"Let me tell you a few things about regret...There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air in between, or each link separately as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?"
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

Knowing

"In your medical opinion, can you conclusively state that these injuries were obtained in a non-consensual manner?"

The doctor ponders the question. You know it was supposed to be the female doctor who actually treated Liv on the stand today, the methodical one, but Barba swapped her for this grey-haired guy, her boss, at the last minute. Why, you can only guess. "I can conclusively state that they would have inflicted a great amount of pain on the victim."

"That wasn't the question. Yes or no?"

"Well, I don't quite understand the question" the witness stalls, already bristling at the direction this is taking. Which was entirely predictable.

"My apologies. I will attempt to clarify." Lewis smiles, and of course you don't just see that from the back of his head, but he actually makes sure to turn to the jury as he does it. "Does your expertise allow you to draw conclusions regarding the intent behind the injuries?"

He pauses. Has this guy done this sort of thing before? Did Barba even prepare him?

"Doctor?"

"No. I would have to speculate. I can only speak to the extent of the injuries and their causes."

"In fact, let's go back to slide number…uh, would you mind? My leg…" He gestures to his former attorney, who immediately gets up from the table to bring him his notes. "Thank you." He glances down at them with an exaggerated squint, as if there is something wrong with his eyes as well. "Exhibit C. Can we?"

Someone hits the projector and flips back through the slides, causing a blur of angry reds and oranges to flash across the screen. Barba made sure to have selected injuries projected in a larger than life manner on the wall, and somehow, this practice didn't get thrown out as prejudicial, humiliating as it is for her. You assume it's so Lewis can do the same with his injuries. So far, it hasn't failed to elicit grimaces from the jury, and this is on the re-examination of a select few at cross-examination, which is all you have been allowed to attend. And it's not as if you didn't know about any of this, but there is something about seeing the injuries starkly like this, under the light, photographed as objects in their fresh state, that makes them even harder to look at. And you are pretty sure that this is the thing she's been dreading and the only reason you are allowed to be here, as safety back-up since everyone else is excluded from the courtroom. You can feel Olivia tensing up beside you as the presentation comes to a stop at the slide of a line of cigarette burns on the inside of her upper arm. This is not the worst slide, not by a long shot. Yet when you glance at her inadvertently, her eyes have glazed over and she is clearly not present, reliving the horror of how the burns got there. Her fingers are clutching the edge of the bench, and you brush against them with the outside of your hand. She unclenches them and puts her hands back into her lap.

"Dr. Greer, you testified earlier that these third degree burns were inflicted by a lit cigarette."

"As you well know" the older man states darkly.

"Your Honour" Lewis approaches the bench. "Could you please instruct the witness to refrain from such hostility?"

"The witness will restrict himself to answering the questions cooperatively."

Lewis moves over to the picture in an exaggerated limp, pointing at the image with rather obvious pleasure, looking just a little too long. The bastard is enjoying every second he can prolong this. "Now what stands out about this is that this is her left arm, correct?"

"Correct."

"Why wasn't there a picture of her right arm in the slides?"

"Because there were no burns on her inner right arm. However, there were other-"

"Ah, so these burns were specifically placed on her inner, left arm on one side. Interesting."

"Objection!" Barba finally springs up from his seat like a tightly wound coil. "Was there a question in that?"

"Sustained."

"Sorry, your Honour. I will rephrase. Could these burns have been self-inflicted?"

You hear a sharp intake of breath beside you, but you don't look. You don't take your eyes off the reluctant witness, who is being approached by Lewis yet again.

"Objection! Calls for speculation."

Lewis turns back to the ADA, barely phased. "I don't see how. The doctor has explained that he can't draw conclusions about the intent behind the injuries, but he is here to testify about their extent and causes."

"Overruled" the judge concedes. "You may answer, Dr. Greer. However, if a question falls outside your competencies, you must say so."

"They could have been self-inflicted, or not" the witness clarifies. "There is no way of telling based on the injuries alone."

