I try to pull myself up, to match my words with my actions...my loosely balled fists shoving away the remaining tears... "He didn't...I did not consent to what he did...and I'm not done fighting!"

The quiet detective, Fin, is the only one to answer me, vocally ... a soft smile spreading across his features as he pats my shoulder, "Good for you!".

Olivia and Barba look to each other, some unspoken exchange passing between them, before they both nod tightly at me...

John can only swallow deeply, averting his eyes...

I refuse the offer to lunch with the lawyer and cops, and everyone tries not to look at John...their unspoken query of whether our relationship is patched enough to take that small step, all too clear, despite the lack of words...

"Lunch?" I ask the man beside me...

He looks a little surprised, but nods eagerly.

Barba, Olivia and Fin take their leave, seemingly reassured that I won't be alone and I find myself face to face with my friend...

"You hungry?" he asks me softly...

I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders disinterestedly.

"Coffee though?" he asks knowingly, a small smile curling his lips.

I give him my best 'duh' look... "There is never a time that I say no to coffee!" I remind him lightly...both of us desperate to prove that everything is fine, that we have talked, like two adults, and as is promised by such a mature, and adult action, it has solved our problem...but as I look at him, I can't help remembering...all that he saw, how upset he was as he testified, that he feels an attraction...that he too, has forced me, into something I didn't want...

It's confusing that I need him, he's the only one who seems to almost, understand...but yet even though I clearly trust him, I'm still scared and distrustful...and there doesn't seem to be any way to go back...

How is it possible to feel such diametrically opposed things at the same time?

So, despite our best efforts, there is an awkwardness in both of us...an unease...a deep chasm of unspoken feelings, even after we have talked about them...

"C'mon!" he says nudging me lightly, with his shoulder...

I can't help wishing it were possible to recapture the comfort he managed to impart that first day at lunch...how holding my hand, had made me feel like maybe it was possible that I could get through this...how I fell asleep so easily, that evening, in his presence...how empowered I felt that he saw me as strong, even as I sobbed pathetically...

I deliberately, push away the question of where we are going, and try to force myself to go back...to how we were...following him trustingly, without needing to question our destination...trying not to dread sitting at a table, watching him, him watching me, as we try not to talk about the only things that matter...

"You ok to walk a little bit?" he asks quietly, after looking around thoughtfully, for a moment. He is seemingly not immune to the strain that has crept in between us either...

I can't help the soft sigh of relief, that I won't be trapped at a table with him, in an overcrowded eatery, in the next two minutes, as I nod...

I allow him to lead me, our steps slowly falling into synch, as we make our way along pavements not yet crowded by harried people trying to fit too much into a short lunch break...

We make a quick caffeine stop, and I allow him to talk me into a huge coffee, when he advises me I might be glad of its warmth...

The day is cold; winter has begun, but the snows are still a way off. The sun is peaking through the clouds, and I bask in its weak rays, when he stops at a bakery to pick up pastries that are still warm from the oven. It begins to feel like I am actually escaping all the drama and pain, for a short while...

He leads me out onto nearby Pier 15, onto the top level of the viewing platform...the city looks beautiful from up here. Wrapped snugly in the warm coat I nestled myself in this morning, I quite happily sit onto one of the seats that would be perpetually packed, during the summer months...

The water has always had the power to calm me, and I find myself gratefully tucking into the warm pastry he hands me, sipping on my coffee...

The silence that was oppressive and uncomfortable, a few blocks ago, is now peaceful and easy...and the lack of expectancy means that the conversation loosens naturally...

"That has to have been hard...?" he asks gently, trying to feel his way into the conversation, not wanting to ask questions, just opening the door for me to follow, if I want to...his disdain for the most recent proceedings, unhidden...

"Yeah..." I whisper, curling my hands tighter around the comforting warmth of the coffee cup, getting to my feet, "And it's going to get harder..."

Neither of us looks at the other, staring out over the east river, at helicopters, at boats...letting this truth sink in...

