Okay so, first things first I want to thank syriana94 and breakingunbreaking over on tumblr (and here) for making this Cobert week happen and for inviting me to take part.
Secondly, I chose to go with the lawyer/divorcee AU prompt because that really jumped out at me.
Thirdly, this is completely unchecked (other than my myself) so I apologise for any mistakes. Please also note there are some descriptions of violence.
Finally, I have no idea (apart from kind of obvious things) how the law system works so I have kind of gone for drama/content over actual accuracy, I hope that doesn't annoy too many people! Please enjoy, and a review would be great! Much Cobert love. x
"Mrs Bricker, can you please answer the following questions?" She meets the ocean blue eyes across the court room and her nerves steady her. She knows he is waiting for her answer before he will proceed – just as they had agreed. She swallows turning her eyes to him. She drops her fingers from the leather binding of the bible where she had been scratching her thumb nail rhythmically along the spine.
"Yes, of course." He nods reassuringly, smiling as he looks down at his notes and then back up. She watches with too much interest on the way he seems to stroke the paper with his large hands. A gentle, yet strong touch which she had always dreamed of receiving from man – but Simon had never been gentle.
"You were married to Mr Simon Bricker on the 14th of August in the year 2009 is that correct?" She nods, and then his eyebrows raise and his head tilts slightly to one side, a reminder to her that her answers must be audible.
"Yes, that is correct."
"And how old were you on the day of your wedding?"
"I was eighteen."
"Indeed, and would you say on hindsight this was too young to be married?" His eyes stay fixed on hers, just as he had promised they would. She hears the scuffling from behind him as Simon's lawyer stands but she keeps her eyes where she had been told to keep them – on the blue of the ocean.
"Objection! You honour that question has no relevance to the task at hand, we are here to discuss the financial settlement upon divorce, not the reasons for the marriage in the first place." She sees out the corner of her eye as the judge turns his heavily wigged head in the direction of Mr Crawley, and very briefly she loses the contact of his face that does so well to calm her.
"I do hope your questioning is coming to a point Mr Crawley, if it is not you had better change tactic."
"It is your honour, I can assure you." He turns his attention back to her and she feels her shoulders lower back to a more comfortable position. "Let me repeat the question Mrs Bricker, do you think, that in hindsight, eighteen was too young to be married?"
"I would not say that it is too young in every case, but I would say that in mine it was. But this was not so much because of my age as to my lack of understanding of the man I was about to marry."
"You use the phrase 'lack of understanding' in relation to your husband, could you clarify what you mean for the court room please?" Her hand reaches for the bible once more, her fingers crawl over the top of it, her nails scratching at the leather as she recalls that first night.
His breath is warm by her ear, just as it always is. She finds it soothing, and electrifying as he leans over her and covers his lips over the racing pulse. She squirms, the sensation making her shiver. He murmurs something but she cannot work out what the words are. Her thoughts are entirely consumed by the traces of his mouth on her neck and the pulsating sensation of somewhere far more intimate, as his hand tugs her underwear to her knees. Her body seems to know what it wants, her hand grabs at the sheet, before it is covered by his – his nail briefly scratching along her skin, leaving a dark red line. She doesn't feel it, or the blood that slowly oozes from it. She doesn't think his grip is too firm as he massages her thigh. She doesn't think he is too rough despite the pain she feels, because this is it – this is love. This is what she had dreamed about since she was old enough to understand the concept. They are married; thus they are in love.
"I lacked the understanding of my partner, the deep friendship that should be the precursor to all marriage. More significantly the lightening pace at which my relationship with my husband occurred means that I did not truly know him at all, and I certainly did not know myself."
"In what ways did you really not understand your husband?"
His red face looms before her, his nose wrinkling with the strain of trying to hold himself back when they both know he can't. His fist is already clenching and unclenching by his side as he tries to dissipate more of his anger. He will not be able to, he never has. She can spend days doing everything right; everything exactly how he asks for it to be and still he will be angry, and every time the conversation will start just like this – with him trying to restrain himself.
His eyes narrow as her muscles tense in response to the imposing threat – preparing themselves for the onslaught of pain that she must not react to – screaming will only make him hit harder and after hitting came…came things that she had thought were only given when a couple were in love.
