Disclaimer: "Little Men" is owned to Louisa May Alcott, PAX, and anyone directly involved with producing and airing of the show.

Author's note: Everything in bold is in the past and the rest is in the present.

     Something was wrong.
     Jo could feel it as she and Nick approached the small cabin.
     Nat had changed in the last few months.  Becoming more quiet and sullen then ever.  He'd hardly come to school and when he did he was distant, afraid even.
     Nick gave her a "hope ya know what you're doing" look as he helped her out of the wagon.
     Millions of thoughts went through her head as she made her way to Nat.  Jo had never really trusted Michael Blake.  He was too quick, too sly, to be truly anything he appeared to be.
     And now here she was, searching the cold, scattered home, praying Nat was still alive.
     "Jo," Nick said suddenly.  "You should step back."
     "Oh God, no," she replied, pushing her way forward.  If he had hurt Nat in any way . . .  She looked down on the floor and saw Mr. Blake laying obviously dead.
     A motherly instinct told her to turn to the corner.  It was a pathetic sight that made Mrs. Jo want to cry.  Nat sat in the corner with his knees curled up to his chest, making him look much younger than his fifteen years.  His lip was bleeding and his face and arms were badly bruised and beaten.  A winter wind came through the cabin that made the frail body shiver.  "Let's get you home," she said, placing her shawl around him.
     "Home?  Do you think we should do that, Jo?" Nick questioned.
     "And why not?"
     Nick looked down at the floor.  "Michael's dead, Jo.  What if it was Nat who did it?"
     She cast him an angry look.  "Nick."
     "I feel the same way for Nat as you do.  But we can't just hide him at Plumfield.  The sheriff will be askin' questions."
     "He's not asking yet," she said, turning to the boy.  "Come on."

     "I wasn't aware Nat had any living relatives, Mr. Blake," Mrs. Jo questioned, not trusting this stranger.
     "After his father died, my brother, Nathaniel, lived with me," the man said.
     He had a hard, cold look to him.  Brownish hair with a mustache.  In some ways, Jo supposed he did look like Nat.  However, with Nat you could see a kindness in his eyes.  In Michael you saw nothing.

     "The boy's been severely malnourished and beaten.  Some of these wounds are weeks old.  He also won't talk," Dr. Pierce said.  He had never seen a child abused like this.
     "Will he be okay?"
     "Within time yes. But—" the older man started to say.
     "Dr. Pierce, Mrs. Bhaer, Nick," the sheriff greeted.  "I hate to bother you folks but I need to take Nat in for questioning."

     "Then how is it that Nat ended up alone wandering the streets of Boston, Mr. Blake?" Jo asked.
     "At the time I wasn't able to take care of a young child.  Then Nat ran away and I figured he was better off where he was.  And I was right.  He seems to have made a fine home with y'all."
     "I came back home, but you were gone.  People said you moved out West.  I had no where else to go," Nat put in.
     "No child is better off in the streets," Jo said.
     "I realize now that was a mistake.  But I'm better now and I want Nat to live with me."
     "Live with you?" Jo asked in surprise.  "Surely you wouldn't want to damage his education by taking him out of school.  Give you and Nat some time to get reacquainted Mr. Blake."
     "Why don't we see what Nat wants, Mrs. Bhaer?" he said as they both turned to Nat.  "You want to come live with me don't you Natty?"
     Nat felt his uncle ruffle his hair affectionately.  How could he leave Plumfelid?  When Mrs. Jo and Nick had become like a mother and father to him?  And Dan his "older brother" always there, protecting him, especially when he didn't want it?  Nan, who he loved spending time with?  Asia, Tommy, Rob?  But he had always wondered about this man.  His uncle, who had left him.  He knew what Dan would say.  "Go with your kin."  Especially since Dan had none of his own.
     "Is that what you want?" Mrs. Jo asked.
     "You said your place wasn't far from school.  I could stay here in the week and go home on the weekends or I could even go home at night.  If tha's okay with you Mrs. Jo."
     She looked up and smiled halfheartedly.  "Sure."  Nat deserved to be with his uncle.  Maybe she was being too judging of the man.  So, far all he had said implied that he did have the best intentions for Nat.  But that didn't stop the nagging feeling in her heart or how quickly Nat had called Mr. Blake's place home.

