Title: Facing Forward

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: SVU

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.

Olivia dragged her thumb in little strokes across Brian's forehead – up at the hairline that felt like it was sitting a lot higher now with his short-cropped hair. She knew he liked that. Not that he ever really said anything remotely close to affirming it. But he rarely pulled away from the small affections she gave to him. She suspected they weren't something he'd gotten for much of his adult life and whether he knew it or not, now when she did it, he generally leaned into them. A give away that he craved it.

She was staring into his eyes as she did it. And he was looking right back at her. Though, he'd taken long exhaled several times and let his eyes close briefly like he might be considering trying to sleep. Like she might actually be lulling him to sleep – the sleep she knew he needed so badly but he also wasn't likely to admit.

Though, she also knew he wasn't likely to sleep right now, because his mind would be going a million miles an hour. Thinking while trying not to think. That vacant stare he got – that she knew he'd practiced much of his life. But it was a good mask. A strong and concealing one. Even with all the years she'd known Brian – the years she'd now been living this close to him – she still struggled to read his emotions.

Olivia actually thought Brian had learned to hide and bury – to just not allow himself to feel his emotions – in a more concerted effort than what is taught and internalized by most men (though she was doing her damnedest to ensure it wasn't taught or ingrained in her son and trying to reverse some of it in Jack now while he was still a young adult and not a complete lost soul). Brian visually didn't show a lot of emotion – even for her. He showed more for the kids. Benji and Emmy made him smile and laugh more than she could manage most days – or even weeks. But that was a blessing. He needed that. She had to be grateful that there was something – two little people – who were able to draw that out of him. Otherwise, the only emotions that Brian visibly seemed to know how to externalize were anger and rage. And even though he knew he could blow with her – that he could have that short fuse, because she knew how to handle it and how to handle him – they rarely saw that side of him at home. Because Brian – he worked so, so hard; he buried more and more – so the kids wouldn't see or know that side of him.

But she was still taking him staying there – having not withdrawn from her or run away and practiced avoidance – was progress. Usually he would've let his frustration – and his embarrassment – and now she knew likely triggers and memories and sensations he was trying to hide and protect her from, would've meant he wasn't still there. He wouldn't be looking her in the eye and letting her touch him. To try to calm him and connect with him – even though she was still struggling to read him.

"We can talk about it if you want," she whispered at him. "It's allowed."

He made a little noise but just kept looking at her. They'd been doing that for a while. Laying on their sides in their bed in the dim light coming in from the street just looking at each other. So she just stroked and massaged at his forehead and scalp and ears and scruffy cheeks a little more.

"You looked amazing today," he finally mumbled at her. "I like that dress you got."

She gave him a small smile, as she curved her finger around his ear.

Olivia knew he'd liked it. Actually, when she'd used Emmy's party as an excuse to pick up something new for her spring wardrobe, she'd known Brian would like the simple patterned maxi dress. Not that he was particularly picky about what she wore but she knew it hit in and hugged the right places – the ones he liked to drift his hands to if he decided he'd like to see it off as much as he liked to seeing it on.

Brian was good about that. One thing he did manage to express was that he 'liked the curves'. And as much as that base statement coming out of his mouth made her roll her eyes, she also accepted that Brian had done a lot in making her comfortable with her body in middle age and finding comfortable ways to still live in her body and own skin after Lewis.

Despite the weight gain, shifting hormones levels and other body changes that had come along with menopause, he'd never made her feel unattractive or particularly changed. Though, she was sure he noticed. But it was usually her who made some kind of comment – about a size change or a wardrobe attire shift or wanting to making time and room in the budget for her to get a trainer and get in the gym. But he always just gave her a look and said, "Yea. I like that." About the only thing he'd told her that he didn't like was her latest hairstyle. Apparently he liked it when it was a bit shorter than she had grown it out too. And his statement about why she'd done that wasn't entirely inaccurate. She'd gotten, "I don't know. It's like you're hiding under it. I like seeing your face." There was some truth to that, if she was being honest.

Sometimes it was strange for her to realize she was with a man who'd known her body at thirty. It was stranger to realize – accept - she was still letting him explore it and … service it … now. That she – they, Brian – were still learning things about her body now. For a lot of different reasons.

But she could say the same for him. He'd changed too and she was still learning – about him, about his body. He was older and wider and more scarred and grizzled than those boyish, baby-faced good looks, that she was almost surprised he'd outgrown, of his late-20s. But he was still Brian. A more adult, older, wiser version of him. Life did that too.

"I appreciate that," she put back to him. "But, Bri, I've never really taken when this happens as some kind of comment on your attraction to me."

Another quiet noise came out of him and his eyes drifted from hers a bit. "What'd you take it as?"

She was almost surprised he'd asked. But she took it was another indication of some progress for him.

