#reasonable doubt au

[michelangelosky]

WIP Wednesday

This time I won’t let this little gremlin jump the line and be updated before Family Values, still, here is a small preview of the next chapter of my courtroom drama / murder mystery AU Reasonable Doubt cause I had too much fun with Orson “We Should All Be Feminists When It Suits Me” Callan Krennic 🤣

***

“Withdrawn. Let’s move on. In your testimony you said that Chancellor Mothma told you she was woken up in the middle of the night by a noise. You expressed surprise that she hadn’t investigated the source of this noise, is that correct?

“Normally when people - especially women - are woken up by something, they want to know what made the noise.”

“Especially women? Implying that they are the weaker species?”

A little something to ragebait Mon’s hardcore supporters and channel their enthusiasm towards the usual suspects and away from the heart – or the skull - of the matter.

“Objection,” Tarkin all but spat out from his seat.

“Your Honor, I was merely seeking to clarify the witness’s own remark?”

Orson spread his hands with faux innocence.

“Proceed, Counselor, but warning you, I am.”

Justice Yoda’s forest-green silk bow-tie caught the light and gleamed menacingly at Orson.

“In other words, Colonel Yularen, the Chancellor should have turned on all the lights, got out of bed, maybe armed herself with a smashball bat to go see if there was a burglar? In the Executive Residence.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase. You were surprised that Chancellor Mothma, exhausted after entertaining half of Coruscant in her house, might have just assumed that someone else would investigate the cause of this bump, living as she did in the most heavily guarded house on the planet?”

Colonel Yularen paused just long enough for Orson to say, “Never mind, never mind. Let’s move on.” He was good at creating the illusion of impatience with the molasseslike pace of a trial, of a man in a hurry to get at - what did he call it? – ah, the truth.

***

It was generally conceded, even by those who remained convinced of Mon’s guilt, that the government had not had a good day in court.

Orson’s custom after an especially good day was to hold a “HoloPress availability” on the steps of the courthouse (not that he didn’t make himself available to them at any other time of night or day). He stepped out into the blinding glare of the camera lights, the eager smiles of the media, his number one fans and enablers. Even those who hated him loved him.

“It was a good day for the truth,” he began.

Throughout the nation, food sprayed from mouths, HoloTV sets were cursed at, dinner napkins hurled, channels angrily changed….

[ezzydean]

grand-inquisitor-of-feels replied to your post “notsuchasecret replied to your post “fic title: Reasonable Doubt” ...”

OMG

fun fact: Bre is correct.  Bear!Akaashi is the accidental outcome of Terushima going into the office. !Akaashi who only his close emergency squad of Kenma, Suga, Kuroo, and Kunimi actually know that he can shift into a bear.  When he accidentally shifts and shreds all his clothes and occasionally breaks stuff he sends out a mass emergency squad text that read OOPS BEAR so that whoever is closest to him can bring him clothes and help with damage control.

have an excerpt:

Akaashi: [OOPS BEAR] Kuroo: [get your life together] Akaashi: [get your hair together] Suga: [I agree with you both] Kunimi: [how tf did I get included in this mess?] Kunimi: [wait didn't you just drag Terushima into your office?] Kunimi: [I am not burying a body for you Akaashi.  I don't care how many secrets of mine you hold in your beary claws] Kenma: [i'll do it] Kenma: [won't be the first time] Kuroo: [...... wtf] Kenma: [u dnt kno my life kuro] Akaashi: [as thrilling as this is I HAVE AN EMERGENCY] Kunimi: [It's not an emergency it happens like every other week] Suga: [Didn't someone say Terushima was in there with him? Akaashi you didn't kill another pretty employee, did you?] Kuroo: [...... wtf] Akaashi: [you've never seen him.  how would you know if he's pretty] Suga: [You always get flustered around the pretty ones] Kuroo: [he's never been flustered around me] Suga: [my point stands]

[michelangelosky]

Reasonable Doubt - Mon/Orson, courtroom drama & murder mystery AU

Chapter 6, or poor Syril

Honorable mentions: peaches, bow ties, plus Moffi and Toffi having the time of their lives

That night the topic on all of talk shows seemed to be “Just How Awful, Scheming and Cold-Hearted Is Chancellor Mothma?” while Shambo and Oscar furiously brainstormed an alternative narrative.

