Justice

by Cirocco

Semi-sequel to Pretty Picture.

5. Pressing Charges

CHAPTER 5: PRESSING CHARGES

Tuesday, February 10
10:35pm

"Rey?  What's wrong?" Deborah asked.  Rey had been withdrawn all evening, answering in monosyllables.  After he'd put the girls to bed, he and Deborah had decided to go to bed as well.  She'd taken out a large print book, the only kind she could read these days, and he'd taken out some marking and marked for about twenty minutes before putting down his pen and staring blankly at their bedroom closet, brooding, an essay lying forgotten across his knees.  He glanced at her, startled out of his thoughts, and hesitated for a moment before answering her.

"Jack gave me my medical file from the infirmary."

"What did it say?"

"Among other things, it said I was given a blood test and they checked me for HIV and Hep.  I'm negative for both, by the way.  Good to know."

"Were you worried?"

"No, I was always careful," he replied absently.  "Still good to know I was careful enough."

Deborah frowned slightly, concerned.  Although they'd both come to terms with his affairs, it wasn't like Rey to talk about it so casually.  "What else did it say?"

"I threw up a whole bunch of times.  No big surprise there.  I got upset whenever anybody touched me.  I coulda guessed that, I'm still doing it."  Same nonchalant tone of voice.

"Rey.  What's the matter."

"You know, every time I think I'm OK with what happened, I find out there's more."

"What more?"

"Well, you know, I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I was sold for $20.  So today I find out that they not only took blood samples, they - while I was dead to the world they ran a rape kit on me.  I couldn't - I couldn't say or do anything, I didn't even know what was happening, and they had me up on the table and... and I also found out something I forgot, that the son of a bitch bit me."  Deborah pressed her lips together, not reaching out to him as she wanted to, since, despite the enforced casual tone to his voice, Rey's body language was screaming that he did not want any contact right now.

"So, so I'm thinking that I'm OK and I can live with it, and I get home and I make myself actually read the whole file, not just skim it like I did at Jack's office.  And there's one more thing."  He reached down next to the bed and picked up a file, found some kind of report in it and scanned through briefly until he hit the line he was looking for.

"Patient regained consciousness during physical examination, further sedation required." He put down the file.

"I went for $20," he said, a faint tremor creeping into his voice, suppressed rage getting past his attempt to keep a distance from what he was saying.  "A whole buncha cons watched while this sadistic piece of shit put his hands all over me and, and, and bit me, and I lay there and let him, then they watched while the four of them threw me down on the floor and almost had one helluva party with me for five bucks apiece, then I nearly bled to death, and, and then I was molested on a table in the infirmary.  And I got to wake up during that."  He stood up, too angry to continue sitting.

"And not a damn thing is gonna happen to anybody.  Rico - he's in for life anyway, and the Warden and the guards, I don't care what Jack and Jamie say, that's like fighting City Hall, and the doctor, well hey, he didn't actually do anything wrong."  He started to move towards the door.

"Rey.  Rey, please, don't go.  Come back.  Talk to me."

"I did.  I just did.  I told you what's going on in my head, I don't wanna talk about it any more, I'm going out for a run."

"That only helps for a little while."

"So what do you want me to do instead?  Tell you how all of this makes me feel?  Fine.  I feel violated.  OK?  Are we done now?"

"Rey."

"And I feel like I'd like to kill somebody.  Doesn't even matter who any more.  Rico, or the doctor, or, or any of the cons who watched and cheered, or anybody.  God damn well anybody."

"Why?"

"I remember it.  Waking up.  I've had nightmares about it."  Deborah drew in her breath, appalled, as Rey continued.  "I'd convinced myself it was just a hallucination or something.  But now I think maybe my mind put together what I was so scared was going to happen with Rico with what actually happened in the infirmary."

"What do you remember?"  He looked away from her impatiently.  "I'm sorry.  Don't say anything if you don't want to.  But please... don't go out.  OK?  Please."

She hesitantly reached out to him and he drew closer to her.  Then he gave a sigh of resignation and sat himself back on the bed, back to the wall, moving Deborah so that she was nestled against his chest.  They sat together for a few moments, Deborah feeling his heartbeat slowly steadying, and finally asked Rey quietly, "Would it help to talk about it?"

He shrugged and they were silent for a few more minutes.  Then he began, keeping his voice as dispassionate as he could.  "I remember saying no over and over again.  I couldn't move.  And I was in so much pain.  My arms hurt like hell - I think they still had me in restraints and I was trying to get away.  I thought Rico's pals were holding me down.  And I thought Rico-" he broke off and Deborah felt him swallowing hard and pausing to keep his breathing steady.  She covered his hands with hers, where they crossed over her stomach.  Rey took a deep breath and continued.  "And there was nobody helping me, nobody was listening to me, but there were a lot of people watching and touching me.  And really bright lights hurting my eyes.  And somebody told me to relax," he broke off and chuckled bitterly.  "Man, if that part really happened, was that ever the wrong thing to say to me."

"Why?"

"He said that.  You better relax, baby, or this is gonna hurt a lot."

Deborah closed her eyes in horror.  Rey had said that so emotionlessly.

"I keep hearing him say that when I have nightmares."  Rey breathed in, keeping calm.  "I thought, I thought that, being on that table, that it was just a nightmare.  But it wasn't.  And I can't even - I can't even be angry at them because they didn't do anything wrong.  How do I live with that?" he swallowed.  "With any of it?  How do I live with having let him bite me, leave a mark on my neck, and not even remember that?  How do I live with that?"

