Chapter Twenty-Three: Author's note - this story has got quite a bit more popular since it's been featured, so I'd like to thank all the readers, old and new! You all inspire me to write!

Nightingale strode into the Council chamber, attempting to keep her head high and her countenance calm. Inside, however, she was riddled with emotion. She was terrified, elated, angry, and apprehensive, all at the same time.

Still, she could admire the fantastic beauty of the place. With dazzlingly tall ceilings, the chamber was a magnificent sight. From her place on the floor of the room, she could see that the councillors were seated on a long balcony, staring at her like vultures over a carcass.

Looking over, she saw David standing at the podium, tall and proud, his haughty face suited perfectly to the lofty environment. Standing at his side were Clarence, Nicholas, and Pierce. All three were dressed in a uniform similar to David's. Pierce was the only one who looked fairly ordinary in his - Nicholas looked like he was going to erupt out of his, so tightly it hugged the muscles of his chest and arms, and Clarence struck a dashing, delightful figure in his.

Nightingale noticed, as she joined David at the podium, that Caroline was the only one absent. She wondered if she was with Steel.

She gave a sigh as she took her place on David's right side. An almost an aura of safety descend on her the moment she was close to her. He gave her a small smile and motioned.

Obligingly, she turned around and bowed to the Council. As she did so, she took note of the two councillors David had pointed out to her before.

They began to mutter. When she straightened up, she could see Robin sitting in a balcony above the councillors. As she watched, he bowed his head, placed his hand over his heart and, smiling impishly, mouthed three words:

"I love you."

She did not smile back at him as she wanted to. Instead, she lifted her head high once more and regarded the line of councillors with an imperious glare.

"This, Councillors, is Nightingale," said David, waving his hand to her. "Nightingale, the tenth Inamorata interviewed by my team, is the one I have chosen to be interviewed by you, Councillors."

Nightingale reeled internally. Nine other Inamoratas? She eyed the team and Robin with some jealousy. She'd thought they were hers alone. Apparently not...

"You have already seen the evidence gathered by our source inside the Corporation," David went on. Nightingale turned her head so she could watch him as he spoke. He was more animated then than she had ever seen him. His eyes burned, and his entire being sizzled with life. "You all know the conditions of the bordellos, and the details of the creation process of the Inamoratas."

Now, he turned to her. Their eyes locked before he turned back.

"Councillors, I will now give you Nightingale's story. From the time she was created until the time I met her," he said. Each word rang with authority and made Nightingale, fearless Nightingale, who faced clients who abused her, tremble. This was David in his element. Strong, proud, even beautiful.

As she watched, he lifted a small remote. A holoscreen - the first Nightingale had ever seen - sprang to life before them.

"Nightingale began, like all Inamoratas, as an oocyte taken from a human woman," he said. Before them was displayed what Nightingale assumed was an oocyte. "This, Councillors, is where Nightingale began. This is the egg that gave rise to her, courtesy of our Corporation source. For all its faults, the Corporation keeps excellent records."

An indescribable emotion lodged in Nightingale's throat at seeing how humbly she had begun.

"Like the rest, Nightingale was grown to adulthood in this cocoon," said David, and another image was presented to them, this one of the white cocoon Nightingale recognized so well. It made shivers of fear rake her spine on two counts - first, that it was the place she'd been condemned to her life as a slave, and, second, it was exactly the same as those she'd seen her sisters extracted from.

She couldn't bear to look at it, all her cold bravery failing her as she turned her head. She heard murmurs from the councillors, but ignored them.

"She was there for ten months while she went from a simple little zygote to the adult form she has now," he told the councillors. While he did so, he flicked to another image. Now, Nightingale did more than flinch. She convulsed with shame and fear and loathing as she saw it.

There was more than a little muttering from the councillors, either directed at the photo or at her reaction to it. Either way, all Nightingale could stand to gaze on was David's triumphant expression at the impression the photo had made.

"And, thanks to those fabulous records, here we can see Nightingale on the day of her extraction. Of her birth, as we must not forget that she is as human as you or I," he said, waving at the image.

