Summary: Harper Anderson/Pete Smith. Two "special victims" find each other. Set in the "Casey's twin" universe, a few years back.
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Dick Wolf and NBC. No money was made by me on this work.
She took the gun. She pointed it at his chest.
"You see, Mr. Cleary, this is how I like it."
Bang!
Harper Anderson awoke with a start. She was bathed in a cold sweat. God, she had really done it. She had shot him. The man who had raped her. And she had gotten away with it. No one could prove that it hadn't been the wife who had shot him, and her self-defense affirmative defense had been too strong for the jury to deny. She had finally destroyed the man who had nearly destroyed her.
So why couldn't she sleep? She had slept so well that first night, after killing him. But now she was feeling - something.
A face stared back at her from the television. "This is a cynical attempt to get fame from a venal young man, as I have said before. He is trying to make a mockery of rape victims everywhere in order to further his career. We will prove that he is a liar and that I and Ms. Chase are innocent of all charges. I urge all women who have been victimized everywhere to consider what people will think if he wins." The woman on the screen turned her back to the cameras and walked away.
"That was Pamela Adler, the well-known defense attorney, currently facing a rape charge in what is certain to be a precedent-setting case."
Harper looked at the screen. She had written an angry letter to Mr. Smith, the alleged victim, feeling that he was trivializing what had happened to her. But now she was regretting it. She didn't like the way that the accused rapist, Pam Adler, had looked. So - cold. Rapists were all men, she had thought. No woman could be capable of such an act, physically or psychologically. On the other hand, she had to admit, if any woman were capable of such a crime, it would be someone like Ms. Adler.
Harper Anderson started boiling water for a cup of tea and went to sit down. It was going to be a long night.
Peter Smith tossed and turned. He was so nervous. The trial was about to begin, and he didn't know what was going to happen. He regretted every decision he had ever made. He had spent his life using women - he had slept his way into an acting job once or twice, and had essentially prostituted himself to an older woman for his college education. Maybe this was his fault; maybe he was getting what was coming to him for his life of infidelity and promiscuity. Were he not to have experienced it himself, would he believe a male stripper who had accused three women of rape?
And even now, he was being less than honest. But he wasn't lying, exactly. He was just leaving out an unimportant fact because it might mislead. No one needed to know about the lawsuit. The record had been expunged, so no one would find out, and what difference did it make? He just wanted the names of the other two women, not the money. And Miss Lehman - actually, it was Mrs. Green now, but she was dead, it didn't matter - had agreed to give him the names. The suit against Mrs. Green would have been dropped as soon as he could have started proceedings against them. So there was no reason to tell anyone about the lawsuit. Yet - there was something off here. How could Mrs. Green accidentally kill herself just before she was going to give in and give him the names? Was she distraught and deliberately killed herself? Something was wrong... He didn't know what, but he had a feeling that he really needed to tell the whole truth.
He began ruminating on the three women.
Sydney Green had been the one he hated the least. She had acted so strange; it was obvious that she was high as a kite during the rape. She had been quite scary at the time, hyperventilating in excitement, but almost immediately after they were finished, she had begun to act scared and guilty. He had seen her as he left; curled up in a fetal position on her couch, crying "What have I done? What have I done?"
He hated Amelia Chase a lot more. Her whole attitude was one of hate. The whole time he had been under her control, she had been laughing at him. She didn't say anything, though. He had sensed something from her. A lot of pain. Somehow he felt pity for her, being so full of hate. So he hated her, but not as much as he could have.
He hated Pamela Adler the most. The whole time, she had been talking. Telling him he was nothing, and no one would believe him, and that she was Pam Adler, and he was nobody, so he should shut up and give her what she wanted. And then, when it was over, she had mocked him more.
"I know my rights! I'm reporting you to the police! What you did is against the law!"
"Honey, I'm a top-notch defense attorney. You could have me on tape and I'd still get off. You think I broke the law? Baby, what you know about the law I could fit in the palm of my hand! Here, here's a hundred bucks. Thanks for your services, whore, and get out."
He hated Pam the most not just because she had belittled him, but because in his heart, he found nothing that he could relate to. She was just a bitch. Sydney was slave to an addiction. Amelia obviously was enslaved to her hate; she had mentioned one or two things during his original striptease that suggested that she really, really hated men. He felt that she had been through her own set of problems, she was doing this because of her own pain. So he could pity her.
But Pamela was just a spoiled brat grown up. Someone who had been taught her whole life that the world existed for her own pleasure, and who was willing to crush anyone for what she wanted. He couldn't pity her, or understand her. He hated her with a fiery passion.
Well, she would get hers. He turned over and went back to sleep.
Chapter 2
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Dick Wolf and NBC. No money was made by me on this work.
Harper walked over to the window.