     "I didn't want to say this in front of Mrs. Bhear, but I'm going to arrest Nat for murder," the sheriff told Nick.
     "Nat didn't cause no crime, Sheriff," Nick argued.
     "Well until you can prove that to me, Nick, he's the only suspect I got."

     "You've got to talk to me, Nat.  They want to try you for murder.  If you don't talk and tell me who really killed your uncle, you could stay in jail," she tried to coax the truth out of him.  Jo looked around the jail cell.  It was damp, dark, and no place for a boy, especially Nat.  She put her hand affectionately on his shoulder.  He brushed it off, crawling farther in to the corner of the cell.
     "I'm not going to hurt you.  No one will," Jo promised.  "Just tell me who killed you uncle."
     Nat made a strange strangled-like sound and Jo prepared to try again.  "Nat—"
     "Miss," the jail attendant called, "you have to go now."
     "Just give us another moment, please."
     "I'm sorry—"
     "But I have to go," she finished for him.  Jo sighed, frustrated, and gathered her things.  "I'll see you later Nat, hmm?"  Mrs. Bhaer stood, hoping that he would at least say something, anything, a glimmer that hope wasn't lost.
     He said nothing.

     "We're here," Michael Blake said harshly, stopping the wagon in front of a worn, ragged-looking cabin.  "You can put your things in the barn for now."
     Nat placed his belongings on the hard wood floor.  "Uncle?" he replied as he turned around.  But Michael wasn't there.  In the distance he heard the sound of a horse's neigh.

     "Did you see him?  Is he okay?" Nan asked as soon as Jo walked into  the kitchen.
     "He's fine," Jo said, busying herself with helping Asia.
     "Mrs. Jo," Nan said, knowing she was lying.
     "He still won't talk," she replied sadly.  "Go set the table Nan."  She turned to Asia who was chopping carrots.  "I sat there with him today and it was as if it wasn't Nat at all.  He's so afraid. And it's my fault.  I was the one who let him go with that man.  I didn't ask his real reasons, didn't really ask anything at all.  I knew something was wrong and I ignored my feeling."
     "Now it wasn't you fault, Jo," Asia said sternly.  "You wanted that boy to get to know his uncle.  There was nothing wrong with that."
     "What if Nat really did do it?"

     "I bet I could get him to talk," grumbled Nan.
     "The way you go on, he'd probably just say something to make you shut up," Emil spoke up from his place in the corner.
     Nan was about to punch him when Franz walked in to the class room.  Blond hair turned away from him as she quickly took her seat.

     Nat woke up with a start.  It was already six in the morning and none of his chores were done.  He had been staying with is uncle for two weeks now.  Two weeks ago Nat had come to Michael's, expecting to finally have a family.  In some ways be closer to his father.  But those youthful hopes were dashed.  His uncle had made it clear that they weren't going to be a family.  He was simply a hired hand.
     Nat got up at four, then prepared breakfast before rushing to the nine AM start of school.  School brought a momentary peace.  He could have fun.  However, once school ended at noon, he had to rush back home.  Then, the cruel, back-breaking work began.  Most times his uncle was home, usually drunk and angry.
     Two week ago Nat had been happy; now he was a slave.

