It's fine."

"You know I'm not on your case anymore, right?"

"I could talk to Annalise about that."

April was a little surprised. "You want me on your case? I thought you didn't trust me."

"You're the smartest student in that class. I think you might have a chance to save me."

"I appreciate that." Rebecca nodded before she opened the door. "Good night."

"Night." Rebecca left.

[my4ncy]

LET’S GET TO SCOOPING

season one episode three

masterlist

APRIL WAS STANDING OVER SAM'S DEAD BODY, the trophy was by her feet, and she was trying to figure out what to do. Michaela was freaking out, and Wes was comforting Rebecca— they are handling the situation differently.

Connor walked in, and he observed the scene in front of him. "Michaela, stand up. We need to leave. Do you understand?" He punched the bookshelf. "Michaela!"

"Connor, stop!" Laurel went to Michaela and tried to comfort her.

"We're screwed," Connor said. "She's gonna ruin this for us."

"She'll be fine," April told Connor, calmly.

"She's not fine. Are you blind?" Connor asked April. "Her little, perfect brain doesn't know how to handle any of this."

//// TWO MONTHS EARLIER ////

AFTER ANNALISE MADE THE DECISION TO take Rebecca as her new client, April told her professor that she knew their new client and that they were friends. This caused Annalise to kick her off the case but gave her an assignment first; get Rebecca to reveal why she confessed to murder.

"This sucks," Rebecca stammered. She looked tired.

"I know," April replied.

Rebecca had her eyes fixated on the table. "Do you think I killed her?"

April shook her head, "no." Rebecca looked up and met April's eyes; she seemed surprised. "You're not a killer. That's why we need you to tell me why you confessed, so that way Annalise can help you."

Rebecca paused. "I just wanted to go home."

April sighed. "I get it."

"Wes was right."

"About what?" April frowned.

"Griffin was gonna pin it on me."

"You understand that I have to tell Annalise this, right?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

April took Rebecca's hand in comfort. "I know that it doesn't seem like it, but you're going to be fine."

There was a knock on the door. April turned and saw her professor on the other side of the glass. "You have to go," Rebecca stated. "Don't want to keep her waiting."

April exited the interrogation room. "What did she say?"

"She didn't kill Lila. She only told them that because she was fatigued and she wanted to go home. Plus, they convinced her that Griffin told them everything, which Wes warned her about."

"Wes did what?"

April frowned slightly. "You didn't know."

They were back to Annalise's house— sitting in the living room. "Oh, it looks like the trophy's gonna be in play," Asher said, referring to the fact that Wes and Annalise were talking in her office— he could be in some trouble. April was asked to join the others at the house to get an assignment.

April looked at Asher from her spot on the couch. "Is that all you care about? The trophy?" She looked annoyed.

"Isn't that all you care about?" Asher asked her with a grin.

"No. I care about our client, as does Wes."

Laurel nodded, agreeing. "We should all care that much."

Connor spun his chair to face Laurel. "You ever throw up in your mouth when you say stuff like that?" Laurel gave him a sarcastic smile and nodded.

"Is that a Tillman outline?" Michaela asked as she walked up to Laurel.

"What?" Laurel looked at Michaela.

"Ward Tillman. He won the Kepley Diploma all three years at Middleton," Michaela explained. "His outlines are the holy grail." She sat next to Laurel.

"This is one of Kan's old outlines," Laurel said.

"Oh, your boyfriend's giving you his outlines now?" Asher asked. "What's next? Herpes?"

"How about we trade?" Michaela asked— a smile on her face. "I'll give you everything from my property study group."

Laurel smiled. "No."

"Laurel, the exam is in three days."

"And that's probably the first time you've actually gotten my name right."

"That's what you get for being rude," April told Michaela, who sent her a glare.

"Look who's talking."

April paused for a moment. "I am. Obviously."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure you do."

"Sounds like it's shooting star time," Frank announced— to Bonnie.

"Who's your pick?" Bonnie asked him as they stood in front of the young students.

"What's a shooting star?" Michaela asked, clearly confused.

"It's a small, rapidly moving meteor burning up on entering the earth's atmosphere," April answered. Michaela turned to glare at her. "It's also a North American plant with white, pink, or purple hanging flowers with backward-curving petals. The flowers are carried above the leaves on slender stems and turn to face up following fertilization."

"That's not what I meant," Michaela snapped at April, who didn't seem bothered.

"Hair gel's got ice in his veins," Frank said, referring to Connor. "Doucheface is too dumb to care."

"Wallflower's pretty sensitive," Bonnie added.

"School President's tough," Frank referred to April, who found her name accurate, considering she was school president. "My bet's on Prom Queen. She's wound way too tight."

Michaela scoffed. "What the hell's a shooting star?" Annalise and Wes exited her office.

"We need a copy of Rebecca's confession tape and detainment logs," Annalise told Bonnie. "Otherwise, there's no getting her out on bail. Be creative."

Annalise turned to the students. "Mr. Gibbins is off the Rebecca Sutter case. As is Dr. Coleman." Some of them seemed to be surprised with April not being on the case. "They won't be speaking or even looking at her unless I specifically ask them." Annalise gave April a file, which she first now noticed. "You have a week to finish this."

April frowned. "I don't understand."

"That's a first," Michaela mumbled.

"What is it that you don't understand?" Annalise asked. "It's pretty clear to me."

"You have a new client, so it seems rather bizarre that I'm getting this assignment. Am I getting suspended from all the cases?"

"No." Annalise shook her head. "I just want you to do the assignment. There's nothing else behind it. You don't believe me?"

"No, but I'll get on it." April put the file in her bag before walking out of the house.

////

"HERE'S THE ASSIGNMENT," April gave the file to Annalise. "Completed."

"I gave you a week to finish this, Dr. Coleman." Annalise didn't look impressed, but rather bored.

"A week was not needed, Professor Keating," April noted. "The assignment is complete. I can assist with the case now."

Annalise let out a deep sigh. "No."

April was taken aback by her bluntness. She frowned. "Why?"

"Because I said so," Annalise responded.

"No, that's not acceptable," April argued, surprising her professor. "Do you realize how expensive law school is? I'm in debt. I'm not paying only to be sidelined and get wretched assignments—"

"Dr. Coleman," Annalise cut her off mid-sentence. April realized she was way out of line and kept her mouth shut. "The reason I gave you the assignment is that I was hoping you would finish it and then go to your girlfriend's funeral."

April was surprised by what Annalise told her. "I'm not attending the funeral." Annalise looked confused. "Personal reasons."

"You need time off. People take time off after losing a loved one."

April paused to think for a moment. She hadn't been grieving properly— she had barely thought about it; instead, she buried herself in work. Happy memories of Sheri popped into her head once in a while, but they didn't make her sad. And growing up, April was taught that crying was a sign of weakness. "I don't need time off, Professor Keating," April decided. "We have a case."

When April exited the elevator, she was approached by Laurel. "Don't you have an assignment?"

"I did. I finished it."

"That was fast. We're interviewing the client's employees to find the traitor or traitors, but they don't know that we are suspecting them.”

"Why aren't you on a plane to Indiana?" Connor walked up to them. "The funeral is tomorrow."

April frowned— apparently, everyone knew about the funeral. "Not attending due to personal reasons," she replied quickly, and she didn't wait to get a response, "did you finish interviewing the employees?"

"Yeah, they're all good liars, or the hack didn't come from inside. I can't figure them out," Connor admitted, annoyed. "And you're avoiding my questions."

"This one guy I interviewed...," Laurel trailed off. "Can't be sure, though. Got one more to interview." She walked away to find the employee.

"Okay, seriously, any normal person would go to their girlfriend's funeral."

"What are you insinuating?"

"That you're a psychopath."

April looked at him as if he's stupid. "That's absurd. Psychopathy is defined as a mental disorder in which an individual manifests amoral and antisocial behavior, shows a lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships. I've been in countless relationships, so I'm more than able to love and establish meaningful personal relationships. But I refuse to bring my personal life into my professional life."

Connor nodded slightly. "If you have feelings, then why does it look like her death didn't affect you at all?"

"I've grieved," April lied. "I'm fine.”

"You're not fine. At law review, you got drunk and punched a total stranger after calling him a bitch."

"There's a possibility that he had it coming."

Connor grinned slightly. "You don't remember."

"You know what? We are working a case right now. We don't have time to stand here and converse, especially not about drinking." She walked away before he could respond.

////

AS SHE SAT BY THE KITCHEN COUNTER, April realized that Sheri never got to read any of her poems. So she was writing one now. Sheri adored daisies, so that was what April was writing about. She had decided to send the poetry to Sheri's parents, and hopefully, they would bury it with their daughter.

April put her pen down and turned her attention to her cup of tea in front of her. She grabbed the milk carton and poured some milk in her tea— she had never tried it even though she had told Sheri it sounded nasty.

She took a sip, and it was surprisingly good. But April was more surprised when a single tear rolled down her cheek. And she was quick to wipe it. She couldn't show weakness.

////

"IT'S FUNNY, RIGHT?" Connor asked from the front seat. April was staring ahead, she was aware that Connor was completely losing his shit, but there was nothing she could do— at least, not then. "We're driving so far out of the city to buy some lighter fluid when... we're already screwed. I mean, I hate to be all negative here, but Asher knew that we were in the house, and there's that— that eyewitness cop, our fingerprints and hair and— and skin cells at the crime scene, the fibers from this rug now embedded in my car, these street cameras recording us this very minute. Everyone say hi to the police. Hi!" He waved. "And let's not even talk about what we're going to do after the body's burned. Now that— that— is going to be the fun part!"

"Enough, Connor," Laurel said.

"You're right," he replied after a brief pause. "Why— why freak out about things out of our control?" Connor turns the radio on, and a song is playing. "Perfect!" He chuckled. "Don we now our gay apparel," he started singing along. "Fa-La-La-La-La, La-La, La-La."

////

CONNOR WAS CHOPPING UP Sam's body, and the rest were watching— except Michaela, who had also covered her ears. "Hey, guys," Connor stopped his movements. "I think I just detached the tibia. Or is that a fibula?" He chuckled. "What do you see, Madam President?" His eyes on April.

"That's the femur," April replied after observing the body parts.

"Now we've established that I detached the femur. Which is in the leg, so I was close. Oh, there's plenty more of Sam to bag, though," Connor said. "Michaela, a little help." He threw his arm to the side in annoyance.

"I just need a break," she wouldn't look at him.

"No breaks," Connors told her. "We are in a marathon, and you've hit the wall, but we have six more miles to go. We have to see this through, so quit dilly-dallying, grab a trash bag, and let's get to scooping, shall we?"

Connor goes back to chop up Sam's body— he laughs. "Connor," April walked up to him because she couldn't bear to see him the state he was in. He didn't listen, and she had to pull him away from the body. "You're tired— I can take over."

Connor chuckled. "Like— teamwork."

April nodded, going along with it. She forced a smile. "Exactly." Connor gave her the object he was using, and soon she started chopping.

///

THE KEATING SIX, MINUS ASHER, WERE AT Annalise's house. April was sitting on the couch, reading.

"Where are you going?" Laurel asked. April looked up and saw that she was looking at Michaela.

"We have fourteen hours till torts. I'm going to study."

"Will this help?" Asher asked, walking in, holding something in his hand.

"The Tillman outline?"

"Called my cousin, turns out he was in an eating club with the guy at Princeton," Asher explained. "Who wants a copy?"

"Oh, my god!" Michaela made her way over to Asher, but she wasn't the only one who wanted a copy. "Suckers! You think I'm going to let you all bust my curve on the exam? What?" He laughed. Michaela was very disappointed.

April dropped what she was reading and made her way over to Asher. She grabbed the outline.

"Hey—"

"I'll murder you," she cut him off mid-sentence, her expression blank. Asher backed off immediately, and the rest watched in amusement. April flipped through the pages, reading it— to the others, it didn't look like she was reading it, considering she flipped the page almost every second. She handed it back to Asher.

Bonnie walked in, holding a CD. "Movie time."

"You were standing during all this?" The detective behind the camera asked. Everyone in the courtroom was paying attention. April was sitting in the courtroom— Annalise allowed her to see how it would go, even though she was kicked off the case.

Rebecca's gaze moved as if she was looking at someone else. "No?" It came out as a question and not an answer.

"You were sitting?"

"Yes."

"Which means you were close enough to hold her legs."

