Contention

Chapter 1: Acquittal

"I'm very sorry for what happened to you, Miss Geary." Trevor Langan's voice was honey-smooth as he got up out of his seat and buttoned his jacket, taking care to smooth the wrinkles out afterward. "But…I just need to clarify a few things. You never actually saw my client's face at any point before, during, or after the attack, did you?"

"It wasn't an attack! He raped me!" Allison Geary pointed at the defendant, Morris Karman, sitting behind the defense table.

"Miss Geary, if you never saw his face, how can you be sure that my client is, in fact, your attacker?"

"I heard his voice when he asked me if I liked it that way," Allison said, her eyes burning with tears as she stared Trevor Langan down.

"But when Detective Benson brought you in for a lineup, you at first couldn't identify the voice from the voices of the other men in the lineup, could you?"

"Not at first, no." Allison sounded tentative. "But after they all spoke the same words a second time I realized it was him!" She pointed to Morris Karman.

"But you identified your attacker the first time as an off-duty NYPD cop who had been on the force for eight years."

"They tricked me! It was a setup! They had a lot of people who sounded the same! How was I supposed to know who I was supposed to pick out?" Behind the prosecution table, Casey sighed and mentally gave up. After that little outburst, there was no way she was getting this conviction.

"I have no further questions, your Honor." Trevor sat down with a satisfied smile. He'd just gotten a win, and he knew it.

Casey got up and delivered her closing arguments with as much energy as she could muster, even though she knew, and Olivia, sitting in the row of gallery seats right behind her, knew, that there was no way they were winning this. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are not here to settle the question of whether the police set the witness up, or not. Morris Karman stalked Allison Geary for a week, and seized his opportunity when a package came for her. He went up to Allison Geary's apartment claiming to be a deliveryman, and when she answered the door expecting a package, what she got instead was a brutal, violent rape. He smashed her head into the wall, then pinned her there while he raped her. Dizzy and sick and in pain, she nevertheless correctly identified her assailant's voice when detectives brought her in for a lineup. Morris Karman thought he was being smart and using a condom, but the spermicide found inside Allison Geary matched the spermicide on the condom found caught in her bathroom toilet drain, and I don't think that was a coincidence. Don't let Morris Karman get away with ruining Allison's life. Ladies and gentlemen, he must be found guilty and placed where he cannot do this to another woman ever again."

The jury took an hour to deliberate, and came back with a not-guilty verdict, and Casey sighed as she collected her material and stood up. "We tried our best, Olivia," she said placatingly to the detective sitting behind her.

"It wasn't enough. Damn it, it wasn't enough." Olivia sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I could really kill Trevor Langan right about now."

Casey grinned crookedly at her. "I'll pretend I never heard that."

"Casey, you know I'd never…"

"I know, I know," Casey smiled as she and Olivia left the courtroom and paused by the hallway door. "Lighten up a little, Olivia."

"I just…I spent weeks making that case, and I'm sure we got the right guy. Everything fits. You know he's guilty. I know he's guilty. Hell, Trevor Langan has to know he's guilty. I'll bet the jury even believes he's guilty, but Trevor's badgering put enough appearance of a reasonable doubt that they had to acquit. And we know rapists don't stop, Casey. He's not going to stop. I just don't want him to ruin another woman's life like he ruined Allison's."

"How is she doing?"

Olivia blew out her breath and stared at her shoes. "She's coping. She's progressing with the rape counseling, but it's slow going. She still hasn't left her parents' home. She insisted her parents let her apartment go and sell or get rid of everything in it because she says she can't stand to even look at anything that was in there anymore. Her mother brought a framed wedding photo of Allison and her ex home from the apartment because she thought that Allison would at least want that, and Allison got hysterical and refused to come out of her bedroom until her mother got rid of it. She won't even take her dog out to the backyard."

"Excessive paranoia?"

"Can you blame her?" Olivia shook her head. "I remember when you got beaten up. You were a wreck for a while, Casey."

"I know." Casey sighed. "My own office…and you'd only stepped out for a minute…I still wonder what he would have done if he'd come and we both were there."

"I'm sorry I wasn't." Olivia was sincere.

"It's all right. I got over it. Allison will too."

"I hope so." Olivia sighed. "George talked to her after trial prep that day; he told me he thought that if she didn't get her feet under her soon, she'd go suicidal."

"I hope not." Casey shuddered. "God, what a waste of a life." She was silent for a minute, then said, "What would you do if something like that happened to you?"

"You have no idea how often I ask myself that," Olivia said. "Every time I see someone like that, I wonder what I would do. I wonder if I'll start drinking to numb the pain, like my mother. I wonder if I'll cut my hair and wear running shoes to bed, like Harper Anderson. I wonder if, God forbid, I'd turn my gun on myself. I don't know, Casey. And I hope I'll never know."