You don't understand. How has this become the central issue? Even if they were self-inflicted, why does it matter? If someone points a gun at your head and tells you to burn yourself, you do it. No questions asked. You want to shout at Barba to just fucking say that. It's not that hard to grasp. If you can get it, a jury can. But they look skeptical. They look as if they are watching a magic show, particularly that curly-haired woman.

"In fact, in your psychiatric residency, have you not seen burns like this on self-harming adolescent girls?"

The doctor opens his mouth to answer, but Barba is quicker. "Objection! Relevance? We are not here to talk about adolescent self-harm."

"Sustained. The jury will disregard the statement. Mr. Lewis, restrict yourself to questioning the witness about the injuries at hand."

"Of course. Dr. Greer, are you familiar with the term pyrophilia?"

"Yes, I am."

"Would you care to define it?"

"Objection!" Barba gets up yet again, and you have to admit that there is a boundless energy to him today. "The witness is not qualified to answer that question. He is not here as a psychiatrist."

"Yes, and if the prosecution hadn't so effectively objected to a psychiatric evaluation of Sergeant Benson, I wouldn't need to ask this witness these questions."

Barba rounds his table now, approaching the judge at a faster pace than Lewis is capable of. He looks pissed and ready to talk a thousand words a minute. This was not supposed to happen. "Your Honour, you yourself deemed a psychiatric evaluation unfairly prejudicial based on Federal Rule of Evidence 412. How much worse is it, then, to insinuate psychiatric matters with a witness who can only speculate on the matter and cannot be appropriately refuted?"

The judge weighs this for a moment. "I am inclined to agree, Counsellor; however, the defendant wasn't asking the witness for a psychiatric evaluation. He was asking him a specific question. I will allow it, but again with the caution that Dr. Greer can only answer questions he is qualified to answer. Now…" He gestures at both men. "Step back."

Lewis does a convincing puzzled facial expression. "Where were we? I'm sorry, all these objections make it hard to keep track with my memory issues."

You can't hold back a scoff from the gallery, although Liv nudges your leg when you do it. Memory issues, hell no. This guy is perfectly aware of what he is doing. Watching him at it brings about a different kind of understanding for you, as hard as it is. This isn't going well. Lewis is supposed to stick to the topics from direct, and yet, he is using his cross-examination to introduce new subject areas and ask open-ended questions, a gamble he seems to know how to play. It strikes you how ordinary he seems, how good he is at this "regular guy from next door" act. He looks like a wholly inadequate representation of the monster you have created in your mind.

"You asked the witness to define pyrophilia" the judge reminds him, looking less than sympathetic.

"Yes, your Honour, thank you. So, what is pyrophilia? Remember you can say if you don't know."

The doctor obviously does not appreciate being condescended to. "Pyrophilia refers to sexual arousal derived from watching, setting, hearing, talking or fantasising about fire." The way the doctor recites the definition shows that he has clearly been prepared for this question. Unfortunately, it ends up sounding rehearsed.

"Could it also refer to a fetish for being burned?" Now Liv is the one who squirms in her seat beside you.

"There have been some case studies on this, but…it is very rare, so the term isn't usually used to refer to that. It generally refers to arsonists who derive sexual pleasure from their criminal offences – um, a small minority of arsonists. And most of these studies have been done on men."

"Are you familiar with the work of Dr. Balachandra on fire fetishism in a female arsonist, who was sexually abused as a child and masturbated to fantasies of burning flesh?"

"Objection!" Barba stresses each syllable of the word this time before inserting a dramatic pause, complete with a livid "what the fuck?!" facial expression. Ob-jec-tion. "Do I even have to pick one grounds for objection?"

"Unfortunately, Counsellor, you do."

"Immaterial. We are not dealing with a case of arson here."

"Sustained."

"Okay, moving on. What about chremastistophilia?"

"I am not familiar with that term."

"Are you not? It describes sexual arousal when being held at gunpoint." Your hands ball into fists so tightly you can feel your short fingernails. The only way you have been able to sit through this is by pretending that you are watching something foreign and impersonal on TV from behind a screen, and that resolve is crumbling.

"Objection! Counsel is testifying!"

"Oh. Sorry. I thought I was simply clarifying some fetishisms Dr. Greer is evidently unaware of."