"Yes."

Annalise stepped the video. "Your honor, this section of video was not a part of the written confession. Clearly, it's because my client was manipulated into saying that she was touching the victim's body by the detectives in order to further incriminate her."

"She's reaching, your honor," the prosecutor said. 

"I'm not. The video completely undermines the reliability of the document."

"Objection. Relevance?"

"I agree with Ms. Keating," the judge said. "The video shows coercion. In light of this, I'm reducing bail to 100,000 dollars." April let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. This was good. "I am also initiating an inquiry into the interrogation of Ms. Sutter. Ms. Parks, I'm not happy."

April watched as Annalise and Bonnie talk to Rebecca, most likely explaining something to her. When Rebecca turned to look at April, they smiled a little at each other for reassurance.

[my4ncy]

IT’S ALL HER FAULT

season one episode two

masterlist

"HE SHOULD BE HERE BY NOW," Michaela was panicking.

"It's fine," Connor said, his back was turned towards Michaela.

"What if it's not?"

"Michaela."

"What if they got caught or went to the police or she convinced him to pin it on us?"

April shook her head. "Wes wouldn't do that, Michaela." She trusted Wes.

"He wouldn't, but she would."

"No, she wouldn't."

"Stop, okay?" Connor snapped at Michaela. "It's going to be fine."

"No, think about it. How we got here— it's all her fault."

"It's not her fault," Laurel spoke up. "We're all to blame." April turned away from the group and tried to think. She tried to come up with a plan in case they got caught— or anything else wrong that could happen.

"No, I'm gonna call Aiden."

"Michaela!"

"No, I never agreed to this!"

"Because you had a meltdown! You could barely form a sentence. So shut up, sit down, and stop acting like a little bitch baby," Connor's voice brought April out of her thoughts.

"Do not tell me how to feel right now," Michaela argued back— which was something they had done a lot tonight.

"Stop arguing." April was somewhat annoyed. They had done something terrible, something that would ruin their lives and careers unless they worked together— but all they had done was argue.

"Hey," Wes returned. The sudden noise startled Michaela, who let out a little yelp. They were all on edge. "Sorry it took so long."

"Where were you?" April asked, her brow raised at him.

"I went back for this." Wes took out something from his bag— the trophy.

////

"THE QUESTION I'M ASKED MOST OFTEN as a defense attorney is whether I can tell if my clients are innocent or guilty," Annalise said. "And my answer is always the same. I don't care. And it's not because I'm heartless, although that's up for debate, but because my clients, like all of us here in this room, lie."

Annalise's eyes landed on April for a few seconds. "And that makes them unknowable," Annalise added. "Take Mr. Millstone here. Are you really who you say you are, or are there other sordid details that we're missing? Criminal record, divorce, an actual skeleton in your closet?"

"I can assure you I've, uh, I've never hurt a fly." Connor rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So you say. Look around you. At the quiet girl you share notes with, the cute guy you have a crush on, the gunner who talks too much in class and ask yourselves, do you know who anyone really is? Your instincts better be good, or you'll find yourself choosing the wrong people to make a study group with, to sleep with, or even marry." She looked at April when she said the last part.

"Just ask Marjorie St. Vincent, heir to her family's billion-dollar department store fortune," a picture of the woman popped up on the tv screen, "until she was stabbed sixteen times," images of her dead, bloodied body came up on the screen, making everyone but April look away for a second, "in the master bedroom of her Gladwyne mansion. The alleged killer— her husband, of course. Max St. Vincent."

"I met Marjorie in Paris," Max said as he walked Annalise and her students through the mansion, which April was admiring. "I was shopping for my daughter Eloise's fourth birthday. My wife had just passed. I needed something," he made a clicking sound with his tongue, "special. When Marjorie saw me struggling to speak to the owner in French, well, from the minute she opened her mouth to translate, I knew this was the woman for me. And twenty years later, she's the only woman who knew how to make me happy."

Max turned to face them. "Well, as much as anybody can be happy in an institution as barbaric as a marriage. Don't you agree, Ms. Keating?" His eyes landed on April. "Ah. Something tells me you'd be able to agree as well."

April ignored the other students looking at her, and she stayed quiet— she didn't expect him to call her out and she felt exposed— even though people knew what she did. "Let's keep it moving," Annalise said.

Max took them to the bedroom where his wife was killed— the bloodstains were still there. They walked in, and April took in everything— every detail, including the animal heads on the walls. "I asked Max to preserve the crime scene until after the trial was over," Annalise said. "You never know what forensic clues you'll find to help our case later."

April started taking notes. "And the room needed some color, anyway," Max said, standing by the bed. April suppressed a smile— she couldn't admit that the client had a sense of humor.

"Look around, take photos, be the fresh eyes we need to help this case," Annalise told her students.

April took out her phone and took pictures of everything she could— anything that could help the case. She approached Max. "I love animals. They're magnificent. You're a hunter."

"I am," Max confirmed her statement. "Have been hunting practically my whole life. So... is it true that you shot your husband?" He had a grin on his face.

"Yes," April answered without hesitation. She walked away from him to take more pictures and didn't notice that the others were eyeing her subtly.

Max turned to Annalise. "I like her," he beamed.

"I'm sure you do."

"Is it time?"

"I think it is."

Max clapped his hands together. "I need a volunteer. Coleman."

April eyed their client. "I didn't volunteer," she pointed out.

"So nice of you to volunteer," Max said, ignoring her comment.

April was a little annoyed that she was picked, but anything to help with the case. "What do you need me to do?" Asher offered to holds her things before she walked over to the bed.

Max walked up to April. "You're about as pretty as my wife was." She smiled nervously and nodded.

"You're about as creepy as my husband was," she clapped back.

Max grinned in return. "I like you."

April hummed. "Now, show us how you killed your wife."

"With pleasure." Max placed his hand on her arm and guided her to the bed. "Now... on the bed." He pushed her, but not too hard.

There were bloodstains on the bed, and April was trying to avoid them. She was lying on her back. "The forensic report claims that Marjorie was in bed reading when I joined her," he walked over to the other side of the bed and lied next to April, "with, uh... ah!" Max pointed at Laurel. "Your pen, dear. Pen."

Laurel gave him her pen. "The knife, which I hid, like this," he demonstrated. "Then I pretended...," he put his leg across April's waist and got a little closer, "to initiate sexual relations."

April did her best to stay calm as Max demonstrated how his wife was killed, but he was getting way too close.

"And just as we were about to kiss..." his face got closer to her face, "I struck." Max was suddenly not that close to April's anymore. "But missed, hitting the carotid artery, which is now squirting like a loose fire hose," he made a motion with his hand, "hence the walls, so then I struck again, number two. Hit here," the pen was then on her chest. Max switched position and was then strangling April's waist. "Followed by number three, here. Number four, five, six, seven." He kept going as if he was stabbing her. "Sixteen."

Max got off her and lied next to her. "Sheesh."

"Or so that's the prosecution's theory," Annalise said.

"Theory?" Max laughed. "Good luck proving that, huh?"

////

THEY WERE NOW AT ANNALISE'S house. Frank placed some books on the table. "The murder book, given to us by the prosecution with all the evidence they've gathered in Max's case." April picked up one of the books. "Go through it. Find the holes to help get our guy a not guilty."

"Mr. Gibbins, my office now," Annalise ordered. Wes put the book down and followed their professor to her office.

"What do we think is going on there?" Connor asked.

April frowned at him, "what do you mean?" She sat down on the couch.

"We all earned our spots here, right? But waitlist?"

"Don't call him that," Laurel told Connor, as she sat down.

"Maybe he's her secret baby like she gave him up for adoption," Asher suggested, "and he doesn't even know."

Michaela turned to look at Asher with a glare on her face. "Because all black people are related."

"What? No. I-I wasn't," Asher tried to explain, but Michaela turned away.

"My point is, something is going on," Connor said. "Otherwise, why would he be here?"

"I would like to know why you're here," Michaela spoke up.

April looked up and noticed that Michaela was looking at her. "You're wondering why I'm here?"

"I get that you're smart and all, but you're also a murderer. And then there's our client, who you probably have a crush on. And the fact that you were just accused of murder a couple of days ago. Beheading?"

April cleared her throat. "I was falsely accused of murdering a person I was romantically involved with up to their death." She watched as Michaela's smug expression faltered. "By representing myself in my murder trial, I proved that I could make a good lawyer. Our client needed a volunteer, and he chose me, even though I didn't volunteer. Speaking of, I have a lead on the case that I'm going to anatomize."

April stood and picked her bag. "You have a lead?" Asher questions.

"Yes. I thought of something as I was speaking. I have to make a phone call." She took out her phone and walked out.

Connor was the first to break the silence with a chuckle. "That was amazing." Michaela glared at him.

"I like her," Laurel added.

"Apparently, everyone does." Michaela rolled her eyes.

"Jealous much?" Connor teased her— a grin on his face.

"I'm not."

"You should just fight it out," Asher suggested. "Chick fight, chick fight, chick fight," he started chanting but stopped when he saw the glare on Michaela's face.

////

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" THEY WENT QUIET AND turned to face Wes— who yelled at them to shut up. "We don't have time to fight. We need to make a decision and stick to it."

April nodded as she attempted to pull herself together. "We go back for the body."

"No," Michaela argued.

April rolled her eyes, "Michaela, seriously?"

"I'm not gonna carry a body across campus!"

"Keep yelling, and someone is going to hear us. Don't you understand the seriousness of the situation? I get that you don't want to carry the body, but what choice do we have? Would you rather turn yourself in and ruin your life? Your career?" Michaela shook her head and bowed her head. "Then, we vote. It's two against two. It's up to Wes."

They turned to look at Wes, who took out a coin. "We flip for it."

Michaela and Connor both scoffed at his words. "Flip to decide what we're going to do with the body?" Michaela asked, finding it very ridiculous.

"We're flipping a coin," Wes declared, ignoring Michaela's words. "It's like April said; we don't have time to argue. Heads— we get the body. Tails— we leave it where it is. Okay?" The others nodded, agreeing. Wes flipped the coin. Their eyes followed the coin as it flipped through the air. Wes catched the coin. "Heads."

April nodded slowly. "We go back for the body." Wes grabbed his bag. "We need to go now!"

////

THE KEATING SIX WERE CALLED TO Annalise's house the next morning. They were sitting in the living room area, reading. "Breaking news on the Lila Stangard murder here," the reporter said. "Police just released the medical examiner's ruling that Ms. Stangard's death was indeed a homicide. This comes a week after she was discovered deceased in a water tank at her sorority house, Kappa Kappa Theta."

"Want to know the best part about that?" Asher asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Those corpses crap themselves. So the sorority girls were drinking their friend's poop."

"A girl was murdered. There is no good part," April told him.

Wes walked in. "Hey, is professor Keating in?" Michaela shushed him. Wes turned to the tv.

"Mr. Gibbins," Annalise came out of her office. "Did you do what I asked?"

"Uh, yes," Wes walker up to Annalise and handed her a file.

"I-I did. But I actually found a discrepancy between what's in the supplemental report versus what's in the prosecution's murder book."

"What kind of discrepancy?" April looked up from her notebook and watched Wes and Annalise.

"A name. The murder book says the hunting knife was found on the front lawn by officer Jake Dorsey.... but the supplemental report said it was found by Officer Chad Mullens."

"That certainly is a discrepancy. Good eye, Mr. Gibbins. I'm impressed."

"Dorsey. Jake Dorsey," the officer introduced himself to the court. April was watching from between Wes and Asher.

"Really?" Annalise asked. "So, you're not officer Chad Mullens?"

"Your honor, I'm not sure what Ms. Keating is insinuating here—"

"I'm not insinuating anything," Annalise cut her off. "I'm just reading from the supplemental arrest report, which says that officer Mullens found the hunting knife, not our witness here."

Annalise took the paper and walked up to Dorsey. "Or am I misreading the name, officer Dorsey?"

Jake took a look at the paper. "Uh... no. Says officer Mullens."

"An officer who I recently found out is under investigation for drinking on the job, which explains why your boss might want to keep his name off of the official arrest report." Annalise walked back to her table. "Maybe even changing his name for yours."

"Your honor, can we recess?"

"After we get the knife thrown, we attack the motive. Any thoughts?”

"I had one," Laurel said but got cut off by Michaela.

