Topic: The Latest Arrival

Desmond Granger

Date: 2012-12-15 01:54 EST
Woodlawn Cemetery, New York One Month Ago...

The first snow of the season fell lightly, like tiny specs of white confetti that melted as soon as they touched the ground. The young man's breath condensed in the cold air, turning to vapor, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold, but he didn't seem to notice or care. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his wool overcoat, his back hunched against the chill, collar turned up. It wasn't even December yet, and it was already snowing, a biting wind cutting like tiny daggers at his face. His expression was stoic, as still as the stone angels that stood in silent vigil over the graves in the cemetery, where his mother hand been buried.

"Des," a woman's voice broke the heavy silence " a voice he knew well. "She's in a better place now," the woman told him gently. "She's at peace."

Her hand touched his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort, and he tensed at the touch, as well meaning as it was. He'd heard it all before. It was all he'd been hearing for days, and while part of him wanted to believe it, he couldn't get past the fact that he was never going to see her again. "She didn't deserve this," he said, unable to hide the grief and anger from his voice.

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people. That's just the way life is," she continued, pulling her hand away with a soft sigh. She knew as much about loss as he did, though his grief was fresh and hers was old.

"You're telling me?" he asked, turning his face toward hers, blue eyes that were strikingly like his father's flashing with anger " a father who'd never showed him any kindness and had only provided for him out of a sense of obligation that had been forced on him by those who had deemed he had a responsibility to bear.

"I'm telling you as someone who cares about you, Desmond," she continued. "You may not have any family left here, but there's a whole flock of us waiting to meet you on the other side of the portal."

Talk of a door to another world came as no big surprise to him. He'd known about the Nexus portals most of his adult life, but he'd never had any reason to use one, until now.

"A flock," he echoed, eying her doubtfully. "And what makes you think they want anything to do with me" You know what they're going to think. They're going to think I'm only interested in their money."

"Then you prove them wrong," she continued, with a warm smile. She knew her family would welcome him with open arms, if only he'd let them. At least, most of them would, and those who wouldn't didn't matter. "Besides, there's only one Granger you really need to impress, and that's Humphrey. Once you have the Old Man's approval, you're in."

"I can't go right now, Miranda," he said, looking back at the freshly-covered grave. "I have to wait for the Will, and I've got a case pending in court." There were a million other reasons, but he didn't want to go into them right now.

"Des, for God's sake! Your mother just died. Take some time off. Let someone else handle the case. You're not the only prosecuting attorney in New York who can handle it, you know."

"Thanks for the reminder," he remarked, sarcastically. "I'm not gonna become D.A. by taking a vacation every time my personal life falls apart."

"Got your sights set on the mark and won't budge, eh' Well, do an old friend a favor. Come home with me for Christmas. The courts close for a few days. It'll do you good to get away."

He frowned uncertainly at her suggestion. "I don't know. I thought maybe I'd drown my sorrows in a bottle of booze and a pretty girl for a few days."

"Desmond," Miranda started, taking a tone of voice that painfully reminded him of the mother he'd just buried. "You know that's not healthy." She stepped closer, planting herself in front of him and turning his face toward hers and away from the grave, as if she was turning him away from the dead to face the living. "Your father was a bastard, but that's no reason why you shouldn't know the rest of your family."

"I'm the one who's the bastard, Miranda," he said, reminding her bluntly and honestly of his illegitimacy. "I promised her I'd stay away from Rhy"Din," he continued with a frown, torn between the promise he'd made to his mother and the desire to meet the family he'd never known. It was only a quirk of fate that he'd managed to run into Miranda, who happened to be a successful fashion designer in New York and one of the few women in his circle who he hadn't slept with, mostly because she was family.

"I know what you promised her, Des," Miranda continued, as gently as she could, "but you've got a half brother and sister you've never met, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and a bevy of cousins. You shouldn't be alone for the holidays, especially not now."

"You talk like someone who knows," Desmond remarked, eying her sharply. He'd known her long enough to know she carried her own cross, hidden deep inside that carefully groomed exterior.

She smiled, an easy-going smile, despite the implication that she was no happier being alone than he was. She'd taken a liking to him right off. What wasn't to like" He'd somehow managed to get the best of his family's genes in both appearance and intelligence. His mother had once been a ballet dancer with the New York City Ballet, and though his father had been a bastard, he'd been a good-looking man just the same, who'd had a sharp mind for business before he'd succumbed to the ravages of alcohol abuse.

"Maybe I do," she replied coyly. "You know the old saying" Nothing ventured, nothing gained. What have you got to lose?" She elbowed him playfully, hoping to lighten his mood just a little.

"Besides my pride?" he countered. "Not a damned thing." He glanced back at the grave of the one person who'd meant the world to him. She was gone now, and there was no bringing her back. Life went on, even if there were times when you wished it didn't. "All right," he relented finally. "But I need a few weeks to tie some things up."