"Mr. Lewis, stick to the topic at hand and to questions the witness can answer."

The doctor appears rattled, clenching his teeth. "Chremastistophilia is not a recognised paraphilic disorder under DSM-5, to the best of my knowledge."

"That's the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edition, correct?"

"Yes."

"However, as has been stated, you are not a psychiatrist."

"I still have some knowledge of psychiatry. Enough to know paraphilias and paraphilic disorders, and to know that what you are implying is nonsense!"

"Objection!" Lewis shouts. "Um, help me out here on grounds…that's not the question I asked, is it?"

"You can't object while you are questioning the witness" the judge interjects tiredly. "Dr. Greer, only answer the direct questions posed to you."

"It is true, then, that some individuals practice…uncommon types of sexual expression? They may be attracted to auto-asphyxiation, for instance, to being flogged or burned." Lewis has the full attention of the jury now, who have a hungry look on their faces. He is turning this trial into some kind of deviant porn for voyeurs. It makes you lose faith in the common sense of humanity. "They may enjoy masochism, without it being necessarily a mental disorder?"

"This is true." The witness looks at him darkly, holding Lewis' gaze, before breaking it to turn his attention to the jury. He is good. "The key criterion that makes it a mental disorder is either distress or impairment, or the involvement of a non-consenting partner. As in sexual sadism disorder, for instance, where the individual experiences sexual arousal when inflicting pain, suffering and humiliation on others."

"Your Honour, I get confused, can he go on tangents like that? Because I thought he wasn't qualified to provide a psychiatric evaluation."

"I was merely stating an example to illustrate my point, your Honour" Greer defends himself impatiently.

"Enough." The judge raises one hand. "Enough of this hypothetical discussion. Mr. Lewis, get to the point of your line of questioning."

"My point is that you said these injuries would have inflicted significant pain on the victim, although some of them may have been self-inflicted. But pain can be desirable at times, can't it? To certain fetishists? And we have no way of knowing if this practice was consensual?"

"Objection! Compound question."

"Withdrawn" Lewis offers before the judge can respond. "Dr. Greer, you were there when Sergeant Benson was brought into the E.R., were you not?

"I wasn't the first respondent, but I was there in a supervisory capacity."

"Aha. And what did she say about her injuries at the E.R.?"

"She didn't say much. She was in shock." The simple statement brings back memories of her face for you, of the hollow look in her eyes when you saw her, the congealed blood on her upper lip and forehead.

"Did she request a rape kit?"

"No."

"What was her reaction when a rape kit was suggested to her?"

"She didn't want it at first, but this is not at all unusual-"

"She didn't want a rape kit done, after four days with me? Do you not find that strange?" At this point, he does a seemingly sweeping survey of the room, his eyes falling on Olivia before he moves on. One corner of his mouth turns up ever so slightly as he makes contact. It is an unsettling moment, and you can sense how it pierces her, how she glances down quickly before looking at him again, aware that she jury is now observing her, too. You wish you could tell her that it's all right, that it's not her fault, that this is not some huge mistake she has made. But you know the reality is that it looks bad in front of the jury.

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

"A rape kit is a highly invasive procedure that can be retraumatising for victims of sexual assault. Our first priority was to attend to the victim's injuries, as well as the severe dehydration, and to combat infection." You notice how he keeps referring to her as "the victim" only, and you are not sure if it's because of Barba's coaching or because he is distancing himself.

"So the rape kit was conducted later?"

"The rape kit was carried out as soon as possible by our qualified staff, soon enough to obtain the evidence presented here today."

"Well. As long as that's your unbiased opinion."

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn."

"Brian, hey, I haven't seen you around much." Munch walks up behind you in the corridor and puts one hand on your shoulder.