"Prosecution's going to use Marjorie's best friend to say that she wanted to divorce Max, which would have eliminated his inheritance per the prenup and thereby giving him motive to kill. I looked into discrediting the friend, but I couldn't find anything just yet."

"I can make that happen," Connor spoke up. "Why don't I help?" He asked Michaela.

Annalise was standing in front of the blonde woman. "Mrs. Taylor. You claim that your best friend Marjorie spoke to you about divorcing Max nearly a year ago."

"Yes," she answered.

"Even though you wrote the following toast at their anniversary party about two months ago." Annalise picked up a file from her desk and read it, "I haven't seen two people more in love since the captain and Maria performed their first dance in front of the von Trapp children."

"Doesn't sound like a couple about to divorce to me," Annalise added.

"How in the hell do you find this crap?" Michaela asked Connor.

"You'll never know," he told her.

"Impressive," April noted.

"The alibi's next. Max claims he was out for a walk when the murder occurred, so we need a neighbor who saw him. Frank... take who you need."

Frank looked at Laurel for a moment. "You two— prom queen and doucheface. Come with me." Asher seemed offended by his new nickname, but April loved it.

"It was around 8:30 when I took out the trash that night. Right after our nightly family dinner."

"And what did you see while you were outside?" Annalise asked.

"A man was walking on the other side of the street."

"And did you recognize the man?"

"Well, it was very dark that night, but I think it's very possible that it was my neighbor, Mr. St. Vincent." Frank gave him a nod.

"First off, I would like to point out that Marjorie's death was messy, the stab wounds were inaccurate, and they hit bone. Considering Max has hunted all his life, he knows how to kill. It couldn't have been him, but rather someone inexperienced. Second off, by studying Max and his behavior, I have every reason to believe that his first wife's death wasn't an accident— which I'm still looking into."

Annalise gave her a slight nod. "That's a good observation. You let me know what you find out."

"I will, professor Keating."

"The prosecution has rested, so the first witness to take the stand will be Max's daughter," Annalise told her students. "I need someone to write up the prep questions."

"I'll do it," Lauren spoke up.

"Frank's Girl. Good. Have them on my desk by midnight."

////

APRIL WALKED INTO HER APARTMENT, holding a yellow package and a bottle of Jack Daniels. She closed the door before making her way over to the couch. The package was light, and April was relieved that it had arrived. And knowing what was inside made her feel at ease.

She opened the package and took out the file that was inside. The file was in French, and thankfully April was fluent.

April took a sip from her drink as she frantically took notes and looked through the files.

There were papers scattered on the table. April took a short break before getting back to work.

She poured herself another glass. And she chugged it down.

////

"CAN YOU TRUST YOUR CHARACTER witness on the stand?" Annalise asked as she wrote on the board. "That is one of the biggest dilemmas as a defense attorney. Your character witness is too positive; the jury feels manipulated. Too honest, and you shot your case in the foot. Which is why it all comes down to Pretrial prep."

"The challenge is in establishing your witness's credibility. You have to show them being real, even critical of your client. Be as punishing as possible. No topic is off-limits."

April approached Annalise after class after everyone had left. She took out a binder from her bag. "This is what I found, professor Keating."

Annalise eyed the binder. "What's all that?"

"Everything I managed to find on Max. St. Vincent, including the fact that Max St. Vincent is just an alias."

Annalise frowned. "What?"

"He lied to us about his real identity. And his first wife? She was murdered. Most likely by Max."

"How do you know that?"

"I have the certified Swiss death report to one Elizabeth Sims. The cause of death clearly shows that she died in a manner of homicide— it wasn't accidental."

Annalise took the binder. "I will have a look at this. Good work, Dr. Coleman."

"Thank you, Professor Keating."

Annalise's expression suddenly changed. "How would you feel about taking the stand?"

April was surprised by the question. "You think that's a good idea? People don't exactly trust me."

"I think it's a great idea. You're brilliant; people will trust that."

April nodded. "Then I'll do it."

////

"HIS PARENTS DIED WHEN HE WAS A child," Eloise said from the stand. She was looking at Annalise. "His wife, my birth mother, died in a car accident when I was three. That changes you. Makes you feel scared of losing people. That's why he clung to Marjorie and me. We were his entire world. Which is how I know there's no way he could have hurt her. I get that's hard to believe coming from me, but it's the truth."

"Your witness," Annalise told the prosecutor as she made her way to her table.

"Your father met Marjorie after your first mother died in Switzerland. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What if I told you that was a lie? That your father and Marjorie were having an affair."

"No, my mother died before they met."

"In a car accident. Or at least that's what your father told you. The state would like to introduce the certified Swiss death report for Mr. St. Vincent's first wife, Elizabeth Sims." The prosecutor handed the file to Eloise. "It's been translated, so Ms. St. Vincent can read it for the jury."

"Elizabeth Sims died at age 28 from a deeply incised wound of the upper neck in the manner of homicide."

"And the murder weapon?"

"A hunting knife." The people in the courtroom gasped in shock.

Annalise stood from her seat, ignoring her colleagues' worried looks. "The defense would like to call Max St. Vincent to the stand." Max looked at Annalise— and he seemed surprised.

Max had taken the stand. "You've been hunting for approximately how many years, Mr. St. Vincent?" Annalise wondered.

"Oh, practically my whole life."

"So, you're experienced at slaughtering animals, then?"

"Yes, it's one of the first things my father taught me— how to be humane, to minimize suffering."

"And there are ways to ensure that?"

"Oh, yes. I could show you right now if you like."

"Please." Bonnie walked up to the stand and stood in front of Max.

"First, you bend the neck like this, so the chin is close to the chest," he showed the technique. "Then you put the knife here—"

"Ms. Keating," the judge cut in. "Please explain the relevance of this."

"It'll become apparent, your honor."

The judge turned to Max. "Continue.”

"Once the knife is by the jugular, you slice," some of the people in the courtroom gasped. "In one swift motion, and then, well, it just becomes about waiting for the stillness," Bonnie walked back to the table, "which happens quite fast if you've done it correctly."

"And this technique— this very humane, painless way of killing an animal— is that how you murdered your first wife?"

Max paused before answering, "yes, that's correct." People gasped again. People started mumbling immediately.

They watched as Annalise and the prosecutor spoke with the judge. April was observing them, and when Annalise turned and looked at her, she knew that the judge approved of her taking the stand.

"You look worried," Asher stated, his eyes on April. "Don't you think we can win this?"

"I'm not worried." April looked at Asher. "Annalise is good."

"Okay, so, if you're not worried, why do you have that look on your face?"

"It's just my face, Asher." Asher looked doubtful.

"The defense would like to call April Coleman to the stand," Annalise said as she stood by the desk. April's classmates and Annalise's colleagues turned to look at April, and they were all shocked but also confused.

April made her way to the stand, ignoring the confused looks she was getting. She sat down.

"Coleman, tell us about your degrees," Annalise said.

"Objection," the prosecutor stood abruptly, "relevance?"

The judge looked at Annalise. "I'm only showing the jury that the witness is more than qualified to take the stand."

"I'll allow the question," the judge decided. The prosecutor sat down. "The witness may answer."

"I finished my studies at the University of California and Columbia University," April answered the question. "I have three PhDs, two bachelor's degrees, and two master's degrees."

"Well, I would certainly say that qualifies you. How did you conclude that the two deaths weren't connected?"

"I anatomized the certified death reports to both deaths and concluded not only that they were both murdered, but that they were not killed by the same person."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Elizabeth Sims' death was clean. The official cause of death was a deeply incised wound of the upper neck, which Mr. St. Vincent demonstrated for us. Marjorie, on the other hand, was killed by someone inexperienced. Her death was messy, and whoever stabbed her hit bone. The stab wounds were inaccurate. We are looking at two different murderers."

"That'll be all," Annalise stated. "Your witness." She sat down.

The prosecutor stood and made her way to the middle of the room— to stand in front of April. "I'm impressed, Ms. Coleman. You're very young, and still, you've accomplished so much academically. But let's make one thing clear; you're a killer."

"Objection!"

"You killed your husband, and you beheaded your girlfriend. Isn't that right?"

"No," April answered calmly. "That's inaccurate."

"Which part?"

"I didn't behead my girlfriend."

The prosecutor smirked slightly. "But you killed your husband, which makes you a killer. Isn't that right?"

"Well, my husband—"

"It's a simple question, Ms. Coleman," the prosecutor cut her off. "Are you a killer?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then why should the jury trust you, Ms. Coleman?" The prosecutor cut her off mid-sentence again. "You killed an innocent man, and here you are— defending a killer. Ms. Keating sure knows how to pick 'em." Chuckles could be heard as the prosecutor made her way to the desk.

"I acted in self-defense," April spoke up, making the prosecutor stop in her tracks. "Your definition of innocent is very different from mine. From my point of view, people who get off on harming other people are not innocent."

The prosecutor didn't look impressed, "ms. Coleman—"

"I'm speaking," April cut her off, not only shocking the prosecutor but also the other people in the courtroom. "This is not my trial. It's not about me. My trial is long gone; I'm certain you can get your hands on a transcript. I'm here to prove that our client deserves to walk out of here a free man. We're not going to talk about my abusive ex-husband or how I was falsely accused of murder. I understand that you were just trying to discredit me, but you're going to have to try harder than that. And since you insist on being formal— it's doctor." April leaned back and watched as the smug expression on the prosecutor's face dropped. People started mumbling once she was done talking.

"In the matter of Commonwealth vs. St. Vincent, case number P1082971, we, the jury, find the defendant, Maxwell St. Vincent... not guilty."

[my4ncy]

PILOT

season one episode one

masterlist

APRIL PULLED HER JACKET tighter around her body and folded her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm in the cold weather. She was shaking, but it was hardly because of the cold. Her mind was racing, but she had to keep calm— because otherwise, they'd get caught.

Woods surrounded her, and teens could be heard not too far away— due to the bonfire. "And stop acting like a little bitch baby," Connor's voice brought April out of her thoughts.

"Do not tell me how to feel right now," Michaela argued back.

"Stop arguing." April was somewhat annoyed. What they had done was terrible, and it'd ruin their lives and careers if they got caught, and all they had done was argue.

"Hey," Wes returned. The sudden noise startled Michaela, who let out a little yelp. They were all on edge. "Sorry it took so long."

"Where were you?" April asked, her brows raised at him.

"I went back for this." Wes took out something from his bag— the trophy.

"Now, you— you take that back right now," Michaela said, her voice shaking.

April's eyes were wide, and she stared at the murder weapon. "You brought the murder weapon?"

"It's smart," Laurel spoke up rather calmly. "Commonwealth V. Deloatche— a case the prosecution should've won but lost because there was no murder weapon."

"So, what are you saying?" Connor asked.

"We clean it," Laurel answered. "And we put it back. Hide it in plain sight. After we bury the body."

"Laurel is right," April said, her voice stern. She was doing her best to stay calm despite the situation. The rest turned to look at her— Laurel was surprised that April agreed with her. "She's right about the murder weapon, but we can't bury the body; we don't have time. The best way to dispose of the body and destroy the evidence is to burn it.”

"Absolutely not," Michaela said and looked at April and Laurel as if they were crazy.

"Yeah, I- I- I- I'm with Michaela," Connor stuttered, clearly freaked out by all of it.

April shook her head, annoyed that they were still standing there and talking about it, considering she had devised a plan. "You need to think this through. It's the best chance we have to get away with this, and we don't have time to argue."

"The trophy— we need, yes. But the body stays where it is."

"No, the body is what gets us caught," April pointed out as if it wasn't obvious.

"You are not thinking straight," Michaela pointed at April and Laurel.

April glared back at Michaela. "And neither are the two of you," she was referring to Michaela and Connor. "You guys are in no position to make any decisions right now, considering your mental state.”

"Don't tell me how I'm feeling, April!" Michaela snapped at her.

April scoffed. "It's not like you have any ideas or suggestions."

"Anything that doesn't involve carrying a body across campus on the busiest night of the year!"

"I have a plan, Michaela, but we can't execute it if you don't stop crying about it."

Michaela turned angrier. "Screw you!" The argument escalated quickly, and they were all yelling at this point. 

"I don't care what you think, Princess!" April shouted at Michaela, who shouted back.

"Shut up! Shut up!" They went quiet and turned to face Wes— who yelled at them to shut up. "We don't have time to fight. We need to make a decision and stick to it."

