Five Times...
Sep. 12th, 2008 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
andverygingerTo pass the time on Wednesday, I plugged in my headphones and started writing. To work out some angles on the Perry Mason fic I've been working on, I decided to do a set of "five times." In this instance, it's "Five Times Ken Malansky Met Brennan Mason, or Five Times Ken Got a Clue." If anyone has read two of my other Mason fics -- "Undeclared" and "Undeniable" -- you'll already know who Brennan is.
When I started writing this behemoth fic back in high school, she probably would have been called a Mary Sue. But I've grown up since then -- thank God! -- and learned a lot about people and relationships. While it may not be readily apparent in these little snippets, I hope there's a little more depth there. =)
So, here is the first of the "Five Times Ken Malansky Met Brennan Mason." I've dubbed this one "The Case of the Shared Secret." It follows on the tail end of the made-for-TV-movie, "Perry Mason: The Case of the Heartbroken Bride." In the final, climactic courtroom scene, one of suspects pulls a gun. Mason tackles the suspect, and it wasn't immediately clear whether he had been shot, or if he had simply dislocated a shoulder.
Needless to say, this started as an exercise, so it's all in draft, and hasn't been beta read. Any mistakes you see now are just part of my writing process. =)
1. The Case of the Shared Secret
Reclined back on the sofa in the reception area, Ken Malansky gave a start as the office door swung wide, and a tall, slender brunette charged in. Wide blue eyes appraised the room as she entered. Her gaze settled on him briefly, recognition registering before her attention went straight for the door beyond. He was barely able to swing his feet to the floor in the time it took her to cross the room, tearing open the door to Della Street’s office.
“You can’t go in there!” He called after her. Reaching in a desperate attempt to stop her before she made her way further, the hurried brunette slipped just beyond his grasp as she rushed for the next closed door. “Lady, that’s a private office --“
But she was not deterred. The heavy oak door leading to Perry Mason’s private office swung open easily under her effort, and she paused. Mason, seated at his desk, rose as Ken stopped only a few paces behind her. “Dad!” she exclaimed. Pushing forward, she rounded the corner of his desk and all but tackled him with a hug. Much to Ken’s surprise, the elder attorney wrapped an arm around the woman and smiled. The duffel bag slipped from her shoulder without a second thought.
Ken ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Dad?” he whispered.
After a long moment, Mason and the woman pulled back, each regarding one another. “The news said that there was a gun; that you were taken to the hospital, and…Well, then Mom wasn’t answering her mobile, and I couldn’t get anyone at the office...”
Chuckling, Mason squeezed her shoulder before releasing her entirely. He raised his left arm slightly, emphasizing the navy blue sling cradling it. “Just dislocated,” he replied. “Annoying, but it will heal.”
The young woman’s attention was then directed to Della Street, who stood just to Mason’s left. “And you – what’s the point of having that contraption if you don’t use it!” Relief flooded her voice, even as she reached to embrace Della.
“I know, Bren; I know. I’m sorry.” Della wrapped both arms around the stranger, holding her tightly. “It’s still good to see you.”
Malansky continued to watch the scene before him unfold, his shock and confusion still evident on his features. “Dad?” he repeated, louder this time.
The question drew attention to him, reminding the three that they were not alone. Ken looked directly to Mason. “Something you’re not telling me, Counselor?”
Reaching up, Mason rubbed the tip of his nose with his index finger. It was a habit Ken had seen many times before. In court, it signaled to his defense team that he was about to lower the boom on a witness; outside of the courtroom, it was much more ambiguous. There, it was often accompanied by a mischievous gleam, and usually prefaced a wry remark or admission. In this instance he remained silent and exchanged a glance with Della. She smiled warmly wrapping an arm around the younger woman as they turned to regard Ken.
“Bren, I’d like you to meet Ken Malansky. Ken...I’d like you to meet our daughter, Brennan.”
“Your daughter?” Ken blinked. “As in, yours? And his?” He gestured between secretary and attorney. Della nodded. “But you’re not...Well, you two never...” Stopping, he shook his head. It had always been apparent the two were close – friends at worst, and likely more. Rumors had circulated across the entire legal community for decades; declining interest had been renewed when he stepped down from the bench to defend her ten years earlier. Even now, a trip to the courthouse to file often meant a question from a clerk or judge, asking the younger attorney if he knew what, exactly, the relationship was.