"Mrs Bricker, I must remind you that you must answer the question." She is snapped back to reality by the solemn words of the judge, the look on her face as she wipes away the single tear that had collected in her eye tells her that he has seen this scene before – the emergence of a divorce case that is the complete contrary to what one might expect. After all, it was Simon that had filed for divorce, not her. He would have had the divorce exactly as he wanted it too – after all, it was an easy way out for her – but Mr Crawley had seen right through her, and had convinced her that she was brave enough to speak out. With that reminder she turns her attention back to the man in front of her with the eyes as blue as the ocean – the only man she might ever trust in her entire life.
"I apologise, could you remind me of the question Mr Crawley?" She does not need reminding, they had practiced this, she knows exactly what she has to say next, but the extra time would be enough for her to swallow the lump in her throat and pinch away those tears.
"I asked you in what ways you realised after your marriage that you did not understand your husband?"
"I didn't understand his character. Or, more specifically I did not know his true character. He was, and still is, violent. It started as just hitting and then it progressed to more serious – " Mr Crawley had told her the opposition would interrupt, so she lets her sentence fall short when she is.
"Objection your honour, this is not relevant material for a divorce case, if Mrs Bricker has other allegations she wishes to – "
"I would beg to differ," the judge doesn't even look at Simon's lawyer, he just bellows his command across the court room, his gaze fixed on her, "they are relevant to the relationship; thus they are relevant to the divorce. Mrs Bricker, please continue." She nods her acknowledgement, and sees once again in his eyes that look of pity she had seen radiated in so many people's expression over the years. It pushes her on more if anything, because it is a look that does nothing. It has never helped her, and those people had never truly understood her situation (many of them had only ever made assumptions or heard rumours anyway). The only person that had ever known all the facts and not pitied her is the man for whom she is standing in front of a judge for – Mr Robert Crawley. He had heard her story but not once had the word 'sorry' passed his lips, not even the first time. All he ever says is that things will improve and that he will get her out of the situation.
"As I was saying, it starting as just hitting, often my arms or my legs. Places people couldn't see and that I could hide. About a year after we married he struck me across the face and that became a common theme. On one occasion he managed to split by skin across my eyebrow and I had to go into hospital for stitches – the file is on my medical notes. There were other hospital visits for lashings with belts that happened much later on and were usually linked to the more aggressive and imposing forms of attack that he would use. Most ended with him forcing himself upon me. Perhaps the worst experience for me, was when I was almost strangled by my own necklace at his hands – he took pictures of that and would taunt me with them. He – "
"I think that's enough Mrs Bricker, thank you." She is surprised to find herself cut off by the judge. He writes something on the paper in front of him, slowly, the sound of the scratching fountain pen filling the silent courtroom – a courtroom shocked into silence. "This session is adjourned. It is clear this case is not what we all thought. Mrs Bricker, I am going to organise a safe place for you to reside while the divorce, and the court case relating to your allegations are sorted. Mr Bricker your passport will be confiscated and on my orders, you will be remaining in custody until the allegations heard today are investigated and resolved. I must confirm one thing with you Mrs Bricker, you used the phrase 'forcing himself upon me,' can you confirm exactly what you mean by that?"
"Yes." She lets her eyes lift for the first time since she had entered the room towards her husband. Mr Crawley had told her not to look there – to keep focused on him, and the judge and any other neutral people. Simon sits with an expressionless face, a dead pan, unemotional look. A look that shows that even now he thinks he can get off the hook – maybe he would, but either way she is free of him. What happens to him she doesn't care because she had finally found some good in the world. Good that has bright blue eyes and swathes of curly hazelnut hair. "I mean that he would force himself on me in a sexual manner."
She exits the courtroom with a smile on her face, the first true smile that had graced her face since her wedding day eight years prior. There is a buoyancy in her step as the cold winter air hits her from outside. This will be her first decent Christmas, which she can make all about herself since her marriage and her arrival in England. Her mother was not making the effort to fly over – still annoyed that the marriage she had pushed Cora so hard into all those years ago had turned out to be a disaster and, more significantly, that Cora had managed to set the world slight with her allegations. To Cora, that was all a blessing – her mother was always best avoided.