     "I'm sure Edward will be happy to defend Nat, Jo," Meg urged.
     "If Nat won't talk, then there'll be nothing to defend," Jo replied.  The angry, boyish girl from her youth suddenly reemerged.  "Besides, he already did so much for Nick and Ben last Christmas.  How could I ask him to help out again?"
     Jo felt as if the odds were against Nat.  He was the only one who lived with Michael and she and Nick had found him sitting next to the body.  Of course she believed he wasn't guilty, but she found herself wondering if a jury would.  Especially a jury made up of adults, too quick to judge a boy who had lived on the streets and had been in jail before.
     If they would just see past that and into the heart of a sweet, caring, young man who Jo knew would someday make her proud.
     However, a jury had been quick to try and hang Ben.  She'd been quick to believe that Nick had been involved.  Jo still regretted it.  But things were different now.  Nat was innocent and she was going to prove it.
     Mrs. Jo smiled to herself, remembering how adamant Dan had been in proving that Nick was innocent.
     "Still, Jo.  The trial is in two days.  Edward is Nat's best chance," Amy put in.
     The three sat in Jo's parlor.  Discussing the way they had often done as children.  Time and life had changed the circumstances at bit though.
     Amy patted Jo's hand.  "It'll all work out Jo, you'll see.  Just as it did for Nick and his brother."
     "I hope so."

     "Uncle, please—" Nat begged.  The boy clung to his violin.
     "Give it to me!"  The older man stood in a drunken rage.  The boy was just like his father.  Always playing. . . . Michael remembered his childhood.  How he had stood in the shadows as his brother did everything.  Everything he couldn't do.  Michael wasn't a smart man; he couldn't make music, he couldn't write stories.  Matthew could.  His music and stories comforted their mother as she lay dying.  His intelligence made their father proud.  He would stop it all now.  He would stop Nat's music and stories.  Schooling would stop as well.  Michael grabbed the violin and broke it in two and watched as the wooden pieces fell slowly to the ground. . . .
     Just as Mr. Arlotta did nearly two years before.  He'd been helpless then and he was helpless now.
     "But he didn't have to . . . " Mrs. Jo had said.  She had been right.  His didn't have to let his uncle hit him.  But how could he get him to stop?

     "Nat," Dan whispered, approaching the cell.  Nat lay in his corner of the cell, arms covered around his knees, unresponsive.  "I can't let you go to jail.  I'll tell them what really happened."
     "No!" the words were uttered quickly and so suddenly that Dan wondered if they had been spoken at all.  "The same reason you can't let me go to jail is the reason I can't let you."
     "Nat—"
     "No, listen to me Dan.  You're always trying to protect me, but this time you can't.  My uncle is dead and no matter how you look at it, it's my fault."
     "I was the one—"
     "You were just looking out for me."
     "It was an accident.  If I go and tell Mrs. Jo, she'll find a way to get you off."
     "We can't tell Mrs. Jo, Dan.  Or Nick, or Asia or Franz.  No one can find out what really happened."

     "He is a very bright boy, Mr. Blake.  Taking him out of school will not be good for Nat," Mrs. Bhaer argued.
     "I need help around the farm and having him in school just takes too much of Nat's time."
     "What you need, Mr. Blake, is to have your nephew receive an education."
     "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bhaer.  But I'm taking Nat out of this school."
     "We'll see about that," she spoke harshly.
     "Jo," Nick warned.
     "Do you want to lose this school again, Mrs. Bhaer?" the man stated cruelly.
     Jo placed her hands on her hips.  Mr. Blake was so infuriating.  "Do not threaten me."
     "I'm just stating a question, that's all."  He turned to the door.  "Come on Nat."
     The boy looked up questionably to Mrs. Jo and Nick.  Nat hated his uncle at that moment.  It seemed so unfair.  Why couldn't things go back to the way it was?  He wanted to stay with Mrs. Jo, but who would listen?  Since he was only fifteen, the law didn't apply to him.  It allowed him to live with a man who hit and abused.  A shiver of fear fell over him, threatening to never let go.
     "Go on, Nat."  Mrs. Jo sighed.  She looked and felt defeated.  Nat turned back once more, sending her a look that stayed with Jo.  Something was wrong.