"Pray," Deborah said gently.  "God will find a way for you to get through this."

"Pray," Rey said bitterly after a moment.  "Give me a fucking break.  God's turned His back on me, He turned His back on me so goddamn long ago it's not even funny.  I prayed.  I prayed in there, you think I didn't pray?  I begged God to take me out of there by any means."  His voice broke and he stopped.  "I prayed to God to let me die that last day.  Over and over.  I wanted to die so badly."

"God doesn't always answer our prayers."

"Sometimes I wish He had," Rey admitted quietly.

"Really?"

"I thought I'd be better off dead than trying to cope with this," his voice caught again and he paused to regain his composure.  "I kept saying No.  I kept saying Please, no.  And nobody ever listened.  Nobody, not Rico, not the guards, not even God.  Even in the infirmary, all they did was put me out again and keep right on doing what they were doing."

He thought for a moment before continuing.  "And I don't even know why they bothered.  You know they took scrapings from under my fingernails?  Yeah, to match to those guys.  What's the point?  My hands were totally covered in blood, any evidence would've been washed away.  And they combed through my hair and looked through my clothes and my body, found five hairs that didn't belong to me.  They probably match Rico.  So what?"

"They bothered to do it because it was a crime.  And now you can use that for the case against them."

"I don't wanna have anything to do with the case.  Everybody keeps telling me this is the right thing to do, but... it's taking a hell of a lot of trust on my part to believe that."

===

Monday, February 16
6:35pm

Three days later, Rey gave his statement to Jack and Jack filed charges against Rico Gonzalez, Phil Johnson, and Roger Gether, the Warden at Sing Sing.

Three days after that, Jack and Jamie reluctantly explained Gonzalez's defense to Rey.

"He said it was my idea?" Rey asked incredulously.

"He said that when you realized that you were in danger because he'd outed you as a former cop, you came to him for protection."

"As in... I asked him to - are you serious?"

"It's a common arrangement in prison."

"I came to him for protection after he'd knifed me?"

"He said that after he recognized you, the two of you got in a fight, and he used his knife in self-defense.  Then he said you told him somebody else threatened to kill you in the infirmary after your arm was cut.  And you figured Gonzalez wouldn't kill you, otherwise he would have the day that he cut your arm."

Rey sat back, stunned.  "So he's saying it was all consensual."

"Rey... there's more."

"What?"

"He claims that you engaged in consensual sexual intercourse with him the day that you cut yourself."

"What?!"

"He said that he never threatened you, that the reason you cut yourself was that you couldn't live with having done that."

Rey stared at Jack, speechless.  Jack cleared his throat.

"That's why I'll need you to testify."

"Testify?  In front of a judge and jury?"

"Yes.  I thought with the evidence we had, that this would be pled out without a trial.  But with Gonzalez bringing this up as a defense-"

"No way."

"Rey-"

"No.  There is no way in hell I'm testifying.  I gave you a statement, use it."

"It'll be tossed unless they have a chance to cross."

"Cross?  You know as well as I do that sexual assault victims are raped again by the justice system when they go to trial.  You know that.  They'll attack me personally and it'll be real easy.  They'll get the jury to accept reasonable grounds without even breaking a sweat."

"He threatened you, and he hurt you.  We have pictures of your injuries."

"Sure.  And they have my sexual history to work with - my trial established me real well, in court, as a guy who's been hopping in and outta bed with strangers for over a year."

"Women, not men."

"So how hard will it be for them to say I just adapted real quick?  If it was that easy for me to break my marriage vows and sleep with strangers, how difficult would it have been for me to realize sleeping with another stranger was my ticket to safety?"

"Rey, he threatened you.  Whatever happened wasn't consensual."

"Yeah, and maybe after my name's been dragged through the mud some more you can prove that, and maybe not.  No thanks."

"In all likelihood your history won't be allowed in court anyway," Jamie pointed out.

"Right.  In all likelihood it'll be their main event," Rey shot back cynically.  "It's a loser of a case.  I'm not gonna put myself through - I'm not going on trial again for something that's totally useless."

"It's not just your word against his, we also have three witnesses-"

"Yeah, yeah, Bayliss, Jorgenson and Chang.  Three inmate witnesses.  You know exactly how much credibility they'll have.  And there's not one staff person outside of the infirmary who'll testify that they saw anything at all."

"There's not one inmate or staff that's come forward to support Gonzalez's claims, or to back up Johnson either," Jack said.  "We don't know why - I got the feeling from Bayliss that there's been some internal power struggle going on over this, but we've run into a wall of silence on the details."

"And it's not just the case against Gonzalez, there's also the charges against Warden Gether and Johnson," Rey made a disgusted sound at that but Jamie persisted.  "Other inmates have won against Correctional Services who failed to protect them.  It may not be a loser of a case."

"'May not be a loser'.  Great.  And who do you want me to do this for?  A bunch of criminals?"

"Most victims inside aren't the worst offenders.  Some of them are rapists and child molesters, but most of them are just young, or the wrong race, or the wrong former job.  That patient who came in while you were in the infirmary.  I did some digging.  Do you know what he was in for?"

"I don't care what he was in for."

"He sold $532 worth of cocaine to an undercover Narcotics officer.  Is that worth what he went through, what he's probably still going through?"

"You don't want me to testify.  They'll say I consented, in the common area and in my cell, at least at first.  And I did."