"Perfect," she said, as she went up on her tiptoes to plant an affectionate kiss against his cheek, before linking her arm with his to draw him away from the cemetery and the source of his sadness. "We'll discuss the details over breakfast."

"Now?" he asked, blue eyes slanting a glance down at her from his height of just over six feet, the scruff of a beard covering a chiseled jaw, sandy brown hair stirring in the cold breeze.

"No time like the present," she replied with an effervescent smile, tugging on his arm to pull him away from the grave. "Come on, handsome. You promised me a ride in that fancy car of yours, remember?"

"Christ, do you know how much that thing cost' It should be in a showroom, not on the road," Desmond remarked, rolling his eyes. He'd only had the Porsche a few months, a gift that he'd been promising himself for a long time. At the age of twenty-eight, he was the most brilliant lawyer in the D.A.'s office to serve the City of New York in years. He had a promising career ahead of him, or so he'd been told. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and he thought it was high time he reward himself for his efforts, but for some reason, he couldn't stop feeling guilty about it.

Miranda laughed at his feigned annoyance. "You're not hurting for money, so stop complaining," she teased, with a twinkle in her honey brown eyes as she led him away from the cemetery, back to where he'd parked his car.

"You can never have too much money, Miranda," he remarked with a slight frown, as he followed her toward the car. Money didn't buy happiness, but it sure as hell made life a little easier.

"It's love, Des," she corrected. "You can never have too much love."

"Yeah, well, that's a fine sentiment, but you can't live on love. Love doesn't pay the rent, put food in your mouth, or clothes on your back."

"Said like a true cynic," she remarked with a smile, her arm linked with his.

"Said like a realist," he countered, smiling back at her. "You're not going to argue with a lawyer, are you? You'll lose every time."

"Maybe, but I don't give up that easily. I'm going to make an optimist of you yet," she promised, as they reached the car. She turned to touch his cheek, smiling warmly and fondly. "You're not alone, Des. You've got me and a whole family of Grangers just waiting to meet you."

"Meeting isn't liking, Miranda," he pointed out uncertainly.

"Trust me. They're going to love you," she patted his cheek and smiled up at him before stepping back to get in the car.

He wasn't nearly as sure as she was, but it looked like he wasn't going to have any choice. If he wanted to untangle the mystery that was his father's family, there was only one way to do it, and that was to go to Rhy?Din and meet them in person. What happened when he got there would remain to be seen.

Desmond Granger

Date: 2012-12-23 02:01 EST
Manhattan D.A.'s Office Two weeks ago...

"God damn it, Sarah!" Desmond hollered, slamming a fist on his polished mahogany desk. "That isn't evidence! It's crap! How do you expect me to put this guy behind bars when all you can give me is rumors and hearsay' That sh*t will never hold up in court. I need proof positive. I need enough evidence to convince a jury, without a doubt, of his guilt." He paused and leaned back in his chair as the voice on the other end of the phone continued, idly rubbing his right temple, where a dull ache was just starting to make itself known. "Well, go over it again," he continued into the phone. "With a fine-toothed comb, if you have to. This a$$hole is as guilty as sin. We just have to prove it." He paused again. "Yes, I know who he is, and I also know he's hiding something, so dig deeper. Talk to everyone he knows. Hell, I'll subpoena his barber if I have to. Someone knows something. You just have to find the right person and ask the right questions."

There was a knock at the door to his office, and he raised his head to find a pretty brunette standing there temptingly dangling a take-out bag from Manhattan Bagel, along with a cup of coffee that smelled like heaven. Desmond lifted a finger to indicate that he needed a minute, and she sighed impatiently.

"If we can't tighten this case up, there isn't going to be any break for Christmas," he continued, pausing again to listen to the reply on the other end. "No, I'm not kidding. There are more important things than roasting chestnuts and sipping eggnog. I'm not an Ebenezer Scrooge!" He frowned as the ethereal voice on the other end continued to audibly protest. "I'm not a Grinch either. Just get me a credible witness and some real evidence, or this guy walks and we have to start all over again. Yeah, all right. I'll talk to you later."

He hit the little red button on his phone to end the call and tossed it on his desk, scowling as he looked up to greet the woman who was waiting patiently in the doorway. "You here to bring me Christmas cheer?" he asked, sardonically.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Miranda quipped with a warm, friendly smile as she stepped into his office uninvited. She handed over the bagel and coffee before dropping into the chair across the desk from him.

"My name isn't Jack," he pointed out, peering into the bag to find an everything bagel slathered in more cream cheese than was healthy. "Is this a bribe?" he asked, arching a brow at her as he set the bag down. It was his favorite, and she knew it. She wanted something, and he had a pretty good idea what it was.

