A number of almost, sleepless, days pass, broken only by gentle texts from 'that man', and unanswered phone calls.
He is very kind, always offering any support he can possibly think of, from offers of getting me food, to driving me anywhere I need to go, to just some company, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen...
I know he is unsure of how to open the dialogue of what happened...and I am little help to him, responding "I'm fine, thank you..." to every offer...but barely managing to contain the query of "What did you tell everyone?"
Until I can no longer push it down...and the words escape...
"What did you say...?" I hurriedly send, before I have a chance to talk myself, once more, out of it.
I almost cave, and call him in desperation, frantic to have him explain his response of "I told no one, it's not my place..."
But fear of the so craved, but desperately dreaded, answer he may provide, should I choose to push harder, dilutes my resolve, and I silently retreat back into the bed clothes haphazardly pulled around me on my couch.
I screen my calls, watching each name flashing on the display carefully,...silencing each demand... not declining them... but not answering them...until Olivia rings, her number saved into my phone on that first night...
"Hello?"
"This is Lieutenant Olivia Benson, do you remember me?"
I nod before remembering she can't see me, "I do, Lieutenant, thank you for all your help..."
"It's Olivia, please..."
"Olivia..." I repeat...
"How are you?" she asks softly.
I don't know how to answer her enquiry. It feels like more than just politeness...but I still can't quite put words to so much...so I settle for a half-truth..."A bit sore still, but ok..."
I'm guarded, but yet, glad to be talking to someone...and still the silence feels like further evidence of how broken I am...
"Would it be ok, if I was to call over this afternoon with our ADA?"
I try to fight down the terror...more questions...
"Ehhh, Yes...uhhh, that would be fine..."
"Would just after lunch suit?"
Again I try to just nod, "Fine...," I force out with little conviction.
"Thank you...I'll see you later."
"See you after lunch..." I echo mindlessly...
For a moment I'm completely empty, it's like my whole brain has been wiped...but then terror grips my stomach, squeezing it, until I'm bent double, my chin resting on my knees, tears slipping down my cheeks.
I fight the clock for the intervening hours. I shower, and dress. Dragging the bedclothes and pillows from the couch, I throw them into the closet, hiding the evidence of how badly I am struggling.
All the while, trying not to allow my mind to speculate on the questions I will no doubt be subjected to...Why did I allow him to get me alone, if I felt he was a danger? Why did I not fight him harder? Why did I not use the tools in my back pocket to defend myself? Why...?
As if anyone can possibly come up with a question my addled brain has not already found, in the self-hatred and doubt that has come to fill the gaps that sleep once occupied...
When the gentle tap on the door finally comes, I almost welcome it...at least it will put an end to my misery, when they tell me they have chosen not to pursue my case...
Olivia stands in front of me, a well dressed man slightly behind her...
"This is our ADA Rafael Barba..."
We both nod tightly at each other, by way of a greeting.
Again my words fail me, as I use a sweeping wave of my hand, to invite them in off my doorstep...
Olivia sits, gently, onto the couch, as I close the door, trying to conceal how badly I am shaking; the ADA follows her lead and sits beside her, leaving the chair empty for me...
I try to be dignified, sitting up straight in the soft armchair, crossing my hands in my lap to still the nervous fidgeting...
"How are you?" she asks softly, looking at me carefully, no doubt seeing the wet hair pulled into a loose, messy ponytail, the massively oversized clothes, the black circles under my red eyes...
I shrug...already fighting to keep myself together...
"It's ok, you can just tell me you won't be pursuing it...I understand..." I try to sound nonplussed, but can't disguise the agony in my quiet voice...
The lawyer speaks for the first time, "No...it's nothing like that..." He looks quickly down at his briefcase, "It won't be easy, but I'd like to try...I just need to get some more information..."
I look from him to her...surprised at his words...I had tried so hard to prepare myself for the inevitable rejection, that no other outcome had seemed possible...
"You do?"
He carefully meets my eye, "I do..."
