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thong-in-the-twist · 7 years

Text

Hostium munera, munera est

Words count: 8,587

Summary: A gift from the enemies is a gift nonetheless.

A.K.A I wanted to write something for Gong Yoo once again, and you were already graced with Gong Yoo in suits, so I wanted to have Gong Yoo in uniform. But at the same time I really wanted Prosecutor!Gong Yoo, so I asked myself: why not both?

It was based on The Good Wife's s02e02 episode: Double Jeopardy. I seriously love this series, and I have to say that episode is my favourite.

There is a lot of Latin quotes.

“Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day.”

You’ve never thought that you’d be called “ma’am” daily before reaching thirty, but there you are, and you are not complaining.

You smile to the security guard, taking your briefcase from his hand. Your fingers brush, and your smile grows a notch bigger. It’s not exactly forced, but you know that it’s not exactly real either. Just a little gesture to the guard, who is not bad to look at.

Making his day, makes your day a little better. And makes your ego swell.

So you take your Aznom Carbon Fiber Briefcase (bought with your first bonus, and treasured like a firstborn ever since), throw perfectly styled hair over your shoulder, knowing that it would spread your perfume (personal favorite, not that luxurious, Hugo Boss Orange Sunset, refreshing, but fierce), you glance the guard in the eyes, one last time, and you are off, heels clicking on the marble.

Your pencil skirt is sliding against nylon pleasantly, and it gives you a certain rush of adrenaline, thought of power, to name it.

There is a chatter in the halls, but more quiet than the chatter outside. In the end, this place deserves respect.

You need to stop yourself from dancing around the group of people barging your way, even if you want to. You feel light, but you don’t want to show it to people around.

You stop for a second under black boards, to check what is awaiting you today, and then you go to find your doors.

Not really find, of course, you know the way by heart. You reach the monumental, double winged doors, ones that should creak loudly and ominously when opened, but in government run building that shouldn’t happen. That can’t happen, and so the janitors in the building have a storage filled with WD-40.

The handle is cold and doors are perfectly silent, when you open them. There is a few people inside, and you walk past them, giving off confident vibe, but you don’t want to be overbearing. You walk past the benches, and you reach your table. You sit down, on the first chair, you take out your files and Montegrappa fountain pen (a present from a happy, happy client) and set them on the table. Then you put your briefcase under the table, next to front leg of the table, to make sure it has support.

And then, you are ready, but you have to busy yourself with something. Appearances. You open the first file, and you start reading it or at least it looks like that. In the reality, you make a conscious effort to slide your eyes over letters, one line after another.

You know you look elegant, intelligent, and very much engrossed. But your job is to be present, awake, and very much aware of your surroundings. And you are good at your job.

Doors open and you focus on the sounds coming from the corridor between benches, wanting to discern who is coming, without actually turning around. You can hear two different clicking sounds: one is hurried, frequency higher than the latter. The latter is sure in his steps, and heavier, clicking sounds deeper.

There is woman wearing high heels strutting behind man in elegant shoes, who thinks he owns the place.

You smile under your nose – your adversary came, with his second chair, and judging from woman’s hurried strut they know they will lose.

So you stand up, making sure not to drag your chair across the floor – you wouldn’t want the horrible sound to disrupt the scene you were reading yourself for. You straighten your skirt, and when you hear that steps falter, you turn around with pleasant smile to greet prosecutor.

Except you don’t see Mr. Lee. Nor you see his second chair, Mrs. Go.

And man shoes weren’t elegant – they were military shoes.

You are faced with tall, broad shouldered man, wearing military uniform. There are two rhombuses adoring his collar, and something in the back of your mind tells you that he is Lieutenant. Woman with him looks nearly apologetic as she looks at you from behind this man.

You look up at the handsome, but somehow disfigured face.

“Ma’am, I am Lieutenant Gong-Ji-Cheol.”He says, his voice is steady and deep as he stresses syllables in his name, as a military officer is taught to do.” I came to inform you that your client was arrested, and charged with first degree murder.”

Which is ridiculous.

Your client, was indeed arrested and charged with first degree murder – but it happened some five months ago! You spend last months fighting for his freedom – maybe you didn’t get to release him on bond, but you killed in pretrial motions, and you managed to knock out half of the evidence prosecution gathered against your client, not even allowing jury to hear it. The other half you destroyed during the trial, and you knew that you won. You were as sure as one can be faced with jury of their peers. And they can be as unforeseeable as weather and as capricious as 4 years old.

But nevertheless prosecutor felt that he was losing his ground, he even presented you with a plea of 8 years and second degree. You declined the offer (after conferring with your client and telling him that it’s his choice, but you are sure that you are going to win it) and today was supposed to be your big day!

And yet instead of anger of prosecutor and heartfelt tears of defendant, you see… This.

You school yourself, in the end it’s not your first rodeo, and unexpected things do happen. A lot. And the last thing you want to show is confusion.

“Sir, I am well aware of this fact, I have been defending Mr. Kwon for the last five months against this exact charge.” You say, as your mind starts to connect the dots, and you start to grow restless. Your client is not there, prosecutor is not there, judge is not there, but man wearing military uniform is standing in front of your repeating the charges of your client.