"You don't have to sit through his testimony..." I finally tell him softly... "I won't be alone..."

He chokes slightly, pain mixed into amusement, in a little gasp...

"How can you be trying to give me a way out, when you plan on sitting there?"

For a second I'm ready to fire back, feeling defensive at the implication that I want this torture...but as I look at him, I see he is worried and genuinely baffled...

"I can see how much all of this is affecting you...I don't want you to feel you have to sit with me..." I try to explain...

I hear him admit in a strangled voice..."I'm not sure I'll be able to listen to him tell everyone that he didn't..."

"You don't have to..." I try to assure...before he can say the words I am so averse to hearing, anymore than is absolutely necessary...

"Neither do you..." he whispers, holding his breath...braced for the backlash...

I look at his face; the knitted brow, the dark circles under his eyes, the unfamiliar growth on his jaw that is rapidly going beyond stubble, and realize he isn't trying to upset me, he is worried. I resume peering out over the lapping water...trying to find a way to soothe his concern...

"I know..." I finally breathe, "But I need to hear it...I want to try...I want him to have to lie to my face!"

"I don't know how you sat...and listened to that...bastard...telling everyone you were flirting...!" he spits back...

Now his anger is clear...but I can only shrug my shoulders...

"I didn't...I had a meltdown...!" I remind him,chuckling bitterly at the confession, my first real acknowledgment of what happened...

"I think my imagination is worse..." I admit, as I carefully watch a boat pull away from the next pier... "...than what they say...but hearing it...is still hard..."

I see him nod, from the corner of my eye, his own gaze also set somewhere in the distance as he sighs... "...Like how badly injured you were...as bad as it was to hear you say it..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, he doesn't need to...for either of us...

"Thank you!" I finally whisper, embarrassedly, as the silence envelops us once again...

He turns straight to me, his eyebrow raised..."For what?"

My body tries to turn, but my eyes steadfastly study the river..."For this..." I gesture to the horizon I can't allow my gaze to wander from, if I want to keep talking... "...for...in the courtroom, when I... for not telling me to fuck off when I said you were a ...threat..."

The last word is a gasp... I hate it, and I hate that I ever applied it to him, but that it is how I feel...

"Don't feel bad!...I can't imagine..." he starts to comfort me...

"Oh for fucks sake!" I snarl, "Stop treating me like...I'm some fragile thing! I'm not some little doll made of china!"

I know it's harsh, and immediately try to remedy my unforgiving words...with an explanation of sorts...still unable to completely hold back my anger...

"Don't take all my shit! Tell me to back off! To stop speaking to you like that! I know I'm not myself...I'm trying, but I'm not...I needed this..." I gesture at where we stand against the railing, "...but letting me lash out at you...it doesn't help, it makes me feel even worse..."

He nods in understanding...answering with only a soft... "Ok!"

I can't help a wry smile, his quick acceptance of my demand, underscoring his acknowledgment that it was exactly what he had been doing...

"On that subject..." he starts very carefully, wanting to honor my demand, but not upset me, at the same time... "I can see why you may feel wary of me...now...but I could even control myself with Emilia Clarke!"

I can see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as he once more mentions his Game of Thrones celebrity crush, the woman who tames dragons...and I roll my eyes...laughing lightly...

"Really!..." He says, trying to make a serious point behind the humor..."...I know that he is going to tell some fucked up version of losing control...of not knowing what he was doing...of misreading signs...But that's not what happened! What happened was very far from a mistake...don't doubt it! Men don't understand that argument! It doesn't sound familiar! Not unless, you are like him..."

His words are filled with passion, heat-filled certainty...true belief...but when he continues it's like a different person is speaking, he's tentative, and much more unsure of his footing...

"... I understand that you didn't want to hear me say I find you attractive, but I don't want you to feel threatened...if it helps, I've always felt like that...even when you didn't know it..."

The mischievous glint is back, as he throws in an aside "And I think you are the only one not to figure it out!"