I take a deep breath, nodding...
"Let's start with your statement?" he gently asks.
Like Olivia, he seems to want to give me some semblance of control and waits on my okay before he continues...
He asks detailed questions, apologizing when he has to push me for detail I'm hesitant to give...making scribbled notes as I speak...
An almost, imperceptible, look passes between them, as his line of questioning seems to wrap up...a flutter in my stomach confirms that this was only the warm up...as he takes a deep breath...
"I need some more information about your previous...attack?"
I can't help but notice his hesitance to finish that sentence...
Does he not believe me?
Does he believe this 'attack' happened because I made a false accusation before?
I feel my dignity desert me and I begin to crumble...
I expected him to look to her as I start to sob, but he doesn't...he confidently calls my name until I look at him, and calmly explains that he needs any information he can get, to be prepared, not because he doesn't believe me...
I wordlessly get to my feet, trying to quiet the sobs, as I shuffle to the bookcase, to retrieve the investigation report I have never been able to throw away...maybe I knew somewhere deep inside, that I'd need it again...
He takes the thick, ring bound, file I shove at him...reading it's title and immediately delving into it...
Olivia stands and offers to make me some tea or coffee...by means of an answer I shuffle to the kitchen and pull out three cups...she fills the kettle, setting it to boil, as I reach for a French press and coffee...as an afterthought I grab some tea...
I wipe my tears on my sleeve when I think she is not watching, trying hard, not to look so feeble, as we wait on the water to boil...
A quick glance over at the lawyer, sees him scribbling madly as he reads...
When we return to the couch, with hot coffee for him, and me, and tea for Olivia, he takes the proffered cup from her without even looking up...
As he finishes reading the investigation conclusions, he mutters slightly, flicking through the statements catalogued in the remaining pages...
"They're all signed..." he mutters again...
He takes another mouthful of coffee...pondering the file in his lap...
"Can I take this?" he asks softly.
I can only nod, glad to finally, be rid of it...
"I need to read it carefully, and may have more questions then, but if it is alright, I have a few now?"
He is all business, but there is a softness, an understanding, in the way he is dealing with me...
I take a deep breath, put down my untouched coffee, and nod...
"Can you tell me how this investigation came to be convened?"
I briefly describe how bad behavior had slowly become unacceptable, and no help was forthcoming from my colleagues, so I tried to get a manager to help me, but my skewed perspective caused me to misjudge my examples of the behavior, and left my manager unable to do anything but, inform the general manager...
"So the situations detailed in this report are only examples of some of the 'bad behavior'?" he asks with a pointed look to Olivia...
He continues to pepper me with questions, rephrasing queries, and continuing to push until he feels he has enough information...for now...
As his interrogation seems to be concluding, for now... he asks if I have any questions for him...
"Has he been questioned?" I whisper...
"He has."
"What did he say?" I ask with obvious dread...
"He tried to claim that nothing happened, until we mentioned John's statement, then he completely changed his story, saying that you had a previous relationship, and you wanted to rekindle it, that you pursued him, and that you instigated the 'liaison' that John partly witnessed...that you wanted rough sex..."
He looks me in the eye as he tells me this...
"Already, another colleagues of yours, has made a statement supporting your fear of this man, stating that you would go out of your way to try to avoid being alone with him, it also confirmed how widely known in your industry it was, that he shouldn't be left alone with you..."
I start sobbing as I hear this...
"I can only imagine how horrifying this is...and how this must sound to you...but this all supports your accusation..."
He holds eye contact with me.
"I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to be hard...you're probably not going to like me very much by the time I'm done, but I want to win for you,... Anything you try to keep from me could cost us the case...This is not going to be quick, it will take months to come to trial...but I can promise you, I will file charges against him, because I believe he hurt you...I will try, but he will most likely be released on bail, he will not be able to contact you and because of your work situation, we will push for a restraining order to prevent him "accidentally" running into you at work..."
Somehow, just like Olivia's partner, this man has earned my trust; despite my fear...
