[June 15th] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 15

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 15
Day/Theme: June 15th - The stars are in blossom
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, Hamilton Burger, Lieutenant Tragg, some OCs
Rating: K+/PG

Takes place after #14.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Mignon sighed to herself as she stepped out of the building and into the night air. Half-subconsciously, she gripped her arms. It was chilly tonight.

What was to become of them? It was impossible not to wonder. People from the rebel groups had been vanishing off and on over the past weeks. Tonight everyone was continuing to worry over their own Lieutenant Tragg’s fate. They had heard nothing from him for five days now. Although they had tried to hold out hope that he was not the latest of Florence’s victims, it was becoming increasingly apparent that he probably was.

Mignon had left the hideout to clear her mind. The agonized atmosphere inside was becoming too much for her to handle. The sadness and fear gripping at her mind and heart were threatening to take over the longer she lingered. And with the damage already done, she could not easily push them all away even though she was now outside.

If Lieutenant Tragg was . . . dead, how would that affect Lieutenant Anderson? Lieutenant Drumm? . . . Hamilton?

She knew Hamilton valued Lieutenant Tragg’s friendship very highly. They had known each other since Hamilton’s early days with the district attorney’s office, when he had been an assistant district attorney as Larry was now. Through so many years they had become very close.

Hamilton tried to rein in his concerns, but the worry in his eyes was obvious. And if Lieutenant Tragg remained among the missing for very much longer, Mignon had no doubt that Hamilton’s fears would become much more prominent and visible to all around him.

It was also highly possible that Tragg was only the first of other disappearances from their group. Maybe one day Mr. Mason would vanish. Or Hamilton. Or even . . .

Mignon frowned. She did not want to think about Larry disappearing. Above all else, that was what she could not stand.

She turned at the sound of the door opening. “Mignon?” Hamilton stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. “Are you okay?”

Mignon nodded. “I’m fine, Hamilton.” She looked at him. The concern was still in his eyes, but now, she recognized, some of it was for her. “I just needed to come out here for a while.”

Hamilton sighed. “It is getting depressing in there,” he admitted. “No one knows what to say or do. Some of them are just hanging around the short-wave, still hoping that Tragg will contact us.”

“And he still may,” Mignon said.

“I know.” Hamilton shoved his hands in his pockets. “But when?” This was said far quieter, almost in a whisper. Mignon was not sure he had meant for it to be overheard.

She gazed into the sky, vainly beseeching the blossoming stars to give her an answer. She wanted to say something, to do something, to cheer and comfort her dear friend. But was there anything that would not sound hollow?

At last she simply stepped closer to him, resting her hand on his arm.

Hamilton looked to her in surprise. They were not generally affectionate with each other in this manner.

For some time they lingered together, staring off into the dark and mysterious sky. Wherever Tragg was, he was somewhere underneath it. But was he seeing it, as they were?
****
He was not. Several days earlier, tossed and turned and battered by the waves, Tragg had washed to shore far away from Florence and her castle. Though her men had searched for him, they had never found him, and now they never would.

It was late at night, under the same canopy of stars, before someone found him at all—someone benevolent and not cruel.

“Bill?”

The young man glanced to his companion, the girl with whom he was walking along the banks of the river. Her mane of dark brown curls spilled around her face and down her back, mostly concealing what she was thinking.

“What is it?” he asked.

“How long are we going to stay up here, away from that woman’s men?” She frowned. “We’re not solving anything. We wanted to fight against her and bring her castle down around her ears. So what are we doing hiding at your family cabin?”

“We can’t just go running off to her castle and think the five of us can make a difference all on our own,” Bill said, frowning as well. “We need help. We need to make contact with someone from one of the rebel groups.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not so easy now that they’ve all gone on the underground.” She looked to him. Even with only the moon and the stars for light, he could imagine how her eyes were flashing with fire and determination, as they always did when she had an idea. “What we should do is go back to Los Angeles and start our own rebel group. Get a whole lot more people in it. Then we might catch the attention of the others. And even if we didn’t, there’d be a lot of us to fight her.”

“There’d be a lot of us to catch her attention,” Bill argued. “She’d send her troops after us.”

“You’re too cautious.” The girl’s tone was accusatory. “We’ll never stop her if we keep hiding like this.”

“I just want what’s best for all of us,” Bill said. “And getting that kind of attention isn’t. Cat, look. We don’t know what we’re doing. We’re just a bunch of kids angry at what’s now the strongest power in the world. We can’t go into something like that blind.”

“Do you think the other groups knew what they were doing when they formed?” Cat returned. “They’re just good, solid citizens, the same as we are.”

“But they’re older. They’ve had more experience. Some of them are probably even former soldiers and sailors and airmen. They’ve had military training. We haven’t had any of that.”

Instead of replying, Cat suddenly gasped. Bill spun to stare at her. “What is it?” he demanded.

“There’s something over there, on those rocks,” Cat announced. “I . . . I think . . . it looks like a body!” Without waiting for Bill, she started to make her way down the small hill that separated them and it.

Bill’s mouth dropped open. “A . . . body? Catherine, wait!” He gave chase, but not even the usage of his friend’s full name was enough to make her so much as turn around. She was at the bottom of the slope now, running towards the lifeless form. As Bill followed, more and more it looked like Cat was right about what it was. Now he could see what looked like a limp hand hanging down from one of the rocks. A chill ran up his spine.

“Hello?” Cat called. She gripped the soaking shoulder, giving it a shake. “Can you hear me?”