April nodded as she attempted to pull herself together. "We go back for the body.”

"No," Michaela argued.

April rolled her eyes, "Michaela, seriously?"

"I'm not gonna carry a body across campus!"

"Keep yelling, and someone is going to hear us. Don't you understand the seriousness of the situation? I get that you don't want to carry the body, but what choice do we have? Would you rather turn yourself in and ruin your life? Your career?" Michaela shook her head and bowed her head. "Then, we vote. It's two against two. It's up to Wes."

They turned to look at Wes, who took out a coin. "We flip for it."

Michaela and Connor both scoffed at his words. "Flip to decide what we're going to do with the body?" Michaela asked, finding it very ridiculous.

"We're flipping a coin," Wes declared, ignoring Michaela's words. "It's like April said; we don't have time to argue. Heads— we get the body. Tails— we leave it where it is. Okay?" The others nodded, agreeing. Wes flipped the coin. Their eyes followed the coin as it skimmed through the air.

/// 3 MONTHS EARLIER ////

"IF YOU DON'T STEP FORWARD, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE IN THE SAME SPOT" was a quote that April thought about— especially now that she was standing in front of Middleton Law School. Her future depended on her time there, so she wanted to make the most out of it.

April tried to stay positive, but there were a few things that kept bothering her, including the fact that people knew what she did. It was all over the news. And April was sure that someone would mention it or maybe just give her dirty looks.

She sipped her coffee, which was still hot, as she entered the building. The first thing she noticed was the posters on the wall— missing person. It was a young girl with a familiar face. April took one of the pictures down and read the information.

As April stood and read the paper, someone ran right into her, catching her by surprise. "Watch it, murderer," the girl walked away— the nickname indicated that she knew who April was.

It was not the first time someone had called her a murderer, so it didn't pain her to hear it, but it annoyed her. It annoyed her that people couldn't get over it.

April exhaled and prepared herself before making her way to her classroom, the paper still in her hand. She reached the room, which was filled with students. And she didn't have to walk far to find a seat.

She sat down and ignored the looks she was getting from some of the other students and even ignored whoever switched seats when she sat down next to them.

April quickly noticed that the desks were designed for right-handed people, which meant not her. As she took her laptop out, she saw that she was still holding the missing person's paper, and she placed it on the table, along with her coffee. She took her jacket off, placing it on the back of her chair.

After turning the laptop on, April got a notification on her phone. It was a text, "I'm free tonight."

April smiled to herself. "That's great. I'll text you later." She put her phone down when she heard the double doors open.

"Good morning. I don't know what terrible things you've done in your life up to this point," Annalise spoke up confidently as the rest of the students took their seats, "but clearly, your karma's out of balance to get assigned to my class." She placed her bag on the table and opened it. "I'm professor Annalise Keating. And this is criminal law one hundred. Or as I prefer to call it," she started writing on the board, and the students watched her.

Annalise turned to face the students, a grin on her face. "How to get away with murder."

"Unlike many of my colleagues, I will not be teaching you how to study the Law or theorize about it, but rather how to practice it— in a courtroom, like a real lawyer."

"Now to our first case story," Annalise clicked the remote, and a picture and some text popped up on the tv screen. "The Aspirin Assassin. Tell us the facts... Connor Walsh," she read from a paper.

April watched as a guy stood up from his seat. She was sitting several rows behind him and could not see his face.

"The commonwealth v. Gina Sadowski was a case of attempted murder," Connor said. "The defendant, Ms. Sadowski, worked as the second assistant to the victim, Arthur Kaufman, the C.E.O. of an advertising agency. Ms. Sadowski was not only his assistant, though. She was also his mistress." He sat back down.

"What happened after Mr. Kaufman's wife of 27 years, Agnes, found out about the affair?" Annalise asked. "You," she pointed at a random guy who wasn't expecting to be called out.

"He ended the relationship and transferred her to the accounting department," he answered. "That's when she allegedly switched one of his blood pressure pills for an aspirin, which she knew he was allergic to." He sat back down.

"What occurred when Mr. Kaufman ingested the aspirin? Anyone?" Many students, along with April, raised their hands.

But a girl stood up before Annalise could pick someone to answer. "Mr. Kaufman went into anaphylactic shock. His throat swelled, and his brain was deprived of oxygen for seven minutes before his first assistant was able to resuscitate him. Michaela Pratt." April rolled her eyes at the girl who thought she was better than everyone else. And she recognized her voice as the person that called her a murderer earlier.

"So, we've established the actus reus. What was the mens rea? Wesley Gibbins?" 

"The— mens rea?" April watched as the guy right in front of her stood from his seat. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was unprepared. "Right." He flipped through his book.

"Day one, and you're unprepared?" Annalise asked.

"No. Well, um, yes, but I didn't know there was anything to prepare."

"I emailed the assignment to the entire class two days ago."

"Oh. I— didn't get that."

Annalise started making her way up to him. "Mr. Gibbins, as a defense attorney, I spend most of my time around professional liars, so you have to work really hard to fool me."

"I only got accepted here two days ago..." he trailed off. "From the waitlist." Some laughed at that, but April didn't think it was funny. "So, that's probably why you didn't get my e-mail address."

April felt bad for the guy, so she stood up but not to answer the question. When she stood up, she gained everyone's attention. "Actus Reus, Latin term, means guilty act— the poisoning of Mr. Kaufman with an aspirin. Whereas Mens Rea means guilty mind." She sat back down without another word, ignoring the look she was receiving from her professor.

"Think, Mr. Gibbins. It's nothing more than common sense," Annalise added.

"To kill," a girl answered after a short pause— and after Wes didn't answer.

"Will the individual who just spoke please stand and repeat the answer?"

A girl stood from her seat. "The mens rea, also referred to as intent, was to kill Mr. Kaufman."

"That's right," Annalise looked at the paper with the students' names on it. "Your name?"

"Laurel. Castillo."

Annalise looked at her. "Never take a learning opportunity away from another student, no matter how smart you need everyone to think you are." She didn't look away from Laurel as she said this and made her way down.

"All right, before we move on, are there any other questions?" Connor raised his hand. "Mr. Walsh."

"I noticed that the verdict wasn't listed here. So I guess my question is, did she do it?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself? I lied. This isn't a past case, but one I took last week after Gina fired her previous lawyer."

////

"THIS ONE DAY, I WALKED into his office when I just screamed, real loud," Ms. Sadowski said. She was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by law students. April was standing, and she was taking notes. "'Cause Arthur was standing there behind the door." She chuckled, "I thought he was gonna be pissed at me, yell, but instead, he just started laughin'. So, then I started laughin' and, well, um, that's when he kisses me for the first time and... yeah, I became that girl."

"It was my last day working for him when I came back from lunch and saw the paramedics. When I heard that Arthur was hurt... I loved him. I know that's hard to believe, but I loved him."

Her voice wavered, "why in the hell would I want to hurt him?"

"The trial begins in two days," Annalise said. "So tomorrow, each of you have one minute to present the best defense for this case. See if you can beat my current plan. Coleman?"

April was surprised that Annalise said her name, but it should have been expected. "Yes?"

"You'll go last." April nodded. "An unenviable position seeing that no two students will be allowed to present the same idea."

April nodded again, "sure," she mumbled.

"Use the resources in this office— Gina's discovery file, my library, the people who know me even better than myself— my associates."

A man with a beard walked to the middle of the room. He was wearing a suit. "Name's Frank, and unlike every teacher you've had, I do believe there are stupid questions. So, if you got 'em, please see my lovely colleague Bonnie."

A blonde woman stood up and walked over to Frank. "Or, better, you could come to us with answers. We'll like you much better that way."

"And one more thing," Annalise said. "Every year, I choose five students to come work for me. This assignment is used to help me decide who that is. The top student gets this." She grabbed the trophy from the wooden cabinet and held it up. "Consider this your immunity idol."

"You— you take that back right now!"

"You brought the murder weapon?"

"The winner can turn this in at any point to get out of an exam. Now go. Find a defense that will free our client."

////

"SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?" April asked, standing in front of her tv, facing the woman on the couch.

"It's okay, but it's expected, so—"

"Someone has already thought of it." April sat down on the couch, defeated.

"Don't give up," Sheri said, a gentle smile on her face. "You have many good ideas. We will find something."

April nodded. "I know." She turned to the woman she was supposed to be on a date with, but instead, they were trying to find a defense together. "I'm sorry that we had to cancel our dinner reservation."

"It's fine," Sheri shrugged it off. "We have more dates."

April smiled back. "You're right." She gave Sheri a slight nod. "What if when Agnes found out about the relationship, she planted the aspirin on Mr. Kaufman's desk in an attempt to frame Ms. Sadowski for murder? She was jealous— jealousy is possibly the most destructive emotion housed in the human brain. It's the leading cause of spousal murder worldwide." April paused for a moment. "Should I use statistics?"

"Absolutely," Sheri nodded. "It makes you seem smarter."

"That was my twentieth defense. My next defense is that Mr. Kaufman had a partner who was jealous of his relationship with Ms. Sadowski because he likes her too. So he tried to kill him. Again, jealousy. No," she turned the idea down immediately.

"This one is good too, but the twentieth is winning thus far."

April paused for a moment to think. "Maybe I should go with that one. I just need to do more research."

"And here I thought you wrote the article," Sheri joked teasingly.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't write much," April replies with a blank expression on her face— clearly not catching the sarcasm. "I mean, I do write poetry."

"What?" Sheri gasped. "You write poetry?"

"Yes, I do," April stated.

"Can you tell me something more about it?"

"Poetry stems from the Greek word; poiesis, which in philosophy is the activity in which a person brings something into being that did not exist before, and it also means making. Poetry is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and often rhythmic qualities of language, such as phonaesthetics, sound symbolism, and metre, to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic ostensible meaning."

Sheri sighed before she gave April a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny. I meant that I would like to hear something you have written."

April shook her head. "Absolutely not."

Sheri gave her an annoyed look, but it was clear that she was joking. "You say that now, but you will change your mind."

"Nope."

////

APRIL, CONNOR, AND WES were rolling the body on the rug— in Annalise's living room. The body was much heavier than they initially thought, and April was already exhausted. The body made a loud thud whenever it made contact with the floor.

"Michaela!" Connor snapped at her for not doing anything. Michaela was standing on the rug with her back turned toward them. Her arms were crossed.

"I never agreed to this," Michaela replied, not making eye contact with any of them. "The coin did, so I'm gonna stand here and not see anything, so when I'm called to testify, I can say just that."

"I just want you to move your feet," Connor stated— not only ignoring what Michaela said but also sounding somewhat annoyed.

Michaela hadn't realized she was standing on the rug— she stepped away. April stood once they were finished, and she looked annoyed. "You are useless. More so than usual."

Michaela gritted her teeth, "and you're a murderer," she retorted.

"Because you're not? Turn your back all you want, Michaela, but I will drag you down with me. Unless you've gone all shooting star on us."

Michaela glared at April more than she already was. "Screw you!"

Laurel walked in with the trophy as April stepped away from Michaela. "Here," she gave the trophy to April. "I wiped the sink down with bleach after I washed it. Now what?"

"We put it back," April replied. She felt weird holding the trophy now that it was a murder weapon.

"Let's just get the hell out of here," Connor said impatiently. "Now."

April, Wes, and Connor went to grab the rug. "I'll help." Laurel joined them. The body was more massive now due to the carpet, so they could not lift it. Michaela was standing by the doorframe, and they all turned to look at her.

Michaela hesitated, not wanting to be more involved than she already was. "Fine."

They stumbled a little as they lifted the body but managed to steady themselves and not fall. The body accidentally bumped against the wall as they tried to make their way out. They got to the door, and April felt her arms shaking due to the lack of exercise, and she tried to catch her breath.

Wes, being closest to the door handle, opened the door, and Connor swung it open. They didn't make it far, "this car yours?" They froze when the officer approached them, but April was calm. They put the body down and stood in front of the officer.

"It's my car, sir," Connor said.

"You're blocking the sidewalk."

"Oh. Uh, right. I can—" he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. "I can move it right now."

The officer glanced behind them. "This that law professor's office?" For a minute, no one answered.

"Yes," Michaela spoke up. "Professor Keating. We're her law students, but she's out of town and told us to take this old rug to the bonfire," she lied smoothly.

The officer looked skeptical. "She asked you to go into her house and burn a rug for her?"