"That's because this is the first day she's actually let me come to court." For the most part, you know it has been Amaro checking up on her outside the courtroom, taking turns with the others as they gave their statements one by one, and returned from their statements unhappy, from the sound of it. You have not been called as a witness, and neither will you be, as you have nothing to contribute. You weren't around. You failed. So when you called in sick this morning with some bullshit excuse, Tucker didn't give you a hard time, and Liv quietly accepted that you would be sitting outside the courtroom in the morning, given that she had been throwing up all night and really, really should not be there today in the first place. Except then they took an unusual break before cross-examination, and she stormed out, and when you found her in the stairwell, she asked you if you could possibly, maybe, sit with her for the cross-examination. Which, frankly, shocked you as a suggestion coming from her.

"How's it going?"

You sigh. "It's expert witness day. So it's an endless chain of his injuries versus her injuries, would one blow to the head have sufficed to subdue him, and could she have foreseen that in her state of pain, dehydration and intoxication. Not to mention the endless discussion about how people really enjoy being cut and burned." You feel physically ill after this one morning in court alone. You can only hope the jury shares this sentiment. Pain can be desirable? An hour alone with this guy, and you could give him a lot of his heart's desire.

"Oh yeah, poor Lewis. Let's not talk about how he's raped, tortured and killed countless women, but how his face is slightly less pretty now!" Munch shakes his head.

"I can't believe it. He's turning it into some sick show."

"Well, keep your cool, she needs you not to lose it."

"I know! But Barba's just letting this happen, and Lewis is using the courtroom to humiliate her."

"Barba knows what he's doing."

"Does he? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like Lewis is taking apart his witnesses, while diluting the facts and making it seem like a four day abduction-rape-murder spree is just like 50 Shades of Grey. And hasn't he lost against Lewis before? God, let's hope the jury aren't complete idiots." You know you are ranting pointlessly, but it's better to say this stuff to John now than to blow up on Liv later.

He gives you a lopsided shrug with an expression that seems to say "fat chance of that". Trust John Munch not to have anything useful to contribute. "I can see Liv's concern about how you'd take this was entirely misplaced" he comments drily. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Conferring with Barba. You wanna join us for lunch?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'd rather not be the third party in that relationship."

"Johnny, keep on dreaming. You're not intruding." Truth be told, having John at lunch with you would make you more comfortable in a weird way. She has barely been able to look at you since you walked out of that courtroom, and you know she regrets letting you come along in the first place. The delicate balance between you has been unsettled by the knowledge just imparted, which is basically all knowledge except what actually happened to her from her perspective. And you are so, so sorry. And it doesn't change how you feel about her one bit. But maybe she was right in a sense, because right now, it is hard to look at her and not see the injuries. What's worse, though, is her knowing you know. You almost wish there had been a way for you to know and for her not to know you know, all at the same time, wrapped in a neat package that wouldn't force you to respond in some way. Like in the early days, when both of you pretended not to see the media coverage. There is no right thing you can say after this.

"No, I have to get back to the precinct to give the kids an update. Amaro's checking his phone every five seconds, and I caught Rollins looking up legal precedent on police officer self-defence versus excessive force. If I stop babysitting them, they'll never get anything done. I'll wait and say hi first though."

Barba is strolling around the courtroom as long as the judge lets him, effectively drawing the attention of the jury to himself, before approaching them to make the witness look in their direction. "Can you explain why Sergeant Benson –then Detective Benson- used the approach she did in interacting with the defendant?"

"Objection!" Lewis gets up remarkably quickly for someone with debilitating injuries. "That's too vague."

"I will rephrase. What are the possible reasons for going over graphic descriptions of violent assaults as Sergeant Benson did?"

"It would have been a method of theme development with the defendant." The expert witness leans forward as she speaks into the microphone, clearly enunciating her words. She appears calm and confident, and yet, her eyes keep wandering over to Lewis, as if she is trying to anticipate which approach he will use in cross-examining her. They all do that, their attention only half on the testimony they are providing.

"Could you elaborate on that?"

"Theme development, which forms a part of the Reid interview technique the NYPD uses, is a step in the process where the investigator presents the suspect reasons and motives that will serve to psychologically justify or excuse the offender's behaviour. Simply put, it's all about suggesting why the suspect did what he did to him to elicit a confession." Too complicated. She should have used shorter sentences.

"And this technique, as you mentioned, is according to best practice guidelines? Detectives use it all the time?"