“It’s a wonder,” Sly Moore remarked, “we’re not all covering a trial for her murder.

This time, it was Orson who placed the call.

“I don’t think you’re that bad.” He offered almost apologetically.

“Screw you.” She hung up.

He called back. “Was that your idea of phone sex?”

“Tell me you have a strategy,” Mon whispered. “Tell me this is going the way you planned it.”

“It is going well. Trust me.”

Though, trust was not the word. Not remotely the word. Trust meant safety, steadiness, something earned and cherished. They had buried that silly notion thirty years ago. Whatever had grown in its place had fed on guilt, resentment, regret, and old wounds, its roots tangled so deeply that neither of them could tell where one ended and the other began. She would be justified in doubting his motives. He did too, at times.

read on ao3

[michelangelosky]

Reasonable Doubt - Mon/Orson, courtroom drama & murder mystery AU

Chapter 5, or I present to you Orson We Should All Be Feminists When It Suits Me Krennic Honourable mentions: Justice Yoda’s bow ties sending SOS signals into the universe; Lio Partagaz and my crack ship from the other AU; plus skeletons and ghosts that finally get a chance to roam free.

“…In your testimony you said that Chancellor Mothma told you she was woken up in the middle of the night by a noise. You expressed surprise that she hadn’t investigated the source of this noise, is that correct?

“Normally when people - especially women - are woken up by something, they want to know what made the noise.”

“Especially women? Implying that they are the weaker species?”

A little something to ragebait Mon’s hardcore supporters and channel their enthusiasm towards the usual suspects and away from the heart – or the skull - of the matter.

“Objection,” Tarkin all but spat out from his seat.

“Your Honor, I was merely seeking to clarify the witness’s own remark.”

Orson spread his hands in faux innocence.

“Proceed, Counselor, but warning you, I am.”

Justice Yoda’s sage-green tweed bow tie followed suit and gave him a tiny, warning twitch.

“In other words, Colonel Yularen, the Chancellor should have turned on all the lights, got out of bed, maybe armed herself with a smashball bat to go see if there was a burglar? In the Executive Residence.”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase. You were surprised that Chancellor Mothma, exhausted after entertaining half of Coruscant in her house, might have just assumed that someone else would investigate the cause of this bump, living as she did in the most heavily guarded house on the planet?”

Colonel Yularen paused just long enough for Orson to say, “Never mind, never mind. Let’s move on.” He was good at creating the illusion of impatience with the molasseslike pace of a trial, of a man in a hurry to get at - what did he call it? – ah, the truth.

Read the rest on ao3

[michelangelosky]

Reasonable Doubt - Mon/Orson, courtroom drama & murder mystery AU

Chapter 3, or what happens when you ask Lyra Erso to fix things, because wonderful @muumuumum asked for a wineing session

read on ao3

“I tried…. I pushed through the Freedom of Information act. The Equal Justice. Child care. Trade. Peace talks. The environment...” Mon looked down at her hands, reciting the list with the dutiful air of a student presenting her assignment to a tutor, not understanding why she’d been graded poorly.

Her sympathy for Separatist holdouts had never played well with key demographics, but Orson refrained from mentioning that. He took a sip of his own whiskey and felt the smokey bite burn the roof of his mouth and settle over his tongue.

There were, broadly speaking, two ways to handle this.

Lio once said that one could choose to be nice or to be kind. Nice was anesthesia. Kindness was surgery. One spared feelings; the other one hurt but cut out the disease. Since Orson had rarely practiced either, he had never given the distinction more than a passing thought. Until now.

He could try playing it nice, he supposed, but her own staff seems to have done that often enough, and here was the result: sitting beside him, a delicate creature suddenly frozen in amber, clutching the glass for dear life. Once, she had also tried being nice - one day, thirty years ago, complete with tears, regret and platitudes that changed nothing.

In the grand scheme if things, being nice had never done either of them much good.

Which left kind. In his own way.

“As well as Ghorman amnesty program and so on. I know,” Orson said. “The bastards ought to be grateful instead of getting all bent out of shape just because you killed your husband. So shall we dispense with the self-pity and get to work?”

And that did it. Chancellor Mothma returned, and the ghost from thirty years ago was put back in its grave.

Good. Ashes to ashes, or so they say.