Bill came to a halt at the scene, horrified by what he saw. The victim was an older man; a piece of grayish-white hair had slipped and fallen into his pained face. His clothes were badly torn, revealing an assortment of discolored flesh—bruises, definitely, and probably wounds. Bill dug in his pocket for his flashlight.

“The water doesn’t come up here,” he frowned. “He must have dragged himself onto this rock after washing up at the bend.” They often found a myriad of junk on the shore at that point. This was the first time they had ever found any kind of a body. He shook his head. “I just don’t know how he had the strength.”

“You’d be surprised what the human body is capable of coming through,” Cat said. She dropped down, holding her hand in front of the man’s face. “He’s still alive; I can feel him breathing.” She looked to an astonished Bill. “We have to get him back to the cabin!”

“We can’t carry him there ourselves,” Bill exclaimed. He thought fast. “You stay with him. I’ll run up to the cabin and get Candy and Troy and Maggie. Maybe we can put together some kind of stretcher. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”

Cat nodded. “Okay. Then get going! He needs help right now.” She brushed the hair away from his eyes. “What could’ve happened to him?”

“Who knows,” Bill said, turning to hurry away. “He’s probably a hunter who took a bad step.”

“A hunter wearing a suit?” Cat said dryly.

Bill glanced back, peering closer at the remnants of the clothing. “. . . This is just getting weirder,” he declared. But he could not linger to ponder over it. He turned to hurry on his task.

His footsteps soon faded into the night. Cat idly listened as she started to shrug out of her windbreaker.

She draped it over the man’s waterlogged form. It was cold in the canyons at night, even in summer. He was probably suffering from the beginning stage of hypothermia, too. And if he wasn’t, that would probably come before they could get him into the warmth of the modern, heated cabin.

A frown furrowed her brow. It was unlikely, but maybe he still had some identification on him that hadn’t been ripped away by the current. She started to fish through his pockets.

She drew out a cellphone first, raising an eyebrow at seeing it intact at all. But it was dripping wet. Drying it out would likely only get it dry. It had surely given its last ring. Setting it aside, she tried again.

This time she drew out something she had not expected in the least—a badge. She stared at it, running her finger over the still-shiny shield. “So you’re a cop,” she said aloud. “You’d better not be on Florence’s payroll.”

Any other identification was gone. Cat sighed, setting the badge next to the phone.

“You’re getting on, for a cop,” she spoke again at last. “And you came through the river alive.” She smirked a bit. “You must be stubborn. And a scrapper. Maybe we could use your help, if you make it through this.”

He let out a weak, thready groan. Cat snapped to attention, scooting closer to his head. “Hey,” she said. “Hey, Cop. Can you hear me?”

His eyes flickered, cracking open halfway. He gave her a look of utter perplexity. “Who . . . where . . . ?”

“I’m Cat,” she told him. “And you’re lying on a big rock. Who are you?”

He shuddered, unable to stay conscious. “Lieutenant,” he mumbled. “Tragg. . . .”

And he was gone again. But he was still fighting for life. Cat adjusted the windbreaker on his back.

“Well, hold on, Lieutenant Tragg,” she muttered. “Help’s coming. Soon, I hope.”
****
Tragg was very delirious and ill from his unplanned trip. For several days he teetered dangerously between life and death as his worried and stunned rescuers struggled to help him. On the night when Hamilton and Mignon were helplessly gazing into the sky, Tragg’s fever broke at last.

Maggie was sitting by his side, gently brushing a damp cloth over his face. She had been the most natural at tending to him, so while they had taken turns, some of the others had begged her to be with him the most. She did not mind, really; she knew that Candy and especially Troy were not suited to the task at all. Bill and Cat were alright, and had never pleaded with Maggie to take over more, but she knew that they, too, were more comfortable when it was she.

He had talked a great deal in his delusional, ill state. By now they all knew what seemed to be a large portion of his life’s experiences. He had been a dedicated and honest police officer for over twenty-five years. And he was one of the rebels, something that both relieved and excited them. If he recovered, perhaps he could help them and take them back to his group. At last they might be able to fully be a part of the war against the dark queen, Florence.

Now he stirred, his eyes weakly opening as he looked to his caregiver. Maggie smiled at him. “Hello.”

He was baffled. “Who . . . who are you?”

“Maggie,” she replied. “And we know who you are, Lieutenant Tragg.”

He looked about the room, his bewilderment never lightening. “How did I get here? I was at the castle. . . . No, I jumped out the window. . . .”

“And you washed ashore near this place,” Maggie finished. She shook her head. “That was some crazy and amazing stunt you pulled. You could have been killed.”

“Eh. Better than the alternative.” He sank farther into the pillows, gazing at the ceiling. It was a modern cabin, judging from the electric light and the fan turning slowly around. He was still confused, not to mention cautious. He wanted to believe he was among allies. But for all he knew, they could be working with Florence.

“Give me liberty or give me death?” Maggie smiled.

Tragg considered that and gave a weak shrug. “Something like that.”

“We’ll talk more later,” Maggie assured him. “Right now you need to get back your strength. And eat something. Do you feel up to it?”

“Not now.” He felt weary beyond belief. And he was aching all over. He wasn’t sure what he felt up to.

“Alright,” Maggie nodded. “Then you just rest.”

“I’ve been resting for days,” Tragg grunted.

But in spite of himself, he was soon asleep.

Maggie leaned back with a smile. He would be alright now; she was sure of that.

Outside the window, the stars twinkled down on them.