Besides, she had made true friends in the year that had followed that first nervous standing in the witness box of a courtroom, where she had first admitted to someone other than Mr Crawley that she was a victim of domestic abuse. Given her status, and Simon's, the exposure of the case had been vast, and it is of no surprise that Branson has to shelter her to the car as she leaves the courtroom for the final time – her divorce settled and her ex-husband's prison sentence all confirmed. Hearing that he was to be locked away had strangely offered her no more solace than she had felt a year ago when she had heard the truth exit her mouth in a court room – and the weight of her live had finally lifted from her shoulders – to be sorted indefinitely by law.
Branson opens the car door for her and she slides into the back seat where Mr Crawley is already occupying his side of the car.
"I told you, we would get you free of him." His blue eyes are brighter than she had ever seen them, his grey suit and baby blue tie perfectly complimenting his handsome face.
"And you know I couldn't have done it without you, thank you."
"I think you doubt your own strength Mrs, err, Miss – " He laughs, and she laughs with him.
"Cora, I should think, after all this time I think it should finally be Cora."
"Yes, well, Cora. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for." She shakes her head, letting the tears pool in her eyes simply because of how adorable he is – how completely unaware of his own merits he is.
"You have no idea of your own strength Mr Crawley. I had spent eight years married to that man. Not once in that time did I tell anyone of what was happening – I couldn't even trust my own family or old school friends. A year ago, I walked into your office, because I needed a lawyer to sort my divorce. Within an hour of meeting you I had told you everything. You never asked for that information, I freely gave it, because for the first time in my life I thought I had found someone I could trust. This was a woman who didn't think she would ever be able to trust anyone again. And, it wasn't because I knew what I told you was confidential, because the same goes for doctors and nurses, and I had never told them. No, it was because somehow, something about your personality told me that you wouldn't let me down. Trust me when I say, all any other lawyer would have done was sort my divorce, going along with the story Simon had woven, because I would never have told them." A silence falls between them, the only sound is Branson, in the front of the car quietly whistling along to the radio. Cora can see his beaming face in the rear-view mirror – he is as eager to see how the next few minutes go as Cora is.
"Branson, do I have anything else scheduled for this afternoon?"
"No Sir, you had cleared the whole day because of the court case." Mr Crawley nods, clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly before he turns his attention back to her. She sees a nervousness shrouding his eyes that she had never seen before – despite the pressure of the courtroom Cora had never seen him looking so nervous.
"Well, how about we go to dinner Cora? To celebrate the success? Perhaps catch something at the theatre this afternoon first?" Her eyes widen in shock and she has to recompose her face quickly as he frowns.
"Yes, of course, that would be lovely, if you're sure it is okay – I am your client after all."
"You're not anymore!" They laugh again. "You don't have to come, if you have other plans I fully understand."
"I would love to come, I haven't been to the theatre in some time."
"Well, that's settled then." He leans back in the posh leather seats, but Cora finds that she cannot quite relax. Her mind is churning with the reality that she is going on what could be classed as a date with the most wonderful man she has ever met. Branson's Irish tone breaks her from her thoughts, as he meets their gazes in the mirror.
"I don't wish to intrude, but I feel after today's happy conclusion and the fact I have been driving you both for an entire year, that I should tell you it is time you both said exactly what you really mean." No sooner has he said it, he goes back to whistling.
Cora finds her face flushing red – were her feelings so obvious on her face that the chauffeur had managed to detect them? She turns slowly towards Mr Crawley with an embarrassed look on her face, only to find that he is blushing an even brighter shade of red than herself. This makes her blush even more as realisation behind his blushes and Branson's words suddenly hangs together.
"I…umm, errr, that is, I…" She looks from the seat, to her lap, to his face, as she tries to think of something to say, anything that will make this conversation less awkward. As it is, he has a different idea.
Her fingers are stilled from the repetitive circles they had been making on the leather seat by him inching his fingers and then his hand, over hers, rubbing gently at a scar she has on her right wrist. She doesn't need to look up to know that his nose and mouth are somewhere near her forehead – she can feel the warmth he exudes, and the calmness it causes to settle over her is perfection itself. When his other hand cups her cheek she doesn't even have to think about her next move, she tilts her head instinctively and his lips are there to meet her own.