[April 24th] [Perry Mason] Where Much is Given, Much is Required

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Where Much is Given, Much is Required
Day/Theme: April 24th - Her wounds came from the same source as her power
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Leon, Paul Drake
Rating: T/PG-13

I started writing this for another theme, but upon reflection I decided it was really what #24 was saying to me that I wanted to bring out the most. But it only fits if you replace "her" with "his". But which one? Hamilton, or Leon? Or both? That is for the reader to decide.

Leon is a real character, technically. But he's never seen or heard, and all we know of him is his name and the fact that he's Hamilton's secretary. He is addressed by Hamilton in The Bedeviled Doctor and several other episodes.

Referenced: My story The Case of the Broken Ties.


By Lucky_Ladybug

No one knew how long the madman had been hiding in the judge’s chambers. And when he burst through the doors and on top of the shocked judge’s bench as he drew a loaded gun, his prior location was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

The next instant was a burst of pandemonium. People in the gallery screamed. The bailiff and others ran forward. But the stranger was not waiting for anything. He fired at the bailiff before turning and aiming directly at the prosecutor. There was no time for him to get out of the way.

“Mr. Burger!”

A blur flew at him from the side, tackling him to the floor. At the same moment, he heard a pained gasp and a sharp cry. His blood ran cold.

“Leon?!” He tried to look over his shoulder. His secretary was slumped against him, still gripping at his waist in desperation. All around them it was complete madness. Spectators and witnesses were fleeing into the hall. The wounded bailiff and Lieutenant Anderson were both rushing to take down the gunman. And the shooter, seeing the catastrophe he had caused, allowed them to take him.

Hamilton caught sight of Leon’s glasses having clattered to the floor. Leaving them there for the time being, he struggled to sit up while reaching to support the other man’s slackening body. Blood was already pooling on the hardwood. “Help!” he cried. “We need an ambulance, now!” He could feel the blood on his hands as he cradled Leon in his arms. Leon had been shot in the back.

And the bullet had been meant for him, not Leon. He felt sick.

Leon gazed up at him, his eyes half-closed and bleary. “Mr. Burger . . .” He gripped Hamilton’s arm. “I . . . I’m so sorry. . . .”

“Leon, you just saved my life,” Hamilton retorted. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Don’t talk; just rest.”

Leon weakly shook his head, his dark, windblown hair flying farther into his eyes. “I . . . I was starting to fall for the lies, Sir,” he said. “I wondered if you didn’t trust me.”

“Don’t worry about that now.” For lack of anything to use, Hamilton was frantically pressing his bare hand against the wound to try to slow the bleeding.

Leon just clutched at him more tightly. “I have to tell you, Sir,” he persisted. “It was the phone call. That was when I knew I’d . . . been manipulated.”

“Huh? What phone call?” Hamilton exclaimed, bewildered.

“Someone . . . pretending to be you.” Leon shut his eyes against the pain. “He tried to make it sound like you were talking to someone about . . . about accepting a payoff for staying in office.”

“WHAT?!”

“And I knew. It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you. You would never do something illegal. And the man who’d been lying to me realized I knew.” Leon opened his eyes again. “I . . . I was afraid you were in danger. I came here. . . .”

“You were just in time,” Hamilton tried to assure him.

“I’m relieved, Sir.” Leon coughed. His eyes fluttered as unconsciousness tugged at him. “But I’m sorry you have to worry about me now. Please don’t; I’ll be fine. I . . .” He could not manage to complete his sentence. He fell limp in Hamilton’s arms, his fingers loosening their frantic tug on his sleeve.

Hamilton paled. “Where’s that ambulance?!” he demanded.

“It’s coming.” Hamilton looked up in surprise as Paul came and knelt beside him. Although Perry was not involved with this case, Paul had been. He had been in the gallery, as a witness. Hamilton had not realized it, but Paul had tried to help keep the escaping people moving in an orderly fashion instead of creating a stampede. “How bad is he?”

Hamilton shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice cracked, belying his helplessness.

Paul handed Hamilton a handkerchief to press against the wound. Hamilton took it, his hands trembling.

“You’re lucky he burst in like he did,” Paul said. “I saw that nut turn to fire at you. I jumped over the gate to try to stop him, but I couldn’t get to him in time. If Leon hadn’t . . .”

Hamilton stared morosely at the motionless form. “He’s worked for me for years,” he said. “He’s a good guy. He was happy to do whatever I needed, no questions asked. But when he started to wonder if I didn’t trust him, he . . . he was devastated and hurt.

“You know, maybe in the end this is my fault.” He sounded bitter now.

“Your fault?!” Paul exclaimed. “What are you talking about? We knew Leon was being tricked.”

“Yes, but what that madman used for ammunition was the fact that for a while I didn’t tell Leon any of that nonsense about the box or the black magic spell over Los Angeles. When he was so confused about what happened, I tried to give him my ‘group hypnosis’ idea instead.” Hamilton’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t know if Leon would believe me if I tried to tell him the other explanation. I still don’t know if I can believe it myself! I wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t believe me.”

Paul gripped Hamilton’s shoulder. “Look,” he said. “Okay, maybe you made a mistake by not telling him the other stuff at first. You weren’t trying to do anything wrong. And it was that creep who twisted it around and used it against you. That wasn’t your fault! Leon didn’t have to believe him.”

“Paul, he didn’t!” Hamilton glanced up at him. “He didn’t . . . not until I was forced to admit that I had held back because I didn’t think he’d believe me. That was the final straw.”

“Well, he must’ve believed the guy somewhat anyway, or it wouldn’t have hit him that hard,” Paul retorted.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have, ordinarily.” Hamilton looked sadly at his secretary. “Leon, well . . . he trusted me deeply. And when I admitted I didn’t know if he would have believed me about that spell nonsense, I let him down. Don’t you understand, Paul?”

Paul lowered his gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “I understand.”

Hamilton fell silent for a long moment, until they could hear the sirens in the distance. “But thank you,” he said then. “For trying to make me feel better.”

Paul gave a quiet nod. “Sure.”

Hamilton’s shoulders sagged. “. . . They’re too late,” he choked out. “Leon’s dead.”

Paul stiffened. “What?!”

“I felt the life leaving him.” Hamilton touched his fingers to Leon’s neck. “He was dying as he was losing consciousness.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe it. That’s why I told you I didn’t know how he was when you asked. But I knew. Deep down, I knew.”

Paul clutched Hamilton’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry,” he said in all sincerity.

“That nut tried to turn Leon against me with his lies. And maybe it worked a little, but then his big phone trick backfired and he came here to shoot me down when he realized. And it was Leon’s desire to look after me, as he always did, that got him killed. When that madman saw he’d shot Leon, he didn’t even try again to get me. He acted like he was satisfied with killing someone I care about.” Hamilton stared with blank eyes at the judge’s bench. “Why would someone hate me this much? Why would someone take an innocent life, just to get at me?”

Paul found he had no answer.

Noticing Leon’s glasses still lying on the floor, he reached and picked them up, quietly placing them on the prosecutor’s table.