But for Ken, Perry and Della had become something of a second family. Tempted though he was to voice his suspicions, they were just that: suspicions. And, as part of his family, he owed it to Mason and Della to keep his conjecture to himself. “You’ll have to ask Mason that,” he had commented. It was a response designed to end that particular round of questioning. No one – not even Judge Daniels – was willing to ask Mason or Della themselves.
Standing in the doorway now, Ken had wonder if the trust and loyalty he had shown was reciprocated. How many dinners, picnics, and other outings had Perry and Della included him on, drawn him in like a son? This was a wholly different side of their lives he had never been privy to. Wasn’t he entitled – as a friend and associate – to know?
Almost as soon as the question surfaced, Malansky dismissed it. Mason had spent the greater part of his career in the spotlight, profiled in papers from Los Angeles to Denver to New York; the rumors circulating the courthouse certainly proved his privacy was a scarce commodity. And, given the younger Mason’s age, it was apparent she was approximately his age – thus, born in a time when, even as times were changing, an unwed mother was subject to scorn. To protect Della, Mason undoubtedly would have arranged for a quiet birth, somewhere far from the public eye. Once there, Brennan probably stayed.
But the baby had not been given up for adoption. Brennan knew her parents, carried her father’s last name. Who, then, had raised her? It was one question Ken would reserve for later.
There had also, he reasoned, never been opportunity to meet her before. That they were introducing her now meant one of two things: One, that lawyer and secretary were old enough and lived in accepting enough times that revealing the existence of a daughter wouldn’t cause as much of a scandal. It was, after all, now common practice for many Hollywood starlets to have their own child as an accessory. The problem was that both Mason and Della were products of their generation and past celebrity. Despite the more accepting times, revelation of Brennan’s existence would still cause a stir – especially among their colleagues – and create issues neither wanted to deal with now.
The second theory was one that Ken offered more credence: Mason and Della were trusting him with one of their most private, shared secrets.
Maybe, he thought, he hadn’t been so far out in the cold as he thought.
Clearing his throat, he extended his hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Brennan.”
When I started writing this behemoth fic back in high school, she probably would have been called a Mary Sue. But I've grown up since then -- thank God! -- and learned a lot about people and relationships. While it may not be readily apparent in these little snippets, I hope there's a little more depth there. =)
So, here is the first of the "Five Times Ken Malansky Met Brennan Mason." I've dubbed this one "The Case of the Shared Secret." It follows on the tail end of the made-for-TV-movie, "Perry Mason: The Case of the Heartbroken Bride." In the final, climactic courtroom scene, one of suspects pulls a gun. Mason tackles the suspect, and it wasn't immediately clear whether he had been shot, or if he had simply dislocated a shoulder.
Needless to say, this started as an exercise, so it's all in draft, and hasn't been beta read. Any mistakes you see now are just part of my writing process. =)
1. The Case of the Shared Secret
Reclined back on the sofa in the reception area, Ken Malansky gave a start as the office door swung wide, and a tall, slender brunette charged in. Wide blue eyes appraised the room as she entered. Her gaze settled on him briefly, recognition registering before her attention went straight for the door beyond. He was barely able to swing his feet to the floor in the time it took her to cross the room, tearing open the door to Della Street’s office.
“You can’t go in there!” He called after her. Reaching in a desperate attempt to stop her before she made her way further, the hurried brunette slipped just beyond his grasp as she rushed for the next closed door. “Lady, that’s a private office --“
But she was not deterred. The heavy oak door leading to Perry Mason’s private office swung open easily under her effort, and she paused. Mason, seated at his desk, rose as Ken stopped only a few paces behind her. “Dad!” she exclaimed. Pushing forward, she rounded the corner of his desk and all but tackled him with a hug. Much to Ken’s surprise, the elder attorney wrapped an arm around the woman and smiled. The duffel bag slipped from her shoulder without a second thought.
