Chapter Text
You'll change your name, or change your mind
And leave this fucked up place behind, but I'll know
I'll know.
October air was often crisp and slightly chilly, and that day it was drizzling rain, but fortunately for Ocean she was situated inside looking out to the grey skies, watching the water droplets run down the windows to her office. Well, the office she shared with the three other prosecutors in the Ontario Court of Justice. The company was appreciated; she was happy to simply have that job in the first place.
It was good to have a tangible reminder that her hard work had paid off. Not that it really mattered.
It was a surprisingly slow day, Ocean wondered as she watched another droplet slide down her window. She had closed a case the day before and for some reason no hearings had been scheduled until the next, so she was stuck researching and coming up with opening arguments until four-thirty, when she had told the witnesses to come in and be prepped for testifying. That would likely finish around seven-thirty, when she could go home and cook dinner, and then continue her research and writing at home before conking out at midnight.
Ocean much preferred this life to the one she had before. Where she had real freedom, away from her parents.
If she were to tell her eighteen-year-old self where she was at thirty, she would be thrilled. If she were to tell her sixteen-year-old self… that would be a different story.
Ocean was glad she was no longer that person, leaving the ego-masked insecurity and play-to-win attitude behind, the stress and pressure of school was replaced by the stress and pressure of the workplace. And the workplace she chose was extremely stressful, but she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. She loved her job despite its hardships, if anything, the challenge made it enjoyable.
Out of the blue, her boss, the Attorney General pushed the door open, waltzing in, interrupting the silence. Her name was Heather Brown, usually referred to as “ma’am”, and she had black hair slicked back into a high ponytail that bounced as she walked, and her high heels were so loud they often echoed through the hallways. Ocean must’ve been so focused she didn’t hear them before her entrance. She was holding a file under her arm, appearing to be a hefty one.
Ocean cursed herself for ever thinking the word “slow”. She should’ve known better. Sigh.
“We got a new case, all the others are swamped, are we too busy in here?” She asked, albeit less of a question and more of a demand, scanning the room with beady eyes. Her question was met with awkward silence, and Ocean avoided eye contact. Should I just take it? Glancing at the others, she was met with sly shakes of the head on one side and ignorance on the other. I might have to… “Well?”
Brown pouted and raised a single eyebrow, and Ocean’s stomach dropped, and before she could get another word in, Ocean jumped into action. “I’ll take it.”
“Good.” Brown lifted the corners of her mouth in a way that told Ocean that she knew she’d take the case, which dampened her enthusiasm, but enough to change her mind.
Ocean didn’t give a second thought when being handed a case, because after all, it was the way it went. Slow day meant a new case. There goes my evening plans… In her mind, she said goodbye to her plans of cooking herself a meal and sleeping at midnight, and hello to take away Thai food (one of the joys she discovered after leaving Uranium – without too much chilli) and waking to her alarm going off beside her after falling asleep at the dining table.
It was such a big file already, the police must have sat on this one for a while, Ocean thought, sweeping a stray hair out of her eyes for a better view, finally opening the file to the first page. Reading the first line, she was certain her heart had stopped beating. Oh my… oh fuck…
She swore, actually swore under her breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear more than a sigh. Surely it couldn’t be right? The familiar anxious nausea began to fester in her stomach.
The Wonder Ville Travelling Fairgrounds.
The fall fair.
The Cyclone.
Oh God, I don’t think I can continue to read this.
Two children died, both aged sixteen.
Three others injured, one aged fourteen, the other sixteen as well.
It felt all too familiar. All of the choir were lucky to have changed fates, to have come back to life and their cases deemed medical mysteries. But two of those five kids in this accident weren’t so lucky. If this case went to trial, the poor kids who survived may be called to testify. Ocean hoped it wouldn’t come to that, she couldn’t imagine herself testifying after her accident, and she was a little older than them.
Ocean haphazardly flipped through the case file, placing it down on the desk and allowing it to fall open to a random page. Except it didn’t seem random at all, as it fell open to her very own case file, covered in black marker. Redaction. Another realisation quickly dawned on her.
It was a very likely chance that she would need to be called to testify. That they all would.
An inconsolable feeling of dread lurched inside her stomach, clawing its way into her throat, lodging itself there. Drawing in air was harder and harder by the second. Ocean hadn’t spoken to the other choir members in years, slowly cutting herself off from them as years went by, but not without the guilt and shame of how she treated them over her time knowing them.
She wanted to stay in contact, she wanted it so badly, but it would be better for everyone if the past stayed in the past, and that meant leaving them behind, no matter how desperately she wanted to stay friends. Ocean felt tears well up in her eyes, stinging and hot as they involuntarily slid down her cheek. All of this past, the trauma she’d worked so hard to bury was going to be dug back up, dragged out from the surface and beaten with a stick. That would be the last thing anyone needed.
There was a reason that a case never came from their accident. Besides being a poor town, none of the parents had the money to sue, many of them, including her own, didn't care to think about legal action in the first place. Ocean overheard Noel’s mother speaking with a police officer in the hospital, she remembered it clear as day. She told the officer that it would be better to let them heal, that “putting them through the court system would traumatise them more” and Ocean wouldn’t say that she disagreed, she’d seen it with her own eyes.
But she couldn’t help but wonder if they had testified, would she be sitting here holding a case file, or would those two kids still be alive? Thank goodness her colleagues were focused on their own work enough that they didn't see her cry. Ocean slammed the files shut, running her fingers through smooth hair, the feelings whirling in her stomach beginning to bubble over.
Okay, just relax, Ocean. Don’t jump to conclusions yet, a charge hasn’t even been decided yet! She didn’t know if she’d get called to testify, if any of them would. Did this case even have anything to do with her after all that? Could she avoid an uncomfortable conversation with the Attorney General?
No, she thought grimly. Even if she didn’t need to testify and could take on the case, it would be a conflict of interest. The company wronged the prosecutor in the past? The defence would tear her and her case to shreds, and those poor kids would never get justice.
Oh dear. Time for a fun conversation!
After wiping away tears and collecting herself, Ocean meandered down the hallway to the Attorney General’s office, planning out what she was going to say in her head. She didn’t want to reveal all the details by accident, and she didn’t want to reveal that the large scars on her legs that were only visible when it was too warm for stockings (not often, to her delight) weren’t actually from a bicycle accident, rather something a bit more sinister.
Gradually, her steps came to a halt outside the office, and Ocean raised her fist to knock, hovering a centimetre from the wood, face to face with the small window, blocked by the drawn blinds. Do it, Ocean coaxed herself. Taking this case would create a legal mess, as much as getting this conviction yourself would bring closure, it would be selfish. That’s not who you are anymore.
Breathing in one more time, she knocked with hesitance, and hardly a second later, she heard Brown’s voice drawing out every syllable of the phrase “Come in…”
Without wasting another moment, she gripped the brass doorknob and twisted, stumbling into the large office. The adrenaline she built up to get herself to knock was still coursing through her blood vessels. Not even a tighter hold on the file would conceal her shaking hands. Brown’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes slimmed with concern and Ocean’s chest filled with fear.
Holding her breath, she placed the file down on the desk, avoiding Brown’s curious eyes. “I can’t take this case.”