"Duress vitiates consent.  You were in a public place, he threatened to take you out of it and hurt you if you didn't cooperate, you didn't have a choice-"

"Can you prove that?  You can't.  I've 'engaged in sexual activity' in a public place before.  They'll bring that up."

"With a woman.  Receiving, not giving."

"Yeah, and you want me to get up on the stand where it'll be brought up again, because not enough people know that I had sex in a public place.  No way in hell."

"That kid needed seven stitches after they were done with him.  That day in your cell, how far away do you think you were from needing stitches yourself?" Jamie challenged.

"Five... maybe ten seconds," Rey estimated evenly.

"If the guard that saved you hadn't gone up to the second tier, where he wasn't supposed to be, or if he had even stopped to tie his shoelaces, you wouldn't have the luxury of trying to convince yourself nothing happened and there's no real reason to proceed."

"I know that.  It doesn't change anything."

"Rey, that kid was in the infirmary for two weeks.  He couldn't even walk.  That could have been you."

"Jamie..." Jack shook his head at her.

"You're not telling me anything I don't know.  What do you think is gonna change if I press charges?  You think it's gonna stop this from happening again?"

"Is that the only reason to press charges?" Jack asked.  "All of those times that you arrested somebody for murder, were you under the illusion that there would be no more murders after they were convicted?"  Rey looked away from him and Jack added, "Rey, forget the civil suit, forget Jamie's part in this.  Going forward in the criminal case is the right thing to do because what happened was a crime, and crimes need to be prosecuted.  It's a matter of justice."

"Justice," Rey said with disgust.  "Give me a break.  There's no justice for this."

"Look, we all know it's been difficult for you to come to terms with what happened," Jamie added gently.  "Don't you think that if you can do something about it, it might help-"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, you're not saying I should take the stand like it's gonna be some sorta 'healing process', are you?" Rey asked in disbelief.

"I-"

"I don't believe this," Rey stood up quickly and went to the window, crossing his arms to get past his unexpected fury at Jamie Ross.  At both of them.  Waited until he could speak with a modicum of equanimity.

"Look.  He forced me to - to do things I didn't want to do.  To let him do things I didn't want him to do.  So what's happened since I got out?  You two force me to get pictures taken, my wife and sister try to force me to talk, you force me to give a statement, now you wanna force me to testify - does anybody think maybe I've had enough of being forced?!" He turned to them, his anger momentarily getting the best of him.

"Fuck you!  Fuck all of you!!  At least he had the decency not to tell me it was for my own good!!" he turned his back on them again, staring out the window, breathing unevenly, forcing himself to settle down.

When Rey spoke again, his voice was low, his words slow.  "One of the reasons I cut was that I didn't think I'd be able to stand going through this.  Having a kit run on me, getting pictures, making a statement...  and it all happened anyway.  And now you're asking me to..."

"What have you told victims who didn't want to go through this before?" Jamie asked gently.

"I didn't know what the hell I was talking about."

"You're just going to forgive and forget?"

Rey sighed heavily.  No, he wouldn't.  Didn't want to forgive, couldn't seem to forget.

"Are you really just going to take this lying down?"

"That's a very nice way of putting it, Jamie, thanks," Rey said bitterly, still looking out the window.  Jamie winced at her poor choice of words but persevered.

"That young man.  His name is Neil Jasinski and he's twenty-one years old.  He had no previous criminal record and no money for a lawyer.  He's in for three years for Trafficking.  That could be your daughter in a couple of years.  It could be Serena right now if you hadn't gone to prison for her.  You went through hell to make sure she wouldn't, but everything you went through may mean nothing if she ever sells again."

===

Later, after Rey had gone home, saying he'd call them after he made up his mind, Jamie hesitantly spoke up.  "Jack... do you think any of what Gonzalez said is true?"  Jack gave her a look of disbelief.  "Not about it being Rey's idea.  But do you think there was more to what happened than Rey said?"

"No.  I don't."

"He may have lied, he may have said nothing more happened when in fact it did.  The infirmary found no sign of violent sex, but... what if Gonzalez coerced him into cooperating?"

"I was there in the infirmary.  He was too drugged to lie.  If he'd been raped, forcibly or not, he would have said so."

"He was alert enough to be able to lie to the infirmary staff about why he slit his wrists."

"I don't think he would have lied to his wife.  Besides, you read his statement.  He didn't hold anything back.  He would have told us if anything else happened."

It had been surprisingly difficult for Jack to go through the events of December 27-31 with Rey, even though Rey maintained very tight emotional control the entire time.  And later, Jamie had read Rey's statement with a deep sense of outrage and finished with an even stronger conviction that this kind of thing should never be dismissed as just 'the way things are'.

"Do you think this is the right thing?  Trying to get him to take the stand?" Jamie asked, seeking reassurance.

"I don't know.  In terms of justice, I don't want those people to get away with what they did.  But for Rey's sake I don't know.  I don't think he wants to dwell on what happened, I think he just wants to get past it."

"He's not getting past it, though."  Jack sighed.  "Jack, he's not."

===

Monday, March 1
7:09pm

"OW!!" Rey bit back a curse as the knife he was using to chop vegetables sliced a knuckle.  Damn, that stung.  The cut was pretty deep, too, and bleeding rather steadily.  "I am so sick of blood," he sighed wearily.

"Then be more careful when you're using a knife," said Serena distractedly, curled up on the couch and reading a novel.

