Chapter 3: The Brave-in-laws

Their passage was illuminated by torches which seemed suspended in mid-air. The flickering light cast strange shadows on the portraits lining the hallway, making them appear as if they were moving. Or maybe it wasn't an illusion at all...

"Halt! Who goes there!" called a familiar voice from one of the paintings.

"Hey V," said Taggert, with a wave. "How goes it with you and Simon?"

"Just swell, sir," she said.

Upon closer inspection, Harried saw that the painting was that of an ocean scene, with V expertly trimming the sail of a schooner. As Harried watched, open-mouthed, he saw Simon emerge from below deck and give Taggert a hearty salute.

"Ah, Lieutenant! Good to see you again!" he said.

"So where are you guys today?" Taggert asked.

"Oh, I don't know," said Simon, cheerfully, "somewhere near Fiji, wouldn't you say, love?"

"I think so, judging by the stars," said V, looking upwards.

"Oh, and they are lovely tonight, aren't they?" mused Simon. "Pity you can't join us, though, Taggert. So what's the password?"

"Cop shop," said Taggert, and the portrait swung open, revealing a passageway behind it. He passed through, but before Harried could follow, the painting slammed shut again.

"Er...cop shop?" offered Harried.

"As if you'd even know what one looked like," said V, standing with her hands on her hips, looking very defiant.

"But...but...I got you outta the PCPD..."

"...and then wrote me off the show!" she said, and then turned to Simon. "Darling, I'd like a word with Mr. Plotter alone, please."

"Oh dash it!" exclaimed Simon, looking disappointed. "You know how I love to see you get all worked up. Nevertheless, your wish is my command, my goddess."

"You know there were extenuating circumstances in your departure," Plotter said, as Simon disappeared below deck. "It wasn't all my doing."

"Sure, I know that," V replied, "but the trouble with my storyline, or lack thereof, started way before then. Why was it so difficult to write for me?"

"Well, for one thing, you're pretty ordinary," blurted Harried.

"With all due respect, sir, so are you."

"What I mean is, you're not a Titan like Jax, Brenda, Luke, Sonny, Jason, Carly, folks like that. You don't have big problems, lots of money, or a glamorous job," Harried explained. "Viewers tune into soaps to escape their own lives. They don't want to watch themselves on TV..."

"That's where I think you're wrong," she replied. "True, the Titans and the malcontents can be exciting, but even they can become monotonous if they're on day after day. It's folks like me who make the Titans more...well...Titanic, if you know what I mean. You have to have some yin to go with the yang, some ebb to go with the flow, some...some..."

"Kippers to go with the bangers?" came a suggestion from below deck.

"Thanks dear," V called to Simon, and then in sotto voce to Harried: "Of course, I'd never use English cuisine as an example of any ideal, but you get the idea."

Harried nodded, smiling.

"My point is," she said, "without characters like me providing a frame of reference, some viewers might feel...well...detached from it all." The schooner tipped to one side, and she paused, releasing pressure on the ratchet that held the jib line, righting the boat. "Sure," she continued, "big, stormy moments, angst upon angst, and huge revelations are exciting once in a while, but it's balance that'll keep things afloat for the long-term." She smiled at last, and the painting swung open. "I've probably bent your ear long enough. One great thing about being confined here is that I can create my own captive audience once in a while..."

"You may have your own captive audience any time you desire, my dear," came Simon's voice from below deck.

V smiled at the origin of the extraneous comments. "And that's another great thing about being here," she added. "I don't know if you're the one to thank for the manner of my exit, but I did enjoy those last couple of weeks, having that whirlwind romance with Simon."

"Let me get this straight," said Plotter, with a grin. "If it's bad, it's my fault, but if it's good, it may or may not be my doing?"

V's throaty laughter animated the quiet night air. "You've got it, sir!" she said.

Harried waved good-bye as he ducked into the opening behind the painting. "You always were the honest one, V," he called over his shoulder. "And maybe that's why I figured you'd never fit in..."

The painting swung shut behind him, leaving him with only one path. Looking ahead, he could see light from common room of the Brave-in-law house framed in the arch of the entryway.

Taggert met him at the door. "Hey, Plotter!" he said, indicating the room with a sweeping gesture, "welcome to Brave-in-law!"

Harried was going to say "Thanks", but the word got stuck in his throat as he realized that the Brave-in-law common room looked an awful lot like a courtroom. Mac and Dara stood on one side of the judge's bench in the position usually occupied by the prosecuting attorneys. Rick Johnson and Garcia were in the jury box, nudging each other and snickering (no doubt at the image of Harried Plotter wearing that mangy pair of sorting shorts). As of yet, there was no judge on the bench.

"All rise!" said Taggert. "Court is now in session, with the Honorable Justus Ward presiding."

In a puff of gray smoke, Justus appeared at the bench, wearing a black robe and carrying a very large gavel. He regarded Harried through narrowed eyes, tapping the gavel in the palm of his free hand in a slow, rhythmic motion. He banged the gavel down on the desk suddenly, and everyone gave a little jump. "You may be seated," he said to the others in the courtroom, and then to Harried: "Will the defendant please approach the bench?"

"Is...is this some kind of trial?" Plotter asked, more than a little nervous now.