"Absolutely."

"They are trained to use this technique?"

"Yes. They are trained in roleplays, and they undergo continuous refresher courses."

"But there are other ways of providing motive and reasons than by suggesting you enjoy a graphic description of the offences, right?"

"That depends on the suspect. If the crime was perpetrated impulsively, for example, by someone who might experience a lot of remorse, you could build on that. But that wouldn't have worked here."

"Objection! Uh, speculation?"

"Sustained. Please refrain from making hypothetical claims, Ms Martinez."

"Why would that not be an approach you would choose with Mr. Lewis?" Barba asks without missing a beat.

"Because the way Mr. Lewis committed the crimes showed that he lacked the capacity for empathy and remorse. Even more so, it's the way he acted during the investigation and the first interview that would have steered the approach. The notes I reviewed describe Mr. Lewis burning off his own fingerprints." She looks at the jury as she says this, shaking her head. "They describe him as being flippant and completely relaxed, laughing and nearly falling asleep in the interview room. All this indicates a lack of anxiety and a high tolerance for pain. That means that all approaches based on intimidation or victim empathy are off the table."

"So in their second interview with Mr. Lewis, Sergeant Benson and Detective Amaro adjusted their approach?"

"Yes. At this point, they had more material to use due to the fact that Mr. Lewis had just been torturing a 60-year-old woman for 18 hours-"

"Objection! Prejudicial."

"Sustained. Counsellor" the judge responds pointedly, "you are well aware that testimony pertaining to this case itself is inadmissible. I don't want to risk a mistrial here. The jury will disregard the statement." The jury will do no such thing, as you can see from the way they have just leaned forward in their chairs. You can't help feeling that this is a small victory, although the ADA is gambling here.

"Understood, your Honour. So then, why would you sexualise the interrogation and make him think that you enjoy listening to him describing acts of violence?"

"Because it was the only method that stood any chance of working. Intelligent offenders who act in a very planned manner and who show signs of psychopathy generally don't confess. Not unless there is something in it for them. The only way to get Mr. Lewis talking would have been to make it enjoyable for him. To keep him engaged."

"So Sergeant Benson was playing a role, as she had been trained to do, to get a highly dangerous offender to talk?"

"Yes, she was."

"And did it work?"

"In a way. Mr. Lewis described the offences in great detail, but he was smart enough to phrase it as a hypothetical scenario, so it was inadmissible in court. He got off."

"Thank you, Ms Martinez. No further questions."

"Your witness, Mr. Lewis."

Lewis gets up slowly, buttoning his jacket one by one before he limps towards the bench with that stupid smile on his lips. The witness is looking straight at him with an impassive expression, and yet somehow, the way he approaches this woman makes you uneasy, makes it seem threatening. You suddenly feel like Barba should have called in a male expert rather than this dark-haired woman in her early 50s. Something about this choice seems deliberate and once again, this trial feels too much like a game.

"Ms Martinez, thank you for your elaborations. That was very educational. Now going back to this technique, this Reid technique as you called it-"

"As it's called."

"Isn't one of the issues with the Reid technique that it has been shown to elicit false confessions?"

"Yes. Predominantly among vulnerable witnesses."

"What are vulnerable witnesses?"

"Suggestible witnesses. Children, for example. Adults with disabilities. People who have been sleep and food deprived."

"Are adults with mental disorders classified as vulnerable witnesses?"

"Yes, but psychopathy is not a recognised-"

"In fact, haven't the police forces in many countries such as the United Kingdom stopped using the Reid technique for exactly this reason?"

"Objection! Relevance? We are not in the United Kingdom."

"Overruled. The witness may answer."

"Yes."

"Because people have been falsely imprisoned as a direct result of what you call 'theme development'?" He spreads his arms in a dramatic gesture, turning around to the audience.

"We have no way of knowing if it was a direct result of that one aspect of the technique."

"Ms Martinez, what are some of the key features of psychopathy?"

"Well, some of the features are behavioural, such as enduring antisocial behaviour, not following rules…bold, dominating and disinhibited behaviour. Some are emotional, like the diminished capacity for empathy and guilt, the shallow affect, callousness..."