"Thank you, Serena.  I'm so glad you suggested that, it never would have occurred to me," he said a little more sarcastically than he'd meant to, squeezing his knuckle with his other hand to stop the flow.  She grinned, still reading.  That was a nice thing about Serena - she could dish it out, but she could take it too.  He put aside the vegetables he was chopping and started to head for the washroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly, not realizing there was blood on the hand rubbing his eyes.  All of a sudden he felt his heart stop.

"Serena, can you get me a wet facecloth, please?" he said when he could trust his voice not to come out in a scream.

"You mean a bandage?" Serena asked, trying to finish up her chapter before going to get whatever it was her father was asking for.

"N-no, a facecloth.  I got blood in my eyes, I can't - can't see."

Serena looked up, slightly alarmed at the tightly controlled tone of her father's voice.  He was standing near the kitchen, one hand up to his eyes, blood on the hand and on his closed eyes.  His face was ashen and his hand was shaking, and Serena's alarm grew exponentially.

"Dad?  Are you OK?"

"Just get me a fucking facecloth!" he said sharply, his control starting to crack.  Serena quickly got up and went to the washroom, returning with a wet facecloth and handing it to him.  He startled as she touched his arm, and knocked the cloth out of her hand.  She quickly picked it up, realizing he couldn't see her.

"OK, Dad, it's OK, just me, here it is, I'm putting it in your hand," she said soothingly.  He grabbed it and wiped at his eyes, opening them with relief, then scrubbed his face without looking at her.

"Thanks," he muttered, going to the washroom to tend to the wound he'd made.  Serena followed him slowly.  He didn't acknowledge her as she sat on the side of the bathtub and watched him put on a bandage, hands still shaking and breathing shallow, slowly evening out.  As he finished, she spoke up.

"What was that, Dad?"

"What?"

"How come you got freaked out by that?"

"My eyes hurt, that's all.  I-I couldn't see," he tried to dismiss her.  "Sorry about the language."

"That's not all that happened."

He leaned against the sink and met her eyes in resignation.  "Look, it's just... things keep happening that remind me of stuff that wasn't a lot of fun to go through.  I get a little upset by it, that's all."

He hated this.  The panic attacks, the tears that seemed to appear without warning, the volatility of his emotional state.  Hated the fact that he couldn't seem to keep himself on an even keel, that the slightest thing would happen and he would feel like throwing up or killing somebody or crying.  Hated having so little control that he'd broken down in front of Lennie, in front of Jack, in front of his whole family.  All of them had seen him cry like a child the night he came back home, holding on to Deborah for dear life, helpless to do anything but ride it out until the sobs died down on their own.  And now his daughter had seen him almost completely undone just because he got blood in his eyes.

"What did it remind you of?"

"Something that happened in prison," his voice was clipped, tightly controlled once more.

"Daddy... I wish you hadn't gone."

"Yeah, well, me too," he started to put the bandages and alcohol away.  "Couldn't be helped."

"Daddy..."

"Yeah?"

"How come - how come you don't wanna go on the stand?"

"What?" he turned to look at her.

"I heard Mom and Aunt Lisa talking the other day.  They were talking about how you didn't want to press charges and now you don't want to take the stand."  He blew out his breath, annoyed.  Damn small apartment.  "Why not?"

"I'm not gonna be able to explain that to you, sweetie."

"But - but what that guy did wasn't right.  Don't you think you oughtta make him pay for what he did?"

"He's in for life, Serena.  There's not much else they can do to him."

"But that's not the point.  It doesn't matter if they can do anything to him or not.  He still shouldn't be able to get away with it.  And the guards who were supposed to protect you... they shouldn't get away with it either."  He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised.  "That's what Mom and Aunt Lisa were talking about.  Because otherwise... it's like you're saying it's OK.  And it's not OK, Daddy."

===

Tuesday, March 2
12:34am

Hold him down

You almost done?

Wouldja put him down, please, before he hurts himself?

No please stop Jesus help me

Let's make friends...

Cutter!

Rey woke up in a cold sweat, chest heaving, heart racing.  God, this was getting so old.  Why couldn't he wake up like a normal person?

"Rey?  You awake?" Deborah's quiet voice pierced through his racing heartbeat.

"Yeah.  Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, hon," he muttered, turning on his side, away from her.  Hugged his arms close to his body, trying to stop the shaking.  Damn, he wondered, what woke her up this time?  What he talking in his sleep again?

"It's all right.  Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he said tiredly, and suddenly his patience and fortitude snapped.  He was not OK, he was so far from OK he couldn't even see OK from where he was.  And he was tired of trying to pretend that everything was fine.  He sat up, peeling the soaked t-shirt off.  Ugh, his side of the bed was damp with sweat too.  He turned around, faced Deborah.

"How did you know I was having a nightmare?"  Not what he wanted to say or ask, but he didn't feel like his usual route of post-nightmare coping mechanisms.  They didn't work worth a damn.

"You were shaking and having trouble breathing, and you kept saying no," Deborah replied after a startled moment.  He nodded, still sitting apart from her.  Not knowing what he wanted.  All of a sudden what he wanted most in the world was for her to hold him and make this go away.  No, he couldn't, he couldn't turn to her like that, he'd break down again and he'd had enough of that too.  He glanced at her, lying on the bed holding her hands together like she wanted to reach out to him but knew she shouldn't, and feeling himself stepping into unknown territory, he took her hands in his.

"Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?" she asked tentatively.  Vehement shake of his head, no.  That wouldn't help.  He drew closer to her, lay down beside her, and slowly moved into her arms.