I can't help a slightly self-conscious smile...

"I won't hurt you! No matter what...you can never do anything, or say anything, to ever make me do something like that... And you can always tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable..."

I nod softly, the words going a huge way in relaxing the ball of worry that has been gnawing away at me, ever since the revelation...

"This is pretty cringe-y actually..." I return with the same mischief...after a moment... A flash of the easy way I used to confront life's little twists, in the disarming, humorous, honesty...

"Tell me about it!" he mutters with a laugh and dramatic eye roll...

Once more, I let my head rest on his shoulder...but this time it is much more deliberate, more considered...not a panic stricken, thoughtless, inadvertent reflex...

He seems to appreciate the gesture for what it is; an attempt to put aside some of the fear...leaning into me too...

"I'm not sure I can make it through this testimony either...," the words tumble out before I can process, or stop them...

"You know, you really don't have to..." he whispers...

I nod with a sigh...

"But you need to...?" he follows up...

Again I nod...

It's his turn to sigh deeply..."I think I get that!...I don't want to hear him...but I also don't want to not hear it..."

"Can I ask you something...very personal?" he mumbles uncertainly...

I'm loathe to allow a question he feels the need to ask permission for, but I want to try to let him in...so I murmur back a soft, yielding, 'mmmm'...

"You do know that nothing that bastard said makes any difference, right?"

He's too close, I know he will hear any gasp or sigh, I silently plead with my traitorous body; not to sob or tense, and betray me again; to just allow me this secret...I try to find a way to deflect his question discretely, but my lack of reaction seems to give me away...

"Listen to me!?" he pleads softly, directly into my ear, his words the barest whisper, meant to reach down into the dark recesses where the guilt hides... "I don't know how you feel, what you struggle with, because I haven't been through what you have...but I'm trying to learn... I think it's all too common to feel like you could have fought harder, or done more...even when it isn't true..."

"And trust me when I tell you, it isn't true! I saw you fight! I saw you say no! I saw you trying to push him away... one whispered 'no' should be enough, as should gently pulling away, or a million other subtle indicators of reluctance, reticence or refusal...It shouldn't even take saying 'no' for a friend, partner or even stranger, to know their advances are unwelcome...the absence of 'no' does not mean yes!"... I hate that it took this to open my eyes...but you are not to blame for what happened...it was not a mistake, it was not a miscommunication...he raped you! It was deliberate, it was planned, and there was nothing else you could have done to stop him..."

His head is still turned to where mine is frozen on his shoulder...

"I will say this as many times as I need to, to make sure you believe me..." he finishes.

"I don't think I flirted with him...years ago...I didn't mean to..." my doubt finds a way out...confirming his fears...

His need to pull me into an enveloping hug is almost tangible, but he controls it, barely moving, carefully controlling his reaction, only allowing a sighing groan to signal his feelings at my broken confession...

"I don't want to upset you...but I need to be clear...it doesn't matter if you stripped naked, ripped his clothes off, and played with his body for hours, while telling him in intense detail what you planned on doing to him...you said 'no'!..."

He allows a moment for me to stop him, or try to argue, before continuing...

"Saying you were flirting by playing with your hair and leaning over, is absolute bullshit! You are every bit as entitled as the rest of us, to tell a dirty joke, or bat off an insult with an innuendo...it does not give someone the right to demand anything sexual...You are not oversensitive!...You are very clear about when something is inappropriate, but you are also very good at taking a joke...You are better able to root out someone's intent behind a comment, than anyone else...Do not doubt yourself! You did nothing to warrant what he did..."

"But you didn't see the start...or what happened all those years ago..." my words are flat, dejected...

"That's what I'm telling you...it doesn't matter...none of it matters...because there is nothing you can ever do to give someone permission to rape or sexually assault you..."

His comment reminds me, that he knows next to nothing about what happened in the past...and it reassures me that he is not guessing, not making assumptions, nor is he inadvertently telling me that only being sexually assaulted, is less important, less valid...he is being careful to tell me that either, is an obscenity to him...and he is painstakingly spelling it out, that he sees I would bear no responsibility for either action...

