Something About You

Twenty Nine. February, 2018.

Isla sighs, dropping her head into her hands. 'It's going to be really depressing, Niall. It's not how you want to spend your Valentine's Day.'

'I just want to spend Valentine's Day with you, lover,' Niall pushes the stack of papers further up the table and out of the way, reaching his hand across to touch Isla's arm. 'No matter where that is.'

--

Unsurprisingly, Isla is right.

On Valentine's Day, Niall learns three things. The first is that court is really fucking depressing, and the second is that those wooden benches are really fucking uncomfortable.

Thirdly, though, Niall realizes that Isla is a literal, real life superhero in human form. He doesn't know how she does it, spends all day every day listening to victims of abuse—usually women and children, her area of speciality—recount the horrific, unimaginable things they've had done to them. He has to step out of the courtroom twice to pull himself together, has to clench his fists tightly to keep from screaming at the defendant in the middle of a cross examination. He can't wrap his head around the fact that anyone else in this room is keeping their cool.

But amidst the devastation and evil, Isla is a beacon of light, of hope. She's kind and she's soft to the victims, cunning and harsh to the defendant, using pure wit and incredible skill to outsmart him, to spotlight holes in his testimony, to expose him as the scum he is. Niall spends the entire hearing torn between shock and awe, trying not to let his jaw drop to the floor.

He'd had no idea.

After what feels like a million years of testimony, the jury deliberates. Niall feels overwhelmed with the injustice of it all, furious that victims are forced to relive their abuse in front of strangers, that those strangers get to decide whether or not the abuser goes to jail. He knows impartiality is vital in a just society but he can't wrap his head around the ugly, traumatic reality of it, can't shake the sick feeling off his bones. He's struck, once again, with disbelief that Isla can do this every day.

From his spot on the uncomfortable bench he watches her, the way she comforts the worried mother, distracts the anxious child. She plays patty cake with the boy while they wait, resulting in the first smile in the courtroom all day, and fields questions from the mother with expert care, with confident clarity.

When the jury returns, just over an hour later, Niall holds his breath. An hour is a shorter than average deliberation time—he knows that much. In his stomach, there's a flicker of hope that maybe, after all this, the evidence had been just as clear as he'd imagined.

One deep breath, then another.

The jury forewoman stands, and Isla wins.

--

'Fucking hell,' says Niall, dropping a kiss into Isla's hair as they stand at the pizza counter, awaiting their two pies to go. After court he told her to pick dinner, anything she wanted, and Isla hadn't hesitated. Pizza and garlic knots to take home and eat on the couch, pants off, Planet Earth on. 'I still can't get over that, I'm so proud of you.'

'You're sweet,' Isla reaches back to cup Niall's cheek, his face still buried in her hair. 'Thank you.'

'You literally saved two lives today,' he says for the millionth time tonight, picking his head up when the baker announces their order. 'You're unbelievable. A fucking legend. A—'

'I'm just doing my job,' she tells him, reaching forward for their food. Niall takes the pies, and Isla tucks the bag of garlic knots under her arm.

'I'm glad you were there,' she tells him, as they step out of the pizzeria and into the cold, February evening. It's dark and windy tonight, flutters of what might be snow swirling in the air above them. Around them, the storefronts and flat windows of Clerkenwell toss a warm, golden light onto the wet street, and inside him Niall feels his stomach flutter, his heart buoy. These are the kind of moments he'd imagined as a kid, when he thought about love and his future, about settling down. The gentle domesticity of this is almost heart stopping to him: the overwhelming love he feels just walking to the car with Isla next to him, warm pizza in his hands, a night of kissing, cuddling, talking over the quiet murmur of the TV ahead of them. He opens the car door for Isla and thinks about love in its tiny moments like this, about how, despite all the dramatic gestures he's seen, love might just be at its best when it's quiet.

Sliding into the driver's side, Niall glances over at Isla, streetlights casting a warm glow over her face, bag of garlic knots placed carefully in her lap, and he could almost burst with it, almost wants to cry, he's so overwhelmed with it.

'Love you,' he tells her, reaching over to grab himself a garlic knot for the road. 'Happy Valentine's Day'