Slowly, trying not to spook him, she brought her hand up to his cheek and stroked him awkwardly.  He felt his eyes fill with tears and took a deep breath to keep his composure as best he could.

"It was just six days," he whispered.  "How could six days just destroy me like this?  I'm so... sick of this."

"Rey..." she drew him closer, cradling his head against her shoulder.

"I'm sick of - of this, you know?" he wiped his eyes, making a vague gesture at his face as he did so.  "Sick of feeling this way.  Not - not being able to - to control any of it."  They lay quietly together for a moment.

"Do you ever feel suicidal any more?" she asked quietly.

"N-no, not like before," he said quickly, and she looked at him directly until he met her eyes.  "I don't.  You're here.  It was always worst at night, and now that you're here, when I feel bad I just hold on to you and that gets me through.  But I'm tired.  I wish I was back to feeling like myself again," he paused.  "Not that I even know what that's like any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked Lennie once how I was ever gonna get back what I had before, and he said I wouldn't.  He said I'd never feel the way I did before I got depressed, but I'd learn to feel proud of myself for getting out of the depression."

"Wise words."

"Yeah, I guess so.  I was getting there, but now..." he stopped, steadying himself.  "I'm so tired of feeling... God, I can't even explain it.  Like I can't wash this off."

"You will."

"When?" she stroked his cheek gently, unable to answer.  "I feel like... damaged goods."

"You're not.  God, Rey, you're not."

"There's a part of me that says a man, a real man, would rather die than let-" he stopped and shook his head.  "And then another part of me says that a real man wouldn't care about his pride.  He'd know that he just has to survive for the sake of his family."

"That's true."

"Which makes me less than a man from both sides, because I couldn't.  I snapped.  I tried to fight him even though I knew I didn't have a chance in hell."

"It's millenia of evolution you were trying to get past.  Your instinct to protect yourself by fighting him got past your rational mind knowing that you couldn't win.  Don't blame yourself for that."  She brushed away a tear on his cheek and he gently drew her hand away from his face.

"Deborah... I don't want your pity."

"You don't have my pity.  There's a big difference between pity and compassion, you know."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"When you pity somebody you feel sorry for them from up on high.  You know you could do better than them, you know you're better than they are.  Compassion is different.  It's 'there but for the grace of God go I', meaning the only reason you're not exactly where they are right now is God's will, absolutely nothing to do with you," she paused.  "Do you ever pity me?"

"No, of course not.  But that's different.  What's wrong with you... it's physical, you can't do anything about it."

"And you think you could do something about this?  Shrug it off?  Convince yourself nothing happened?  You think you're weak because you can't do that?"

He shrugged uncomfortably.

"I don't see you the way you see yourself.  I don't see weakness, I see strength.  So do the girls, so do Lennie and Jack.  Lisa and Jorge, I don't know.  But the rest of us see that you're doing the best you can, through a lot of pain and difficulty."  She stroked his shoulder, his arm, tracing over the long scar absently.  He shivered and drew his arm away, and she made a small sound in her throat.

"Don't," he murmured, pulling away slightly and wiping at his eyes.

"Don't what?  Touch your scars?"  He was silent.  "Don't hide them.  Not at home.  Not from me."

"They're ugly as hell," he muttered uncomfortably.

"They're part of you now.  Like everything else that's happened."  She traced the long cut awkwardly and softly said, "They're not ugly to me.  I accept them like I accept everything else about you."  He forced himself to not twitch or draw away as she gently traced the scars on his wrists as well.

They lay together for a while, not talking, then she asked very softly, "Rey, why didn't you ever tell me before, that you wanted to commit suicide?"

He sighed heavily.  "How could I, hon?"

"How did Lennie and Jack find out?"

"I told Lennie."

"How?"

"It was just after I got out of Riker's, after I was arrested.  He wanted me to talk to him and I said I didn't want to because I really tried not to think about everything that was wrong with my life, because when I thought about it I just wanted to end it all."

"Why couldn't you have said that to me?"

"You were part of it, Deborah.  Being cut off from you was killing me.  You don't know... you don't know how I feel about you.  Things were so bad between us - it was like we were strangers living under the same roof."

"I can't believe I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know.  I was too ashamed."

"Too ashamed to even ask for help?"  He shrugged uncomfortably.  "Why could you ask Lennie and not me?"

"Wasn't really by choice.  Things just sorta came to a head a few weeks after I was arrested and I couldn't deal with it on my own any more.  It was ask for help or kill myself, and I didn't wanna put you and the girls through that."

"You can't let it get that far again, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he said tiredly.

"You know I'm here, and Lisa's here a lot too.  We can help.  You just need to ask."

Rey nodded.  "I know."  He was silent for a moment, then said, "Hon, you know what I really need?"

"What?"

"I really need to get outta here."

"What, right now?"

"No, not right now, I'm, I'm OK with us talking like we're doing right now, it's just... all of you are driving me crazy.  I know you all mean well, but... every time I turn around somebody's looking at me with this concerned look on their face and I really can't take it anymore.  I need a break."

"OK..." she said reluctantly, then pulled him close and kissed him, putting an end to their talk.  He kissed her back, caressing her face gently and taking comfort in her closeness, grateful to be done talking, for now at least.  Distantly wishing things were better between them physically, but not willing to risk trying to go any farther.  He felt too awkward and self-conscious, as well as unwilling to risk the panic and nausea that he'd felt the last time they went too far.  Better just to leave things as they were.