"So, I'm confused, how is this not a mental disorder?"

"There has been a lot of debate about this." She brushes her hair behind her ear in a fleeting motion. "Simply put, it doesn't present a unified, uh, a clinical picture that distinguishes well from general antisocial behaviour. It also comes down to questions over whether it is an illness in any sense, since individuals high in psychopathy don't generally experience any suffering or impairment and are quite aware of their actions." Yeah, or you could wonder since when being an evil asshole is a mental disorder…

"Even though they lack empathy and therefore the important ability to connect with other human beings…"

"Objection! Argumentative."

"Sustained. The jury will disregard."

The witness frowns. "They can connect in order to manipulate."

"Ms Martinez, the objection was sustained, which means you shouldn't expand on your statement."

"Sorry, your Honour."

"Ms Martinez, do psychopaths have difficulty distinguishing between facial expressions?"

"Yes, some research has been done on that. Psychopaths tend to be less sensitive to fearful expressions in particular, although the effect is small. But-"

"Do psychopaths struggle with other non-verbal cues, such as cues that could give away whether someone was lying or being deceitful?"

"With some emotional cues like vocal tone, yes." She looks anxious to rectify something now. "But they don't generally have trouble with verbal information or with perspective-taking." The distinction is lost on you. You don't know where all this talk about verbal and non-verbal nonsense is going, and why isn't Barba objecting?

"If psychopaths struggle with non-verbal behaviour, how can you expect them to figure out that someone is just 'playing a role'?"

"Like I said, psychopaths have no general impairment in perspective-taking. They can assess the mental states of others and use contextual clues, detect vulnerabilities-"

"Let's go back to the transcript of the actual interrogation Detective Benson conducted with me." He turns around less politely this time, simply waving at his former attorney, because he is caught up in the moment. The woman has to shuffle through her papers for a moment before she finds what he wants, and the fact that they don't even have to talk about this shows that he did actually use his "council who is not his council" in this. She brings him a piece of paper, and Lewis approaches the witness stand, handing it to the expert in slow motion. "Would you read the highlighted part, please?"

"I…" The witness looks flustered for a moment as she reads it over silently, then thinks better of it and clears her throat. "Benson: It's okay, Nick. I wanna hear this. I should be so lucky." She reads it impassively, with clinical detachment as if she were reading a recipe from a book. Still, the words don't fail to have their effect. You do your best to watch the jury, the disgust that plays on their faces, and you can't blame them entirely because the words are chilling. You do your best not to look at Liv, since that would give off the wrong impression, but out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way she is sitting up a little straighter, holding on to that bench again a little more tightly as the jury's eyes fall on her. Once again, they are sitting in judgement of her, not him, and the unfairness of it all contains an unbearable scream inside. I should be so lucky. You get why she said it. You still wish she hadn't.

"Thank you" Lewis replies without stepping back from the stand. He watches the witness from a close distance, although you can't see his expression at this point, and she holds his gaze in defiance. "Now doesn't this make it sound like violence is, in fact, a turn-on for Detective Benson?"

"It was taken out of context."

"Is it conceivable that a psychopath might take it as that, as a disclosure of a wish for alternative sexual practices?"

"Objection!" Finally! You thought Barba had gone to sleep there. "Calls for speculation."

"Overruled."

"In the context of an interrogation, that seems-"

"Yes or no, Ms Martinez." He leans forward, putting one hand on the witness stand, and why on earth is the judge allowing this?!

"I can't answer that as a yes or no question."

"Answer the question!"

"Objection! Calls for a conclusion on something the witness has made it clear she can't conclude on."

The judge shakes his head sadly. "No, it doesn't, Mr. Lewis merely asked if it was conceivable for a psychopath to interpret the question that way."

Martinez opens her mouth again. "Based on-"

"Yes or no!"

"-what we know about cognitive functioning-"

"Yes or no!" Lewis shouts, and you are pretty sure that spittle must be flying from his mouth at this moment.

The witness inches back in her chair as far as she can. "Yes. It is."

