Better Learn Quick

Gael was nothing if not a fast learner. There was a new and academic tone to the law office where he now worked. People carried themselves with a rather careless authority as if they’d mastered the world and there wasn’t an authority in the world that could tell them otherwise.

By lunch he was done watching and was able to join the other junior lawyers at the firm, not the other two interns, but the junior lawyers. By the end of the day he had found his way onto a small legal team doing simple paperwork.

For him, his life now pivoted around telling Jack that he wasn’t a criminal. Related to that though, he needed to prove to Kate-Marie that they didn’t have to be what they’d been. She didn’t have to take the path that he’d taken. Finn, Ian, and Emily also needed to have a better life. He could regurgitate legalese out onto paper for rich people if that’s what it took. On top of all that, he got to go have dinner with Jack at the hospital and that alone was worth all the typing of wills and amicus briefs his fingers could handle.

“There you are! What are you doing, Mr. McNeil?” Mr. Sullivan stared over the top of his glasses, sweat glittering at his temples.

“I’m typing up this amicus brief for Mr. Thomas.” Gael pulled the final page from the typewriter, put it at the back brief and handed it over. “Earlier this afternoon, I worked with Mr. Thomas’ two clerks to draft up several wills. Thank you very much for letting me intern, Mr. Sullivan. I think I will enjoy being a lawyer.”

“This is very advanced work,” Mr. Sullivan complained, eyes looking larger than they were through his thick glasses as he read through the brief. “Where is the draft?”

“Here sir,” Gael said as he offered up the handwritten draft that Mr. Thomas, who was a partner, had written.

Sullivan set them next to each other on the desk, going line-by-line, looking for an error that he could use to support his forthcoming demand that Gael go back with the other intern, that he spend much more time just reading legal cases. It was four pages typed and the new president of the firm was certain there would be an error in there somewhere. “You can read Mr. Thomas’ handwriting?” This was asked in Latin.

Replying in Latin, Gael stated that he could, that it wasn’t that difficult, and asking when he could attend a trial.

Sullivan’s eyes looked like a giant frog as he glared at Gael. Continuing in Latin, he asked, “Where did you learn to speak Latin?”

“My family thought I was to be a priest, so lessons from a young age, as well as Catholic school.”

“You’re a Catholic.” Mr. Sullivan grabbed onto that like it was the error he’d been looking for.

Gael kept eye contact and using every little trick he’d picked up in about eight hours of spying on lawyers said, “Well, that’s not quite post hoc ergo propter hoc, but pretty close. I went to Catholic school and I am an American. Were your parents religious?”

“Point taken,” Stevens said. He handed the brief back respectfully. “I apologize. I had not realized that you had previous experience, Mr. McNeil. I’m very glad to have you on our team.”

“Thank you,” Gael said. He felt more like Mr. McNeil every minute. “I am very much looking forward to furthering my education.”

<><>

The teaching hospital that Jack was happily giving out charity care at was a goodly walk from the posh law office that Gael now worked in. He should have hired a carriage or taken a taxi, but he had so much energy that he half thought he’d just ‘Jack Latin’ himself all the way there. Of course, he couldn’t dance anything too elaborate until he’d cleared the posh district. By the time he had, to only music in his head, he danced a jig all the way towards the hospital. It seemed quite romantic to collapse in Jack’s arms and be revived with a kiss from the red headed angel.

Jack Latin had been an Irish noble many many years ago, who had, perhaps upon a bet, danced all the way home from a friend’s castle to his family’s. Though young, the trip cost him his life. If it was for a bet, he still won, at least. Gael didn’t expect it was a true story, because no one ever died of dancing. Who knows? It might be possible.

His Jack had also said that no one dies from waiting for the right time for sex, which totally did not sound like a Catholic thing to say. The whole idea of Baptist was new to him. Until he’d met Jack Christians came in two flavors. There were Catholics and there were Protestants. The English were Protestants, which was all he’d really needed to know about that. The Americans did everything in a million different flavors though. If all Baptists were like Jack, Gael figured he could live with a whole town of them.

About halfway to the hospital, the clouds turned to rain and Gael caught a taxi. Along the way, he picked up some hamburgers and fries. Wine would have been nice, but Jack was very against drinking, especially at work. Whereas Gael would rather be tipsy if he was going to cut someone up, but he did expect it was different if one was a doctor.

<><>

Bruce Cayman was a regular at Alfred’s estate and a member of the nascent American intelligence community. He sat in Alfred’s private office, in the other wing from where the gentlemen’s club existed. “His man, you say you’d vouch for him?”

“Very much so,” Alfred said. He swirled the ice in his whiskey. “Gael McNeil is unique.”

“You really think this Irish boy has eidetic memory and just a facility with languages?”

“I do.”

“I thought the kid was your favorite boy toy.” Cayman closed the file folder and set it back on Alfred’s desk. “Because we could certainly make use of someone with those skills, but war is not a gentle sport.”

“He was my lover.” Alfred slammed his tumbler down on his desk, face grimacing. “He left me.”

“I see. That makes sense. I imagine he’s a pretty tough cookie then. What makes you think he’ll work for us?”

“He’s in love with a young doctor who is so naive that he probably secretly writes letters to Santa. Gael was willing to give his life to protect Dr. Walker and Gael is not naive.”

“Blackmail is such a useful tool. What do you want out of it?”

“I want Gael available for the occasional mission with my interests at stake. I think the war is going to be much larger than anyone here is thinking yet.”

“Indeed. As long as your interests don’t conflict with our, we can work that out. Mr. McNeil is going to be very busy.”