===

Friday, March 5
11:58 p.m.

"Yeah?  Who is it?" Lennie asked, surprised that somebody would be knocking at his door so late at night.

"L-Lennie?  C'n I come in?"  Lennie opened the door to find Rey shivering in the hallway.  Rey's teeth were chattering and he was hugging himself tightly, entire body shaking with the cold.

"What the hell are you doing here?  Are you OK?" Lennie said, concerned.

"Y-yeah, I'm f-fine," Rey nodded, unable to say any more.  Lennie took in his appearance - shivering, lips almost blue, not dressed for the weather in a thin jacket and faded jeans and running shoes.  He noted also a slightly glassy look to his eyes and unsteadiness even through the shaking.

"Get inside," he said, concern making his tone brusque.  "You look like you're freezing to death.  How long you been outside?"

"I - I dunno," Rey managed, going further into the apartment.  He stumbled a bit and Lennie unthinkingly put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.  Rey gasped and turned around quickly, knocking Lennie's hand away and stepping back with a frightened look in his eyes, rapidly suppressed and morphing into embarrassment.

"S-sorry, Lennie, you s-startled me," he apologized in a low voice, looking down and biting his lip.

"OK, OK, just go in, siddown. I'll bring you a blanket or something."  Rey made his way to the couch while Lennie went to get a blanket from the linen closet and brought it to him.  Rey drew it around himself, shivering.

"Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah, jus' - jus' cold."

"You drunk?"

"Yeah, that too," he admitted.

"You high?"

"N-no, I, I went to a bar an'... Lennie, wouldja - wouldja mind if I s-stay here f'r the n-night?"

"Sure, no problem.  Lisa's at your place?"

"Yeah," the shivers were finally starting to die down.  Rey looked up at him a bit sheepishly.  "I wen' out, an' now I don't th-think I should go back.  N-not like this."

"OK, OK, you want me to give Lisa a call, let her know you're here?"

"Yeah, good idea."

Lennie went to the phone and called Rey's place while Rey warmed up on his couch.

"Hi Lisa, it's Lennie."

"Lennie?"

"Yeah, listen, uh... Rey's over here, he's had a few too many... do you mind if he stays here the night?"

"No, no, of course not," Lisa answered automatically.  She paused for a second.  "Too many what?" she asked, her voice neutral.

"Just beer, I think."  Rey glanced up at him from the couch, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"You think he went home with anybody?" she asked, still in the same neutral tone.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I wouldn't think he would.  No problem, Lennie, I'll let Deborah know."

"Thanks."  Lennie hung up.

"She wanted ta know if'm high?"

"Yeah," Lennie admitted.

"'Mnot.  I told'er I wasn't gonna do it any more.  Tol' you too," he added, a little annoyed.

"Why'd you get drunk?"

Rey shrugged, looking away.

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but if you are gonna use anything to deal with your problems, it would probably be better to use pot than booze."

"Pot's illegal.  Booze in't."

"Alcohol's addictive. Pot isn't."

"Is to me.  I wan' it a lot more'n I want beer.  An' it matters to me, that it's illegal," he rubbed his arms under the blanket.  "Plus I can't screw up even one more time, an' if there's another drug test at th' precinct..."

"You shouldn't be using anything anyway.  It can get way too easy to make this a habit."

"I know, OK?  I'm doin' my best here.  I jus' needed a break."

"Did you... how much of a break did you take?"

"Los' count after nine."

Ouch.  He'd never seen Rey this drunk before.  Intoxicated and unsteady, but never fall-down wasted.  He asked evenly, "I mean, did you do anything else for escape?"

For a moment Rey didn't get it, then he did and he answered scornfully without thinking.  "Oh yeah, right, Lennie.  I can' even let m'own wife touch me, 'm sure's hell not gonna let some stranger-" he suddenly closed his mouth and looked away, cheeks burning, cursing under his breath.  He hadn't meant to blurt that out.

Lennie cleared his throat, also embarrassed by Rey's involuntary confidence.  He stood up.  "I'll get you a glass of water and some aspirin," he said, going into the washroom.  He came back and put the aspirin and water on the coffee table in front of Rey, sitting back down in the easy chair.  An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few moments.

"How are you doing?"

"OK.  Thanks for th' blanket, 'm not chilled any more."

"You're not looking too good."

"Not feelin' too good."

"You gonna throw up?"

"Hope not," he said a little short of breath.  Lennie quickly got up to get a trash can.

"Wha?" Rey asked, taking in Lennie's worried frown.

"Never seen you this drunk before."

Rey nodded weakly.  "Don' do this a lot.  Hadn' had a drink since... since Deb'ra came back."

"So how come you did it tonight?"  Rey shrugged.  "Did you plan on getting drunk?"

"Nah.  Just wanted ta get out."  He swallowed hard, dizzy.  "God, how'd you live like this f'r years?"

"Not too sure right now," Lennie said, gazing at him in sympathy.  "You know what?  I don't want you to pass out in my living room.  I'm gonna put you to bed."

"Nah, 'm OK..."

He ignored Rey's half-hearted protest.  "I'm gonna help you up."  He carefully put a hand under Rey's elbow.  "OK, up you go."  Rey stood up slowly, closing his eyes in dizziness.

"Oh, 'm gonna-"

"It's OK, it's an old carpet anyway.  Try not to, but if you lose your lunch don't worry about it."  Rey nodded, eyes still closed.