"Yes, she did, officer," April replied with a lie. "I know how weird that sounds, but I'm more than happy to call her for you so she can explain the situation." She took out her phone.

"Uh... it's a little late to call her, don't you think?" Laurel asked, skeptical. Her eyes were on April, and she didn't know what she was doing.

"The nice officer here thinks we're burgling our professor's house," Michaela said. "So, let's just clear this whole thing up. I mean, it is a little late."

April pretended to be dialing the phone number on her phone. "Her mother's funeral was today, but maybe she's not asleep yet."

"It's fine, just—" the officer was cut off by glass shattering some feet away. "Damn it. Be safe, okay? There's a ton of crazies out tonight." He ran after some topless people.

April exhaled. "You have no idea," she mumbles.

Connor looked between April and Michaela. "Smooth," he mumbled.

April looked at Michaela. "Okay— so maybe you're not totally useless."

////

APRIL WAS MAKING HER WAY TO class the following morning, ready to present her defense that she had been working on for several hours. She was deep in her thoughts and almost ran into Michaela. "Oh, hey, murderer."

She quickly processed the situation and looked at Michaela, not angry or hurt, but annoyed. "If you're gonna be rude, at least be original."

Michaela scoffed. "Oh. It speaks."

"You've heard me speak before." April looked somewhat confused.

"I was being sarcastic. I was teasing you."

"Well, if you spent more time studying and less time teasing me, you'd be ahead of class." Michaela looked taken aback by her words, and April left before she could process.

"We should offer the jury another suspect altogether," Michaela presented her defense. "Mr. Kaufman's wife, Agnes. She was angry about the affair, had access to his office, and knew what aspirin looked like his blood pressure pill. So what better way to get revenge than to kill your cheating husband and pin it on his mistress?" The timer went off. "Thank you."

Annalise, Bonnie, and Frank were whispering to each other.

"Take a seat, Ms. Pratt," Annalise said. "You've moved on to the next round." Michaela turned around and glared at April before sitting down. "Who's next?" All the students, except April and Michaela, raised their hands.

"It all comes down to a simple piece of evidence— that the doctor claims he ran Mr. Kaufman's blood work too late to find any aspirin in his blood."

"A statistical breakdown of the jury pool shows 80% of them come from a low socioeconomic class."

"Yes, Gina put the pill on his desk, but did she have the intent to kill?"

"Our client mistook the aspirin as his blood pressure medication..."

"The issues at play are complicated and in need of more extensive research..."

"So, without a witness to assure that, um..."

"Do we really trust this doctor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury?"

"Or did she simply want to give him a scare?"

"Ipso facto, this is a classic case of..."

"Diminished capacity..."

"A class struggle..."

"An accident..."

"Automatism..."

"Um, where's Gina?"

"Gina's one of them while Mr. Kaufman represents the wealthy and out of touch."

"Attempted murder, therefore, is a bogus, inaccurate charge."

"We d— we don't know where Gina was."

"I think not! I think not, indeed!"

Timer rang. Wes and April were left to present their defense.

"Mr. Gibbins?"

"Right," Wes stood up, his notebook in his hands. "So, the way I see it is... we say it was self-defense." Faint laughter could be heard from somewhere in the room. "And we do that because, well, Gina was suffering from Stockholm syndrome, which is actually quite common in assistants with demanding bosses. The affair was just one example of how far Mr. Kaufman's brainwashing of Gina went. He made her fall in love with him. So in this way, her poisoning him was an act of self-defense." Students mumbled. "And I'll just go stand over there."

"No. Sit," Annalise stopped him. Wes looked surprised as he took his seat. "Coleman."

April stood from her seat, and she stood tall to look confident. Ready to present her defense— one that was a bit different from the rest. "I'll try to keep this short. I focused on two points; discredit the witness and introduce a new suspect."

Annalise and her colleagues glanced at each other as those words escaped April's mouth, but April didn't think much of it.

"By introducing a new suspect, we show the jury that this person has more motive, but also the opportunity. Jealousy is possibly the most destructive emotion housed in the human brain, so a business partner or perhaps the spouse— both have the opportunity and the motive."

"Then you make the jury doubtful— by throwing a lot of information in the court. You bury the truth. And that's it."

April gave a slight nod. "So, do I keep my seat, or do I walk over there?" She motioned to the standing students.

"Keep your seat, Coleman," Annalise said. April nodded before sitting down. "Congratulations to those who managed to keep their seat. Coleman?"

"Yes?" April looked slightly confused.

"You guessed my defense," Annalise announced. "Congratulations, Dr. Coleman."

April was surprised that Annalise called her Dr., but still managed to answer, "thank you, professor Keating."

Annalise gave her a slight nod. "See you in the courthouse at nine." April smiled to herself as she gathered her things.

April made her towards her car and saw Michaela standing there— waiting. "Hey, April," Michaela smiled. April opened the car door and threw her bag on the passenger seat.

"What do you want, Michaela?"

"What makes you think I want something?" Michaela chuckled almost nervously. April's expression didn't falter, but Michaela's did. "Fine," she gave in, "I want to know how you guessed Keating's defense."

"I've been in court before."

"Right. Why did she call you doctor? You're not a doctor. You're a law student."

April rolled her eyes, annoyed that Michaela kept stopping her from leaving. "What do you want, Michaela? What do you really want?"

"I was hoping we could work together," Michaela blurted out.

April paused for a moment to think. "No."

"What?" Michaela looked shocked. "Why?"

April let out a heavy sigh. "I don't want to work with you, and that's all I'm going to say because I don't owe you an explanation. I see you in court."

"April," Michaela said in protest, but April ignored her, got in her car, and drove away.

////

APRIL WAS LEANING AGAINST THE COUCH, and she was in deep thoughts. Her notebook was resting on her lap, and she was holding her pen.

"I've made a discovery." April was brought out of her thoughts, and her head snapped towards the noise. Sheri was standing by the couch, and she was holding a mug— she had a smile on her face. "Tea with milk. And it's delicious."

April had a mixed expression on her face. "That's not true..." April trailed off. Sheri sighed when she realized that April thought she was serious. "in 1655, a Dutch traveler by the name of Jean Nieuhoff experienced tea with milk at a banquet in Canton given by the Chinese Emperor Shunzhi. And it sounds nasty."

Sheri sat down and placed the mug on the table. "I'm convinced that you don't know what sarcasm is." She had a little smile on her face.

"Sure I do. The use of remarks that clearly mean the opposite of what they say, made in order to hurt someone's feelings or to criticize something in a humorous way— sarcasm." April smiled proudly after explaining.

"Sure, you know what it is. But have you ever used it in a conversation?" April paused to think, then she just shrugged. "By the way," Sheri brushed it off, "I forgot to tell you; a woman showed up here. She asked for you."

April looked curious. "Did she tell you who she was?"

Sheri shook her head. "She left pretty quickly. Didn't give me her name."

"What did she look like?"

"She was a redhead— seemed paranoid, very suspicious." April's expression dropped, and Sheri noticed. "What is it?"

April hesitated, knowing that she had to share more things about her family. "That could have been my mother."

"We don't like her?"

"I don't know. It's complicated. What did she say?"

"That she was going to contact you, but she didn't say how or when."

"Okay," she mumbled. "I guess I just have to wait then."

"Should we do something? Is she dangerous?"

April shook her head. The thought of her mother being dangerous almost made her laugh, but she didn't. "We'll be fine."

////

LILA STANGARD WAS THE NAME OF THE missing girl. When April opened her notebook, she saw the missing person's poster— which she forgot was there. She looked at the picture on her lap, and she really wanted to know what happened to the girl, although a part of her believed that she was dead.

April was in the courtroom, sitting next to Connor. Ms. Tanner had taken the stand. Connor kept glancing towards the door. "Late to court. What a great start," he mumbled, and April knew that he was referring to Michaela. And she knew that he was sarcastic. Connor had a little grin on his face, which he usually did.

"It sounds like you care," April whispered to him.

Connor turned to look at her. And he scoffed at her ridiculous statement. "Yeah, right." He looked down and saw the missing person's poster. "Admiring your work?"

April glared at him. "You're not funny." Connor didn't respond; he only grinned in return.

The courtroom doors opened, gaining everyone's attention, and Michaela walked in. She walked over to Frank and whispered something to him.

"Can I have a moment, your honor?" Annalise walked over to them, her eyes on Michaela, and she didn't look happy. Michaela whispered something to Annalise, and April was sure she knows what was going on.

"Hurry it along, Ms. Keating," the judge said. Michaela took her seat— she sat in front of April and Connor.

Connor leaned in, "what was that?" He asked Michaela. "Something they taught you in torts?"

Michaela turned to Connor with a grin on her face. "You should really pay attention. You might learn something."

"Ms. Tanner, you testified that you saw a pill on my client's desk on the day of the accident, correct?" Annalise asked.

"Yes," Linda Answered.

"And you said it was a yellow pill, similar to prosecutor William's shirt?"

"Yes."

"Prosecutor William's shirt is blue, Ms. Tanner. Are you colorblind?"

... "yes. But I know what I saw that morning."

"I see. So whether the pill that you saw on my client's desk was blue, like her anxiety medication she used to endure working under you, or yellow, like the aspirin used to poison Mr. Kaufman, is not something you can tell us?"

"I told you, Gina was acting nervous, like—"

"It's a simple question," Annalise cut her off. "Is it possible that the pill that you saw on Gina's desk was her anxiety medication?"

"I guess so."

"Thank you for your candor."

"I noticed that she was wearing glasses in one of her Facebook photos," Michaela explained to Annalise as they made their way down the stairs. "It got me wondering about her eyesight, so I called every optometrist covered under her insurance, found hers, then I pretended to be a claims provider to get the receptionist to admit she has a condition called Achromatopsia. It causes color blindness. Step one— discredit the witness."

"Nicely done," Annalise said, her eyes on Michaela. "I feel like I should hand out the trophy right now." Michaela smiled. "But I'm not. Not until the rest of you step up your game. Besides, I would be more impressed hadn't Dr. Coleman come up with the same idea." They watched as the smile on Michaela's face dropped, which was amusing to Connor, who grinned as he walked away.

"April." Michaela rushed after April. "Or should I call you Dr. Coleman?" She sounded bitter.

April turned to face Michaela, not having caught the sarcasm. "I'd prefer it if you called me Dr, but April is fine."

Michaela glared at her. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew Ms. Tanner was colorblind?"

"Why would I tell you?" April didn't see the point of Michaela's question.

"You wanted me to embarrass myself."

"No," April shook her head. "I'm just smarter than you." She started to walk away.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Michaela asked, annoyed. She went after April. "You can't just walk away."

"I don't have time for this, Michaela. I have homework and a job."

"You have a job?" Michaela looked surprised. "How do you have time to have a job?"

"I'm a bartender," April turned to face Michaela. "Nightshift. I'm leaving now." Michaela didn't respond and watched as April left.

////

ALL APRIL COULD THINK ABOUT IS what they were going to do next. She made a plan in her head, and she hoped to god that they wouldn't get caught. She was sitting in the back with Laurel and Michaela— and there was not enough space because of the body. April and Laurel were squeezed together, and April had her arm around the rug to try to make more space— not that it was working much.

Connor was in the driver's seat, and he was singing Jingle Bells, which was playing on the radio. Wes went inside to get the things they needed to burn the body. "Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open slight," Connor singed.

"Connor, please stop," Michaela told him, annoyed.

"O'er the fields we go, laughing all the way," Connor kept singing before turning to face Michaela. "No. I like it, especially that it annoys you. What fun it is to ride and sing a slaying song tonight," he sang the last part rather aggressively. And be turned away and kept singing.

"Leave him alone," April mumbled, annoyed.

Michaela turned to April with a frown. "What?"

April turned to face Michaela. "Leave him alone."

Michaela scoffed. "Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not defending him."

"Yes, you are. Do you have a crush on him?"

April shook her head. "No, I don't."

"Then what? Hmm?"

"A coping mechanism is a psychological strategy or adaptation that a person relies on to manage stress. He's coping. Leave him alone so I can think."

Michaela rolled her eyes. "What do you have to think about? Who you're going to kill next?"

"Then next time, you come up with a plan."

"Next time?"

Wes entered the car and threw something at Laurel. "What's all this for?"

"I figured I should buy other stuff in case I'm on the surveillance video."

"That's smart," April said. Wes sent her a quick smile.

