Hey, here's another experiment that I came up with three years ago and never got around to posting. It's a modern day Dr. Quinn where Michaela's a lawyer and has to defend Sully from a murder charge. I hope it's not too confusing and that you enjoy it. I don't the show or characters I only own the plot and any OCs. As always, read and review and tell me what you think reviews keep me updating :) ~Serria Spell23.

Ch.1-An Interesting Case

I sat at my desk in my office at Quinn law-firm. I tapped my fingers on its wooden surface impatiently. A moment later, one of my sisters, Rebecca Quinn, leaned against the door frame of my office.

"Michaela, Father wants to see you." My eyes met hers, quickly as I tried to conceal my curiosity. Although, I was the youngest our father held me in high esteem and I waited eagerly for a chance to prove myself.

"What is it about," I asked innocently, my unique orbs sparking with a knowing glint.

Rebecca sighed tiredly, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Why not instead of asking me you go see for yourself." I nodded, pushing my chair back and standing up. I walked out of my office towards our father's.

I knocked on his door, waiting patiently. "Come in, Mike," he called. I sat down in the chair across from him, an anxious grin gracing my features.

"You requested to speak to me, Daddy?" He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

"Well, Mike, I might have a case for you if you're interested. If you're not I understand but I believe you're ready." My expression lit up as I attempted to contain my joy. I leapt from my seat, coming around the desk to hug my father tightly.

"Oh, Thank you, Daddy!" I exclaimed, "What's the case?" I watched his eyes shifting between me and the file lying in front of him. He seemed almost nervous, attempting to distract me with trivial questions.

"Mike, dear, have you seen your mother today?"

I sighed. "No I haven't but don't change the subject, Dad."

It was my father's turn to sigh, concern etched on his face. Opening the folder, he slid it across the desk. I sat in my seat again, glancing over its contents. The photos inside were of a man in his twenties maybe a few years older than me. His hair fell in light brown waves on his shoulders, his expression was gentle and his eyes were a piercing blue. I swallowed slightly uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Who is he, Daddy?" I asked.

"His name's Byron Sully he's been charged with murdering his wife and daughter, however the motive is unknown."

My eyes widened, revealing my shock along with my barely concealed repulsion. "And you want me to defend him! What's the point?"

My father rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. "Honey, I'm not asking you to trust him just listen to his story. Help prove his innocence or guilt."

I nodded not entirely feeling happy about the situation. "Should I go see him now for a head start?"

"You can if you want to, Mike it's your choice." I rose to my feet and walked toward the door. As I left, my father called out I looked back over my shoulder, "Be careful, Mike." I nodded in reply and vanished.

Byron Sully sat on the cot inside in his cell at the Colorado Springs Penitentiary. He'd recited his story more times than he could remember. He'd returned home from work to find his wife, Abigail and their daughter dead lying on the floor. He just wished for once he would get a lawyer who'd believe him.

I entered the prison, striding to the front desk. Leaning on it casually, I cleared my throat. The security guard gazed briefly in my direction, paying more attention to his magazine. "Ahem!" I said again. He met my brown orbs reluctantly as if it were a burden to listen to me.

"Yes, Miss?"

I handed him my business card and let him inspect it. "I'm here to speak to Byron Sully about his case," I explained, hoping my voice sounded confident.

The guard nearly laughed. You are representing him! No offense, Miss but the case itself is rather open and shut…there's no hope."

"We'll see which way to his cell?" The man pointed directly down the hallway. I muttered a thank you as I passed the desk. I walked to my new client's cell, nervousness flooding my senses.

I stood outside the bars, silently observing him for a minute. "Excuse me?" He turned to look at me, studying me carefully with his blue eyes.

"Yes? Who might you be?" I tensed instinctively this man's gaze seemed to look right through me.

"Michaela Quinn, I'll be your defense attorney." My tone came out a bit harsher than I'd wanted it to. I averted my eyes, waiting tolerantly for him to answer. The man cleared his throat, recalling my attention.

It's nice to meet you, Miss Quinn, though I must admit you're not entirely what I expected." I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest, irritation starting to boil within me.

"What did you expect?" I questioned, voice chipped. My client knew he'd hit a nerve however he remained silent. "Well?" I sighed when he refused to reply I moved on to my questions. "Mr. Sully, what did you see upon entering your house?"

The criminal rested his head in his hands, visions of the crime scene flashing behind his closed eyelids. "As I've told every other defense attorney I came home and found my wife, Abbey and our daughter lying on the floor covered in blood. I had nothing to do with their murder I'm innocent."

"Well, unless you can provide me with some evidence I'm inclined to disagree," I retorted, still sore from his comment.

"At this point I can't really do that, Miss not when the truth itself is eluding me."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Ah, then what can you tell me?"

"Not much…I know that doesn't help my case."

Sighing again, I rested my hand to my forehead, frustration beginning to show in my behavior. "No, it's fine…" I glanced up into my client's eyes temporarily to indicate there were no hard feelings—failing to elaborate—my gaze returning to its former position.

The man smiled and I crossed my arms. "I've upset you, haven't I?" he asked.

"Not at all, Mr. Sully it's just this my first big case and I want to do well."

"Well, you have my word, Miss Quinn that'll try and help you as much as I can."

I nodded, leaving, deciding to inform my father of my first encounter with the 'apparently guilty', Byron Sully but I would be the judge of that.