"Rey, open your eyes.  I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but if you keep them open you're less likely to throw up."  He guided Rey slowly, Rey stumbling repeatedly.    "Come on, Rey, work with me here," he grunted, realizing Rey was no longer able to walk without more support.  He drew Rey's arm around his own shoulders, steadying his weight, wincing in sympathy.  Rey was gonna have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.

They finally reached the bed and Lennie gently let Rey down, helping him to lie back, then quickly went back to the living room, hoping to get the trash can in place before it was needed.  He deposited it next to the bed, looking at Rey's ashen face with concern.

"You OK?"

"Yeah..." Rey said indistinctly.

"Think you can sleep it off?"

"Yeah..."

"OK.  I'll stay for a bit.  Trash can's right here."

"OK... y'know, I c'n sleep on th' couch-"

"You'd probably fall off, the state you're in."

"Prob'ly.  Thanks."

"How come you got so drunk?"

Rey was silent for a long time.  No, he didn't want to talk about this, any of it.  He'd gone out to get away from this kind of thing.  Besides, he'd leaned on Lennie so much in the last few months.  He shouldn't still be leaning on him.

He glanced over at Lennie.  Saw concern and caring, a genuine desire to help.  Felt something weaken inside.  "Fuck... ev'rything."  He closed his eyes.  "Ev'rything.  Jack tell you 'bout the case?"

"Yeah."

"Pisses me off.  They ran a kit on me, Lennie.  Took - took a swab from inside my mouth.  They found 'is hair on my clothes.  Lookin' for evidence of a crime.  On me."    He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see Lennie's expression.  "Makes m'skin crawl.  Bein' a crime scene.  Feel like I was raped, you know?  An' I can't handle it."  He swallowed hard.

"An', now, now he's sayin' it was my idea, an', an' he's sayin' that... that I - that he... an' the worst part is, I know he din', but... but I forgot other stuff, y'know?  Li'l tiny part 'o me sez, what if he's right an' I jus' made myself forget?"

Lennie closed his eyes for a moment.  Lord, that would be a nightmare, not even knowing for sure what had or hadn't happened to you.  Rey continued slowly.  "That scumbag.  He won, you know?  I put 'im in there but he put me in Hell.  Feel so scared alla time.  Don' want anybody to touch me.  Ever again.  Feel like a fuckin' cheap whore, never gonna be me again.  I can' even touch Deborah sometimes, don' wanna get her dirty too."

He turned away, speaking softly, almost to himself.  "Felt so close to 'er, y'know?  An' we couldn't, we couldn't, y'know, really do it but, but... I felt so close to 'er when we... an' now I can't, jus' get grossed out."

"Rey, I'm sorry," Lennie said, feeling so inadequate.  What words could possibly make this OK?

"Fuck'im.  Sick bastard.  An' it's my fault anyway."

"How do you figure?"

"Din' do nothin' that diff'rent from when I was cheatin' on Deborah, lettin' strangers... Aagh," he shook his head, unable to continue.  "Shoulda felt like this all along."  He paused.  "Jus' remem'er lyin' there, lettin' 'im... ah, shit, gonna throw up," he said hopelessly.  He closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, battling the urge to heave.

"No, come on, keep your eyes open," Lennie said sharply.  Rey nodded, fighting the nausea, and Lennie added, more gently, "Rey, this isn't your fault.  You don't deserve this."

"Well if I din' deserve it, fuck'im then.  An' fuck God too."  Lennie drew in his breath sharply, profoundly shocked to hear Rey say that.  Rey chuckled bitterly.  "That's prob'ly blasphemy, yeah?  'Course it's blasphemy."  He closed his eyes.  "Whatever.  Y'know?  Like, what's God gonna do, strike me down?  Make m'wife and kid sick?  Make me go to prison so some sick sonofabitch can - whatever.  Been there, done that."  He paused.  "That's th' nice thing 'bout bein' at rock bottom, there's really nowhere to go but up," he said faintly.

"Rey..." Lennie put his hand on Rey's shoulder and Rey jerked away.

"D-don't!!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Lennie said quickly, cursing himself.  It was so automatic to him, comforting somebody with a touch.  But you don't touch somebody who's been sexually assaulted, not without being very sure they're OK with it. The last thing they need is anybody, even a friend, violating their personal space.

The problem was that he kept forgetting.  This was Rey, for god's sake, not some vic he'd met at a hospital or crime scene.  This was the guy who'd been his partner for four years, who had unflinchingly faced down violent felons and tackled people carrying weapons.  Not somebody he had to be careful not to spook with a simple touch on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Lennie repeatedly ineffectually.  Rey was looking away from him, biting his lip, angry at his own automatic reactions, at himself for being so easily frightened.  He covered his eyes.

"Y'know what?"  he said slowly.  "I wish... I wish I cut deeper that day."

"No you don't."

"Yeah, I do."  Rey met Lennie's eyes.  "I do.  I'm real sorry fer all I done wrong, y'know?"

"I know."

"But I don' wanna be aroun' fer this, even if I d'serve it.  Jus' wanna check out."

"You'll get through it."

"Don' wanna get through it.  Jus' wanna get away.  Damn nightmares'n flashbacks'n feelin' like crap.  Goin' nuts."  He regarded Lennie for a long moment, then said hesitantly, "Lennie... y'think I oughtta go to a hospital?"

"For alcohol poisoning?" Lennie asked, confused by the non sequitur.

"No.  Check inna a mental ward or somethin'."