"Why? We can just kill the store owner if we have to, right?" Connor asked. "Hey," he started singing again.

"Oh, what fun to kill someone and end up in jail."

////

APRIL WAS SCRIBBLING DOWN NOTES on her notebook, a cup of coffee in her hand. It was morning, and they were going to the courthouse today. April had been putting some of her attention to the Lila Stangard case because she couldn't stand not knowing, and she loved to solve mysteries.

"Mornin'," Sheri walked in. She was wearing one of April's oversized t-shirts, and her hair was still messy.

April didn't look up as she responded, "good morning."

"You're still on that?" Sheri poured herself a cup of coffee. "Did you know her or something?"

"A friend of a friend. Sorority girls would hang out at the bar where I work." April looked up from her notebook. "I didn't know her personally."

"So you're doing this for your friend? That's sweet."

April looked at her for a moment. "No, I'm doing this because I love mysteries. This is a potential murder case."

Sheri gave her a look. "Not every mystery is a murder case."

"Potential," April repeated. She looked at her watch. "I have to go to court now." She stood and gathered her things. "I'll see you later."

"Absolutely." Their lips connected in a short but sweet kiss.

"Bye," April smiled. She walked away.

"Bye," Sheri called after her— with a smile on her face.

"Mr. Bryant, you and your business partner, Mr. Kaufman, had a meeting in his office on the morning of the accident, correct?" Annalise asked.

The man who had taken the stand answers, "yes. To discuss moving Gina to accounting."

"So, to avoid any possible sexual harassment lawsuit?"

"That's correct," he nodded.

"Will you please read this e-mail that you wrote to Mr. Kaufman?" Annalise gave him a letter.

"Dear Arthur, consider this my official request that you step down as C.E.O. I've warned you about having sexual relations with employees of this company—"

"Your honor, this e-mail was not part of the discovery file," the prosecutor protested.

"Is this true?" The judge asked Annalise.

"I thought it was," she replied. "Although, my associate is more familiar with the paperwork on this case." Annalise took the paper and walked over to Bonnie. "Bonnie?"

"Oh, my god," Connor said in a low voice.

"What?" Wes and April asked, confused, both looking at Connor, who was sitting between them.

"I found the e-mail in the files given to us by our client's previous attorney, your honor," Bonnie said. "I just assumed it was a part of the discovery file."

"It wasn't, which means it was obviously obtained illegally."

"Enough," the judge ordered. She turned to Mr. Bryant. "Did you write this e-mail, Mr. Bryant?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Then I have to side with the defense here. The email's admissible."

"Your honor!"

"I've made my decision, Mr. Williams."

"Mr. Bryant, as stated in the e-mail, you were angry at Mr. Kaufman for taking part in a sexual relationship with an employee."

"I was frustrated, yes."

"So frustrated that perhaps you swapped his blood pressure pill for an aspirin in order to gain sole ownership of the company?"

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. No further questions."

"We did well today," Annalise said. "No doubt due to Mr. Walsh's hard work last night. I'll be at the dean's cocktail party if you find anything before tomorrow." She left.

April turned to Connor, surprised. "You did that?"

Connor grinned. "Well, don't sound too surprised."

Michaela looked between them, almost weirded out by their interaction. "How'd you get that e-mail?" Michaela asked.

"Yeah, bro. For reals," Asher added.

"I don't kiss and tell." Connor started to walk away. April and Michaela looked confused.

"Was that sarcasm?" April asked at the same time as Michaela asked her question— "What the hell does that mean?" They followed him.

////

APRIL WAS BEHIND THE BAR MAKING DRINKS, which she decided would be better than going to the dean's party. She needed the money because taxes didn't pay themselves. It was a slow night, so occasionally, she pulled away from work to write.

"You still writing on that thing?"

April gave the other woman a side glance. "You said you liked my poetry, Rebecca."

"Yeah, kinda regret that now," she rolled her eyes playfully.

"No, you don't," April said as she closes her notebook. "What do you need?"

"I need a big pepperoni pizza and a beer. And the couple on table four want two glasses of red wine." Rebecca smiled at her own comment.

April chuckled under her breath. "Right away."

"So, you and your girlfriend," Rebecca started as April grabbed a bottle of wine, "have you screwed yet?"

"We haven't. Not that it is any of your business." April poured wine on the two glasses.

"But why haven't you? Because you're a demigod," Rebecca guessed.

April frowned at Rebecca and handed her the wine glasses. "I'm not a demigod. I'm mortal."

Rebecca sighed. "Remind me to teach you how to be sarcastic." She walked away to serve their customers.

"I don't need sarcasm," April told Rebecca once she got back.

"It's how normal people socialize."

"Not everyone."

"Yeah, you're right. Kids don't know what sarcasm is. They take everything literally. And so do you."

April paused for a moment. "Did you just call me a child?"

"Point is that you would be more fun. Not that you're not fun. I find it very charming when a smart person like you doesn't understand something as common as sarcasm. Makes me feel smarter," Rebecca grinned.

April smiled a little. "Then, you're welcome."

Rebecca chuckled. "You're a weirdo. And you're buying me pizza and beer." She walked away before April could protest.

"What?" April mumbled.

////

APRIL ENTERED THE APARTMENT, and she was thinking about something Rebecca said. She hadn't had sex with Sheri yet, even though they had dated for months now.

Sheri was sitting on the couch, she had a book on her lap, and she was drinking tea— probably with milk. She looked up from her book. "Hey," she smiled.

April closed the door. "Hey." She felt overwhelmed because she knew that Sheri wanted to do it, but she didn't understand why she didn't.

"Are you okay?" Sheri looked concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Sheri didn't look convinced. "What is it? You have that look on your face?"

April frowned. "What look?"

"You had that look when we first talked about sex. I remember that. Why are you thinking about sex?" Sheri had a teasing smile on her face.

"A friend brought it up. That's all."

"Do you want to do it? We haven't done it yet, so this would be our first time."

The anxiety grew in April's chest, but she didn't know why. She knew how she felt about Sheri. "Sure," she mumbled.

Sheri smiled. "Really?"

April hesitantly nodded. "Sure."

Sheri's smile dropped. "No, you don't."

"I— I don't know," April exhaled.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Sheri frowned. "How can you not know?"

"I-I-I just— I don't know. Okay?"

"April—"

"I don't know why I bought it up," April cut her off. "I'm sorry."

"April, you don't have to be sorry. I just need an explanation."

"I-I don't have one. There's no right answer to this. There's no book that I can read that'll give me the answers. I don't know why I'm like this. I didn't choose this."

Sheri stood up, and April backed away when she felt herself tear up. "Like what?" Sheri was more confused than ever.

"I only feel sexually attracted to someone once I've made a strong emotional connection to said person."

Sheri took a step back, processing what April told her. "You're not attracted to me?"

"Sheri—"

"I need a moment," Sheri cut her off. "I'm gonna go for a walk." She grabbed her coat.

"It's late." Sheri ignored her words and walked out

////

THE COLD WIND WAS WHAT WOKE APRIL UP in the morning. The window in the living room was open, but she was sure that she closed it before she went to bed.

Sheri wasn't back when April woke up, and she was worried. She had gotten ready, and now she was calling to make sure she was okay. But Sheri wasn't picking up the phone.

Something on the kitchen counter caught April's attention. It was Sheri's cross necklace. She never took it off. April picked it up, and she was confused— how did the necklace get there?

April rushed into the police station. A police officer saw her, and a grin grew on his face. "You here to confess to murder again?"

"No," April replied, not bothering to comment on his rude remark. "My girlfriend is missing, and I need you to find her."

"How long has she been gone?"

"She's been gone all night, and I found this on the kitchen counter." April held out the cross necklace. "She never takes it off."

"It's not a missing person's because she hasn't been gone for 24 hours."

April huffed. "So you can't do anything?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Of course not," April scoffed. "This is why people hate cops." And with that, she walked out.

////

APRIL WALKED INTO THE COURTHOUSE, and all she could think about was Sheri, and she kept wondering where she was and if she was okay.

"You look like crap," Connor said once April reached them.

April looked at Connor, her brows furrowed. "That's not true." She was aware that Connor was joking, but she was not in the mood.

"Don't mind Dr. Coleman," Michaela said bitterly. "She doesn't know what a joke is."

"I do know what a joke is. A joke is a thing that someone says to cause amusement or laughter, especially a story with a funny punchline."

"You take the fun out of everything," Michaela stated, annoyed. "So, why does Keating call you doctor?"

"Because she has a doctorate," Laurel noted— her arms crossed over her chest. Michaela turned to Laurel, confused. "I can put two and two together," she shrugged.

April sat down on one of the chairs. "You okay?" Wes asked— he was sitting next to her.

April nodded slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine." She didn't question why he was asking.

"I never got to thank you."

April frowned at him. "For what?" She wondered.

"On the first day when you tried to help me— after professor Keating called on me."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

Wes smiled a little. "I do. So, thank you."

"No problem." She gave him a small smile back.

They were sitting in the courtroom. "So, you got the footage from the convenience store when, detective Gill?" Prosecutor Williams asked.

"It was two nights ago," he answered from the stand. A tv had been set up. "Uh, th-the store owner had seen the defendant's picture on the news, so he went through his old surveillance tapes and just found this footage." April glanced at Gina and noticed the expression she had on her face— guilt.

"Footage that I will now play for everyone." Prosecutor Williams started the video. April observed and saw Gina on the screen. She was buying something. She shook her head slightly, annoyed that she didn't mention anything. People should know better than lie to the people protecting them. "There. The night before the murder attempt," he zoomed in on the object on the screen and cleared the image, so it became more visible, "Ms. Sadowski bought... what does it say on the label, detective Gill?"

"Uh, uh, Soloxacore. It's a brand of aspirin."

"I'd like to call our first witness to the stand," Annalise said. "Detective Nate Lahey." A man walked in, and April didn't know who he was. They watched as he took the stand.

"Where were you two nights ago, detective?" Annalise questioned.

"What?"

"Two nights ago, when detective Gill acquired the video that supposedly incriminates my client— weren't you supposed to be working at the precinct as his direct supervisor?"

There was a brief pause. "I was."

"And were you there? Please answer the question, detective."

"No," Nate replied. "I was not."

"Where were you, then? Home, perhaps? Taking care of your wife? I hear she's recently been diagnosed with cancer."

"I was at a friend's."

"Okay," Annalise raised her hands in mock surrender. "I only ask because there's something I find strange about the chain of custody on this video. Detective Gill testified that he received the video from the store owner at 8:00 p.m., but the logs say he didn't log it into custody until 2:09 a.m. Don't you find that time gap odd?"

"Sometimes, it takes us a while to log evidence into the computer."

"Because you're all so busy? Visiting friends and such? Detective, in your twelve years working for the city of Philadelphia, have you ever known them to alter video footage to help the prosecution get a conviction?"

"Objection!" Prosecutor Williams spoke up.

Annalise ignored him. "Digitally altering aspirin labels, for example?"

"Your honor!"

"I'm simply asking detective Lahey about his personal experience within his department," Annalise told the judge.

"This is the last question I'll allow," the judge said. April was anxiously waiting to see what would happen.

Annalise turned to Nate again. "Are you personally aware of any instances of doctored surveillance footage within your department?"

Silence filled the room, and everyone was waiting for the detective on the stand to answer the question. "Yes." People started talking immediately, while April was confident that he just lied on the stand— which was perjury. "I am."

"The good people of Philadelphia saw justice prevail today," Annalise told the reporters. Although they won the case, April didn't know how to feel— she felt unsure. "Ms. Sadowski was a victim here, scapegoated by a desperate, overworked D.A.'s office. And as much as we hope the police find the real perpetrator of this act against Mr. Kaufman, Ms. Sadowski is and always has been innocent, and I am so happy that the jury agreed."

"I want to be her," Michaela said, from next to April. She looked at Michaela briefly before turning her attention back to Annalise.

////

"PROFESSOR KEATING," APRIL WALKED up to Annalise— they were on their way to class. "I need to ask you something about the case."

Annalise kept walking, and April was not too far behind. "We won the case, Dr. Coleman. There's nothing to talk about."

April stopped walking. "Did you know that Nate was going to lie on the stand?" Annalise stopped in her tracks, her back still towards April. "Or wasn't that planned?"

Annalise turned to April. "Do you think that low of me?"