Nightingale could not look as everyone else in the room was doing, though the image was seared into her mind, so nauseating and repugnant that she wanted to claw her eyes out to rid herself of it.

It was the single most terrible thing she'd seen - it was a photo of her, standing utterly naked in the extraction room of the Corporation, a blueish bruise on her face from Bobby's hand on her minutes-old skin, her hair and skin still wet from the artificial amniotic fluid.

But that, awful as it was, was not what hurt Nightingale. It was the expression on her face. She had all of Rose's innocence there, all wide-eyed and tearful and agonized. She'd been so innocent and so afraid and it was horrible to remember.

As she shuddered, she could make out one councillor shuddering with her. Hope flared in her chest as she saw it was Councillor Marcus Renley, the man David had told her was influential,and his face was contorted with righteous disgust.

"Now, Nightingale was then bought by the owner of the York Bordello, Mr. Robert Pherson," said David. Nightingale shook herself, watching a sneer come onto David's face. He changed the image to one of Bobby, smiling in his sleazy, obsequious way. "Who, among various other brutalities I have already detailed, fitted her with an electric anklet, capable of delivering enough of a shock to kill. From the interviews I've had with Nightingale and what I've seen, he uses it frequently, in addition to his fists."

Nightingale was sure the expression on her face was savage in its hatred as she nodded along with David's words.

"This is a replica of Nightingale's anklet," said David, pulling a copy from his pocket. He held it up for all to see. "Which one of you will be brave enough to test what a shock feels like?"

When not a single one of the councillors volunteered, not even the cold-eyed woman Nightingale recognized as Olivia Kirkland, David scowled at them all.

"You claim that this kind of punishment ought to be legal, and yet you won't even see what her pain is like," he snarled. "I'll ask again, who will be brave enough to try it?"

There was silence until one councillor, a youngish man, stood.

"I will," he said.

David smiled coldly. "Thank you, Sir Councillor."

With that, he tossed the anklet to the councillor, who caught it with a deft hand. The councillor looked a little confused and Nightingale smiled acerbically at the man's bewilderment.

"Around your wrist should do, Sir Councillor," said David.

The councillor obliged, slipping his hand into the anklet. As he did so, David removed a controller from his pocket, the kind that Nightingale so often saw in Bobby's hand. Even though it was wielded by David, and she knew he would not hurt her, she still shied back, eyeing the little thing with disgust, fear, and loathing.

"This, Councillors, is what Bobby does to Nightingale as punishment, usually undeserved," he said. Then he pressed a button on the controller. Immediately, the councillor was thrown back into his seat, writhing and screaming with pain.

The entire room gasped in unison. A few of the councillors helped the younger one back up. Nightingale noticed that the man's hair was mussed and his eyes were wild with fear. He immediately yanked off the anklet, throwing it from him like it were some poisonous animal.

Then, suddenly, the councillors all began to speak. It even looked like they were arguing with one another, surprise on some of their faces, disgust on others.

"Why are they so shocked to see what the anklet does?" Nightingale breathed to David, her voice only a thin whisper in the tumultuous clamour of the room.

He responded without looking at her. "Because seeing is believing. They've read about what it does, I've told them, but they didn't understand until now."

"Quiet!" cried Councillor Kirkland, and Nightingale was surprised to hear her voice. It was high, girlish, but filled with as much raw authority as David's. When the councillors settled down, she turned her cold eyes on David. "Continue, Detective Beckett."

David inclined his head. "But the pain of the anklet is not the worst pain Nightingale experiences. Nightingale, like every Inamorata, is forced to sleep with whoever pays her owner the highest price. Not only this, but she does not consent to this. Therefore, it can be said that, worse than the anklet or Mr. Pherson's beatings, is the pain that Nightingale experiences when she is raped at least six times a week."

His words did not have the same impact on Nightingale that they did on the councillors. Some of them flinched with pain, some of them gasped with outrage. Nightingale, remembering David's words, allowed her fury to manifest on its face as she turned to the Council.

"She's not raped!" came a shout from the Council.