Fucking hell, it’s a court-martial.

There is only one court that could take precedence over district’s criminal court, and that is indeed military court.

You can feel blood drowning from your limbs, as you grow cold. It’s not that you are the one that is going to suffer, but your sure win in criminal court was just blown away, by the mere thought of court-martial. You nearly won your case by knocking out, one by one, pieces of evidence that prosecutor gathered against your client. You knew that, and Mr. Lee knew that, so he decided to forsake his own trial and he sold this case to court-martial. Because in the military trial getting evidence out of the question is not going to be easy.

“Yes, Ma’am, but at the time of the murder your client was a mobilized reservist on Title 10 orders. And as such, the crime falls concurrently under military jurisdiction.”

“That is a joke.” You say with a precisely controlled dose of spite in your words. Man in uniform furrows his eyebrows.

“Ma’am, as a commissioned officer in ROK Army Judge Advocate General’s Corps, I do not joke.”

That could sound playful or pleasant, like a joke in the group of friends, if it wasn’t spoken with such deliberation.

There is nothing you can say to him, so you keep quiet, gathering your thoughts. After a second of hesitation lieutenant speaks up.

“Staff Sergeant Kwon was appointed court lawyer, but he wishes to retain his civil counsel. He has right to do so, so I came to inform you that court comes in session at sixteen hundred hours.” You look up at him, and you try not to scramble, as your mind tries to count what time it will be in civil time. You miss the moment Lieutentant’s face changes a little, but when he starts speaking again, and you look up at him he looks less formal and more confidential and apologetic.”District court does not have capital punishment, but military does. And we don’t refrain from using it. We offer you eight years. And it would be wise to take it.”

You stare at him, straining your neck to be able to look him in the face, as he is way taller than you are.

You don’t laugh, but you very much want to. He offered you the same exact bargain prosecutor did. It is a blatant answer to the question whether Mr. Lee sold his case.

You look away and gather your things. You bow to retrieve your Aznom briefcase, and you stuff all your belongings inside, taking care not to look hurried. If you counted correctly, you have less than five hours to prepare for military court.

“Thank you for this generous offer.” You finally say, handle of your briefcase fitting comfortably in your hand. “But we will have to decline.”

And you walk past him, heels clicking on the marble.

“Ma’am, you are obliged by law to present the offer to your client!”

You don’t turn back as you walk out of the courtroom.

“You told me that we won it!”

You don’t sigh. You wish you could do so, but that never brings anything good. It doesn’t look professional, it doesn’t resolve any of your problems, and it could aggravate your client even more than he already is.

He doesn’t need your answer. He goes on with his ramble, so you look around the room you are in. There is a flag on the wall, with coat of arms under it, and military coat of arms next to it. Your client is pacing under the window, and his court-appointed counsel is sitting stiffly at the sturdy, oval table. The one you are also seated at. It could be any conference room back in at the district court if it wasn’t for a guard wearing uniform with bulletproof vest and the fact that both Staff Sergeant Kwon and Lieutenant Shin wore formal uniforms. You are the only one wearing civil clothes and it doesn’t put you at ease.

“I did. Because in district court we did. It’s military court.” You answer the earlier accusation, and you see how Lieutenant Shin glances at you. When he introduced himself to you he looked steady and trust inducing. A man you know that you could get along with. “I am not sure whether I will be able to do the same here.”

“You have to! You have to! I won’t take the plea, I didn’t kill her!”

You nod.

“Of course you didn’t.” You answer simply and stand up. Lieutenant seems to be surprised, but he follows your suit. “We will see each other in the courtroom. Keep strong.”

After that you leave the room, and other counsel follows you out. As soon as the doors close behind you, you lean against the wall, looking at the ceiling. You finally allow yourself to sigh.

“Ma’am.” Prompts your colleague, quite shyly. You grunt something in answer, aware that you don’t have to protect your reputation here. You can already feel migraine coming, and you have yet to start your trial. You’ve heard horror stories about military court, and strangely you have yet to met somebody that actually took part in the proceedings to debunk or confirm the stories. “Do you believe that staff sergeant is innocent?”

You look at the lanky man, surprised. It’s such a naïve question.

“Does it matter, lieutenant?” You ask, lifting one of your legs to rotate your ankle.

“You seemed to strongly believe him.” It’s not a precise answer, but you’ve heard this line of thoughts many times before, especially back at the university.

“I’ll ask again, does it matter whether I believe him or not? I am his lawyer, I defend him, and I reassure him. And that is precisely what I did.” You are standing there, in the dimmed corridor, refusing to divulge into ‘right and wrong’ dispute, when you should be preparing for your the defense. Good thing that you had good enough practice during those last five months.

Lieutenant doesn’t answer, but you are quite sure that you didn’t hear the last from him. And just as you hear him inhale, pair wearing formal uniforms clears the corner.

You straighten yourself, recognizing Lieutenant Gong, but it’s your first time seeing woman next to him. But it’s easy enough to gather that she is his co-counsel.