Olivia moved her hand back to the scruff along his jaw line. She got the sense he was going to start growing it out again. His own version of hiding. Though, not that Brian ever seemed to manage much of anything that resembled a beard. A splotchy goatee at best.

"That as much as you don't want to hear it, you're a middle-aged man," she said and got a mildly amused sound out of him and the eye contact reconnecting. "That we're both running on exhaustion. That we work jobs and cases that are hard to get out of our heads. That sometimes you likely drink a little too much."

"I'm not drunk," he mumbled.

"I know," she acknowledged. "But I think at your age and stage, when combined with everything else, maybe a beer or two … or three … is enough to make it a little hard …"

He looked at her. "A little hard …?"

"Aren't you funny," she mouthed at him and it got a wryly grin.

"If you're grading things on scales of a 'little hard', think maybe there's a bigger problem …" he mumbled though.

She cocked her head slightly at him. "And whenever I mention anything about talking to the doctor about anything, it's the end of any conversation."

He stared at her. "You saying you need me to go and get a 'script for some little blue pill?"

"No," she made him find her eyes again. "Brian, I am beginning to very much understand that your relationship with your sexuality if complicated. But I do not have, nor have I ever had, a problem with your penis or how you use it. I've told you before – what you do, what we do, it works for me."

He made a little noise again and exhaled, letting his eyes drift away. "That all …"

She set her hand on his cheek. "Don't do that. You know it's more than it 'works'. I enjoy your sex life, Brian. I always have. But sometimes I think it doesn't work for you," she said softly and his eyes came back slowly. "There's been times that before … recently … I thought … after Lewis … some of my boundaries and comfort levels … made things … challenging for … both of us. You."

He stared at her. "You know how you never want to talk about it because you don't want me having those images in my head?" She allowed him a little nod. "That never really worked. It's like … I've still got images, Liv. It's just … I don't know … if on a physical level, not mental or emotional … I'm imagining …"

She nodded again, taking a deep breath and blinking hard. Olivia knew her eyes were glassing. She bit her bottom lip for a second. But she knew that she couldn't skirt from this. Not as much – or in the same way – anymore. She wanted him to be honest – she needed to be honest too. As hard as it was.

She couldn't expect him to bear his soul to her – when she'd outright acknowledged she was never going to bear her soul to him. It was different now, though. As much as this was about her relationship with him – it was about their relationship as a couple and as parents and as a family. How she worked on – or didn't work on – her relationship with him would have implications for the kids. This needed to work. She still believed it could – it would. It was just taking a lot of work – even more than before.

"Bri …," she said. "I know … I haven't talked about it with you maybe as well saw I should've. But … I think … we've been together long enough in … the aftermath he created … that you have a pretty good idea of what he did to me."

He stared for a long beat. "You didn't let Barba bring rape charges against him."

"No," she allowed.

And his eyes kept on her. "He put his fingers in you." He said it flatly – a statement of fact. An accurate conclusion he'd drawn.

It would've been pretty glaringly apparent. She used to crave what Brian could manage with his hands. The way he curled his fingers and stimulated her so perfectly. But she hadn't quite gotten back to the point she was able to enjoy it. It was too intense now. A level of control she wasn't able to allow herself to lose even for that reward. Because it didn't feel the same anymore – even if that was more in her head.

She tried sometimes. She asked – she let him. But it'd been enough of an effort to get there that it often now it was Brian who stopped before she told him she needed him to stop. He never even made the move to drip that far and into her unless she very specifically asked for it. And then … it wasn't like before.

Just like it was still hard for her to have him touch her thighs – that she often moved his hands. Even though Brian had always used light, scraping, barely there whispering touches. And how he now never touched or guided her arms or hands after he was inside her. He just let her find where she wanted them to be – and what could be comfortable for her - and that was never pinned under his weight or grabbing for the bed frame or sheets above her head to hold onto. If anything she held onto him – and still had to work at reminding herself that it was him and to stay in the moment and to focus on what he – they – were doing. Together.

But they'd never talked about it. Still, really. Even now. The closest they'd gotten was him asking if something was OK or asking if he should stop if she made a sound – or tensed in a way – that seemed off to him. It wasn't every noise or movement now. For a long while it was. And for a longer while – still – about the most she'd said to any of his inquiries or movements she couldn't handle was: "Yes", "No", or "I need to stop."

"He did," was what she said now though with a shaky exhale. "But … it wasn't what you think."

"It doesn't matter what I think, Liv," he said, his voice betraying him slightly too. "He was inside you. The legal definition of rape."

She stared at him. His eyes were flickering and gleaning too. "It was … when I had to urinate. I couldn't … bring myself to wet myself for the first … It was just … another game at trying to break me. To humiliate me."

"He should've been charged. Maybe it would've stuck rather than this … attempted rape."

She exhaled and nodded. "Maybe. But … he would've liked me having to sit up there going over those details over and over again. He still would've won the humiliation game then …"

"So you not disclosing is OK – but me … ?" he put to her bluntly. There was an edge to it.

