Long time no see. I've been so busy I haven't even had time to read any of the fanfictions post in the last two weeks. I'm in the middle of stupid stupid stupid finals and starting to pack up to move and all. I'm desperately missing flashpoint - does anyone know when it comes back yet? There are going to be two more chapters of trial - I'm never too sure if I'm being too repetitive or whatnot - I figure this story is getting pretty darn long, so it might not be a bad thing to have the trial recap some of the events, but if you guys hate it and stuff I can re-plan and stuff.
On to the story!
The trial marched forward, winding through a list of witnesses to attest to the abuse.
An old neighbour had patiently answered questions about the long arguments, Blake's drunken tyrades, the mornings after the massive fights where Shelley would carefully scuttle around the house, head bowed, hair hanging low over her face to hide the newest bruise. And Barb and Mr. Williams had relayed the events at the diner. Marks lent an air of authority to the procedure with his blunt and technical testimony.
She hated having to be in the same room as Blake. He made her skin crawl and, despite her best efforts, she was still terrified of him. She was afraid and angry and ashamed. She felt simultaneously broiling hot and freezing cold. She hated herself for giving him the power to affect her. Shelley ignored his gaze drilling into her skull, relieved when the judge adjourned the trial for a short lunch break.
Hardiff restacked her papers carefully. "The defense will call their witness next – before your testimony, Michelle. I believe you know her, actually. A Bethany Larson?" She said, piling them into an oversized briefcase.
Shelley groaned.
"What's this?" Wordy asked, approaching the table followed closely by Nancy and her orthopedic shoes. "What's going on?"
Shelley scowled ferociously. "Bethany freaking Larson is testifying on his behalf."
"Bethany?" Nancy asked incredulously. "Bethany Larson? What a bitch. She barely even knows Blake. How the hell is she supposed to testify for him."
"Play nice now, girls." Margaret Hardiff quipped. "Normally I don't like to leave clients unattended but I'm going to head over the office – Ms. Larson was a last minute addition to the witness list so I didn't have time to check her out yet. My clerk did a bit of background and should have it ready for me by then. I'll be back by one." She warned stiffly before stalking out of the courtroom.
"Don't be late." She called to them.
There was a moment for silence before Shelley murmured, once more. "Beth. Larson."
"Yeah. She used to steal my biology notes in the tenth grade. I was definitely beneath our dear princess Bethany." Wordy reminisced. "Unfortunately your little incident with her on Parade Day seemed to bring attention to the fact that I'm now a cop. I spent the remainder of the afternoon listening to how 'brave' and 'heroic' policemen were. And wouldn't I like to meet her for a drink later? Maybe she could see my, uh, gun?" He remembered with disgust.
Nancy snorted and Shelley barked out a laugh. "I can't believed she really used that line." She giggled. Wordy shrugged, rolling his eyes.
"I'm starved." He said, rubbing his growling stomach. "There's a sub place on the corner. I'll treat you guys to the biggest meatball subs you've ever seen. We'll just grab Marks and go."
Nancy beamed. "Best offer we've had all day, Kev."
Shelley nodded. She wasn't at all hungry, but she wouldn't mind escaping the austere courtroom and it's chilly, imposing rooms. "Sure thing. I'm going to use the washroom first. I'll meet you guys in the lobby." She called over her shoulder.
Like the rest of the courthouse the bathrooms were impressively large and austere. The white and black marble floor carved rich patterns across the floor meeting the maroon wall of stalls in a sharp play of colours. Light streamed into the room from the nearly floor to ceiling stained glass windows.
Shelley looked at herself in the long bank of mirrors above the line of sinks.
She studied herself in its reflection. It had been a long time since she'd really looked at who she was. She was pleased with the way her face was filling back out – the gaunt look had faded into something much prettier and softer. She turned her face, examining it from all angles. No more bruises. There hadn't been for quite some time. Her skin no longer had the tinted tones of past bruises. She shook a hand through her hair. No more bangs either. There was no need. She no longer had anything to hide. She'd lopped off inches of length, cutting it off bluntly to her shoulders. He'd liked her hair long – and even though she'd hated it she'd kept it that way to satisfy him. It had been long and dull and scraggly. Cutting it off it had recovered its bounce, its sheen, its life. Just like her.
She was rebounding and it was growing easier every single day.
She turned the tap off, taking one last glance in the mirror. She looked healthy. And, under the pale sheen of nervousness, she looked happy. At least, happier than she'd been in ages.
"You can do it. You're doing good. So good." She murmured to herself, feeling incredibly foolish.