“That’s Lieutenant Gong and Captain Seo, for the prosecution.” Says Shin, and you nod, not allowing yourself to look annoyed at his accolade. He is doing his job, and it’s better to be informed about the thing you already know, than not be informed about the things other party believes you know.

The pair reaches you, and you expect them to pass you, but captain stops to salute, and Lieutenant Shin immediately answers. She ignores you, and keeps going, but Lieutenant Gong, after exchanging greetings with Lieutenant Shin, turns to you.

“Ma’am.” He says as a greeting, nodding politely. You smile and nod in answer. Captain stops abruptly in her tracks, and looks back at her co-counsel expectantly, but he ignores her. So you answer his greeting.

“Lieutenant.”

“I am pleased to see that you’ve found military court without problems.” Is it a way to put you down? It’s hard to decipher, because man seems to be having a very good poker face.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” You say simply, and that seems to do the work, because man looks surprised. He opens his mouth to say something, and decides against it, once more bowing politely and turns to join his co-counsel that stares at you with her eyes squinted.

“Oh, Lieutenant!” You say, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough not to be calling after him. Both of them stop, and turn around to look at you. You can see Lieutenant Shin doing the same. ”I am pleased to convey that my client declined your offer, and we will be facing each other in court.”

His face doesn’t fall nor he changes his stance. He doesn’t even react, just turning around and walking away, forcing captain to trout to catch up with him.

Lieutenant Shin looks after them, before speaking up.

“That wasn’t smart.”

You shrug, choosing not to ask what exactly was “not-smart”.

“But it was fun.”

The courtroom is smaller and darker than the one you are used to. There is no gallery for on-lookers and everything looks more Spartan.

Definitely lesser stage for a person like you.

Lieutenant Shin shows you table away from the jury bench, and you look at him surprised, but when you see him sitting down you realize that this is indeed your table. You are used to being seated closer to jury, it’s obvious since you have to appeal to their conscience and remind them about presumption of innocence.

Ei incumbit probatio qui dicit, non qui negat.

The burden of proof is on the one who declares, not on one who denies.

Opposite counsels enter, and your client is lead into the room. When staff sergeant sits next to you, you move to reassure him once more.

“All rise!” The order is barked loudly and with a strong presumption that everyone will listen. You hear it every time judge enters the courtroom back in the district court, but the speed of all people around standing up at attention baffles you – but you are smart enough to follow their suit in the split of second.

The worst thing you can do is annoy the sitting judge.

The judge enters quickly, walking in a businesslike manner, but nobody dares to move, until she sits down and orders to sit.

You start to slide down to sit on your chair, feeling adrenaline in your veins, when judge’s stare stops you in your tracks. You straighten again, and it turns out you correctly guessed judge’s next order.

“Not you.” You shift on your heels, not wanting to look fidgety, but not being able to contain yourself. That was rude.

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“Are you familiar with Uniform Code of Military Justice?”

“Yes, Your Honor. And Lieutenant Shin will help me, if I ever find myself at loss.” You answer with a polite smile – just how you’ve learned to do.

Judge’s eye twitches, and you realize that you’ve made mistake. You don’t know what kind of mistake, but you’ve somehow annoyed the judge.

“Very well. Sit down.” She orders you coldly, and you obediently sit down, sending a surprised look to your co-counsel. He checks whether judge is looking and bends down to talk to you over your client.

“It’s better not to say more than you have to. It’s best to just answer yes or no.”

Oh, dear lord.

There are only 7 souls in the jury. Uniform Code of Military Justice says that there should be between 5 to 12 on the jury bench, unless the punishment for the committed crime is death – then there must be 12 in the jury.

Knowing that is one thing, but facing jury smaller than what you usually see, will be weird. But you are not going to lose your ground because of that.

Man is seated, you are standing in front of him, and even if the stage is smaller, you are still the best performer out there.

“And what do you mean by that, corporal?” You ask in your best courtroom voice, it’s clear and trust inducing, and soothing.

“My sister was a victim of domestic violence.” He answers you with a hint of annoyance in his voice. You can see in man’s eyes that he knows what you are going to say next, but he can’t stop you.

“Which means you cannot be objective faced with the case we have at hand.” You say slowly, wanting everyone around to understand your line of thought. That’s how you prepare your stage to say the next line. “Your Honor, I move to exclude juror number 7 from the proceedings, on the grounds that he may not be unbiased.”

Nobody moves, but judge eyes you carefully before turning to the jury member.

“Corporal, if I order you to be unbiased, will you be?” She asks, and you nearly sputter.

“Yes, ma’am!” He answers immediately, and you feel like you’ve been thrown into some kinky nightmare.

“Juror is seated. Pretrial motions in my office.” Gavel announces the break in the proceedings. You turn around to send astonished glance at Lieutenant Shin and he shrugs apologetically.

You are surprised, but nonetheless, you walk to your table to gather documents.

You lost this battle, but you are going to win the war.

Judge’s office looks exactly like the conference room your client was held in. So like if it was taken straight from military movie. Lieutenant Gong is standing at attendance next to you, looking taller and somehow bigger than you’ve remembered him.

You are standing straight, but you are not in the military and you gather that they could take offence if you tried to copy their ways. You are an outsider.

