"Good Things Come" Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: Good Things Come Author: badpenny Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Pairing/Characters: Frank Archer/Zolf Kimberly Rating: PG Warnings: None, really. Archer and Kimberly are polite bastards. And not really all that bastardly here. Prompt: 1 & 3: "Go on, make yourself comfortable." Notes: Crime syndicate AU. Archer's a little tired of being a public defender, and a colleague's downfall gives him the opportunity to catch Bradley's eye and (hopefully) get pulled on as one of his syndicate's lawyers. The problem? The opportunity comes in the form of getting Crimson's murder conviction overturned, and for that, he has to have Crimson's permission...
By all outward appearances, seven years in The Walls hadn't done much to Zolf "Crimson" Kimberly. He still had the same lean face, the same lanky frame, the same flat eyes. Archer wasn't sure exactly what he expected, but apparently, he expected something. He had clients he'd seen through trial and appeals, and prison changed them, made some harder, made others waste away. Kimberly looked exactly like the photographs of his pre-trial self.
That made Archer cautious. It was never a good sign when hard time did nothing to a man. When that man was one of King Bradley's most effective and versatile hit men...well, Archer could forgive himself for his slight inkling of fear. "Mister Kimberly," he said smoothly, noticing the way Kimberly watched him, casual and loose-limbed, like they were in a gentleman's club instead of a prison interrogation room. "Thank you for seeing me."
Kimberly gave him a half-smile. "Might want to make it quick, Mister Archer. Calendar's a little full. I had a hard time penciling you in."
"I'll try not to make you late for dinner with the warden," Archer said easily, and he was relieved to see Kimberly's smile widen.
"That's awfully kind of you."
"And it's awfully kind of you to offer me a seat." Archer set his briefcase on the table. He knew he was using banter to compensate for his fear, but he couldn't help himself. Men like Kimberly, like Bradley, appreciated strength. He'd show them what they wanted to see.
Kimberly leaned back in his seat, shackles clinking, and stared at Archer for a moment. His smile was a little jagged now, and Archer had done enough research on the man to know he was either genuinely amused, fantasizing about lunging across the table to throttle him, or both.
Archer figured both.
"Oh please, by all means, sit," Kimberly purred. "Make yourself comfortable."
"How comfortable are you?" Archer asked, sliding the chair out and taking his seat.
"I have no complaints," Kimberly said with a shrug. "So Tucker finally quit? You volunteer to be his replacement, or were you assigned?"
"Shou Tucker is on leave pending an investigation into his alleged connections to organized crime."
"Is that so?" Kimberly's tone was casual, but he drew himself up a little straighter and narrowed his eyes.
"Yes." Archer opened his briefcase, the snap of the clasps bullet-loud in the small room. "Wire transfers to offshore accounts, incriminating electronic files, reliable testimony from protected witnesses. I'm afraid Shou Tucker is in a lot of trouble."
"That's a damn shame."
"Only for him."
Something slithered in Kimberly's eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Archer smiled. "The investigation into Shou Tucker has raised legitimate questions about the quality of your representation at trial. Why, for example, did he fail to mention the broken chain of evidence for the shell casings and bullets recovered from the scene?" He folded his hands and leaned forward. "And why didn't he put that Martel woman on the stand? The one who claimed to be involved in the killings? Looking over the discovery documents -- or rather, looking over the documents the prosecutor claims to have sent -- their case against you was weak. A competent attorney would have taken advantage of those weaknesses to raise reasonable doubt with the jury."
Kimberly was sitting up straight now, no longer casual and loose-limbed. His palms were pressed flat against the tabletop, far enough apart that they strained the chain of his shackles. The way he was staring -- practically reptilian -- made Archer want to flee, but one didn't flinch in front of men like Kimberly, not when one's goal was to catch King Bradley's attention and get pulled on as one his syndicate's defense attorneys.
"At the very least," Archer continued, keeping his tone smooth and easy, "a competent attorney could have gotten you a good plea bargain. Conspiracy, perhaps, or some other lesser charge that would make you eligible for parole right about now."
Kimberly was silent. Archer waited. Kimberly's expression was hard to gauge. Wary and hopeful, Archer finally decided.
Finally, Kimberly said, "I waived appeal."
"Under advice from Shou Tucker?"
For a moment, Archer thought Kimberly was going to lunge for him. Kimberly dug his fingers into the table. "What can you do for me?"
Archer smiled. "I can try to get your conviction overturned. It may mean a new trial, but I can promise you competent representation this time."
Under normal circumstances, a syndicate man would tell his attorney he had to think about it. And then he'd go back to his higher ups and get the all clear. But under normal circumstances, a syndicate man wouldn't be using a public defender. Bradley's syndicate had been in a tough spot seven years ago, and Bradley had cut Kimberly loose. Now the syndicate was in a better position, and rumor had it Bradley was willing to welcome his most effective hit man back into the organization should the opportunity ever present itself.
Rumor had nothing to say about Kimberly's willingness to return, but if Archer played it right, overturning Kimberly's conviction would be enough to catch Bradley's attention.
"All right." Kimberly's fingers relaxed, and he flashed Archer a quick half-smile. "Show me what you can do."