April was surprised by her question but didn't let her guard down. "it's perjury," she ignored the question, "it's considered a serious offense, as it can be used to usurp the power of the courts, resulting in failure of justice."

"We won the case because I did my job," Annalise replied. "I don't like being accused of lying, Dr. Coleman."

April nodded in understanding. "I apologize, Professor Keating. And one more thing, if you were thinking of giving the trophy to me, don't. I don't want it."

"What makes you think I was gonna choose you."

"I said if," April pointed out.

Annalise paused. "Fine."

"Now it's time to find out who will be joining our firm," Annalise said. "First, the standout in the class and the one you should all make it your mission to destroy," she glanced briefly at April, "come get your prize, Mr. Walsh." Connor took the trophy and gave Michaela a smirk as he did so.

"The other ones joining us will be... Asher Millstone."

"Yeah!" Asher jumped from his seat in excitement. "Yes!"

"Michaela Pratt... Laurel Castillo... April Coleman. And because our workload has grown, I decided to hire one more of you. And that one will be... Wes Gibbins."

////

THEY WERE UNRAVELING THE rug, exposing the body. April helped the others pick branches and sticks and threw them on the body— and the body was soon covered. Wes poured the liquid as the rest watched.

"Okay. Last chance," Wes said. "Either we all agree, or we stop right now."

"Just do it," Connor told him, impatiently.

"We've come too far to go back now," April muttered.

"Before the bonfire ends," Laurel said.

"Michaela?"

"It's the only way to destroy the DNA," she replied, her eyes on April. Wes turned the match on, making Sam's face more visible in its light. He dropped it, and the body caught on fire. All they could do was watch as it burned.

////

APRIL WAS PACING IN THE LIVING ROOM. She had been calling Sheri's cellphone for the last hour, and she even went to the police station, but no one would help her.

There was a knock at the door. April went to answer it eagerly, hoping it was Sheri and that she forgot the key. But it was only the deliveryman. He was holding a package. "Are you April Coleman?"

"Yes." April was confused.

"This is for you." He gave her the box.

"Thank you." He left without a word.

April closed the door and placed the box on the table. She hadn't ordered anything, so this was confusing.

She took out her pocketknife and cut the box. Placing the knife down, she opened the box. The box was opened and whatever was inside caused April to step back in horror and gasp in utter shock. She paled, and her heart dropped. And she felt as if she could throw up.

Quickly, she picked up the phone and dialed a number. As she waited for someone to pick up, she took deep breaths and tried to calm down. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"Uh, I'm calling because.. someone mailed me a human head."

[felix24601]

help @my4ncy find a Langdon fic!

”Santos told reader about the drugs being missing, he was let go but returns when the shooting happens. I was reading a scene with him and the reader, I think she was having a panic attack and he was comforting her. I accidentally clicked on the search button at the bottom and the page went all the way up and I lost the story 🙃”

Plz rb for reach and lmk if you find it!

[my4ncy]

I’M DONE

season one episode fifteen

masterlist

FINDING OUT THE BET was back on— thanks to a few gossiping Officers— felt like a slap in the face. Now there was more money in it, more attention, more people treating it like a game.

She tried to push it back and tried to focus on her own case, which she was going to talk to Hank about.

She arrived at the district with Jay that morning, ready to face their Sergeant, trying not to let the bet affect her. But she knew it would eventually.

Amy stood next to her partner and knocked on the office door.

Hank looked up, brows furrowed when he saw them. "Come in." He closed the folder he had been studying, his expression unreadable.

She slid into one of the chairs, posture straight, shoulders squared.

Jay closed the door behind them and took the seat next to her, giving her a subtle nod. She could feel his quiet support even without words.

The Sergeant leaned back, eyes moving between them. "What's up?"

"I want to talk to you about a case, Sergeant," Amy said, her voice steady, deliberate. "A murder case. A man found with his throat cut."

Hank's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, I know. Homicide's still working on it. What about it?"

Jay stayed silent, his gaze flicking to her now and then. She didn't need him to speak— just having him there made the weight slightly easier to bear.

"There's more to the case than initially anticipated," Amy continued. "The killer stayed in the house for days. Starved the victim." She leaned forward, emphasizing each word. "This case is linked to my family, Sergeant."

Hank's chest tightened slightly. "How?"

"I found my mom's necklace," she said. "There was a note inside, addressed to me."

"So, it's linked to you, personally," Hank murmured, scanning her face for any sign of exaggeration.

Amy nodded. "I don't want anyone else dragged into this," she said firmly, the words clipped.

Hank studied her, slow, deliberate. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. We'll deal with it after shift," he gestured toward the three of them.

The Detectives exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to that plan. Amy gave a small nod. "Alright."

Once they returned to the bullpen, she excused herself and went to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, Amy splashed some cold water on her face.

She ran her hands down her face, down to her neck—until her fingers brushed the scar— again reminding herself of the stupid bet that was on.

Her mind took her back to the moment she was in the same position— except, it was after she returned home from the rangers.

She remembered how she stood and stared at her reflection, not recognizing the woman looking back at her. But her eyes were mostly focused on the red slash across her throat.

Messy stitches. Dried blood.

What Amy remembered the most from that time was how she felt. How much she hated the scar and the fact that she had survived and her unit didn't.

She attempted to push that down, before grabbing a paper towel and pat-drying her face. Amy quickly gathered herself and returned to the bullpen.

She slid into her desk chair, letting a rare moment of calm settle over her. Somewhat calm, anyway.

The case would be solved, eventually.

Footsteps drew her attention.

Kevin appeared, jacket in hand, looking a little nervous as he scanned the bullpen. Adam and Jay greeted him as he took Mia's old desk.

Then Antonio walked in. "There he is," Jay said, standing to greet his friend.

The Detective was met with whistles and applause. Alvin leaned back, watching. "Hey, what the hell are you doing back so soon, huh?"

"Oh, God. You sound like my wife," Antonio joked, moving toward Kevin's desk.

Jay grinned. "We got you a little welcome back—slash, glad-you're-not-dead gift."

"Don't say we never do anything for you," Adam added, wheeling in a walker, which drew laughter from the others.

Antonio laughed sarcastically. "Oh. That's hilarious." He turned to Adam. "Come here. A little closer."

The Officer pushed the walker toward Antonio, not wanting to get hit, and blamed Jay for the prank.

Antonio turned to Jay, who put his hands up in mock surrender. "Oh, you want some of this?" He asked the Detective, who was throwing pretend punches. He then bent slightly over, pretending to be hurt.

Jay put a hand on his back, chuckling. "You okay?"

Antonio straightened, pushed Jay lightly, and the younger Detective just laughed in response.

Amy watched quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She didn't laugh, but she allowed herself to be amused by the camaraderie.

"All right, we're rolling out in five," Hank announced. "We just caught a heater."

The team hustled. Hank approached Antonio with a nod. The Detective had to stay at the district for his first day back.

At the construction site, Amy scanned every corner, noting the missing security cameras, the disturbed earth. "They had a plan," she said, voice low.

Jay added, "Nothing on the pods either."

Adam frowned. "A hundred pounds of aluminized water gel explosives are missing."

"Water gels?" Kevin asked, puzzled.

"They use it for mining," Alvin explained. "Could blow through bedrock."

"That's a lot," Hank muttered, scanning the site. Amy's expression tightened, silent, the implication clear.

A worker waved them over. Behind a dumpster lay the missing security guard, blood pooled beneath him. Amy slowed, scanning the entry wound, position, surroundings. "Gunshot," she whispered.

"All right," Hank said, turning to the worker. "Anyone who's been here in the last month— I want names."

With that, they headed back to the district.

Amy followed the unit upstairs, her focus fixed straight ahead. She didn't look toward Trudy— even when the Sergeant called out to her.

"Hughie."

The nickname cut through the noise of the bullpen.

Amy didn't slow. Didn't react. Just kept walking.

Ignoring her wasn't going to be easy.

Antonio couldn't be out in the field yet, so he was tasked with taking messages and answering the phone. And he had taken a few by the time the unit got back.

"Hey, yo," he called as Alvin passed. "Your wife called—wants to know about dinner." He handed him a note.

"Ruzek— your fridge is getting delivered Thursday." Another note.

Adam took it, heading to his desk. "Finally. Between 9:00 and 12:00 or 3:00 and 6:00? Did they say?"

Antonio just stared at him, clearly annoyed.

Adam winced. "Never mind."

Antonio spotted Hank walking in. "Hey, Sarge. Why don't we have a civilian aide up here taking calls? It's in the budget."

"It's about who you can trust, Antonio," Hank replied, already turning to Jin. "What do you got?"

"I'm waiting on the employee list from the construction site. So far, nothing. And you said no blasting caps or det cords?"

"No."

"You're gonna need those."

Hank nodded. "All right. Det cords and caps— that's our angle."

"I got a C.I. I can talk to," Jay said.

"Good."

"Yo, Sarge," Kevin spoke up.

"Yeah?"

Kevin stepped forward. "I grew up near that site— Two-Eights territory. Nothing moves there without their say-so. I know a guy. I can lean on him."

Hank nodded. "Olinsky, go with him." He returned to his office

"Actually, I think I'm gonna do this by myself, O." Kevin grabbed his jacket.

Alvin rose from his chair. "Oh, hey, everyone, Atwater's been in the unit two minutes, and already he's put himself in charge." He started clapping, and the rest joined as Adam cheered.

"Hey. Congrats, bud. I knew you were management material," Jay said sarcastically.

The clapping faded as Kevin tried to backtrack. "No, no— that's not what I was saying."

"What were you saying?"

"It's just...," Kevin trailed off, but Alvin knew what he was thinking, finishing his thought.

"Oh, you're worried about your white cop partner blowing the deal?"

"Yeah," Kevin said, not bothering to lie.

"Maybe after 20 years working undercover, I know how not to get made. Anywhere in the city."

"My bad." The Officer followed the Detective out.

Jay pushed himself up from his chair, getting ready to head out to meet his C.I. He glanced over at Amy, giving her a small nod toward the door.

She caught it immediately and nodded back.

Grabbing her jacket, Amy fell into step behind him as they headed out.

On the way to meet this C.I., Jay decided to make a stop first for food. And once Amy knew who the informant was, it made sense.

Greg— AKA, Mouse.

This was someone both knew in the Rangers.

Greg had always had a thing for fries. Bringing food wasn't just a gesture— it was how you got him talking.

The two Detectives sat in the car, sipping their sodas as they waited. Greg was supposed to meet them there.

"Are you gonna show Voight the evidence?" Jay asked from the driver's seat.

Amy nodded. "Yeah. I'll swing by my place later and grab it."

The back door opened suddenly, and Greg slid into the seat, shivering from the cold. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them, glancing between the two of them.

"We having a reunion?"

Amy stilled for just a second, before she and Jay exchanged a quick look.

Greg reached for the fries— but Amy stopped him, her hand coming down over the container. "You talk first."

Greg leaned back, letting out a small chuckle. "Alright."

Jay rested his arm along the seat, turning slightly to face him. "What do you know about the construction site robbery in Harvey?"

Greg tilted his head, playing it up. "Might be tapped in on that. My ears, man... they get so waxy these days."

Amy grimaced faintly. "Right."

She grabbed the fries, slipped some cash into the container, and handed it over.

Greg lit up. "Yeah! Ding, ding— clear as a bell." He pocketed the money and immediately dug into the fries.

Amy couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her. She shifted slightly, mirroring Jay's position so she could face Greg better— her arm resting along the back of the seat, brushing lightly against Jay's.

"There's talk," Greg went on between bites. "New player in town. He's looking for some bangers. I've been... consulting."

Amy and Jay exchanged another brief glance before focusing back on him.

"Can you get us a meet?" Amy asked.

"Tell them we're offering blasting caps and det cord," Jay added.

Greg hesitated, narrowing his eyes. "What, straight up?"

"Yeah," Jay said. "All you gotta do is set it up."

Greg considered it for a second, then nodded. "Alright. Head toward Erie and Sedgwick. I'll make the call." Jay and Amy exchanged a quick look before Jay started the car.

Greg led them to a run-down apartment building. The man who let them in barely said a word before leaving once they stepped inside.

It felt off.

Amy's eyes moved across the room, taking everything in. "How well do you know these guys, Greg?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't know. How well does anybody know anybody?"

She shot him a look, inching closer. "You don't know them?"