Judge is reading documents in the total silence, and you know better. You know better, but it’s not how it’s done in district court and you just slip, when you see her looking at the photos taken at the crime scene. There is your client with his clothes stained with his wife’s blood, among others.

“Photos are clearly prejudicial, Your Honor. “ Those are exact same words you said to Judge Ryo back in the district court. Those are the words that thrown this evidence out of the window.

“Denied.”

“Excuse me, what?” You sputter surprised. Judge’s eyes squint and she focuses on you. You can feel Lieutenant Gong inhaling deeply, but you don’t hear him exhale.

“Did the police take the photos?”

“Yes, but…”

“Is that your client on those photos?”

“Yes, Your Honor, but…”

“Then they come in. Jurors can differentiate between prejudicial and probative photos.”

You are once again lost for words.

“What’s more?” Judge asks, and this time Lieutenant Gong jumps to answer. You know that it’s not going to be good.

“Staff sergeant made a statement during the time of his first arrest, ma’am.” He says, and you feel yourself cooling down.

“Yes, but he was highly intoxicated at the time, law says that one cannot be held responsible for the words spoken at that time.”

“Not military law.”

“Excuse me, Your Honor?” You can feel lieutenant shifting next to you.

“This rule doesn’t apply in the military law, the statement is in.”

You can feel yourself losing ground – the things you did last time doesn’t work here, and you know that you are not ready for trial – you need a new strategy.

“In that case, I have to ask for the continuance, Your Honor.” You say, gathering your thoughts, to motivate your query.

“Denied. I have 7 active duty soldiers on that bench, I won’t allow you to waste their time any longer than it’s needed.” She says sternly, and shifts in her chair. She checks the hours and then continues. “I will allow a quick break for the meal, and we will resume our proceedings in… One hour, at eighteen hundred sharp.”

Six o’clock. She wants to start proceedings at six o’clock.

You are not sure how you leave the judge chamber, but you wake up from your stupor only, when you hear someone coughing next to you.

It’s Lieutenant Gong.

Of course it’s Lieutenant Gong.

“Yes?”

“Ma’am, would you like me to show you the way to the canteen?” He asks. “Lieutenant Shin is probably already there.”

Canteen. Does he really expect you to eat at the canteen?

“Thank you, lieutenant, that won’t be necessary.”

“And did the defendant make a statement at that time?” Lieutenant Gong’s voice reverberates nicely in the room, but you have to say that he is a little bit overbearing in this courtroom. A notch too high, a notch too broad in his shoulders, a notch too… Everything.

The testimony should be interesting, since you didn’t get to hear it during the first trial, since you managed to cross it out, but then again, it’s not easy to focus when it’s dark outside, and it’s after normal court hours.

“Yes, he did.”

Oh, good, a proper answer. You try not to yawn, but it’s hard not to, really.

“Detective, please read the highlighted part of that statement.” That might be a highlight of this testimony – not the words you are about to hear, but lieutenant walking to the witness to hand him a piece of paper. Until this moment he was standing at attendance at his seat, and that was quite boring.

But nothing about him moving in his uniform is boring.

“Detective: “she was cheating on you?” “She was sleeping with somebody, I know she was.” Detecite: “did you kill her?” “I– I don’t know.” “

Staff Sergeant jerks slightly next to you, and you put an arm on his shoulder to soothe him. It’s mechanic, but it seems to do the trick.

“Thank you.” Says lieutenant and you focus back on him. “One more thing. In the course of your investigation that night, did you search the suspect’s car?”

That alarms you, and immediately you jump to your feet.

“Objection, Your Honor.” You don’t even get to explain on what grounds, judge is speaking.

“Counsel approach.”

You glance quickly at Lieutenant Shin, but he offers no reassurance, so you approach the judge, once again standing side by side with much bigger Lieutenant Gong.

“Your Honor, “you start, putting all your strength to sound reasonable,” the police had no warrant to search the car.”

“They asked the defendant if they could search his property.” Counters Lieutenant immediately. You once heard prosecutor state the same exact thing. “He said yes. Is his car not his property?”

“It was parked two blocks away, Your Honor. It’s the reasonable man doctrine. Judge, he assumed they meant his home.” You believe in your words, civil judge believed in your words. So why you suspect that military one will not see the problem this way?

“Strictly construed, his car is his property.” You don’t even blink. “Overruled.”

You hold yourself straight as you go back to your seat, and lieutenant resumes his questioning. You don’t have to look at your client to feel his fear.

“Answer the question, detective.”

“We did search his car, and we found a backpack containing the defendant’s passport, a wig, and an envelope containing 2 million won in cash.”

Ei incumbit probatio non qui dicit, atqui negat.

The burden of proof is not on the one who declares, but on one who denies.

“What did he have that?”

“Excuse me?” You are back in the conference room, looking through the files trying to find something to help you win this case.

“Why did he have the backpack with all this stuff ready if he wasn’t going to fly after the crime?” Lieutenant Shin asks, while sitting down.

“Oh, that… His unit was getting deployed, so he was preparing to go AWOL.” You say shrugging. You discussed that during the first trial, and you thought nothing more than that. The silence that follows surprises you, because you thought that lieutenant would say something.