I nod my understanding...
"Now is there anything you think I should know, that I need to know?"
I think for a moment, unwilling to voluntarily share, but also unwilling to lose, because of a stupid secret that will probably come out anyway...
"Previously...during the investigation, I tried to warn him, I didn't want to ruin his life...I just wanted him to stop...It all got out of control so fast...I was afraid he'd be mad at me..."
I try to ignore the tears that stream down my embarrassment-shaded cheeks. It sounds so stupid...What kind of idiot wants to protect the man who hurt her? But it was almost self-preservation...not only for fear of repercussion, but also a last, wretched, attempt to wrest back some control of the situation.
"I tried to be friendly to him at first...I though it was just hazing, that it would stop...when he wasn't hurting me, I tried to be friendly, I thought he might stop..."
My words only compound my weakness.
I tried to stop him, by showing how nice I was...if ever there was a stupid solution to a difficult situation...
He considers my words..."So you tried to defuse the situation, you didn't want to bring charges against him?"
I nod...grateful that he doesn't dismiss my ridiculous coping mechanism, and that he seems to understand, somehow, some of my feelings...
"But since the investigation, in all the intervening years, and recently, there has been no interaction?"
His question cuts deep...but I can't resent it, is it not exactly what I have just told him, I did, at one point, try to do...?
"No. I haven't spoken to him at all, not even when working...and recently I've tried to avoid being in the same area as him, and have asked colleagues to keep an eye on me when he is around..."
He looks at me carefully, "So what changed?"
I take my time answering this question knowing how important it is, I could recount the occasion where he informed everyone in ear shot about how the metal bar he was swinging had 'my name on it', or countless examples of intimidating behavior, since the investigation ended...but I can't prove any of those incidents now...
"Because now there was no pretense of a cordial work acquaintance, all I sensed from him was danger..."
For a moment I battle with the necessity to explain myself...to try to justify sensing danger...
It is only when the lawyer doesn't question my words that the realization hits home; he isn't questioning my slightly indefinite, explanation, because that vague, woolly, sense of danger, when framed by recent events sounds a lot less nebulous...he really did hurt me...
He nods, handing me a card from his briefcase as I sag visibly... "If you think of anything else I should know..."
He starts to pack up and gestures to the report I gave him, "This may help...I'll be in touch when I've read it properly, I'm sure I'll have more questions..."
He picks up his coat and Olivia follows suit, they move towards the door but he stops turning to me...
"I can only imagine how hard this is, you are doing the right thing, look after yourself..."
His phone rings and he excuses himself as he steps into the hall.
"Barba!" I hear him announce sharply as my mind starts to wander...
Despite not hearing it, I know this is not the first time Olivia has called my name from the way she is looking at me...
"I'm sorry?" I whisper.
She seems to know that I need some reassurance..."He's going to be charged..."
But the support she had hoped her words would convey, twists into something else entirely as my brain processes them...
"Everyone will know..." I wail...
I look to her, tears rolling down my face again, silently begging for her to say it isn't so...
A/N Thanks for the follows Armywivesfan21, Fanwoman21 and kablammo55 and to Armywivesfan21 for the favourite. They all mean so much to me...
Ardra9644; Thank you, heart wrenching is something I feel I should really be apologizing for...I'm still trying to find my way with this one...
MrsChilton: Yep, "Are you sure you didn't misinterpret?" has a pretty special place in the hall of fame...it not only questions what happened but also your sanity, all in a few simple words... Unfortunately cases not being prosecuted is an all too common occurrence in all territories from what I can tell, it is a symptom of a difficult crime, and society's preconceptions, but how can it not feel like a stinging indictment to a victim when they have been through hell, and have had the courage to turn to the system? Thank you...
Shootthephoto; Oh if only promises like that could be made! I don't have the answer to how we can make sure that every victim gets justice, many better minds than mine have failed on that question, but to imagine how completely debilitating that rejection is...understanding, acknowledgement and belief through Olivia, doesn't sound like enough but thank you...