The Tables Have Turned

Addock had been halfway to there when he had stopped dead in his tracks. He held the folder in his arms, the one that contained all the evidence he ever needed to ruin Stephen's career as a lawyer. He had thought it would be satisfying, but as he was walking he knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't satisfying enough.

Too many times had Stephen humiliated him in court, too many times had he turned the court against him with false claims about his religion or by claiming he had a racial bias or by mocking his blindness. Addock had been completely and utterly made fun of too many times for ruining Stephen's life to be enough.

There was something much better that he could do to get back at Stephen, he realized. A way for Stephen to fix everything he'd done wrong. That was when he'd turned around and headed instead to Stephen's firm.

"I'd like to speak to Stephen LeBlanc," Addock told the secretary when he entered the building. "Tell him it's urgent."

She looked up at him with a bored face, apparently irritated at being distracted from the important task of painting her nails sea foam green. Her grey shirt blended in with the minimalist decor of the waiting room; everything was black and white, with sleek, modern angles.

"And who exactly is requesting an audience with Mr. LeBlanc?" she asked, reluctantly reaching for the phone.

Addock adjusted his tie with his free hand as he spoke. His suit was a deep purple, so dark it was nearly black. It complimented his rather dark skin.

"Tell him Joseph Addock wants to speak with him," he told her. "Remember, it's urgent."

Sighing deeply, she head the phone to her ear and pressed a button.

"Yes? Mr. LeBlanc? There's a Joseph Addock here to see you. I don't know, sir--I don't watch the news. I can't tell you if it's that Joseph Addock. Yes? Alright. Very well."

She hung up the phone and shot Addock a look of distaste, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"He says he'll see you," she said, nodding at the door.

"Thank you very much," he nodded in her general direction before he headed down the hallway. He ran his fingers over the plaques on the doors until he found the one that read "Stephen LeBlanc". He knocked on the door and waited, tapping his guide cane impatiently.

"Come on in," said a familiar voice, laughter dripping from its tone. "Door's unlocked--if you can figure out how to open it."

Addock opened the door and carefully entered, shutting it behind him. He felt for a nearby chair, but remained standing.

"Hello, Mr. LeBlanc," he greeted him warmly, but his smile might have betrayed his intentions.

Stephen beamed back, though he only realized after he had made the effort that it was wasted on Addock. His smile fading somewhat, he shuffled some of the papers on his desk to sound busy.

"Why, if it isn't my only blind friend! What brings you to my neck of the woods, Addock?" He laughed. "I'm just kidding--I already know. Take a seat, my man. You're holding onto one, in case you didn't realize." He slicked back his perfectly groomed hair and tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently.

Addock took a seat, resting his guide cane within easy reach. He held onto the folder of documents he held in his hand, looking in Stephen's direction.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked, a bit surprised. There was no way Stephen knew, right?

"There's nothing shameful about it," he insisted, still chuckling. "I'm sure you've struggled to save up every last cent--I don't blame you. I would do the same if I were in your position. But if you really want me to throw a case for you, you'll have to beg."

Addock pursed his lips. Oh, of course this is what Stephen would think he was here for. Even if it was "just a joke" as Stephen would so adamantly claim it to be, Addock found it somehow appropriate.

"Actually, I am here related to something like that," Addock informed him. "However, I won't be needing you to throw a case for me any time soon. Here, why don't you take a look at this?"

Addock placed the folder on Stephen's desk. "Don't worry, it's not in Braille."

"Awww. You printed out a file, just for me--I can only imagine how difficult it was." He continued to giggle intermittently as he flipped through the file; it was only a little while until he went dead silent, the laughter caught in his throat.

"...Perhaps you may have a case," he said, pressing his lips into a hard line and folding his hands. "Which case did you want to win?"

"Didn't I tell you? It's not about winning or losing cases anymore, Mr. LeBlanc," he said calmly, folding his hands in his lap. "This case file is enough to ruin your entire career as a lawyer. It could get you disbarred.