When you look up at him, he looks cold, disgusted, angry even. He locks his eyes with you, and says slowly.

“Whatever you decide to do, you can never tell that to military jury.” He throws a folder file on the table.” Look at that. I thought that might help.”

And after those words he just leaves the room.

Right. No one would look friendly at man that was getting ready to become deserter.

You reach for the folder. You realize that this is a copy of crime scene investigation done by the army. As you scan through it you notice one discrepancy. It states that they ran the prints from the house against military records, but they came back with only one match, your client – but you remember him saying that people from his unit visited his home on more than one occasion.

There is one person that could help you see through it, and he just left the room in rightful spite of anger.

“By rule, Criminal Investigation Command has to turn over every piece of evidence that’s relevant.”

It’s recited with such precision, one might thing that speaker is reading from the bylaws. Lieutenant Gong looks pained to say that, but you were quite sure that he won’t be the one to lie to your face.

You’ve been practicing law long enough to catch the loophole in his words. Every relevant piece of evidence.

“And what is being done with the evidence deemed not relevant?” You ask with a polite smile, and Lieutenant Gong looks like you’ve been pulling his nails and not asking questions.

Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Fortune favors the bold – and is it not bold to ask your opponent for the advice?

“I am entitled to see those files!” Once again you are faced with a wall that you can’t jump over. Why is everything so hard in the military?

“Yes, ma’am, but I cannot release that file to you without orders from Major Song.” Military officer on the other side of the windows seems to be having fun denying you the files.

“So where is Major Song?” You ask, trying and not succeeding to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

“He is gone for the day. He will be back Monday, oh-eight hundred.”

That whole thing is getting ridiculous.

“But we are due back in court tomorrow, I can’t wait till Monday!” You argue, knowing that it won’t be enough. It’s never enough with people like this one.

“Ma’am, unless the major authorizes this, I cannot release the files.” You swear you can see a beginning of the smile on man’s face, and you can feel fury awakening in your gut.

“Is there a problem, corporal?” There is a sudden voice next to you, and you turn around to be faced with formal military uniform, with Gong Ji Cheol on the tag. And the tag on his chest is exactly at your eyes’ level.

“No, sir, Lieutenant Gong.” Answers corporal jumping to salute. Lieutenant doesn’t spare a glance at you.

“At ease then, and get the files.”

“Yes, sir!” Suddenly corporal is going out of his way to get the files to his superior as quickly as possible.

You don’t look after him, you focus on the opposing counsel. He is still looking straight ahead, but he probably feels you staring, because he flinches, and still not looking at you, he says with a shrug:

“Auctorias, non veritas, facit legem.” Authority, not truth, makes law. Never more true than in the army.

You smile, but corporal is back with the files before you can say something.

“Sorry, Lieutenant Gong.” He says placing the box on the counter. “Congratulations on your commendation.”

You somehow know that lieutenant is uncomfortable with that statement, and you realize that he doesn’t think that he deserves his commendation.

“Are you going back, sir?”

“No, I’ve been redeployed stateside.” He says stiffly, taking the box, clearly wanting to escape.

“I’ve heard it was pretty hairy, back there.” Corporal continues, and you know that this is not a plain gossip, he is truly awed with his senior officer. And you can tell that lieutenant is not happy with that. He grunts.

“As you were, Corporal.”

After that he walks away, and you follow him, your heels clicking hurriedly. He doesn’t say a single word as he leads you back to your conference room, and you don’t dare to speak up either, but there are milliard questions in your mind.

You finally reach the room, and you open doors for him, and he walks in, instinctively checking the surroundings, his broad shoulders seemingly filling the room. He puts the box on the table, and turns around to nod to you. After that he steers himself to the doors.

“Why are you doing that?” It’s the question that escaped you.

He stops, and hesitates before saying:

“Ubi dubium ibi libertas.” Where is a doubt, there is a freedom.

He leaves you alone after that, having probably said more than he intended to.

But you understood.

There were three, not one, pairs of finger prints, and you found matches for all of them in the military database. One of them was killed, the other two were deployed.

It wasn’t good, but it was something. You knew that you could teleconference the deployed soldiers, but you knew as well that the judge would deny your request unless you brought evidence.

But the best part was: among the discovery you got from the prosecution there where documents prepared by Lieutenant Gong, documents that had his writing on it, and on the witness list there was a cross next to the initials, you identified as initials of late soldier’s wife.

Which meant that Lieutenant has already interviewed her, and he knew that it would hurt his case. And that was probably the root of his doubt.

So it’s the only thing you have, the only chance to grab.

So you will hold on for your dear life.

“Ms. Lim, did the victim ever confide in you that she was sleeping with someone other than her husband?” You ask, knowing that she will deny it.

You are back in the courtroom, facing wife of the late soldier. Your investigator already confirmed your beliefs, that you were standing in front of the one person that could break or make your case.

As you expected, woman does deny.

“No, she did not.” She doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t look hesitant, she doesn’t even look smug. If you didn’t know better, you could have been fooled.

You smile pleasantly.

