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Chapter 35

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about this story or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.

Here is Chapter 35. Normal trigger warnings apply. Unspecific discussion of vaginismus and attribution of blame for sexual abuse, as well as of course, the verdict in this case. Let me know if I need to add anything else. Ten chapters left.

I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a trigger warning for SVU-related topics. I will try to be more specific when necessary.

Alex sat down on the bed, a small wince escaping her, something she tried to hide to no avail. The SVU detective was immediately at her side, a hand instinctively travelling to her back, her fingers rubbing soothingly over aching muscles. "Baby," she began, pained, ending the statement there.

Cabot sighed, leaning into her girlfriend, not sure what to say to comfort her. "I'm," she choked out, grimacing, "I'm hurting tonight." Her feeble attempt to stretch her joints made it clear to Olivia that the blonde was referring to physical pain, at least in that moment. A whimper exploded out of her throat as her body protested the less than cautious maneuver. Alex tried to control her breathing, leaning into the other woman's touch, the only stimuli that didn't make her feel like she'd been hit by a freight train.

"Can I give you a massage?" Olivia pressed her lips to the crown of the prosecutor's head, humming into the contact and squeezing her close, careful to avoid her most problematic pain areas.

"Sure." It came out as more of a grunt, and Benson released her partner immediately.

The brunette bore her eyes into the ADA's, and the sheer intimacy of the moment made her tear up. "Did I hurt you, sweetie?"

"Honey," Alex breathed, reaching to cradle the face of the most loving person she'd ever been lucky enough to know. "You're the only thing that doesn't hurt right now."

Liv offered a sad smile, interlacing her fingers with the ones that still resided on her cheek and moving the hand to her lips so that she could kiss each knuckle. "Do you want to take off your shirt or leave it on? I'm only asking because it'll be easier for me to get your upper back and shoulders, which I know hurt you the most. But it's up to you."

Olivia thought of everything. Alex realized that this was a statement she often noted to herself, and it seemed hyperbolic from a distance, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn't exaggerating. Cabot almost wished there were times when the woman she loved didn't think of everything. Because then, maybe the older of the two would allow herself to just be for a few peaceful moments. "Yeah, I'm good to take it off. Thank you for checking though."

The lawyer pulled off her night shirt with a grimace, leaving her entire upper body bare, before reaching for a ponytail holder and lifting her hands behind her head in order to braid her flaxen locks. As pain shot through her shoulders, she instinctively dropped both upper limbs, burying her face into her knees in response to dizziness.

"Hey," Olivia cooed, her hand coming to lie over the nape of the attorney's neck, "take it easy. I'll do your hair for you." She waited a minute or so, allowing herself to just be present with Alex as her breathing slowed. "I'll do your hair. Do you think you can sit up?"

She nodded, uncurling her body from the near-fetal position she'd placed herself in.

"Still dizzy?"

"No, I'm okay." Her voice was quiet, subdued. She handed over the ponytail holder to her partner, and she focused on the gentle ministrations of Olivia's fingers against her scalp and in her hair.

When she was finished, the detective pressed her lips to the nape of Alex's neck, letting her hands travel over her shoulders and down her arms. "Do you want to lie down?"

The ADA lied on her stomach, resting her cheek on her forearms and keeping her eyes on Olivia as the older woman placed a single hand on her upper back, right between her shoulder blades. "Are you cold?" Alex shook her head. "Comfortable?" The brunette waited for a shallow nod before letting her fingertips press into the skin below them.

Silence came over the couple, and a few minutes passed before Olivia made a disconcerting observation about the woman next to her; she hadn't seemed to make much progress towards relaxing. A degree of this was normal, and Liv knew that Alex liked to work through it, always assuring her girlfriend that she would let her know if she wanted to stop, but this night, only hours before a potential verdict, there was no indication that the prosecutor's body had responded to the comforting touch at all.

"You are so tense, Al."

"Yeah, gotta love my limbic system," she spat sarcastically, targeting herself. "Always ready for anything."

Olivia knew she wasn't just referring to her clenched fists, gritted teeth, and tense shoulders. "Baby, your body is trying to protect you."

Cabot, with much difficulty, rolled away from her partner, her hands coming to cover her eyes in frustration. "But I don't need protection, Olivia. Your hands aren't dangerous. Your words aren't dangerous. My own touch," she stressed, "isn't dangerous. I'm not going to violate myself. You're not going to violate me. I just wish I could communicate that with my body. I'm okay. I'm okay," she articulated slowly, rolling back onto her stomach and throwing her arm over Olivia's frame. "I know I have to be consciously gentler with myself, but my frustration is valid, right?" she questioned, seeking assurance.