"Did I ask you to speak?" Justus responded.

"No."

"Then do as I said, and approach the bench," he said, waving him forward. "C'mon now, it's best not to upset your judge."

Too late for that, thought Harried, as he stepped forward. Justus then took out a long scroll and began to read:

"Mr. Harried Plotter, you have been charged with..." he paused, scanning what appeared to be pages and pages of text, "...geez...all kinds of stuff. How do you plead?"

"How do I plead?" Harried said. "I haven't even been arrested or formally charged yet! What kind of a justice system is this?"

"The kind that you apparently think it is," replied Mac, with a grin. "We're all corrupt, remember?"

"And inept, too," Dara added.

"Yeah! We don't need no stinkin' evidence!" said Taggert.

"Et tu, Marcus?" said Harried, "You're gettin' a family now, you know..."

"ORDER!" yelled Justus, who banged the gavel for good measure, making everyone jump again.

"Don't I even get an attorney?" Plotter asked.

"In the event that you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you," recited Taggert.

"What makes you think I can't afford an attorney?"

"You got any money stashed in those shorts?" asked Mac, causing a new round of snickers to erupt from the jury box.

"Er...no."

"Okay then," said Justus, "let's get you a lawyer." He turned his head to the side, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Harried hoped that it would be Alexis, as she had yet to lose a case, but instead, the ghost of Pierce Dorman came in through the wall, carrying a large briefcase.

"Hello ladies and germs," he said with a wave and a smirk. "I just flew in from the morgue, and I'm feelin' dead tired." He laughed heartily at his own joke.

"But...you're not a lawyer!" protested Plotter. "And you're dead!"

Pierce swung his briefcase onto the defendant's desk and flipped open the locks. "Let's address part one first, shall we?" he said, pulling out a ream of papers. He spent what seemed like a great deal of time shuffling through them before he announced: "Aw, screw it. Of course I'm not a lawyer. But you got Alexis tied up in her teddy on the front-burner and I think I'm the only person--living or dead--in this castle who doesn't hold some kind of grudge against you."

"That's right," Plotter agreed. "I'm not the one who killed you off."

"You are correct, sir!" Dorman said, summoning up his worst Ed McMahon. "And as for the second part: Sure I'm dead. So what?" He pointed at the prosecution table. "Hell, the way you write those bozos any ol' corpse could outdo 'em in a court of law. Ain't that right, sweetheart?" he said, winking at Dara.

Dara gave him a look that would've probably killed him had he not already been dead, and Justus banged the gavel again. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Justus yelled. "Let's get this show on the road." He turned to face Dara. "Prosecution, call your first witness!"

"I'd like to call Mac Scorpio to the stand," Dara said. As Mac approached the witness box, Dorman made a rude noise and Plotter groaned, certain Dorman's behavior wasn't winning him any points with the judge.

After Mac was sworn in, Dara asked: "How long have you known the defendant?"

"About three and a half years."

"And during that time, what has he done for you?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I've been backburnered the majority of the time, and when I am onscreen, it's usually as a patsy for the mobsters or Luke Spencer."

"Tell me about it," replied Dara. "I've been on the show for years now, and still, no one knows where I live. And will I ever win a case?"

"You think you've got it rough," added Justus. "Both of my apartments have been taken over by other people, and as for me, I don't know if I've ever actually checked out of General Hospital since I was shot...TWO YEARS AGO!"

"Are the three of them allowed to just chat like this?" Harried asked Dorman. "Shouldn't you be objecting?"

"I dunno," said Pierce. "I told you I'm not a lawyer, and besides, their gripes sound pretty legitimate to me..."

"Well, if you're not gonna do it, I will.... OBJECTION!" yelled Harried.

"What's your problem?" asked Justus, clearly irritated at the interruption.

"This whole thing isn't fair!" Plotter cried. "How the heck can I get a decent trial--for whatever the heck I've done--with you as my judge and this...this...non-entity non-lawyer as my legal counsel?"

"I'll give you some counsel, buddy," said Pierce. "Lose the shorts. You look like an idiot."

"GUILTY AS CHARGED!" hollered Detective Garcia and Officer Johnson from the jury box.

"And whatever happened to a jury of my peers?" Plotter cried, pointing at Garcia and Johnson, who were now doubled over in laughter. "There's no way I could win this thing. It's not fair!"

"Exactly," said Dara. "You can't win. That's the whole point."

"Now you have some idea how we feel," added Mac, "never being allowed to win one against the mob, always having to step aside to allow guys like Sonny, Jason or Luke play the hero. Would it have killed you to let us solve a case once in a while?"

"This isn't all my fault, you know," protested Plotter. "The audience loves those guys. They want to see them as the heroes..."

"All the time?" asked Taggert.

"Sure," said Harried. "If they liked it yesterday, they'll like it today and tomorrow and...oh my god!" he exclaimed suddenly, putting his head in his hands. "I'm sounding just like the Disneys!"

"That's okay, it'll pass eventually," said Taggert, patting him on the shoulder. "If you want, I'm sure AJ'll let you have his spot in detox after he's done..."

Harried suddenly felt very tired. "I think I just want to go to bed," he said.

On to Chapter 4

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