“Nothing further.” No one says anything, but you can feel the tension in the room. And you are so happy that you are the one that will drop a bomb here. “Your Honor, the Defense calls Lieutenant Gong Jicheol.”

There is consternation, and you can see a hint of surprise in judge’s eyes, but you can also hear the scratch of the chair on the panels, and woman’s voice. Lieutenant’s co-counsel.

“Objection, Your Honor. Lieutenant is not on the defense witness list.”

It’s so nice that finally, you know you will win the battle.

“Rule 6.0.7 of the Rules for Court-Martial, Your Honor.” You say, and judge focuses on you, her eyebrows slightly raised. “He doesn’t have to be, if I’m calling him as an impeachment witness.”

Judge smiles. She really smiles, as if she couldn’t help herself, and slowly, oh so slowly, nods and says:

“Overruled.” Is your imagination, or you really hear the satisfaction in her voice?

Lieutenant stands up, and you barely stop yourself from showing thumbs-up to your own co-counsel. Your impeachment witness is being sworn in, but the whole time he looks at you with a poker face.

Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.

I will either find a way, or I will make one.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” Prompts bailiff.

“I do.”

You don’t need more than that.

“Lieutenant Gong, you are prosecuting Staff Sergeant Kwon for the murder of his wife in the military court, is that correct?” You ask to set the tune.

“Yes, I am, as everybody around is fully aware.” He says, sounding a little hostile, but you can’t feel it. The hostility. More: you don’t really believe it’s really there.

“Lieutenant, did you personally interview Ms. Lim, just prior to this trial commencing?”

“I did.” There is something in his voice. Something rumbling, something deep, something you cannot really place, but it raises the little hairs on your arms.

“And did she convey to you her suspicions that the victim had been sleeping with someone other than her husband?” You ask focusing on your witness, rest of the room disappearing from your tunneled vision.

“Ms. Lim told me that she believed, the victim had been sleeping with the defendant’s commanding officer.” You can hear a slight murmur raising in the room, so you jump to follow up question.

“And that would be Captain Hyun?”

“That’s right.” Lieutenant is looking at you with such ferocity in his stare, that you find it impossible to keep the eye contact. Thankfully Captain Seo have an objection.

“Your Honor, I have to object here on grounds of relevance.” She sounds so proud and self-assured. You are a tiny bit thankful, because you can safely turn to the judge to fight the objection, but Her Honor is quicker.

“Overruled.” Having this woman overrule prosecution is one of the sweetest moments in your career. “Please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” You say, once again turning to lieutenant, and you see him exhaling.” And did she believe there were reasons for this sexual activity?”

Lieutenant Gong is silent for the moment, but when he speaks he is slow and sure, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Captain Hyun had told her he could keep the defendant from being deployed, in exchange for sex.”

You can see the seven members of jury moving uncomfortable in their seats. You can understand them, and their movement means that you are closer to wining than you ever have in this courtroom.

It nearly pains you to turn to the judge, and you can see her shifting in her seat as well. Good.

“Your Honor, based on this testimony, we ask that we be allowed to question Captain Hyun overseas via teleconference.”

“Objection.” Captain Seo’s reaction is immediate, but judge is already shaking her head.

“Overruled.”

”Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.” It’s a barest whisper, but you hear the words leave Lieutenant Gong’s mouth. You are probably the only one that hears that, being the one standing the closest.

I will either find a way, or I will make one.

You find yourselfthinking about those words when you return to your table – you know what they mean for you, but what is lieutenant’s goal? What game is he playing?

You smile, when staff sergeant pats your arm.

You are staring on the screen where you can see Captain Hyun’s face. It’s your first time questioning the witness via teleconference, half a world away, but that trial has seen a lot of firsts.

“So you were at the bar the night in question with Staff Sergeant Kwon?” You ask, your thumb caressing your other palm.

“Yes, ma’am. I left at twenty-three hundred hours, and drove Corporal Kim and Private Kim back to the base. “

“And then, where did you go, Captain?”

“I went home.” Lie, lie, lie.

“So you didn’t make a stop at the home of the defendant?” It sounds like you are just checking, but you know you are right. He is lying.

“No, I didn’t.” He sounds playful, like a child that did something wrong, but wasn’t caught.

“Because the victim threatened you, didn’t she, Captain? She was going to tell her husband, that you’d extorted sexual favor from her.”

“No.”

“You told her that you could keep her husband from being deployed.” Attack by ambush is your favorite type of attack. It’s only easier when they try to scramble.

“No.” He repeats, trying to put emphasis on this monosyllable. “I don’t have that authority.”

“But she didn’t know that, did she?” It’s a rhetorical question, you don’t allow him to answer.” And when you didn’t make good on your promise, she threatened you, and you went to her home.”

“I…” He tries to say something, but he clearly can’t – and you start to feel the rush of victory. But you know you have to press harder. You have to break him.

“You went to her home, and stabbed her thirty-eight times.” You can see his eyes moving, as if he was looking for a way out. But he says nothing.

Judge speaks up.

“Captain Hyun, this is Colonel Baek Areum.” She is wary, and you believe that she knows who is the guilty party. Her next words only confirm that. “Do you require counsel, Captain?”