She flashed a mischievous smile his way and shrugged her shoulders, feigning innocence. "There's another name for it, Des. Breakfast."

Desmond frowned, knowing she hadn't come to his office just to bring him coffee and a bagel. That was what interns were for. He leaned back in his chair again, steepling his fingers against his chest thoughtfully. "Let me guess. You're here to pester me about Christmas again. Meet the Grangers. They're your family. They're going to love you. Blah, blah, blah," he mimicked.

"Guilty as charged. You're good. I'll give you that." She glanced at his cell phone with a worried frown. "Trouble in paradise?"

He sighed, mirroring her frown. "Trouble in the D.A.'s office is more like it. It's this case." He tossed a folder nearly as thick as War and Peace aside and reached for the cup of coffee, giving in at last. He might think he was the Energizer Bunny, but even the Energizer Bunny needed recharging now and then. "You know I can't talk about it," he reminded her, changing the subject. "How'd you get in here anyway' I told Shana I wasn't taking any visitors, in person or otherwise."

Miranda flashed that notoriously sweet, dimpled grin at him again, the familiar gleam of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, you know. A designer lipstick or two will get you almost anywhere. Even into the very much cloistered and private office of Manhattan's most up and coming prosecutor." The smile quickly faded as she turned serious and leaned forward to meet his gaze and make her point. "I'm worried about you, Des. You've been working yourself too hard since Amelia died. Even Superman takes a day off from crime fighting now and then."

"Yeah, well, Superman didn't work in the D.A.'s office. He didn't have to worry about doing things the right way. He just cut through the crap and took care of business. No red tape. No judge or jury. Sometimes I wish it was that easy."

"I'm not so sure it was. I mean, he did have to wear tights."

"That's not funny, Miran," Desmond scolded, narrowing his eyes before taking a sip of his coffee. Hot, strong, and black, just the way he liked it.

"Come on. It's a little bit funny. When was the last time you laughed?" she asked, curiously.

Desmond took another sip of his coffee as he thought about that a minute. He really couldn't remember. He couldn't remember when the last time was that he had even had fun. The office's holiday party was coming up soon. God forbid they used the word Christmas anymore. It wasn't politically correct. He was getting tired of all the political bullsh*t he had to wade through every day just to see to a little justice done. "I don't know," he admitted with a thoughtful frown.

She smiled warmly, an almost pleading tone to her voice. "Come with me, just for a few days. Meet the family, relax, have a little fun. It's Christmas, Des. No one should be alone on Christmas."

"There are plenty of people alone on Christmas, Miranda. The world doesn't stop turning just because of a holiday," he pointed out, as he tapped a finger thoughtfully against the side of his coffee cup. "If I go with you, will you stop pestering me about it?"

Miranda's perfectly-painted pink pouting lips curled into a smile, knowing he was close to giving in. She'd known convincing him wasn't going to be easy, but if anything, she was persistent. He might be a lawyer, but she wasn't giving up that easily. "I make no promises, but I won't pester you into meeting the family anymore."

"Fair enough," he replied. "If it's the only way to get rid of you, then I guess I have no other choice." He sipped at his coffee to hide the tiniest of smirks that was forming. He had to admit she had piqued his curiosity, and now that his mother was gone, he had no reason not to meet the family whose blood flowed in his veins, even if he didn't feel he was truly one of them.

"It's decided then," Miranda declared, with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Pack your bags. We leave for Rhy"Din the twenty-first."

"Miranda, I'm in the middle of a case. I can't just leave."

"Yes, you can. People do it all the time. It's called taking time off. Court's closed on Christmas Eve. I already checked, so no excuses." She rose to her feet, smiling sweetly back at him, as he scowled up at her. "I'm picking you up at your place Friday night, promptly at eight, so be ready." She came around to his side of the desk and leaned over to give him a kiss, laughing as her fingers wiped the telltale lipstick from his cheek. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a special affection for Desmond, as if he was a lost sheep she was trying to bring back into the flock, but then she'd always had a soft spot for strays.

"Be there or be square," she warned him with a playful wink, as she started toward the door, satisfied she had what she'd come for.

"Don't worry. I'll be there. It's the only way I'm going to get you off my back," he complained, a little annoyed with her persistent badgering. Maybe once he'd met the family, she'd let him get on with his life.

"See you then, if not sooner!" she called, wiggling her fingers back at him, as she sailed out the door, stopping to chat with his secretary about a new line of cosmetics she was getting ready to launch.

Desmond listened while the two of them chatted amicably away about the silliest of things, his thoughts drifting to another time, another place, a family he'd never met and knew very little about. In a few weeks, all of that was about to change, for better or worse. Christmas or not, Desmond just wanted to get it over with and get back to work. Work was all he really had left, or so he thought. Perhaps Rhy"Din would prove him wrong.