Johan's psychoanalysis (Gabriel, Johan)

[and-in-between.livejournal.com]

The transfer to a holding cell while he awaited his trial had not been put back after the news of Werner's death. Apparently, in the minds of the justice system, Johan had had his time off, and now he was on their time, grieving or no. It didn't help that Werner's suicide made him look even more guilty. If his husband couldn't stand to be around to support him while he faced a trial and a prison sentence, that had to mean something, right?

Johan was cooperative and mild, however, never giving anyone any trouble. He did what the guards told him, going from one room to the other in his ridiculous beige suit. And when they told him he had a visitor, he trooped down to the visitor's area without complaint, though he was surprised to see Gabriel Whitney waiting for him. He had expected Peter. "Gabriel." Johan gave a polite nod of his head and he took a seat across from the solicitor, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

"Morning, Johan." Gabriel smiled at him, and Johan recognised the expression immediately as one you give to someone you don't really like, but feel you have to smile at anyway.

"To what do I owe this visit?" Johan leaned back in his chair a little, just to see if someone would shout at him to keep all four on the floor. Being in jail was a little like being in a strict boarding school, he found. He was feeling like he was suddenly twelve years old again and he needed to ask permission to piss.

"My nephew assures me he will come up with the appropriate fee for me to represent you." Gabriel informed him. "And he told me to tell you he's not paying me himself, whatever that means."

Johan smiled a slightly crooked and completely empty smile, but his eyes sparkled a little. "Ah, good boy, Peter. So you're representing me then? Good luck. I did shoot the boy, you know."

Gabriel gave Johan a look to inform him that he didn't find the man in any way funny, and he placed his briefcase on the table. "I don't believe anyone is in doubt of that, Johan. It's the motive we are trying to work out here. Now. I need you to tell me everything that happened-"

Johan didn't want to go through the pain of rehashing the worst day in his life. Not again. He had done it for the police more times than he could count. He had gone through it with Abigail so she could psychoanalyse his mental state and conclude that he had his wits about him. He had gone through it with Peter so Peter could explain exactly what had happened to Werner, so Werner understood that Alastair had died because of the wolf and Johan's act had been one of mercy. He had saved Alastair from a great deal of pain, and opened up a wound inside himself that would never heal. Johan did not much care if he lived out the rest of his life in prison for that. It would not hurt any more or less than if he was outside the cold, stone walls.

So he stalled. "Gabriel Whitney, representing the great Black Sheep of the Kempf family. What would Klaus say?" Johan clicked his tongue at Gabriel and he arched one eyebrow.

"I don't think Klaus was the whitest sheep they had, Johan. His brother certainly never approved of his move to London. And we are not here to discuss-"

"Do you feel the need to represent me because you understand my 'unique situation'. Because there is some need in you to protect the gay man because you yourself have lived a repressed life for half a century?"

Gabriel stared at Johan for a moment and then he shifted a little in his seat. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his brow and his eyes became shifty and worried. "I...I uh...don't know what you're-"

"Do you think it will resolve your gooey feelings for your dead sister's dead husband if you save his cousin from the penal system-"

"How do you know about that?!" Gabriel hissed at Johan then, his nerves suddenly on razor's edge of snapping and pummeling Johan in the face.

"I found the pictures." Johan said simply. "My permanent London address is in Klaus' old house. He had them 'hidden' in an immaculate copy of The Little Princess. Which I find quite endears me to the man, if nothing else he ever did does."

"The little..."

"Princess." Johan said again, to emphasise the point. "He hid them perfectly in the open in a children's book amidst tomes filled with laws and regulations dating back centuries. He had to know, and indeed I believe, hope that they would be discovered. If someone happened upon his shame, he would be free of his marriage to your sister and free to entertain his relationship with you."

"Louise..." Gabriel groaned and he shook his head. "Klaus wouldn't have done that on purpose. By the time we...Louise was... We are not here to talk about this!" He finished up, his voice in a hiss.

"Ah, do forgive my rampant changing of the subject. I was merely pointing out that we are alike, you and I. Only I chose to break free of the fetters which sought to hold me back, and you chose to embrace them. How is your wife, by the way."

"She's fine." Gabriel replied through gritted teeth. "If you want me to leave, just say the word, Johan."

Johan shook his head. "I don't want you to leave, Gabriel. I want you to know I see you too." Johan leaned back in his chair and he crossed his arms across his chest. "Even if you don't. Your job is to save me from injustice, and I am sorry I cannot do the same for you."

"Get to the story. Or I'll make you write the bloody thing down and then make a hand-written copy." Gabriel warned him, crossing his arms as well.

"As you wish, Master Whitney." And Johan ceased his stalling, and once again re-hashed that terrible day when he had ended his beloved step-son's suffering with one shot to the head.