Casey nodded. "That's a fair answer. All right, I have to get back to Hogan Place. I'll see you later at Maloney's?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, I think I'll just go home tonight, Casey. But I'll take a rain check."

"All right. See you tomorrow then."

Casey headed off down the hallway, and Olivia paused to dig her sunglasses out of her pocket. Just as she looked up, she heard an oily male voice say, "Better luck next time, Detective. Your place or mine, ladies' choice."

She didn't even stop to think. Two quick steps forward brought her close, and she reached out to grab his sleeve. "You dirty little—"

"Hey, hey, easy, Detective," came a calmer, familiar voice from behind them, and Olivia looked up as Trevor Langan interposed his body between Morris and herself. "Keep walking, Morris. Detective Benson, don't make me file harassment charges against you on my client's behalf."

Olivia put her hands on her hips, struggling to control her temper. "You just hit a new low, even for you, you know that, Trevor? You know he's guilty."

Trevor raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm just doing my job, Detective, defending my client."

"Yeah? Well, you want to know something? Remember back in law school, when they taught you how to create a moral vacuum so you could defend people you knew were guilty? I think you fell in it and never came out." Olivia shoved her hands in the pockets of her blazer and walked away, gritting her teeth to keep from saying anything else.

The sun was shining outside, and the smells from the hot dog vendor at the foot of the courthouse steps were tempting. Letting go of her bad mood reluctantly, she gave in to her stomach's urging and went to buy herself a hot dog. As she was applying condiments to the steaming package in her hand, someone cleared a throat behind her. She turned and locked eyes with a smiling Trevor Langan.

"Oh, God. Please, Trevor, get away from me before you have to file your own assault charge against me, because, so help me God, I could slug you right now and not feel the slightest bit guilty." As she walked away, a distant part of her mind wondered when Trevor had had time to change out of his court attire and into khaki pants and a black t-shirt, but she dismissed it as she hurried off to the car to get back to work.

**

She dismissed the entire incident completely from her mind, except for a niggling bit of guilt that she'd lost her temper. In the middle of the paperwork involved with closing a case and gritting her teeth as she wrote 'innocent' in a case blank, she never even looked up when the noise level in the squad room dropped to nil and Fin and John stopped discussing…whatever it was they were discussing. A male voice in a pleasant tenor said politely, "I'm looking for Detective Benson?"

"Right here, I'm Detective Benson—" she put her pen down and looked up…and froze when her eyes met an irritatingly familiar pair of deep brown ones. "Trevor, what the hell—if you think I'm going to be appeased by a bunch of dying weeds, you got another think coming." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

Trevor Langan smiled—How odd, I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that, he's actually cute when he's genuinely smiling, Olivia thought—and realized why he was being so uncharacteristically pleasant when the apparition opened his mouth and said, "Actually, my name's Peter. Peter Langan. Trevor's my twin brother."

Olivia sprang out of her chair, horrified and embarrassed at how she'd treated him. "I'm so sorry!" So that explains the sudden change in clothes. Damn it, what kind of detective am I? He's too nice to be Trevor. I should have seen that. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. So what are these for? Shouldn't I be apologizing to you?"

Peter smiled again—God, I could really get used to that smile—and said, "Consider them…an apology. For losing your case, and for my brother being a dick."

"Who's being a dick?" Elliot walked into the room, carrying a bag from the deli down the block and sipping from a soda. His eyes rose from his cup, scanned the room, and stopped when he saw Peter Langan, holding flowers and talking to Olivia. His eyebrows climbed high up his forehead. "Since when are you doing the enemy, Liv?"

Olivia turned bright pink. "This is Trevor's twin brother, Peter." She took the flowers gently, looking at them. A rose, lily, carnation, and daisy mix, with a few eucalyptus stems. She inhaled the delicate fragrance. "These are really lovely flowers, Peter."

Peter looked back at her, and she saw a flash of humor in those dark eyes even as his mouth curved into a merrily wicked smile. "They aren't lovely flowers, according to you. They're dying weeds." His hand shot up to his chest, as if he'd been shot in the heart, and he stumbled backwards a few steps. Olivia giggled in embarrassment and humor as John and Fin broke into sweetly malicious chuckling from behind their desks.

She busied herself with taking her glass of water from her desk, grabbing a pair of scissors, and slitting the cellophane packaging from around the flowers carefully. She started snipping the ends and arranging them in the makeshift vase. "I'm sorry for being so rude," she said, glad she had something to occupy her so he wouldn't see how red her face had gotten.

"If you're really sorry, I know how you can make it up to me." Elliot, who had been about to sit down, froze with his ass halfway to the chair seat. John and Fin shot each other a 'here we go' look.

Olivia put the scissors down, positive she knew what was coming but uncertain if she should accept. "Really? How?" she asked, to buy time.

His grin got wider, showing even white teeth. God, he looked so much like Trevor, but his smile was so different…she couldn't even remember ever having seen a pleasant smile on Trevor Langan's face. "Have dinner with me tonight."