“How characteristically charming of you, Orson.” She took another sip. “Yes.”

Read the rest at your own risk, I bear no legal responsibility for this

[michelangelosky]

Reasonable Doubt - Mon/Orson, courtroom drama & murder mystery AU

Chapter 4, or we finally make it to the courtroom and to morning shows.

TW: Never hire Krennic as your lawyer, folks, the diva lives to create drama.

read on ao3

Orson sighed deeply at the monstrous injustice of it all. He aimed his next burst of rhetorical flatulence at the skies beyond the ceiling, where surely the Higher Powers were listening, sharpening their swords of righteousness.

“Be prepared for theories that would make even the most convoluted Senate appropriations bill sound like a child’s play. Be prepared to hear that a small mark on the late Perrin Fertha’s forehead is an imprint of Hanna star, so accurate and so pronounced as if it were put there by the Founding Mothers themselves.”

A reporter in the HoloPress gallery leaned toward another and whispered, “I love this guy.”

“That’s right,” Orson continued. “Sit back and get comfortable. They’re going to bring in photographic blowups of a tiny spot on Perrin Fertha’s forehead. Experts - that is, they call themselves experts - with expensive, government-supplied laser pointers, will point at these photographs like they were aerial reconnaissance maps of alleged weapon stockpiles on Geonosis. They’ll say, ‘See this teeny-tiny part here? We know it’s hard to see, but that’s Hanna Star imprint. Can’t you see that? Are you blind? Why, any fool could see it!’ Well, ladies and gentlemen, that’s exactly what the government thinks of you - fools. To be manipulated! That’s why they called it the Death Star trial even before the first witness was heard!”

Jurors seven and nine were nodding along as if it were a sermon. Say it, brother!

Across the capital, Galen smiled, despite himself. See, that’s why he liked the conspiracy crowd: people believed unbelievable things because it was self-flattering to think that you were intellectually daring enough to accept what others found preposterous.

Orson shook his head bitterly in wonder. The next word exploded from his mouth with such force that the front row of jurors recoiled.

“Kalkite!”

The stenographer startled.

“Synthetic kalkite, kalkite alternatives, kalkite substitutes! I mean the amount of time the prosecution will spend pondering this grubby little rock is frankly astonishing. By the time they are done, you may be forgiven for thinking the true victim in this case is not Perrin Fertha, but kalkite.”

A few jurors smiled despite themselves.

rest is here but read at your own risk, I bear no legal responsibility for anything written while on flu meds

[michelangelosky]

Reasonable Doubt - Mon/Orson, courtroom drama & murder mystery AU

Honorable mentions: Lio the GOAT Partagaz, Lyra the Thorn-in-Orson’s-Side Erso and STARDUST Read Chapter 2 on ao3

Orson turned the page to the Bureau’s medical examiner’s report and the Naval Hospital autopsy report in front of him: “Cause of death, epidural hematoma resulting from blunt-force trauma. Time of death, between three-fifteen A.M. and five A.M. Tell me this: After you ki— After you both went to sleep, did you wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water? Work on urgent briefings? Wash the blood off your hands?” “No, and I don’t appreciate your last question, however gratifying you may have found it.” “This is going to be such an easy sell to the jury.” Orson groaned. “You didn’t kill your husband, despite the fact that he was humping the guest down the hall, as well as half the capital’s socialites. What really happened was he got up in the middle of the night, consumed with remorse for his cheating ways, decided to commit suicide by smashing himself in the forehead with an antique plate, and just before dying, tucked tucked himself back in bed. It’s so obvious. We’ll move for summary dismissal.” He could see her nails digging into her palms where her hands lay folded in her lap, but instead of throwing a retort his way, Mon went very still. In that subdued, subtle way of hers, as though she were gathering every loose thread of herself back into one whole, while all cameras in the world were trained on her. Metaphorically speaking, given the predicament she and the nation found themselves in, they were. It was a bit frightening – had Orson still cared which he absolutely did not - how good she had became at burying herself alive over the years. By the time she looked at him again, the flash of temper was gone, locked away behind an impenetrable, composed mask, and her voice, when it came, was cold enough to make Hoth seem like a summer camp. “Is sarcasm included in your four-hundred-thousand-credit fee, or do you bill separately?” “Separately. Though for old times’ sake, I’ll waive the first hour.”