(no subject)

[amicably_absent]

Glitch wanted to stay in the cabin forever, but Ambrose insisted on heading back, getting home the day before the trial was set to happen. He didn't elaborate on why, though it was fairly apparent that he wanted to attend, especially when he spent an hour the night before it setting out clothes, putting them in orders with numbers to clearly mark how they went on. It was a lot of work and planning.

Ambrose, also unlike Glitch, had no problems using the privilege of an attendant to help get ready. He gets dressed carefully in what is just shy of a dress uniform but speaks with position to anyone entitled to know it. The attendant helps him with his hair, getting the ringlets settled neatly, if not combed down in his usual manner. He thinks Glitch would protest it and, as he has been told, he needs to stop being ashamed of the line of steel in his scalp. A few touches of make up highlight his pale, striking appearance and he asks Wyatt to escort him down to the court house.

Wyatt has to be there anyway, as the first officer on scene with the small delegation of Viewers who will also present evidence through a mirror set up in court just for that, one with a moratanium frame that Ambrose thinks he might've designed.

The case isn't short, but the conclusion is foregone. He himself is unable to sit to testify, no headcase testimony can be taken by the court, but since he can't remember anything anyway, there would be no point in unnecessarily working him up into glitching.

He does that enough as it is. Each bit of testimony sets off glitches and skips, fragments of thought and getting caught in cycles. It's a hard, long few hours as they plow though it all. They plead guilty, but it's before sentencing that the judge asks if anyone has anything to say.

That's when he raises his hand. "I do, Your Honour."

The judge gives him a long look. "While you cannot testify, the court will recognise any additional statements you have to offer, Adviser Ambrose."

He stands up, smoothing down his military style coat with the tiny badges across the breast marking the medals he won't wear in public. "My learned judge, I would ask you to consider clemency in your sentencing of these men."

He takes a breath to give the noise a moment to subside. "I cannot and will not condone the acts of violence that have been committed, against myself and potentially against other individuals who have suffered violation at the hands of the Witch's surgeons. Justice and retribution is the domain of the court and the police, and it is unacceptable to have the public taking vengeance for actions that may - or indeed may not - have been committed. The court has already taken action against violent offenders, their headcasing is - believe me - punishment enough for their actions, leaving them incapable of directed malice of any consistent amount.

"But.

"The commonality of headcasing as political terrorism to silence dissidence and rebellion is not yet commonly seen, understood or recognised. Ignorance, in truth, is the enemy here. These men were wrong, but they acted in fear and ignorance. I personally feel no need to vengeance against these men, I pity them for being so scared during these dark times past that they cannot reach towards the better future we are all striving for. I pity their ignorance in attacking those who present a visible sign of their ongoing imprisonment, for the thoughts they had, the allegiances they held and not for any crime committed. Headcasing for crime is almost unknown now, but for political motivations? That has been far more prevalent in recent times. Punishment should be a learning aid, to educated individuals and society and this case and serve to educate these men, theoir families and society as a whole. Not just of the heinous acts taken against political prisoners such as myself, but a learning experience that the barbaric and harsh times of the Witch are over and we will once again strive towards a benevolent society of correction, not vengeance."

He bows his head. "Thank you." And he sits down, reaching for Wyatt's hand.

Comments

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose keeps clinging to Wyatt, glancing shyly at Raw and back to Wyatt again, holding a little tighter. He's still a bit funny about other people. Even other people he knows. "Thank you, Raw," he says softly. "You saved my life."

Then nods. Tea would be good.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Ambrose save all of us," Raw points out with a smile, placing his hands on both of them. "We leave you now. Good night."

Kalm munches happily on the prawn crackers, and together, the Viewers leave them to it.

Wyatt nods, hoping his gratitude is apparent enough, and starts walking back to his partner's room. "That's...one of the scariest things I've ever lived through."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Yeah..." Ambrose goes back to his room on shaky legs, sinking down to the cushions with a breathless exhale. "That was positively awful. But... at least we know, now. I guess that might be why I've never had them."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Probably," Wyatt murmurs, pouring Ambrose a cup of tea with a dab of milk in both for its soothing qualities and to make certain that the tea isn't too hot.