Ken ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Dad?” he whispered.
After a long moment, Mason and the woman pulled back, each regarding one another. “The news said that there was a gun; that you were taken to the hospital, and…Well, then Mom wasn’t answering her mobile, and I couldn’t get anyone at the office...”
Chuckling, Mason squeezed her shoulder before releasing her entirely. He raised his left arm slightly, emphasizing the navy blue sling cradling it. “Just dislocated,” he replied. “Annoying, but it will heal.”
The young woman’s attention was then directed to Della Street, who stood just to Mason’s left. “And you – what’s the point of having that contraption if you don’t use it!” Relief flooded her voice, even as she reached to embrace Della.
“I know, Bren; I know. I’m sorry.” Della wrapped both arms around the stranger, holding her tightly. “It’s still good to see you.”
Malansky continued to watch the scene before him unfold, his shock and confusion still evident on his features. “Dad?” he repeated, louder this time.
The question drew attention to him, reminding the three that they were not alone. Ken looked directly to Mason. “Something you’re not telling me, Counselor?”
Reaching up, Mason rubbed the tip of his nose with his index finger. It was a habit Ken had seen many times before. In court, it signaled to his defense team that he was about to lower the boom on a witness; outside of the courtroom, it was much more ambiguous. There, it was often accompanied by a mischievous gleam, and usually prefaced a wry remark or admission. In this instance he remained silent and exchanged a glance with Della. She smiled warmly wrapping an arm around the younger woman as they turned to regard Ken.
“Bren, I’d like you to meet Ken Malansky. Ken...I’d like you to meet our daughter, Brennan.”
“Your daughter?” Ken blinked. “As in, yours? And his?” He gestured between secretary and attorney. Della nodded. “But you’re not...Well, you two never...” Stopping, he shook his head. It had always been apparent the two were close – friends at worst, and likely more. Rumors had circulated across the entire legal community for decades; declining interest had been renewed when he stepped down from the bench to defend her ten years earlier. Even now, a trip to the courthouse to file often meant a question from a clerk or judge, asking the younger attorney if he knew what, exactly, the relationship was.
But for Ken, Perry and Della had become something of a second family. Tempted though he was to voice his suspicions, they were just that: suspicions. And, as part of his family, he owed it to Mason and Della to keep his conjecture to himself. “You’ll have to ask Mason that,” he had commented. It was a response designed to end that particular round of questioning. No one – not even Judge Daniels – was willing to ask Mason or Della themselves.
Standing in the doorway now, Ken had wonder if the trust and loyalty he had shown was reciprocated. How many dinners, picnics, and other outings had Perry and Della included him on, drawn him in like a son? This was a wholly different side of their lives he had never been privy to. Wasn’t he entitled – as a friend and associate – to know?
Almost as soon as the question surfaced, Malansky dismissed it. Mason had spent the greater part of his career in the spotlight, profiled in papers from Los Angeles to Denver to New York; the rumors circulating the courthouse certainly proved his privacy was a scarce commodity. And, given the younger Mason’s age, it was apparent she was approximately his age – thus, born in a time when, even as times were changing, an unwed mother was subject to scorn. To protect Della, Mason undoubtedly would have arranged for a quiet birth, somewhere far from the public eye. Once there, Brennan probably stayed.
But the baby had not been given up for adoption. Brennan knew her parents, carried her father’s last name. Who, then, had raised her? It was one question Ken would reserve for later.
There had also, he reasoned, never been opportunity to meet her before. That they were introducing her now meant one of two things: One, that lawyer and secretary were old enough and lived in accepting enough times that revealing the existence of a daughter wouldn’t cause as much of a scandal. It was, after all, now common practice for many Hollywood starlets to have their own child as an accessory. The problem was that both Mason and Della were products of their generation and past celebrity. Despite the more accepting times, revelation of Brennan’s existence would still cause a stir – especially among their colleagues – and create issues neither wanted to deal with now.
The second theory was one that Ken offered more credence: Mason and Della were trusting him with one of their most private, shared secrets.
Maybe, he thought, he hadn’t been so far out in the cold as he thought.
Clearing his throat, he extended his hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Brennan.”