     There was a cold, eerie silence that filled the courthouse.  Most of Concord was there, eager to see the law take place.  A childlike anxiety was also apparent, the impatient waiting of youth.  In truth, a child's fate was at stake and that gave them a unquenchable parental need to know what was going to happen.  Would everything turn out okay?  Would the boy be all right?
     Scandal.
     That was also a reason.  The delicious taste of a good scandal was fresh on their lips.
     "One of Mrs. Bhaer's pupils, you say?"
     "Murder!?"
     "Always watch out for the quiet ones . . . "
     Lies, deceit, guilt, innocence.  Everything that made up a good murder mystery.  Who wouldn't want to watch?  To play the game?
     There were also others like the Widow Thompson who just needed some excitement or like Eli McBride who was, he hoped, finally going to see Josephine Bhaer get what she deserved.  How wonderful it would be to see her precious school close down  because it created boys who killed their uncles.  Now he would gain that property, that house.  The cards were falling into place.  One by one he was getting closer to getting Plumfield.
     "Court is now in session."  Eyes snapped to attention.  For whatever reasons they were there didn't matter now.  The trial for Nathaniel Blake's life had begun . . .

     Jo sighed a worried sigh.  Two hours into the trial and it was not going well.  Edward had little or no evidence to prove Nat not guilty.  She turned her head and Nick gave her a reassuring smile.  "It's going to be okay, Jo," his blue eyes read; then he took her hand and patted it.

     "So what did you ask me out here for?" Nan asked, annoyed.  It was a warm spring day which contrasted the feelings inside the courthouse.  She couldn't believe how everything could change in only a short time.  A year and a half ago had been happy, carefree.  Now everything was wrong and nothing was right.
     "I'm going to tell them I did it," Dan said stubbornly.
     "What?  Dan, I know Nat's your friend but if you didn't have anything to do with it . . . "
     "But I did."
     "What did you do?" Nan spoke, unconvinced.  "Besides, they don't allow children in court.  It's not like they're just going to let you walk in."
     "I did it for Ben, and I'll do it for Nat.  I don't have time to  tell you how I'm involved.  Just promise me that you won't tell anyone where I've gone."
     "I' won't, but you have to promise me something," Nan said, a familiar spark in her eye.  Dan noticed and tilted his head a little as if he were trying to figure out what to make of her.  "Say . . . what do you have planned Nan?"
     "I have my secrets too.  Promise me you won't say anything in court until after I've gotten there."
     "I don't know about that . . . "
     "Please Dan.  Just promise."
     "I can't Nan," he spat.
     "Fine," she said and, as only as Anthea Harding would do, she got a board that Nick had left lying on the floor of the barn and hit him on the head with it.  She reached down and  took his pulse.  "Sorry, but you'll be fine," she spoke to the unconscious boy, "I  just needed some time to save both your lives."

     The day dragged on and Jo wondered why when  you want something not to happen that event seems to come up so fast.  Such was the case now, and closing remarks loomed ahead.  Nat, it seemed, was going to jail or worse.  She breathed a sigh of relief as the judge allowed an hour break.
     "Nick, I—" she started.
     "Mrs. Bhaer, a word please," Eli McBride cut in.
     "Yes, Mr. Mc Bride?" Mrs. Jo said, annoyed.
     "Well, I was just wondering, since it seems that one of your prized pupils is, to put it frankly, going to hang, that you would now be more than willing to discuss the selling of your school, to me of course."
     Jo felt bottled-up rage come up within her and she felt she was going to explode.  How could he be so callous?  So cold?
     "How dare you ask me something like that now?  I will not be selling my school.  And I will never sell it to the likes of you!" she spat, letting her anger get the best of her.
     "Mrs. Bhaer, now listen to me—" he started walking closer to Jo.
     "No, you listen, McBride.  Leave the lady alone."  Nick stepped in between the two and gripped the collar of  his shirt.
     "You threatened me once, Mr. Riley; are you trying to do it again?"
     "No, I'm just tellin' ya to go home if you know what's best for you," Nick replied, letting go of Eli's collar.
     Mr. McBride straightened his shirt and looked to the crowd that had formed outside the courthouse.  "Fine, I'll go.  But I see what kind of person Mrs. Bhaer has around her students," he cast a disgusted look towards Nick.  "It'd be no surprise if they all didn't end up murderers."
     "That man," Jo replied .
     "Don't let him get to you, Jo," Meg said reassuringly.  "Come on, let's go inside before the trial starts up again."
     "All right," she relied as she picked up her skirts and walked inside.

