Xavier and Hector Baez

[x-shehulk.livejournal.com]

Professor Xavier meets his current legal counsel for lunch, only to find that Baez has his eye on retirement.

"Retiring? You?" Professor Xavier sat back in his chair, enjoying his lunch at the John Jay Society dining room. The club was almost as old as the country, established by attorneys and judges not long after the former Chief Justice's death in 1829. Across from him, Hector Baez took a bite from his ham steak and nodded. "Any reason, Hector?"

"Getting old isn't enough of one, Charles?" Baez said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Baez had never been one to do things traditionally. He had started out as a police officer, before an injury forced him to leave the force. He'd put himself through law school at Empire University, hardly one of the great legal centres in the country, and then found himself locked out of most law firms who didn't want a 'Chicano' attorney. Instead, he'd founded his own practice, scraping by as a public defender and taking the kinds of cases no one else in New York wanted in the 50s; civil rights issues, racial prejudice, police profiling. His own former police friends called him a traitor when he thundered against brutality in the cells and on the street during police roundups. By the time Xavier had met him, he was a hardened veteren of the state legal system, knowing judges and prosecutor traits like baseball fans knew lineups and pitch selection. 

"I just never thought you'd ever be willing to step away from it." Xavier gave his old friend a smile. "Won't you miss it?"

"The twenty hour days? Standing in court for an eternity arguing against a judge who wasn't even born the first time I was in a court room defending a client? No. These cases need fire, and that is best left in the hands of younger lawyers. I'm looking forward to relaxing, enjoying some time traveling." Baez didn't mention the heart attack he'd suffered last year - his second - which had been too personal a reminder that no matter how young he might feel, he was an eighty year old man, and the crushing stress would get him sooner than later unless he did something to lighten it.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know. What about your firm?"

"I'm selling it back to the current staff."

"To the partners?"

"To all of them. My name will be on the front of New York's first cooperative law firm." He grinned, the smile of a much younger man as Xavier laughed. Hector's sense of social justice made it fitting. He'd built a successful practice of top attorneys, researchers and assistants, but it was never the wealthest, being built around his own commitment to social justice. Most of his profitable clients were groups like the Xavier Institute, who wanted quality representation from a firm aligned to their beliefs. Baez had also been one of Xavier's personal attorneys, on a generous retainer which had in turn helped support his efforts in the earlier days since Xavier had met him following university. 

"I imagine more than a few judges will have a drink at the idea of not having to face you again, my friend. Although, that does raise the question of my own circumstances. Right now, I'm looking at expanding the Institute significantly in new directions. Your expertise will be missed."

"The firm can still handle most of the day to day affairs, Charles. They know your work and needs inside and out. But I don't want to pass my role to one of the partners. Any of them are more than capable, but I don't think that's the best face for you." He pushed back his plate, and folded his hands on the table. "You need someone inhouse, in my opinion. Not tied to a larger firm. More importantly, you need someone who not only believes what you believe, but also can represent you fully in court. You don't need a stable, respectable law firm with a Harvard educated legal scion, which is what your reputation and wealth would get you. You want someone young, hungry, and ready to charge headlong at any obstacle."

Charles paused, considering his words. A small smile grew, and he tilted his head. "You have someone in mind, don't you?"

"I do. Met her briefly last year, and I've been quietly following her since. Smart, aggressive, has been completed screwed by the legal establishment in New York and knows it." Hector reached for his bag and pulled out a file, which he passed over. Paperclipped to the front was a copy of a university student identification, with a very green woman staring out from it. "Her name is Jennifer Walters. She's from an LA police family that died when she was a teenager. She's a tall, green woman in a profession dominated by old white men, and they've gone out of their way to make sure she knows it. Given the right connections and work, I have a feeling that she'd like nothing better than the jam her foot up their collective asses, and she's a good enough lawyer to do it too."

"Walters. The name is familier."

"Works with your friend Worthington. Problem there is that he's still tied to big business by his name. Make her your inhouse council, and she's only tied to the aims of your Institute."

"This is why I hate to lose you, Hector." Xavier saluted him with a smile, and the old attorney laughed. 

"Just make sure you tell everyone I only suggested her because I wanted to be replaced by someone taller."