Unlawfully Wed

"Alexander," George breathed as he walked into the room, jiggling his arm until the guard released him. His eyes were as wide as dinner saucers, and his fingers were twitching as he reached out towards Alex. He was still several feet away from him, however, and the guard pushed his arms back down and made sure that the handcuffs were tight before he dragged him over to the chair across from Alex and pushed him down.

"I will be outside the door if you need me. Knock three times when you're ready to leave," the guard ordered Alex, narrowing his eyes and hooking his thumbs into his belt loops as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Alex pursed his lips and nodded curtly. The guard turned on his heel and walked out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

George stared over his shoulder at the door for a moment before he turned back to face Alex. He didn't say anything, but adjusted the way he was sitting so that his left ankle was crossed over his right knee. He seemed anxious, and like he was waiting for Alex to be the first one to speak.

Alex, however, had nothing to say. He ground his teeth and took deep breaths in and out through his nose as subtly as he could, his nerves firing up full-stop and making him feel like he was going to throw up. His skin itched, and his gums quickly grew sore as his teeth gnashed against one another.

He studied George, cataloguing every way that the man had changed physically in the last several years. His cheekbones were still shapely and chiseled, but they looked much more hollow than they had the last time Alex had seen him. His lips were thinner, too, and his jawbone was much sharper around the edges than Alex remembered it being. His head was no longer shaven, although the inch-and-a-half of hair looked like it had mostly grown in during George's incarceration rather than being a style choice. He had healed, puckered scars scattered all over his forearms, and there was a hint of a tattoo peaking out from below that sleeve of his jumpsuit that *definitely* had not been there before.

George was studying Alex too, his eyes quickly darting back and forth across Alex's body. He clenched his bound hands into fists on the table and let out small sighs every few seconds, his cheeks growing darker and darker with every new location he examined.

After a few minutes of silence, Alex's anxiety began to fade, replaced by pangs of nostalgia. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and forced himself to speak. "So. Why am I here?" He flinched at the way his voice broke on the last word.

George clenched his fists tighter, the tops of his knuckles and his nails turning white. "I would guess it's because you read my letter."

Alex rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. But why am I *here*? You have had years to talk to me. Why now? Why not go with any other lawyer?"

"Did you read all of my letter?"

"Does it matter?"

"If you had, you would have seen that you are the only lawyer that I trust to truly get me a fair trial. I don't know any other lawyer well enough for them to really know my character."

Alex let out a snort at that, ignoring the way that his hands were growing sweaty. "It's been more than half a decade, George. I don't know any more about your character now than some smuck off the street."

The corners of George's mouth turned downwards into a frown so deep that it was almost comical. He looked like a caricature, the seam of his lips shaped into a perfect horseshoe. "I haven't changed, Alexander. I am still the same man I was before."

"How would I know that? I haven't so much as heard from you since you walked out on--forget it." Alex shut his mouth, clenching his teeth again. He didn't want to bring up all that past hurt. He wanted closure, but talking about it when he was still hurting wasn't the way to go about it. He wanted George to be his friend again, and that wouldn't happen if Alex caused a fight between them. He sighed. "What do the police think that you've done?"

This time it was George who sighed. He closed his eyes and lifted his hands to run at them for a moment before lowering his arms back down onto the table. "They think that I murdered Martha."

Alex's jaw dropped and he shot up in his seat so quickly that his back cracked audibly. "*What*?"

Georg nodded, a sad look overcoming his features. His frown became even more pronounced, and he blinked rapidly as tears began to form. "I didn't murder my wife. No one did. I Know in my heart that my Martha committed suicide. She even left a note." A single tear fell.

"If there was a note, then why do they think that you did it? What evidence did the detectives have to think it wasn't suicide?"

"They don't have anything, yet, but they don't have evidence for it being suicide, either." He looked down at the floor and let out a shuddering breath before looking back at Alex, the tears now falling freely. It made Alex's chest ache to see how broken George looked. "They haven't found her body yet."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Ah. So that was why George wanted him on the case.

A year or so after Alex and John opened up their firm, Alex was appointed by a judge to defend a different man, Aaron Burr, in a similar case about the disappearance of his wife, Thea. Thea had left a note taped to the front door when Aaron was at work, stating that she couldn't stand her misery any longer and that she was sorry, but she was going to jump off a Manhattan bridge into the river below.

Police divers scoured the jump spot and several miles downriver, but there was never any trace found of her body. Not a shoe, not an earring, not a tooth.

What the police did find, though, was remnants of blood and hair on multiple bookends in Mr. Burr's library, and that Mr. Burr had never shown up for work that day. He hadn't worked in nearly six months, in fact.

When his alibi failed, Alex was called in to defend Mr. Burr. They worked closely together for almost a full year until the trial, where Alex successfully convinced a jury that Aaron couldn't possibly have killed his wife, as whoever did was much taller, as their steps were wider apart, and was left handed, not right.

Aaron was secretly ambidextrous and a record longer jumper. He admitted to Alex just an hour after the trial had ended that he really had killed her, and he thanked Alex for doing such a wonderful job convincing the jury. It made Alex feel sick.

He hoped it wasn't the same with George.

Alex slowly blinked and looked at George. Could the man be capable of doing such a heinous crime? And if he really had, how would Alex ever justify defending him? With Burr, he really thought that the man was innocent. But this? Defending the only man he'd ever truly loved? His emotions could pull the wool over his eyes, and another innocent woman's life could have been ended in vain.

He grabbed a pen out of his pocket and took it between his fingers, flipping it around and tapping the pointed end against the gray plastic table. "You want me to defend you," he said, his voice flat and his eyes narrowed.

"Yes."

"And you promise me that you truly didn't kill her?"

"I swear, Alexander, on everything I hold dear. On my very *life*. I did not kill Martha."

Alex hesitated for a moment before slouching down in the chair, intertwining his fingers and laying them over his stomach. He kicked his legs out, as well, crossing them at the ankle, and fought the urge to run. "Can I have a few days to think about it?"

"Of course you can, Alexander. I'd never force you to make a decision like this without weighing the pros and cons first. I remember how that brilliant mind of yours works." He wiped away the tears and tried to give Alex a sad smile, although it still looked more like a frown than anything. "No matter what you decide, will you come visit me again? Please? I'd like to catch up, if we may."

Alex bounced his knee and sat back up. "I need a few days to think about that, too."

The frown was back, but George nodded. "Of course, Alexander. Whatever you want." His voice was softer this time, defeated, even. It made Alex feel even more disappointed and upset at the way that things went between them.

George cleared his throat and balanced his still-clenched fists against the table before pushing himself up. He gave Alex another nod and walked over to the door, using his foot to kick the door three times. Immediately, the guard stepped in and took George by the elbow.

Before the guard took George out of the room, however, George turned and gave Alex a small wave. "Goodbye, Alexander. Goodbye for now."