The heads of the team, David's, and Nightingale's, all immediately snapped around to seek out the source of the sound. When they located it, Nightingale was not surprised to see it was a man, and a middle-aged one with cruel, unfeeling eyes.

At the man's words, Nightingale's hands tightened on the podium till her knuckles were white and her entire frame juddered with fury.

Thought wast not born for death, immortal Bird, she whispered to herself, the quotation from "Ode to a Nightingale" doing enough to soothe her and prevent her from springing over the podium, climbing up to the balcony, and throttling the heartless man with her bare hands.

"Is she not?" enquired David, his delicate eyebrows raised and his voice glacial. "How so, Sir Councillor?"

"She's not human. She's an animal, less than that! If she's not human, if she doesn't have emotions, then how can she be raped?" he shouted back.

Nightingale's eyes darted between David's acid, poisonous smile, and the vicious expression on the face of the councillor.

"Oh, but she does have emotions," said David.

"But the Corporation-" began the man.

"Are you foolish enough to believe what they tell you?" snarled David. "Are you foolish enough to think that, just because she was grown and not born, that she is even a tiny bit less human than any of you?"

The man opened his mouth to interrupt, but David was not finished. He held up his hand and went on, his voice rising with passion.

"Because they have crooked scientists who will brainwash the public into thinking that the way in which someone is born makes them any less human, you will accept it," he cried. Shaking his head in scornful disbelief, he continued. "Just as the slaves of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were seen as less human, for the simple matter of the colour of their skin, Nightingale is seen as less  human for the manner of her creation.

"And like the men and women of the past, you all live your lives not caring! Whether she is human is of little consequence to the people of the Western Continent! You can continue to live your comfortable lives, not caring enough what happens to her to protest!"

Nightingale's spirits soared with the pitch of his voice. He had reached a near-shout, and, hearing his words, she smiled, unable to hold back a tear that spilled over her lower lid.

Then, his chest heaving dramatically, eyes aflame, and cheeks flushed with passion, he backed away.

"Now, Councillors, I present Nightingale, to answer any questions you might have," he said.

Nightingale's soaring spirits now fluttered nervously with anxiousness. She was barely soothed by David's patting her arm and Robin's encouraging smile.

"Go on. Say hello to them," whispered David, pushing her forward.

So Nightingale stepped forward and, with her head high, she said in a clear voice: "Good day, Councillors."

Some of them began to mutter to themselves and she wondered wryly if some of them had never seen an Inamorata before. Certainly, most of them did not seem like the type to frequent bordellos.

"You are Inamorata 29180?" asked Councillor Kirkland.

Nightingale remembered that David told her to let her emotions show, to prove their existence, so she did not temper her anger in the slightest as she replied.

"Nightingale," she snarled. "Though it's the name my owner gave me, it's still my name, Madam Councillor."

She saw a few of the councillors start in surprise at her tone, though Councillor Kirkland showed no surprise or anger. Nightingale, a firm believer in a cynical, stoic attitude, had to admire the woman's cold demeanour.

"And you, Nightingale, do you agree with what Detective Beckett has said?" she asked.

"Every word," said Nightingale, not missing a beat.

"You believe that you're a human, deserving of human status?" pressed the woman.

"As deserving as any of you," retorted Nightingale. Then, feeling daring, she added, with the winsome charm that had made her so popular in the bordello, "More deserving than a lot of humans, actually."

It earned her gasps, even some cries of outrage. However, she was pleased to see Councillor Renley smiling broadly at her. As she watched, he winked at her. It was not the kind of lecherous wink she usually got, but one of friendly camaraderie, the kind of wink a father would give his loved and esteemed daughter.

"Oh?" challenged Councillor Kirkland, not looking impressed. "How so?"

Drawing on the commendations Michael, Clarence, Robin, and David had given her, she gave the Council a tiny smile before admitting, without a hint of modesty:

"I'm a good person. Better than most. I have my flaws, I grant that. I can be cold and cruel and cynical, I know that. But I'm kind, I know that too. And despite the fact that I've been raped and beaten for as long as I've been alive - which is only five years, think about that for a moment - I've never actually hurt anyone else," she said. "And it's not because I'm powerless. Even if you gave me the opportunity to kill one of my clients, I wouldn't do it. Why? because I'm better than that."