You have been exiled from the bedroom with the six ominous words "I really need to be alone", whispered in hard-fought composure. You accept it silently –what else are you going to do?- collect your things, kiss her on the cheek and do your best to get comfortable on that couch, the one you picked out just a few months ago without thinking about how it should also be comfortable enough for sleeping. It wasn't like you ever had guests staying overnight. You are not used to it, because you rarely sleep apart, except for a few hours on a few nights that were really terrible when you needed to essentially power nap before work. There is a certain irony to it all, about how she has basically allowed you into this huge, new territory, let you in today, but now you need to get the hell out of another area so she can withdraw. But it's okay, in a terrible way, because neither one of you has an idea of what to say, anyway.

So when you find yourself barging into the bedroom a couple of hours later after dreamless, anxious semi-sleep that keeps you startling awake for no reason with the sensation of falling, it's not a surprise in the least. Not to you, not to her as she sits on the edge of the bed, shaking and trying to steady her breathing. You turn on the light and she pulls the long shirt down a little further over her thighs. She looks utterly exhausted, and this screaming nightmare that woke her up was probably the first time she has closed her eyes all night.

"You want a glass of water?" Physical needs. The present. Physical safety. You are so fucking tired. You want to surgically invade your brains and erase it all, everything that has happened these past few months.

"No. Thanks."

You sit down beside her on the edge of the bed, putting your hand on her upper back. "This okay?"

"Yeah." She wipes her face with her sleeve.

"You wanna…talk about it?" You know the answer, of course.

She shakes her head, staring off into the distance.

"Okay." Your eyes inadvertently wander to a scar on the inside of her thigh that peeks out from under the hem of the long shirt, an angry, faded red and purple. It looks better than it did at one point. You wonder if it still hurts.

She somehow takes notice. "You got a million questions now?"

"No. Not today."

"Right. So let's sleep. Wake up. Lie awake. Repeat." Her voice sounds as hollow as the proposition.

"Look, all that stuff they said today about your interview techniques-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

You can't stop yourself. She only has to hear this, only this one thing. "That was classic victim blaming."

"Well, no shit. Thanks for the info."

"And I think-"

"Brian, no."

"Okay, but-"

"Please. I can't. Not now."

"Just let me say one thing, and then we'll drop it, you don't even have to respond: It's not your fault. No matter what you did, what you said to him when you were trying to get a confession or trying to get out of there alive…it's…this guy's smart, he knew you were playing him."

"I made myself vulnerable."

"How so?"

"I showed…something…I should never have done that."

"You couldn't have known."

"That's not the point. He saw me."

"That's what he wants you to think." She can't truly believe all this shit about herself, about masochism and secret fantasies. Because you have no idea how to get her back from that. She can't agree with him.

"He found my weak spots."

"Because he's a predator. That's what they do. Doesn't mean what he says about you is true."

"Doesn't mean it's untrue, either." She rubs her bare feet against each other, curling her toes, painted toenails and everything. In January. She must be cold. Tomorrow, she will spend ages again dressing up for court.

"You're not like that though."

"Oh, Bri…" She almost smiles at your comment. In a completely joyless manner, with hard eyes. "Because I can only be sex-crazed whore who seduced him or a saintly victim slash hero who outsmarted him, right?"

"No! What…why would you even think that?"

She exhales deeply, closing her eyes. "Like I said, let's not talk. Just go to bed."

For the first time, the thing that scares you about this trial isn't the possibility of Lewis getting off anymore. For the first time, it's her sanity you are worried about.

Author's Note (and a sort of Disclaimer): Hello again! So this chapter was surprisingly interesting and educational to write with the background research, but I am not a lawyer, I do not even live in the U.S., so I make absolutely no claims for accuracy on the courtroom scenes. The same actually goes for the psychiatric and psychological expertise in this, which is questionable and highly contested. This is simply the "most accurate" job I could do so, you know, don't read fanfiction for legal advice! ;) However, I am not saying this to stave off criticism – in fact, if you find inaccuracies, I would love to hear them because I am a nerd and love to learn things about random issues. So review or hit me up on Twitter nightwitch87, and I will be eternally grateful.