“Counsel?” He repeats, stunned. Then something changes and he scoffs. “I want…”

But you don’t hear what he wants, because he disappears from the screen.

“Captain Hyun?” Calls judge furrowing her eyebrows, and you can hear the murmur of the jury behind you. This is not something innocent does. “Captain?”

Qui tacet consentire videtur.

The one who is silent, is seen as consenting.

There is a sound of a gavel, the one you wanted to hear so badly three days ago. Three days and it’s already after the trial.

Military justice is swift.

Let’s hope it’s just.

The jury member that you wanted to exclude, but judge overruled you stands up and clears his throat.

“In the matter of Republic of Korea versus Staff Sergeant Kwon-Ji-Tak on the charge of murder under Section 1.18, of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, we the panel find the defendant…” It’s always like that. Up till this point he was reading from a piece of paper, but now, just a moment before uttering words all the room was waiting for, he decided to look up, and face the judge. ”Not guilty.”

Pride, relief, astonishment, it all hits you at once, but as a contrast to your usual after-verdict surroundings, courtroom is quiet. Your client exhales, and he turns around to hug you, and to thank you, and after that he walks to his father, waiting for him. You shake hands with Lieutenant Shin, and as you turn to your things you see judge Baek nodding to you, before standing up.

One more time falls the order: “all rise”, and once again you are surprised to see all of the personnel jump to their feet.

You won.

Against everything, you won.

Maybe that’s why before you get yourself together and you gather your stuff the court is empty. You allow yourself one more appreciative look around the space, trying to commit to memory where you won one of your hardest cases. It may be one of your hardest victories to the date, but because of that success tasted way sweeter.

You take your Anzom Briefcase, you throw your perfectly styled hair over your shoulder, spreading Hugo Boss’s scent around, and you turn on your heel, feeling satisfied.

You won.

That is your job.

Vincit qui patitur.

Who endures, wins.

”Veni, vidi, vici.” Those are words that greet you outside courtroom. It’s Lieutenant Gong, of course it’s Lieutenant Gong. You smile, and stop in front of him.

“I came, I saw, I conquered?” You ask, shaking your head. “That might be the most overused phrase in Latin.”

“Might be, but doesn’t make it less right.” You nod, as if to agree.

“Ubi concordia, ibi victoria.” You say instead, because you want to, because you feel it’s right.

“Where is harmony, there is a victory.” He smiles, and that is probably first smile you see on his face. “That’s why I was waiting for you, ma’am. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? I should be thanking you! You basically dragged me along the way to victory.” He nods acknowledging that, and it hurts your ego.

“But you did it beautifully. To admit the truth, I never wanted to prosecute this. And then I questioned Ms. Go, and it became obvious to me that we are prosecuting wrong officer. But I had my orders… And I had to make right by them.”

“Silent enim leges inter arma.” Laws are silent in the midst of arms.

He scoffs.

“I start to think that quoting Latin is the only thing one learns in Law.”

“It’s not the only thing, but it’s the funniest one.” You say as you start walking down the corridor. Lieutenant falls in step with you with practiced ease. You are surprised that now, after the trial you find yourself enjoying his company.

Wrong.

You were enjoying his company even before that. If your feelings from the moment you put him on the stand are something to go by.

“Could I invite you to dinner?” He asks, after a moment, and you stifle your smile – seems like the feeling is mutual.

“As long as it’s not canteen.” He laughs.

“Uxor formosa et vinum sunt dulcia venena.”

Beautiful women and wine are sweet venom.

You don’t really remember the dinner. It wasn’t important. Food was good, it wasn’t canteen, atmosphere was good, company even better, Latin remarks mixing with normal speech. But through the meal you could feel the anticipation pooling in your gut, and those feelings from the courtroom, the addicting rumble of his voice, it was all back, knowing that soon enough they will be allowed to resurface.

Hotel room is dark, illuminated only with neons outside, neither of you able to search for the switch. It doesn’t matter.

His lips attach itself to yours and refuse to leave, nor do you want them to. Your heels give you a little more height, but it’s definitely not enough. You are somehow surprised by how hard his body feels – you know he is a lieutenant, but you saw him just as a prosecutor in an foreign uniform – you didn’t think that the uniform would hide steel muscles.

Your back hits the wall, the counter, the wardrobe before it lands on the bed. You are going to feel it later, and you find yourself annoyed that you allowed him to lead you, during this passionate kiss, but your lips are tingling, and he is on top of you, and there are more important things to focus on.

His hurried hand drag your blouse out of your skirt, his calloused fingers caress your naked skin, rough touch rising hair, he seems to be possessing just enough power to break you. And you love the barest notion of that.

You reach for his jacket, knuckles bumping uncomfortably into medal ribbons on his chest, but you preserve and work it open, as his mouth launch on your neck. At his first try to mark you, you lodge your knee into his side.

“I have work tomorrow!” He growls something at that, but he doesn’t try again. You push his jacket off his shoulders, and he sits up, knees on the side of the bed, as he opens his shirt. You kick off your heels and slide up the bed, taking off the blouse and your skirt, but your hands are swapped away, when you try to take off your pantyhose. You are lost for a second, but then you realize that he wants to take it off himself.