She shook her head. "I don't know it was OK, Bri. But … I couldn't do it. He got to me. He won. And …" she shrugged. "That's something I'm still working on living with. I know there's a hypocrisy to it."

He made a little noise and exhaled slowly.

"I understand how you feel more than you think, Bri," she said. "And I'm starting to understand … how I've been making you feel too … by not talking to you about it. By trying to protect you from it."

"Liv, you wouldn't have … you would've gone fucking running the other way even faster than you did if I'd told you – anyone – that twenty years ago."

"I don't think you're wrong," she admitted. "But … now … isn't then, Brian."

"And you're the first person who's known – the only person who knows now – who isn't looking at me with that look in your eyes," he muttered. "But I can still see … it's wrecking you too. I know."

She frowned at him and stroked at his cheek. "I just … I wish I'd known sooner. I think things could've been different, Bri. I would've understood … a lot more about some of the challenges we've had. About you. I would've dealt with some things a little – or a lot - differently."

"You mean treat me like damaged goods."

"You know that's not how I see you, Brian."

"Then how do you see me, Liv? The victim—"

She shook her head and held her hand against him more firmly. "Actually, lately, Bri, it makes me think of Benji. I see so much of you in Benjamin. And it all just makes me really sad that … you had to go through that. As a little boy. That you've had to carry it with you."

His hand came out and stroked her hair. "Don't project," he nodded at her. "Big Man's got enough shit. But he doesn't have this."

"I know," she mouthed silently but still let her forehead rest against his. To close her eyes.

"Let's change the topic," he said.

"OK," she allowed softly. "But … I want you to know that I think I'm going to go back to Lindstrom for a few sessions …"

"Why?" he asked.

She shook her head and exhaled to find his eyes. "I'm struggling, Bri," she shrugged. "It's triggering me – my stuff – a bit."

"See—"

But she shook her head harder at him. "No," she pressed. "I want to be there for you. I am here for you. How I cope with my stuff is not your fault. I just … you should know. And I just … we both know that relationships aren't my strong point. I'm still learning how to be there for you."

"I know you're there for me," he said flatly.

She allowed him a thin smile. "I just want something to talk to who's removed from the situation, Bri. It's not just about me or you or us. I'm really struggling with … understanding how to cope with what's going on with Benji too."

His eyes glistened a bit again. "I didn't know Munch would go telling Cragen."

She shrugged. "It's OK. I'm glad you're talking to someone. And I'm glad it's John. It's good for you. To you."

He took three slow breathes. "Did Cragen say how long they're sticking around?"

She shook her head. "Not really. But I didn't get a chance to talk to him that much. I'll probably get together with him this week. For lunch."

He nodded. "You can have them over for dinner or something, if you want."

"I know," she acknowledged. "But I don't know."

He just nodded again and she could feel him practicing his slow breathing. She did hers too. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Until they were insync. She stroked at his forehead and ears and cheek. He stroked at her temple and hair. And they stared.

"I keep feeling like I want to bury myself in work or get some UC assignment," he muttered. "And then I feel like I just want to get home – get in a bubble with you and the kids, like this weekend, yesterday – and just stay here."

She gave him a thin smile. "Not like today?"

He exhaled. "Emmy loved it," he allowed.

"You did really good, Bri …," she said.

He exhaled again – longer this time.

"Eileen told me Benji has his 'Hogwarts Birthday' this fall," she said.

"I don't know what that means," he muttered.

She smiled. "Me neither. Apparently we didn't read the first Harry Potter carefully enough. He got his letter to Hogwarts at eleven. It's when wizards are invited to their wizarding school."

He stared at her. "Don't tell me that's a 'thing'," he grumbled.

She shrugged. "Well, since Benji doesn't seem to get invitations to much of anything, I guess maybe it won't be a 'thing' for us. Or him. She said for some of her grandkids it was a big deal. I told her it was more than our dinosaur minds could comprehend."

"Yea. So out of touch," Brian muttered.

She rubbed at his eyebrow. "I think it was likely just another backward way of inviting us down to Sarasota."

He exhaled and stared at her. "I like this bubble – here."

"I know …"

And he just shut his eyes and focused on her touch. His forehead pressing more against her fingers.

"Bri …"

"Mmm …?"

"You're allowed to tell me what you need. And you're allowed to be vulnerable around me. I'm not going to tell anyone who you are – we are – at home. That's our thing. Or private, special, family thing."

His eyes opened and he stared at her for a long, long moment. And then he shifted on his side just a bit – closer to her. His forehead moved to press into her shoulder – his face hidden against her chest, between her breasts.

"I need you guys," he muttered. "Right now – just need you guys."

"I know …" And she rested her chin against his head, and wrapped her one upper arm around him, rocking on her side a little closer to him too. "We need you too."