I try to accept his words, but the self doubt won't be banished so easily...and I can't help wondering where he learned so much?

He clearly expects to repeat those same words many, many, times...

Our attention drifts back out to the water and the skyline, as we battle the dreads and fears that are too intimate to share...

Finally he checks his watch...reluctantly telling me we should probably head back...

The tiny, peaceful, bubble we had created for ourselves, bursts at this intrusion of reality...

He pulls the remainder of his croissant into pieces, throwing them out onto the water, where cawing seagulls swoop down greedily...

I follow suit, laughing as the birds dive, covetously trying to outdo each other for the largest fragments.

It is a final moment of innocent fun, before we dispose of the paper bag and cups, grudgingly turning to start the trudge uptown, back to court...

It's not a long walk, but the tension starts to pull at my neck and shoulders, as we get ever closer to dreaded target.

The benefit of the break has nearly been undone, by the time I pick my way up the front steps of the courthouse...but the unwavering presence of my friend soothes me somewhat...

I have no doubt that there will be challenges for us in the future, a couple of difficult conversations cannot magically fix all that has passed under the bridge. But the great chasm that seemed to be stretching out, relentlessly, between us, seems to be slowly, being traversed, the difficulties being negotiated, the damages being patched...

And when he reaches a hand out to me, I gladly take it, allowing his tacit support...

When we enter the courtroom, I have already let go of John's hand, still conscious of the appearances of such gestures.

Barba is back behind his desk, loading files onto its wooden surface. He dips his head at me, in greeting, as I slip into the seat beside Olivia, John on my left...

"Are you sure you want to be in here?" Olivia asks softly...

"No!" I whisper back, "But I don't want any regrets..."

She seems to recognize the sentiment and nods, "You can leave if it gets too much...just let me know?...You aren't alone!"

"Thanks" is all I can say as my mouth dries...

"You don't have to..." I tell John for the last time...

"I know! I'm trying for me too..." he informs me...but he pales as the defense sweeps into the room, the defendant smug, as he takes his seat...

"How can he look so confident?" John asks in a quivering, enraged, voice...

I can only shake my head, and Olivia reminds us that "he has escaped real consequences of his actions once, it breeds hubris..."

I know she means this as a comfort to me, the implication that it is over confidence...but the reminder, that at some level, we have already been through this dance...and it didn't end well for me...only makes me more anxious...

John seems to feel the stiffness that freezes me, hear the hitch in my breathing, as he slips his hand into mine...

The small movement isn't missed by the woman beside me...

"Lean on us...!" she whispers...as her partner slips in beside her...

The quiet detective leans over her to add his own encouragement..."We've got your back! We're here for you...both of you!..." he adds with a deliberate look to John...

The court officer announces the Judge, and we all stand, John gripping my hand back, as tightly as I am clasping his...the reminder that we are supporting each other at this moment, makes me feel less frail and feeble, less weak, as we drop back onto the bench...

"Mr. Buchanan?" the judge asks once she is settled...

"Yes your Honor, I would like to call Dave Smith to the stand..."

A/N

MrsChilton; I think some of the things the coworker pointed to as being flirty, are things that men often call flirtatious...I loved Barba's aside of "You hope!"...I think it so completely captured the subtext of the colleague's testimony!
I also thought it was really good that John had mentally filed away some of the things that had given her relief from bad memories in the past, and knew to use them to help her in the courtroom...it is very true that small gestures mean so much!
Yes bruises aren't essential, by any means, to show hurt...Thanks.

Intala; Unfortunately we all understand that feeling of he would never do that...And you are very right about all the things we subconsciously learn as kids and take with us into adulthood...it is not a perfect world, and some things are almost an accepted, if disliked, part of the way things are...
The OC felt so beaten down, by the trial something had to happen...I love that it almost gave her strength despite the pain...Thank you very much