"Here we go. Small sips." His arm goes around Ambrose's shoulders again. It won't be going anywhere, anytime soon.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose snuggles in against Wyatt, liking the cuddling a lot. He sips very slowly, but it does help, lukewarm and bland against his throat. "That certainly livened dinner up."

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"Like nothing else." He drags in a deep breath, exhaling with a soft little sound. "How are you feeling?"

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Tender, but okay. A bit scared." He leans his head to Wyatt's shoulder, looking at the wall. "I'm glad we found out sooner rather than later," he says softly.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Me too," he sighs, leaning his head on top of Ambrose's. "It's... It's so strange to be grateful you had a violent response so Raw could feel it and get to us, but I am."

He can imagine a slower build up, and the devastating consequences of something as simple as both of them being asleep. Or just him, not waking up in time to see why Ambrose were flailing.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Because Glitch and Ambrose both flail a lot for no real good reason, and a slow build up either of them could have missed. He snuggles in closer. "That, could've been very bad," he whispers.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Gently, Wyatt plucks the cup from Ambrose's hands, places it on the nearby tray. Then he pulls him close, close as he can, because he feels okay and Raw says he is, but Wyatt's still shivering, and Ambrose is still scared.

"I love you, Ambrose," he whispers back. "I love you. Love you so much."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose presses close, his own skin cold with the shock and pallid even for him now the unhealthy flush of the allergy has gone. Cuddles are good though. Cuddles mean he's alive and Wyatt's alive and they're here together. "I love you too, Wyatt."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

He doesn't think either of them are up to going anywhere tonight. He doesn't mind, either. It's just logistics.

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight. Okay?"

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Thank you. I wasn't aware you were planning on doing so anyway," he says quietly. He hugs his waist.

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"I wasn't. I'm not."

He's too cold for Wyatt's liking, and something needs to be done about that. "How about we get a fire going, warm you up a bit?"

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"You know the best thing for warming someone? I do." He snuggles closer. "You're trembling, Wyatt."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

He does. It involves bare skin and insulation. He nods, not wanting to assume things, even if he's responding to their brush with death like people tend to. "So are you."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Because I'm slipping into a light shock." His hands come up to tug at the front of Wyatt's shirt, running over the buttons that he knows he can't manage. "Bare skin. And blankets."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Right. Right. He would've noticed that if he'd been paying attention to anything but the fact Ambrose is in fact not dead or dying. He pulls his shirt from where its tucked into his pants and shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor nearby.

"Bed. Come on." He's perfectly prepared to pick Ambrose up and carry him off to bed if that's what it takes.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Or we could drag the blankets in here," he says quietly. "Either way." But he's staying close, if Wyatt stands, so does he. He wants to be able to feel him with his hands.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"And pillows." He sets out to find pillows in the adjoined room, where he and Glitch spend so much of their time together. The blankets are stripped from the bed, the pillows too. If he's more comfortable in the office, Wyatt certainly won't argue the point.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"And pillows," Ambrose agrees. He strips himself as he waist, shrugging off his jacket and pulling off his shirt, folding both neatly and setting them on his desk. He takes off his shoes and sets them aside with his socks.

The office is his space. More than any other room, this is his.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Wyatt returns within moments to deposit his findings (now including a fluffy duvet to lie on) on the floor. Maybe body heat is the best way to go, but there's nothing wrong with a bit of added help. His shoes are belatedly left by the door along with his socks, and then... Then he looks at Ambrose, liking very much what he sees.

They've come a long way from those first, awkward days.

"Let's get you warmed up, Sweetheart."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose pauses in getting his pants undone, looking up at Wyatt with a wide, blinking gaze. "Mm?" He wriggles out of his pants, spreading out the fluffy duvet to lie down on, curling the edge up and around him as he shivers. "Sounds good."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Okay, then. That's unexpected, and it's sending him mixed signals, but he unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants as well before padding over to the makeshift bed and sitting down. He picks out one of the pillows, with a softly spoken, "Lift your head for me."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose lifts his head and tugs Wyatt closer, to get them skin to skin and then drag the other side of the duvet up to cradle them both, wanting the other blanket on top of them.