"What do we got?" A fourth voice asked. A dark haired man with facial hair entered the room and his eyes landed immediately on Jay, who recognized him.

He had seen this man at the district— an old friend of Erin's.

And Jay wasn't the only one who recognized him— Amy did too. She had seen his face when doing her background check on Erin a while back. His face had popped up.

Jay tried to keep his composure, hoping the man in front of him, Charlie, had forgotten him. "You're looking for some stuff I can get for you."

"Stuff?" Charlie glanced between them. "Like what exactly?" Oh, he didn't forget.

"Blasting caps. Det cord."

"Why would I need something like that?"

Amy jumped in. "What you do with it is your business."

It didn't take long for Charlie to connect the dots. He knew Jay was a Detective and figured she was too. "Really, Detective? Would it be my business?"

Greg chuckled. "Detective? What you talking about, Charlie?"

"Shut up, Mouse," Charlie said with a glare. "I met him at the station with Erin Lindsay." He turned to Jay. "Or did you forget?"

Jay didn't bother hiding his identity anymore. He had been made and there was no lying out of that. "No." He got closer to Charlie. "I definitely wouldn't forget something like that. Is there anything you want to tell us, Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head, unfazed. "Nope. I'm good." He glanced between them, a faint grin lingering. "You should tell Erin I said hi, though."

"Tell her yourself," Amy shot back, already turning toward the door. "We're done here."

She walked out without waiting. Jay followed, Greg right behind him. Outside, the cold air hit immediately.

"We need to talk to Erin," Amy said, her tone firm.

Jay glanced at her, confused. "Why?"

She looked at him. "I know about them. He's her ex—and he's tied to a murder and a robbery we're working."

Jay paused for a beat, processing it. The surprise showed, but only briefly. He exhaled and gave a small nod. "Yeah," he said. "We talk to Erin."

They returned to the district and found Erin at her desk. The moment Amy saw her, she made a decision.

"You mind if I talk to her alone?"

Jay glanced at his partner, a little surprised, but nodded. "No." He peeled off toward his desk as Amy approached Erin.

"Erin, can I talk to you?"

Erin looked up— this was new. She studied Amy for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Alone. It's about Charlie."

That did it. Erin's expression shifted immediately. She pushed her chair back and stood.

They made their way down to the garage.

"Okay," Amy said, stopping and turning to face her. "Here's the deal. Jay's C.I. set up a meet. Charlie showed." Erin's jaw tightened. "He's tied to the construction hit."

Erin looked away, running a hand over her face as she exhaled sharply— frustration, worry, all of it hitting at once.

Amy watched her for a moment before continuing. "I know about you two." That made Erin still.

"I know what he's got on you," Amy added, her voice steady, not accusing— just honest. "And if there's one thing I've learned in the last twenty-four hours..." she paused slightly, choosing her words, "it's that trying to handle something like this alone doesn't end well."

Erin leaned back against the wall, eyes down for a moment as she tried to process everything— Charlie, the case, Amy knowing.

Amy held her gaze. "We bring Voight in."

A long beat passed.

Then Erin nodded, finally looking back at her. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll talk to him." The Detective meant what she said about talking to Hank.

Nadia showed up at the district and after a short conversation with her in the break room, Erin went to Hank, telling him what was going on.

Once Nadia was alone in the break room, Amy approached her. She was holding a small piece of paper. "I overheard you telling Erin you are looking for a job."

The younger woman turned to face her, a smile on her face. She nodded. "Yeah. I'm gonna start looking."

Amy held up the note. "Marco is this guy I know. He owns a convenience store. Nothing fancy, but he's looking for employees." She placed it gently on the table, letting Nadia pick it up herself. "Thought you might want to consider it."

Nadia took the note, her fingers lingering on it a moment longer than necessary.

The Detective turned to leave. Nadia looked up, studied the note again, then whispered, "Thanks." Amy gave a brief nod and walked out.

////

AMY PUSHED INTO THE LOCKER ROOM, the door swinging shut behind her with a dull thud. She moved toward her locker, but as she reached for it, her mind went blank.

What am I doing here?

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the rows of lockers. Nothing came.

With a frustrated exhale, she shook her head, shrugged, and let it go. She didn't need to remember. Whatever it was, it could wait.

She turned and headed toward the exit.

Her steps felt heavy, uneven. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed too loud in her ears. Every sound— the distant drip of a faucet, the scrape of a chair in the next room— pressed in on her. Her chest tightened without warning, her fingers jittered, her vision narrowing to the doorway ahead.

It's fine. Just leave. Nothing's wrong.

Then a voice cut through the haze.

Amy reacted before she even thought. Her fist shot out, connecting solidly with something— or someone.

The hallway swam for a moment as she stumbled back. Panic surged, sharp and immediate. She barely processed the sight in front of her— someone clutching their face, blood on their lip, glaring— but her brain refused to translate it into sound.

Hank's footsteps followed quickly, echoing in the corridor. He stopped just short, eyes wide with shock. His gaze darted between Amy and Trudy, his jaw tight, a mixture of anger, disbelief, and concern written across his face. Trudy's hands touched her split lip, blood smearing across her fingers as she spoke, but Amy couldn't hear a word.

Her ears rang. The world seemed muffled, distant. She could see the motion, the mouths moving, but no words reached her. She tried to answer, tried to explain, but her own voice refused to form. Confusion clawed at her.

Overwhelmed, she turned slightly and leaned her shoulder against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. The hallway felt impossibly long. Every breath was sharp, uneven, her body fighting to stay upright.

Then she became aware of movement in her peripheral vision.

Jay.

He crouched slightly, a steady presence in the chaos. She didn't hear him clearly at first, just saw the way he moved with intention, gesturing toward Hank.

Amy caught Hank nodding, then stepping aside, signaling Trudy to leave. In seconds, the hallway emptied, leaving only Jay and her.

Slowly, the ringing in her ears softened. The hallway's sounds returned— the hum of lights, distant footsteps— but they didn't overwhelm her. Her pulse began to slow, each breath a little more even. Reality crept back in, gentle but insistent.

Amy's legs gave way, and she slid down the wall, her back pressing against the concrete.

Jay settled beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence, but not crowding her.

Silent. Observant. Solid.

Her eyes were on the wall in front of her. They widened slightly as she uttered something, her voice low. "I just punched Sergeant Platt."

He turned to look at her as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. "Christ," she muttered, in disbelief.

"What happened?"

Amy didn't know how to respond, feeling ashamed that a simple bet had made her punch a Sergeant. She felt like she lost control.

Jay leaned a little closer, careful not to crowd her. "It's okay," he said quietly. "You're okay. We'll figure it out."

She shook her head slightly, trying to push the panic away. "It shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't—"

He held up a hand. "Hey, just breathe. That's enough for now."

Slowly, her hearing returned, the muffled voices in the hallway sharpening. She could make out Hank's voice, Trudy's, the distant shuffle of boots— but it all seemed distant, like background noise. She exhaled and slid down the wall a little further, back pressing against the concrete.

Jay shifted closer, letting her lean slightly against him if she needed it. "We'll handle it," he said again. "No judgment."

She stayed silent, letting the words settle, letting him anchor her to the moment. She wasn't talking about what had led to this, not yet, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a small, steadying thread of control return.

Soon enough, they had to face the music.

And Amy found herself sitting in Hank's office, her leg on top of the other, arms crossed and eyes on the floor.

The Sergeant leaned against his desk, Jay sat next to his partner and Trudy stood by the wall with her arms crossed.

Hank glanced between the two women. "Someone better tell me what the hell just happened!" He snapped.

Trudy cleared her throat, ready to tell her version. "I walked down the hallway," she started with a small shrug. "Hughie, here, came out of the locker room and punched me. Just like that."

Jay looked over at the Sergeant. "It's been made pretty clear that the nickname is off limits!" His voice carried a lot of anger.

"Jay," Hank spoke, crossing his arms. "Why don't you wait in the bullpen?" His voice was steady. It was a question, but not really.

And Jay didn't want to leave her there with the Sergeants, but he didn't really have a choice. He looked at Amy one last time before exiting the office and closing the door.

"Amy, what happened?"

She felt all four eyes on her, hers moving to look at her Sergeant.

He looked mad, but mostly worried. Hank had worked with Amy long enough to know this was out of character for her. He knew something was up.

"What happened is that a Sergeant took my injury and turned it into a bet," Amy started, her voice steady. "What happened is that she called my former bosses to find out how I got the scar. She didn't get an answer because it's confidential, so she settled on a nickname that my dead unit gave me," Her voice rose with each word.

She stood abruptly, stepping to her left, needing distance to calm herself.

After a brief moment, she turned back, removed her badge and gun, and placed them on Hank's desk.

Hank stood quickly, taken aback. "What are you doing?"

"I'm done here." Amy met his eyes. "It's what I should have done the moment I became the woman with the scar. There's nothing left for me here. So, I'm done."

"Someone could be after you. You can't just leave before we figure this out."

"Yeah, well, maybe that will solve all our problems."

She headed for the door, hand on the knob, then turned toward Trudy. "For the record, I got the scar serving my country. That's all you need to know."

Amy didn't leave room for anyone to respond. Hank froze, Trudy's mouth parted in surprise. Silent, final, deliberate. Then she walked out, closing the door behind her. 

The bullpen was quiet now. The unit had just returned from making an arrest, and the low hum of activity had yet to return. Papers lay stacked on desks, phones sat idle, and the only sounds were faint shuffles from the few people still moving about. Heads turned as Amy stepped into the room.

She veered left, moving toward the exit.

Jay rose from his desk immediately, following her. He caught her gently by the arm just before she reached the door. "What happened?" His voice was low, careful. "Are you okay?"

He slowly let go of her arm.

Amy didn't answer, not knowing how to tell him what had gone down in the office, not knowing how to tell him she quit. Instead, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. His arms came around her, holding her steady, solid.

For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet between them was heavy, but grounding— something familiar, something that had existed before the chaos of the rangers, before the ambush, before everything changed.

Finally, Amy pulled away and turned, walking out. The door closed softly behind her, leaving Jay standing there, silent, watching, his concern lingering even as she disappeared from view.

The sky had darkened to bruised purple as Amy slid into her car, the hum of the city fading behind her. She started the engine, her hands tight on the wheel, the events of the day still clawing at her thoughts. Her chest felt heavy, her mind spinning through the office, the exchange with Jay, the quiet weight of her choice.

As she pulled onto the street, headlights glinted in her rearview mirror. At first, she told herself it was nothing— just another driver— but the car stayed with her, matching every turn, tailing her like a shadow she couldn't shake. Amy's fingers tightened on the wheel, knuckles whitening. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

She pushed her foot down harder, weaving through side streets, her eyes flicking constantly to the rearview mirror. The vehicle followed, unwavering, relentless.

Fear settled low in her stomach. She realized she wasn't imagining it.

She was being followed.

A sudden, aggressive swerve from the other car forced her off the road. The tires screeched against the asphalt, and the world tilted violently.

Amy's stomach lurched as the car spun, scraping along the curb before tipping onto its roof with a bone-jarring crunch. Pain exploded along her side, a white-hot shock that stole her breath.

Glass shattered, raining down around her like frozen fire.

The car rocked against the asphalt, then came to a rest, upside down, the engine ticking and hissing, smoke curling into the interior. Amy's fingers fumbled at her seatbelt, slick with blood and sweat. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, each inhale sharp with pain.

She pulled at the metal buckle, gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder. With a sharp, desperate tug, it released.

She slid her legs through the narrow space between seat and roof, each movement sending bolts of agony through her body. Hands scraping against glass and warped metal, she crawled out of the car.

She couldn't stand. Her legs trembled violently, refusing to obey. She collapsed onto the asphalt, lying on her back, the sky a dark blur above her. Pain radiated through her side, each heartbeat a reminder of her fragility.

A figure loomed over her, familiar and impossible. The streetlights caught the glint of something metallic in their hand. Amy's chest tightened, a hollow, icy fear spreading from her stomach to her throat. Her mind raced and then stalled, every thought scattering like leaves in the wind.

Her aunt. 

Amy froze, disbelief rooting her to the ground. The gun in her aunt's hand gleamed in the dim light, unwavering, deliberate.

Everything slowed. Amy's mind scrambled, fragments of memories, pain, betrayal, and fear mixing into one dizzying swirl.

The gun moved.

The trigger clicked.