Eagerly, the older woman resumed her massage, one hand on each of Alex's shoulder blades as she hummed soothingly. "Of course it is. I get frustrated watching you struggle too."

Alex bit her lip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Benson admitted. "But I'm not frustrated with you, love. You're not the person who deserves your anger."

The lawyer hated when Liv brought this up. If she'd done nothing wrong, if she hadn't deserved—

Then she was truly helpless.

"Anger at yourself isn't going to heal you, baby. Just like it won't heal me. Acknowledging that you were wronged and treated in a way that you didn't deserve is step one, and forgiving yourself for having the inability to stop it is step two."

"I deserve my own compassion." Alex had never quite expressed anger towards the people who'd hurt her. She'd voiced hurt, betrayal, and fear. But anger and hatred directed at anyone but herself was still unheard of.

"Mhm," Olivia murmured softly. "And whenever that's hard for you, just remember that you have mine. Always. Always, always, always."

The next morning, Liv found Alex at the kitchen table, scribbling on her legal pad—she'd write a few words and then scratch them out, write a few more and then bite her lip, lying the pen down on the table. When it had rolled off the wood surface and fallen onto the floor with a clatter, Cabot looked up at her partner as she bent down to retrieve the writing instrument. "Are you ready for your closing?"

"I mean, it's written—with flexibility to address Kressler's. But unless I can pull out the best summation I've ever given..."

"Hey. You can't think like that. You have to go into that courtroom every time thinking, knowing, you're going to win. Your confidence is what fuels you. Don't lose sight of that. Speaking of sight," she sing-songed, handing the woman her glasses, which had also somehow landed on the floor, "ta-da! The glasses of justice." She watched her partner fight off a small smirk. "Like a sexy librarian, but better."

She put on her glasses and quickly read over what she had written down. "It's as good as it's going to get," she commented. "I just have to do it. You saw Kressler offer me the deal again, but I can't make it. D'Agostino committed sexual abuse in the first degree. I know it, you know it."

Olivia squatted so she wasn't looking down at her, squeezing her thigh reassuringly. "And the jury will know it too, if they have their wits about them."

"I hope so. The one thing I was able to accomplish during voir dire was assembling a jury without strong ties to the Catholic Church. You know how Elliot is. No offense, babe, but I didn't want a jury full of Elliots for this case."

"None taken." A jury full of Elliots would have been a disaster. "He can be intense. I get it. He believes the boys, for the record. He just thinks—"

Alex decided to save her the time and effort. "Yeah, yeah, I know—'not all priests.' But actually, 'yes, all priests' because even if it were just a few bad apples, what does that make the ones who stand by and do nothing?"

"Idiots?"

The ADA shook her head. "Complicit."

Alex drove to the courthouse and Olivia took a taxi.

The jury seemed antsy the moment they were led into the courtroom, but they were enthralled when Kressler started speaking.

"Ms. Cabot paints an incredibly sad picture, but the fact still remains that she cannot prove my client was involved in any assaults. Not to mention Dr. Currier, who testified that none of these three boys had any physical injury. He said it himself. No injury, no assault. As you deliberate today, remember these two words—reasonable doubt." Alex had nightmares about the phrase. This jury seemed to want proof beyond any possible doubt, and it became dangerous when they forgot the difference between the two. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have given you cause for reasonable doubt. I have proven that these accusers had motive for revenge. We've heard from a doctor, who has casted doubt on Ms. Cabot's story. And—we have heard from a parishioner of Father's church, who has shared with us that my client is a dedicated Catholic, as well as a righteous priest, who would never participate in activities that go against the tenets of the Church. The least I have done is given you cause for reasonable doubt. Your mandate is to make that doubt known by finding Father D'Agostino not guilty."

The prosecutor allowed Kressler's words to settle over the crowd for a few seconds, her eyes quickly meeting Liv's confident expression as she approached the jury box. Olivia was either an incredible liar or slightly delusional, Alex thought to herself, smiling internally at the woman who for some reason just had faith in her.

The blonde intentionally softened her voice as she addressed the twelve individuals who were responsible for making this painstaking decision. "Close your eyes. Imagine you're at your church, synagogue, or mosque. You feel safe, enveloped in community, guarded by the love of your God... Now, imagine you're not you. Imagine that you're twelve-years-old. You're beginning to discover who you are, what you want, your interests. You're still unsure of many of these things, but one thing you do know is that you're safe."

She paused for effect. At least she had theatrics on her side. "And then you're violently proven wrong when the person who you're supposed to trust the most to guide you sexually assaults you in your place of worship. You're belittled. Not believed. Ignored. Called names. Asked to testify twice against your assailant and to share the excruciating details of what you lived through in open court." Alex could relate to all but the last part, and she considered the three boys she'd come to admire so much to be her heroes.