Whatever sails his boat.

He has already taken off upper garments, and he is in the process of taking off his shoes, but he keeps eyeing you hungrily, elongating the process.

You whine. It’s a penetrating sound, protesting, urging for justice. That finally makes him speed up, but you can see the smile on his lips, and his head shaking in disbelief – you don’t care. You got what you wanted.

You always get what you want.

He is naked before you and you appreciate his body. Because it’s made to be appreciated if not worshipped. With body this sculpted, his fingers are surprisingly nimble, he opens your bra in no time. He also rolls down your pantyhose, his lips on yours. He takes off your underwear, with his mouth just above your breast. He bites down, and he sucks, and he does everything he couldn’t with your neck.

And you have no problem with that, it’s not like you will be flashing your torso at work. You appreciate the work put into that, your hands scraping the back of his neck, hair too short to comfortably grab onto.

His teeth scrape your stomach as he puts on the condom, and added feelings of his body on top of you, his teeth on your skin and knowledge that in a moment you will be welcoming him inside is making you shiver.

You mewl.

He travels up your body, face never farther than millimeters from your skin, actually he noses his way up, the tip of his nose cooling the fibers on its way. And in this one smooth motion he comes up, hitting his surprisingly narrow hips between your legs, driving into you.

You keen.

It’s been longer since you care to admit, your line of work not allowing stable relationship and not leaving you enough time to go out and find yourself company for the night.

And fucking clients is unethical.

But fucking opposing counsel, and as beautifully sculpted as this one? That was one of hell award for a job well done.

Your fingers slipped on his back, and you didn’t refrain from using your fingernails on your search for purchase. His body was impossibly close, one of his elbows resting just above your shoulder. He was big. He was just big, your nose fitting somewhere under his chin.

He still moves, but he seems to be collapsing into himself, his mouth founding yours and you mewl again, hips trying to come off the mattress, blocked by his body.

You can feel the perspiration pooling on your abdomen, you can feel yourself loosing breath, you can feel his eyes on your face, you can feel his hand creeping into your hair, your perfectly styled her, but who cares.

You dig your fingers into his ass, and his hips stutter, it’s good.

It’s just good. Your head trashes on the bed, and one of his hands fit between your back and bed, raising you up, changing the angle, maybe making it easier for him. You don’t know, but you love it. He is forceful but at the same time so focused. He seems quite mechanic, as if he knew exactly what to do and when, the greatest tactician.

You can feel the drop of sweat trail down your face, it’s hot, but it’s glorious, and your chest heaves fighting for every breath. But there is still one thing you want to do, before he brings you over. And you know he will. In the end, he is a justice officer. Those don’t cease until they reach the goal.

But he seems to be paying no mind to what is happening in your mind, he reaches out for the pillow and stuffs it under your sacrum – it may have stilled his thrusts for the second, but he effectively freed one of his hands. And that hand find its way to your clitoris.

“Age quod agis!” Do what you do.

You can’t believe that it’s Latin that leaves your mouth, but it is what it is.

He laughs, his face hiding in the hollow of your neck, and his calloused thumb presses on your clitoris. Your legs spasm, and you close them on his sides, fighting the pleasure.

“Brevis oratio penetrat coelos.” He murmurs into your skin, and you wish his teeth would roll your skin between them – but he won’t. You forbade him.

It takes you a moment, before you understand – short prayers reach heaven. True, and powerful, but you feel like laughing. Even though your impeding orgasm clouds your mind.

You exhale slowly, trying to calm yourself, which is truly futile effort, between his thrusts and his hands, but you get to say one more thing.

“Acta… Non… Verba…”

He snickers into your skin, but says nothing, his knees shifting on the bed, his hands dragging you higher onto his thighs. After that he just fucks you. Thoroughly. Earnestly. Meticulously. But there is a bit of madness to his moves, a hint of a beast behind the shadows.

And you love it.

You love every second of it, you love how you come apart, you love how he forces thoughts out of your brain, how he takes you down to the most primitive level, freeing you from your usual strictly professional, deeply logical, restricted self.

He fucks the confines out of your bloodstream, and for a brief moment you can feel absolutely liberated. This clear minded state comes with a full body spasm, and a soundless moan.

It ends with heavy body landing on top of you, no longer bothered with the thought of not crushing you.

You give him a moment. He did earn it – but you were growing uncomfortable. It was hard to breath, and your body was desperately asking for oxygen.

And you could feel that he was conscious. He was waiting for something.

“Do you mind?” You finally ask, feeling sticky and growing grumpy.

“Actions, not words.” He says, and you feel lost. But then you remember that is the last thing you said to him during sex. It’s hard to think in this state, your legs tingling, and useless. It’s also not like you can find purchase like that.

“Dum vivimus, vivamus!” You call, as a last resort. He laughs, but rolls over. You inhale abruptly, your chest heaving, and you look at him, breathing just as heavy. You sneer and your head rolls back and you look at the ceiling.

Dum vivimus, vivamus!

While we live, let us live.

#gong yoo scenario #gong yoo imagine #gong yoo #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagines

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