In the Beat of a Wing {boyxboy}

Chapter One

~Thursday 3rd January 2013~

"Will the jury foreperson please stand?" Malcolm drew in a silent breath, letting it out slowly as he glanced to his left, flashing a brief smile toward his client, "has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?" Malcolm clasped his hands together on the table in front of him, meeting the eyes of the standing woman for just a second before she looked away. He didn't blame her, not many had the courage to hold eye contact with him.

"Yes, your honour," the woman handed the piece of paper she clutched in her hand to the bailiff, who proceeded to pass it to the judge, who took only a second to skim over it before it was returned to the woman, "the jury finds the defendant not guilty," Malcolm just about managed to suppress his grin, despite many of the audience in the courtroom disrupting the silence.

"The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned," Malcolm rose to his feet, with the intention of merely shaking hands with his client, only to be engulfed into a tight hug.

"Thank you," the man whispered, even shedding a tear or two, "thank you, thank you, thank you," Malcolm chuckled, patting the man on the back compassionately.

"There's no need to thank me, Isiah, let's go talk somewhere private, OK?" finally, Malcolm managed to peel Isiah off him, collecting his briefcase, feeling the scowling gaze of the permanent thorn in his side. Saige Collingwood.

"You put up a good argument, Saige," Malcolm smiled politely, extending his hand to the redhead.

"Congratulations are due, aren't they, Malcolm?" Saige forced a smile, one that was far too stiff for even the dimmest of humans to believe, "what will it be this time? Back alley prostitutes or underage drunks?" Malcolm's smile faltered and he rolled his eyes. Saige was far more than petty, he was downright rude, simply because of Malcolm's creed. Disgusting.

"You're hilarious, Saige," Malcolm muttered dryly, "but, if I were you, I'd stop focusing on your stand up and pay a little more attention to your failing day job. What is it now? Eighty-three per cent fail rate? Tsk tsk, I'm surprised you're still staying afloat in that penthouse apartment of yours," Malcolm's expression became a tad wrier at Saige's lack of response, "give my love to the wife," Malcolm picked up his briefcase, walking out of the courtroom with Isiah and stepping into the private quarters he rented there.

"I can't think of any way to repay you, Malcolm," Isiah immediately began again with gratitude, wanting to stamp a monetary value on morals, it wasn't something Malcolm agreed with. That wasn't to say that Malcolm's services were free, of course not, that would be absurd in the age he lived in. He simply kept his rates low and offered financial aid for those who couldn't afford it. He had more money than he needed already, to ask for even more would weigh heavily on his conscience.

"There's no need, Isiah, I've already told you," Malcolm smiled, loosening his tie, having already noticed the tightness far too much in that courtroom, "you just stay out of trouble, and stay off the heroin, OK? You have a baby on the way and a doting fiance who needs you on the outside, not locked up for crimes you didn't commit," Isiah smiled nervously, wringing his hands as he often did.

"Of course, Malcolm," Isiah vowed, nodding overenthusiastically, "of course. No more drugs, I promise you."

"Good, that's very good. To ensure that, Isiah, I would like to pay for some therapy for you," Isiah's eyes widened but Malcolm silenced the man's protests before they could begin, "drug addiction isn't an easy thing to deal with, you will need help, I'm happy to provide that. I'm not talking about a rehab centre, I know you can't afford to be off work, however, some sessions with a therapist I know should help you along your way," once again, Isiah began to cry. Malcolm was used to it, many of his clients could get overwhelmed with emotion.