She heard Pierce or Nicholas, she did not know which one, suck in a deep breath at her audacity. At the same time, she heard Clarence give a soft chuckle and, raising her eyes to Robin, she saw him beaming with pride.

As before, he laid one hand over his heart.

"So you maintain that you've got emotions? That you're not some soulless animal?" said Councillor Kirkland, her very tone daring Nightingale to agree with her.

So Nightingale did, throwing up her hands in the air in furious exasperation. "Of course I'm not!" she cried, voice shuddering with emotion but powerful and clear. "Look at me! Do you think I could fake this? Do you think a being without emotions could ever successfully feign them?"

There was silence from the Council, even from the councillor who had challenged David before, so Nightingale went on.

"And the clients like emotions," she said, letting her face show all the disgust and anger she had for her clients. "They don't fuck robots, though it would probably be a lot cheaper and a lot less conspicuous. Why? Because they want a human woman, a warm, soft, human woman! Even in the cold, calculating world of prostitution, where clients know they're paying to sleep with a whore, even the clients who get off on beating Inamoratas, they still want that human connection!"

As Nightingale spoke, she was not caught up enough in her speech not to notice the tear that slid down David's cheek, the tear that he made no attempt to wipe away.

"That is why, Councillors, I'm so successful - I'm human."

And with that, she stepped back from the front of the podium, suddenly spent from the outburst of emotion. Never, in her brief and cruel life, had she ever been allowed to step forward and express such raw emotion like that.

It was liberating. It was cathartic. It was being human, truly human.

After a little pause, Councillor Kirkland nodded. "I've no further questions for Inamorata 29- Nightingale," she said.

The very fact that she corrected herself, referred to Nightingale with her name, conferred that little bit of humanity on her, seemed to make David happy, for his eyes lit up. Not only that, but Pierce and Nicholas grinned at each other in a surreptitiously conspiring manner and Clarence openly smirked, his attractive face made even more handsome by the expression.

"Do any other members of the Council have questions?" she asked, her high voice as cool and reserved as ever.

There was dead silence. After a long moment of this, Councillor Kirkland nodded to David.

"There are no further questions for her. She may leave."

David nodded in reply. "Thank you, Madam Councillor," he said. Though his voice was as reserved as Councillor Kirkland's, there was a gratitude in his tone Nightingale had never heard. "Guard, if you would bring in the next witness."

Nightingale bowed her head and allowed herself to be escorted out of the room by the same door she had entered. When she got in, she glanced across the partition, to where Steel was standing with Caroline, evidently ready to enter the chamber.

"I heard your speech through the door," he said, and there were tears in his eyes.

Nightingale smiled gently. "It was utter crap, wasn't it?"

He shook his head. Shaking off Caroline, who put her hand on his arm to lead him away, he went over to her. Immediately, he grasped her hand.

"It was brilliant. You were brilliant," he whispered. With that, he yanked her into his arms. She was momentarily breathless as she was crushed against his slim, lean chest. "Thank you, Nightingale."

With a very sweet smile, she put one hand on the side of his face and kissed his cheek, a detached part of her marvelling at his fabulous eyes. "Don't thank me," she said.

He chuckled a little, tears vanishing. Then, in a movement so swift it astounded her, Steel leaned forward and kissed her mouth. His lips were soft and warm, far softer and warmer than any human man's. The kind of perfection that could only be got from genetic engineering.

It was so shocking and so fast that Nightingale was left standing there as Steel drew back and gave her a sidelong look. It was a look she recognized, it was the mischievous, impish look that she knew she gave Robin or David whenever she kissed them. A look of teasing affection, one that indicated that she, or Steel in this case, knew the effect they had on those they kissed.

The very similarity between them caused her to grin - an expression mirrored by him - as Steel departed under Caroline's watchful and jealous eye, leaving Nightingale alone with her thoughts in the antechamber.

With a sigh, she sank down on the chair and touched her lips, lost in thought.