"Luckily for you, I'm feeling generous," he continued, smiling smugly. "I have a deal for you."

"And what deal is that, exactly?" he asked quietly. "If you want money, I have it. Never figured you for a greedy pig, but I can't imagine you make much. How much are you asking for?"

"Not money, either," he replied honestly. Addock smiled at Stephen. "Quit being a defense attorney. You've done enough bad as one. I don't want you to be a defense attorney any more. You can still be a lawyer. Just never, ever be a defense attorney ever again. In fact, if you still want to practice law..." he smiled wryly. "Why not be a prosecutor?"

Stephen's lip curled with disgust. "Me. Become a prosecutor. And what--become like you? I don't think so. You couldn't pay me well enough to sell out like that. You literally couldn't, with a fucking prosecutor's salary. Have you seen my home, Addock? Never mind, stupid question. Well, it's big, and it's luxurious, and it's more than you could ever dream to afford. You know how I got it? Keeping rich scum out of jail. I can't do that as a prosecutor."

He closed the folder, glaring at Addock.

"So I'm afraid my answer is that you should go fuck yourself."

Addock beamed at him.

"Well, I had hoped you would agree to my deal, but nothing I can do about it if you tell me no. For me, it's a win-win situation, you know. Either you undo some of the bad you've done by putting away some of the people you've let walk, or you never set foot in a court room as a lawyer ever again." Addock adjusted his tie. "Are you sure, Mr. LeBlanc? I'll give you one last chance to change your mind."

Stephen smiled fakely.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Addock--if I change my mind, I'll give you a call. Just like how if I wanted the shittiest attorney in town, I'd also give you a call. You can leave my office, now."

Addock shrugged as he stood up.

"Goodbye, Mr. LeBlanc," he took the folder and his cane and exited the office.

-x-

Stephen stood in Addock's office, tapping his feet in what looked like impatience but was, if he was honest with himself, actually nervousness.

"So...Stephen LeBlanc, the prosecutor. Are you happy? Are you completely joyous at the prospect? You smile as though you have my testicles on a plaque on the wall, you blind bastard." On the inside, Stephen felt as though that was exactly what had happened; he felt emasculated, shamed. He had never wanted to badly to punch a man in the face, and Stephen was not the most friendly person on Earth.

"I am indeed overjoyed, Mr. LeBlanc. Actually," he smiled even wider. "Do you mind of I call you Stephen? Now that we're working together, it only seems appropriate."

Addock leaned back in his chair. "I asked specifically if I could help you acclimate to life as a prosecutor and the higher ups didn't have a problem with it, so if you have any questions you can talk to me or my assistant."

"The only people who call me Stephen have seen me naked or are paying me for the privilege," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "I would sooner claw out my own eyeballs with glass than ask you for help, so you know. Not that you'd understand, being blind and all. If I have to do this shitty job, I will learn to do it myself."

"Oh come on, Stephen, let's forget about the past and act civil, hm?" he smiled at that. "Oh, and your office is next to mine if you haven't checked it out yet. Florence has said he can help you get organized, he's the redhead with the freckles and the glasses. He's usually converting court transcripts to Braille for me. He can help you with paperwork, too."

"So, Stephen, have you had a tour of the office yet? I can show you around if you'd like."

"Where's my assistant?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Does my office have a view? Do you even understand what a view is? How the hell are you even going to show me around if you can't see, asshole?" He laughed, but it was more bitter than mean.

"You don't get a personal assistant, Stephen, unless you suddenly developed total blindness....?" he stood up and reached for his guide cane. "You're office has a wonderful view of the parking lot...I think, that's the way this building faces, anyway. Come on, I'll show you around. I know this office almost as well as my own house."

He pushed past Stephen and walked outside his office and down the hallway. He trailed his fingers across the plaques until he found the one he wanted. "Let me introduce you to Florence, okay?"