     "Court has resumed.  Any more witnesses?" the judge referred to Edward.
     "No, I—" he started as Nan rushed in with Dr. Pierce by her side.  Dr. Pierce walked up to Edward and the two spoke for a few moments in hushed whispers.  The crowd within the courthouse began to talk as well, excited about the new development and wondering where this trial would go next.
     "Judge," Edward spoke.  "I would like to call Mr. James Kendall to the stand."
     "Mr. Kendall?" Amy said, amazed.  "The bartender?  What could he possible have to say?"
     "Hush," Jo said harshly.
     "Now, Mr. Kendall, you saw a lot of  Michael Blake in your bar didn't you?"
     James Kendall was a portly man, not overly intelligent but had a good heart.  He was also a nervous, shy man  and he rang his hands around his hat, over and  over as he quietly answered the question.  "Yes, he was in the bar a lot."
     "And when Mr. Blake was in your bar, did he drink a lot?  Enough  to be intoxicated?"
     "Yes, an awful lot.  Sometimes he'd leave the bar barely able to get home."
     "Objection," the prosecutor stated.  "What does this have to do with Mr. Blake's murder?"
     "Your honor, I'm trying to prove something here.  If I could just ask a few more questions, you'll see my point," Edward retorted.
     "Sustained.  Go on," The judge spoke.
     "Now, one last question, Mr. Kendall.  How many times a week would  you say Mr. Blake came to your bar?"
     "Um, about twice a day.  Maybe even more than that."
     "Thank you, Mr. Kendall.  I have no further questions."
     Jo sat puzzled.  What was Edward trying to do?  She wondered what Nan had to do in all of this, as well as Dr. Pierce.  One thing was for sure; her students did have a way of surprising her.  Jo's thoughts came back again to last year and what Dan did for Nick and Ben.
     The prosecutor, Mr. Olsen, cross examined James, and Edward went on to call his next witness, Dr. Pierce:
     "Now, is there any evidence you wish to share with the court?"
     "Yes.  Earlier today, a Miss Anthea Harding called to my attention  something I had overlooked in Mr. Blake's case."
     "Which was?"
     "Mr. Blake was a heavy drinker and I came to believe that even though he received a hard blow to the head, it did not kill him.  What did kill him was alcohol poisoning."
     "Do you have any proof of your findings?"
     "Yes, I had the sheriff dig up the body and I preformed an autopsy.  It confirmed what I had previously believed."
     The judge turned to the sheriff.  "Is this true?"
     "Yes," the sheriff nodded.
     "I rest my case," Edward said with a pleased look on his face.

     "Nat?" Mrs. Jo said to herself quietly as she looked out her bedroom window.  He was sitting by the horses, perched on the fence, looking lost, dejected, and scared.  She lit a candle and headed towards him in through the night air.
     "You owe Nan and Dr. Pierce a great deal," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
     He looked up.  "Yeah."
     "Nat," she started.  "What really did happen?  Why didn't you tell me?"
     "I was working in the fields.  My uncle had just come home from the bar; he was drunk and angry.  I'd forgotten to start dinner.  He started hitting me and throwing me across the room, like he always did when I had done something wrong.  Dan must have figured out what my uncle was doing because he followed me home.  Being Dan, he was—"
     "Trying to protect you?" Mrs. Jo finished for him with a slight smile on her face.
     "He tried to tell Uncle Michael to stop, but he wouldn't.  I though he was going to kill me.  But Dan stepped in and hit him over the head with a rock.  We didn't tell you because we thought we'd killed him.  I  made Dan promise not to tell anyone what happened.  I couldn't let him got to jail."
     "Nat I—"
     Nat looked at her with so much sadness that there was nothing she could say to make it better.  He was changed.  Nat picked up his violin, a present from Mrs. Jo, and played the most  melancholy song Jo had ever heard.

The End