Butterflies fluttered contentiously in her stomach, and she laughed lightly as she started to collect stem clippings and cellophane from her desk and drop them in the wastebasket by her desk. "Is this your usual pickup line?" I want to accept, but my God, what is everyone going to think?

Peter shook his head. "No, I've been saving that for when I met the prettiest woman in the world." Olivia had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Yes, it's a blatant pick-up line, but at least he admits it…and no one's ever called me that before.

"Oh please." Just to cover her sudden flush. She could feel Elliot's eyes boring into her, and behind her, John and Fin's eyes were doing a similar number on her back. They're dying to see my reaction. Damn it, how do I say yes without them thinking…

"You are." Peter turned to the three men. "Isn't she?"

Elliot looked at Olivia's pink face and grinned suddenly. This was going to be fun. "Of course," he said, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of his chair.

John took his cue from Elliot. "Absolutely."

Fin snickered. "Got my vote."

Olivia looked like she was going to die of embarrassment on the spot. "Guys! Stop!" She threw up her mental hands and turned to Peter. "All right, you win."

"She gets off at six," John supplied helpfully. Olivia turned and glared daggers at him; he returned the look with one of bland innocence and thinly disguised mirth.

Peter smiled gamely. "So I'll pick you up at six?"

Olivia leaned against her desk and sighed. "What, I don't get to go home and change first?" She looked at him. "Do I need to change? Where are we going?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, suddenly charmingly uneasy. "Well, I actually don't know. I'm new to town, so I guess…wherever you want to go is great."

Elliot paused in the act of pushing papers aside on his desk to make room for his lunch. "New to town? Where are you from?"

"Just got back from a tour in Iraq."

Elliot frowned. "Army?"

"No. Marines."

"No kidding! Me too." Elliot held out his arm, wrist upward, proudly displaying the tattoo on the inside of his arm.

Peter grinned, extending a hand. "A fellow jarhead. Nice meeting you." Elliot found himself grinning as he shook Peter's hand. He seemed like a nice guy, certainly better than Trevor. And Olivia was definitely attracted; he could read it in her body language. It had been a while since he'd seen her smile like that for anyone… "I'm sorry?" He'd missed whatever Peter had said; he'd been too busy watching Olivia.

"I said, how long have you been out?"

"Oh. Fifteen years."

Peter grinned again. "Old jarhead."

Elliot wanted to get annoyed, but couldn't even manage that. Instead, he grinned and threw Olivia back in the fire. "Not with Liv. She'll keep you young."

Olivia's eyes widened, and she reached out and smacked him in the arm, none too gently. "Elliot!"

Peter watched the exchange with mounting interest, and finally cleared his throat delicately. "So, Elliot, what's good around here?"

Elliot leaned in and said in a stage whisper, "She loves Italian. Take her to Costa Azzura."

Peter smiled and responded in the same whisper. "Thanks."

Olivia decided that was just about enough. "All right, all right!" She appeared resigned, but she was secretly glad the guys weren't going to hassle her about going out to dinner with Peter. I'm glad they're okay with it. Not that they really have any say in who I date, but I'm glad my 'family' likes him. "I'll call and make the reservation. And I'll meet you at my place." She scribbled her address on a slip of paper and handed it to him. "I have to change, and so do you. You can't go like that." She eyed the khaki pants and black t-shirt. The shirt fit him like a second skin and showed off the toned physique he'd acquired in the service, but it wouldn't be appropriate for Costa Azzura.

Peter turned to Elliot. "Should I wear Marine khaki or dress whites?"

Elliot thought for a minute. "Dress whites. Olivia's gonna wear black."

Olivia glared at him in mock annoyance. "How do you know what I'm going to wear?" She took Peter's arm. "Come on. I'll walk you out before they corrupt you." She waved a hand at the squad room and walked him out, feeling the amused glances of the three guys behind her as she left.

Cragen strolled into the squad room barely a minute later, almost walking backwards. "Please tell me I didn't just see what I thought I just saw."

Elliot grinned wolfishly. "Depends on what you think you saw."

Cragen stared at him with a 'you gotta be kidding me' expression in his eyes. John took pity on him and smiled. "You think you saw our resident social butterfly leaving with a certain defense attorney we all love to hate?"

Cragen sighed and nodded. "Since when did Liv start dating the enemy?"

Elliot grinned humorously. "That's what I said."

John grinned. "Apparently 'The Enemy' has a much more amiable twin brother who thinks The Enemy is a dick and Olivia the prettiest woman in the world. A bona fide example of the proverbial 'evil twin' myth, although apparently Trevor is the evil twin in this instance."

Cragen sighed and rolled his eyes expressively to the ceiling. "Ah. Then I hope to hell this doesn't come back to bite us in the ass." He walked toward his office, shaking his head silently.

Elliot, John, and Fin burst into laughter as soon as the door closed behind him.