"Now, open your eyes. Dominic Pizzolo, Bryson Mills, and Tommy Jiang don't have to imagine that. This is their reality. The one thing they thought they knew—safety—gone forever. You heard Mr. Kressler contend that no injury equals no sexual assault. However, Mr. Kressler has not proven that a sexual assault cannot occur without injury. In any case, I contend that an injury was sustained. Psychological injury. As we've heard from Dr. Huang, sexual assault survivors exhibit very specific symptoms in response to their trauma, symptoms that he has testified to seeing in each of the three complainants. These boys' lives will never be the same. But you all have an opportunity today. You can help restore these children's sense of safety, their sense of justice. You can do this by returning a guilty verdict. Because I have no doubt and neither should you—the defendant is guilty."

The jurors deliberated for three days.

On the third day, Kressler barged into a curtained conference room that Alex and Olivia had hid away in. "I think today's the day, ladies," he announced to them with a smile, chugging some water. "Father and I are going to mass after. Care to join us?"

"It's awfully presumptuous of you to assume Father will be available for mass later," Alex scolded him, relieved when Olivia remained silent.

"And it's not incredibly intelligent of you to assume he won't be, Alex. Anyway, we all know how this is going to go." He shrugged. "If it's inevitable, just relax and try to enjoy the ride, eh?" he suggested, smirking when Liv immediately turned red.

As the man pivoted to walk away, Olivia lept forward, preparing to give him the what-for.

"Olivia. Olivia, no," Cabot begged her, reaching out to stop her and close the conference room door. "Olivia, please. Don't."

The cop was in rare form, rage completely overtaking her, but still, still she stopped herself from swinging the door open and bolting down the hallway. The look in the love of her life's eyes and the tearful utterance of the word "no" extinguished her flame just enough for her to control herself. "I can't, sweetheart. I just can't let him talk to you like that."

"Olivia." Alex placed two steadying hands on each of her shoulders, offering her a sad but comforting smile. "I can't imagine how hard that was for you to hear, my love, but I've heard worse," she reasoned. "I can take it."

Her stance relaxed only slightly. "Just because you can take it, doesn't mean you should have to."

"I know. But if I'm going to live even any semblance of a normal life, I have to pick my battles. Kressler is a self-important, misogynistic creep, who gets his kicks from making me feel small. But that's his problem, not mine. And I'm okay."

"But how would he even know?"

The ADA remembered what Olivia had asked her the day after she first suspected that her girlfriend was a survivor. "People choose SVU for a reason. He probably guessed, and knew he was right by the way you reacted."

"I'm sorry." Olivia grimaced, realizing her role in the confrontation she'd done nothing to stop.

"Not your fault," she promised, feeling a growing urge to get out of the room. "I'm going to go get lunch. Do you want anything?"

"I'm not too hungry, but c'mon," Benson said, longing to protect the woman she loved. "I'll walk with you down to the cafeteria."

"I actually think I need the time alone. To clear my head." She'd been angered by the man's words, but she didn't feel afraid. As anger began to build within her, she wondered if this was the catalyst she needed to begin directing her negative emotions towards the right people.

"Okay, sweetheart. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I will get there." Alex stretched, her back popping at the strain. "Are you alright?"

The detective squeezed the blonde's hand. "I'll get there too."

The jury came back as Alex was finishing up her salad, and by the time the foreman was asked to read the verdict, she regretted her decision to eat anything at all.

"Members of the jury," Bradley said, "in the matter of The People of the State of New York versus Roberto D'Agostino, how do you find?"

Alex could feel Olivia's eyes digging into the back of her head, and the attorney was unsure of what the older woman planned to do if this went badly. Cabot's mind was empty as the young man cleared his throat. "We find the defendant…"

Why did they always pause? This wasn't a fucking TV show! Just read the verdict and get it over with.

Quick, like a band-aid.

But Alex found that the pain often lasted much longer.

"…not guilty."

A/N: Alright, friends. Before everyone gets angry—and rightfully so—I'm going to ask for two things. First, please don't hate me. I've struggled long and hard with this decision, and based on the course of this trial, a guilty verdict would absolutely be successfully appealed almost immediately here. Second, trust that I have a plan. Justice isn't always swift. This not guilty verdict will serve as a catalyst for a major breakthrough in Chapter 37. I appreciate your patience and support, and feel free to tell me how you plan to murder D'Agostino (and Pastor Paul, by extension) in his sleep. I wholeheartedly agree.