She turned back to the door freezing dead in her tracks. It was him, leaning against the metal door, latch visibly slid shut behind him. She glanced quickly to the row of stalls, praying to god somebody else would emerge. She panicked when she saw nothing but rows of slightly-ajar metal doors. They were utterly alone.
"Blake." Her voice barely hitched on his name. She felt pretty damned proud. "You need to leave. This is the women's bathroom. If you don't turn around right now I'm going to start screaming. A courthouse like this is going to be brimming with cops."
"Sure." He said lazily. "I don't intend to do much. Just thought maybe we should have a chat before we drag this disgusting sham of a trial any further."
"This is serious Blake. The only thing that was a sham was our goddamned marriage." She angrily replied.
He snorted in response, pushing off the door to stalk closer. She fought the urge to scurry back and held her ground.
"You took a vow to cherish me. To protect me. And instead you abandoned me and abused me. You hit me, Blake. More times than I can count. And when I left you went to my goddamned mother to try and con me into coming back."
"Hey. You fell for it." He shrugged non-chalantly.
The door handle wiggled, and the sound of pushing and scraping echoed in the washroom. Blake just continued to advance until he was standing mere inches away.
"Yeah. I fell for it. But the second time I didn't. And you came and tracked me down. I told you to stay the hell away from me. You had no business showing up at my work. We're getting a divorce, Blake. Just leave me the hell alone. You're out of my life now. We're done. We're over." She clenched her hands into fists, the nails digging into the flesh of her palms painfully.
Blake's smile was so smug, so malicious that Shelley's spine tingled. "We'll never be done." He said, voice painfully low and controlled. "Never." He uttered. He laid a hand over her stomach. "After all. A baby needs his daddy."
Shelley couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. Bethany must have told him about the tests she and Nancy had bought - she hadn't believed they were really Nancy's at all. Oh god.
"A man's got rights, Michelle. Rights to his son." He grinned awfully, rubbing his hand roughly over her stomach. He was doing exactly what she thought he would do – he would try to use any baby they had as a pawn to manipulate her.
"Families should be together. Better that way. Not shuffling him back and forth from houses. They say kids from divorced parents are more likely to commit crimes. And, you know, you may not really be fit to raise a child on your own." He added, his voice sickly sweet with false concern.
She reached down pushing his hand away and staggering back.
"You have nothing to be worried about Blake. There is no baby." She said, voice low and shaky.
His face flushed angrily. "You're a LIAR. I know about the pregnancy tests, you little bitch."
The door creaked under a new assault. "Michelle?" She heard Marks' yell. "Are you all right."
She opened her mouth to shout back. Blake lunged, outstretched hand reaching for her throat. She ducked and he fell heavily against the sink. She raced to the door. He caught her by the hair, even has her hand grasped the latch to unlock the door. He yanked painfully. She reared back a fist aiming at his most vulnerable parts. He let go long enough to cup his throbbing balls and sink to the ground.
With surprisingly steady hands she unlatched the door and it swung inwards, leaving her face to face with Detective Marks.
"Christ the bastard is persistent." He said, pushing himself between her and Blake in case he tried something new. But he was far too preoccupied with his injury to notice much.
Shelley, however, was enraged. She felt empowered. The adrenalin from the attack pumped through her body, urging her to act. She ducked under Marks outstretched arms and kicked Blake fiercly in the side. And again and again. Marks hauled her off.
"Enough, tiger. Enough." He panted, trying to hold her back from causing the prone Blake. "I'd like to slug him one too but this is neither the time nor place, darling."
When she had calmed considerably, he let go, depositing her behind him once more. He leaned down to the moaning, Blake examining him.
"You landed a good one, Shell." He noted, reaching into his pocket for cuffs. "'Fraid you just never learn, buddy. Breaking court orders and the restraining order again? Jesus. You really are a dumbass."
"No." Shelley said, laying a hand over Marks before he could snap the cuffs closed on Blakes wrist.
"What?" Marks asked, confused.
"Don't arrest him him. It's just what he wants. To delay this whole process so I can't move on with my life. You collar him there are more charges to add and the trial will be delayed again." She explained wearily.
Marks nodded. Maybe the bastard was smarter than he'd given him credit for. "Fine." He swallowed his desire to follow procedural duty. "Fine. Then let's go. Nancy and Wordy are going to be waiting for us. We delay much longer they'll worry."
"What do we do about him?" Shelley asked, sliding her gaze over the mass lying, quivering, on the floor. Pitiful.
"Leave him." Mark said viciously.
"Okay." Shelley said, running a hand through her hair. "Okay." Marks wrenched open the door angrily, letting it slam against the wall behind it. She gave Blake, lying in the fetal position, one last glance before striding out. "Goodbye Blake." She murmured, snapping the door shut behind them.
Thanks for reading. Please review.