Yeah, that might be a good idea, Lennie thought.  Lord knew he couldn't do anything to help.  "We'll talk about it tomorrow.  Go to sleep.  You'll feel better in the morning."

"OK," Rey said trustingly, and closed his eyes.  Lennie watched Rey's breathing even out until he was asleep.

===

Saturday, March 6
10:02am

"Of all the beds I've ended up in this last year, never thought I'd end up in yours," Rey commented as he entered Lennie's kitchen the next morning.  "Twice now."  Lennie smiled.  "Havta say, it beats the bunk beds in Sing Sing."

"How much do you remember about last night?" Lennie poured him a coffee.

"Not a lot.  That's probably a good thing," Rey sipped the coffee gratefully, wishing it contained some sort of magical hangover cure.  "I'm sure I said stuff I'll probably regret."

"You said stuff that hadda be said."

Rey looked down into his cup.  "Like what?"

"You talked about how you were feeling, about the rape kit and all.  Said you were feeling suicidal again.  Asked if I thought you should check into a hospital."

Rey groaned and covered his eyes for a moment.  "Do you?" he finally asked quietly.

"I dunno, partner.  This is pretty scary."

"Yeah.  What the hell's life come to when the only thing you can think to deal with it is to check into a psych ward."

"You wouldn't have to worry about it looking bad during your murder trial any more."

"Yeah, I know.  Lennie... I don't wanna go back to prison though.  That's what a mental ward is.  I know they'd probably keep me safe and maybe even help, but... it scares the hell outta me, thinking about voluntarily walking into a place with locks and guards."  He sipped his coffee, thinking.  "Man, I never used to be scared of anything.  I thought it was bravery... it was just ignorance.  You remember when I pulled my gun on that biker?"

"It was kinda memorable, Rey," Lennie smiled.  "Near-death experiences usually are."

"I wasn't scared.  I was pissed off, but I wasn't scared.  What the hell was I thinking?" he laughed slightly.

"Kids always think they're invincible.  For what it's worth, I almost had a coronary."

"I've always had a lousy temper. Since I was a kid.  Serena comes by hers honestly."

"Speaking of lousy temper, how's work?"

Rey shrugged.  "It's there.  It's OK.  The day I went back I made myself go and apologize to the two guys I attacked." He smiled wryly.  "That's like my new hobby, apologizing to people.  Like, Hi, my name's Rey 'I'm Sorry' Curtis."  He sighed.  "The thing is, it's been going OK, but... it's just - it's taking everything I have to just do the bare minimum, just to stay on track.  And the other day, this guy pissed me off and you have no idea how close I came to..." he shook his head.  "It's so damn hard to just be adequate."

"Yeah, been there," Lennie commented.  Rey shot him a questioning glance.  "You think I went from chronic drunk to working Homicide, good close rate and all that?" He snorted.  "It took months of just concentrating on not going for a drink, the hell with close rates.  That's all you can do at first.  It gets better though."

"Is that a guarantee?"  Lennie reluctantly shook his head.  "I didn't think so." Rey sighed again.  "So.  Shit.  Checking into a hospital.  What the hell would I tell my daughters?"

"Your daughters could handle it.  They're pretty strong."

"Yeah, I know," Rey nodded sadly.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I didn't want them to have to be strong, Lennie.  I just wanted them to be kids."  Lennie was silent, having no response to that.

"You know Deborah asked if I felt suicidal."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I didn't.  'Cause I can hang on to her and then I'm OK.  And it's true, mostly, but... but I can just feel myself sliding right back down.  God, I do not want to go there again," he shuddered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"What's scary is, I know I can do it.  You know there's always this little part of you that says, no matter how bad it gets, well, you've never actually done it before.  I'd come damn close, I'd loaded a gun and - but I never actually did it.  I always wondered if I really could or if some part of me would always, you know, say no."  He rubbed at one wrist absentmindedly, and Lennie kept himself from visibly wincing at the livid scar visible as he rubbed.

"Well, now I know I can.  I didn't cut to kill myself, but I knew I might die.  And I did it anyway.  It's a little scary to know that, that I'm capable of that."  They were silent for a moment.

"So what are you gonna do?" Lennie finally broke the silence.

"I dunno.  Try and hang on a little longer, I guess."

"You know, there's other options, other than checking into a hospital.  I mean... there's that shrink, maybe that'll help."  Rey shrugged, unconvinced.  "Well, what about-"

"Man, if you're gonna suggest another support group I'm gonna get your gun and shoot you with it."

Lennie chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.  "You know, you have a much better sense of humour now than when we were partners."

"Great.  My life's a mess but I'm one funny guy," Rey said sourly and Lennie smiled.

"Hey, the last time I made you go join a group it wasn't so bad, was it?"  Rey shrugged.  "You still going to Mainstay?"

"Yeah, actually.  And Deborah wants to get to know some of the other couples, so we're gonna invite over Jason and his wife.  And I'm signed up to do a presentation for them next month, for MS and Pain Control.  Everyone's supposed to do at least one a year."

"Good for you."  Lennie stared into his cup for a moment.  "What about your priest?  You think you could talk to him?"  Rey frowned.  "What?"

"He's... I think, I'm not sure, but there's been rumours at the parish that he's leaving the priesthood."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah.  He had to make a public apology for revealing my mother's confession, and resign his post as senior, and then he was on retreat for a long time... and now they say he's leaving."

"Because of the confession?"

"I don't know.  God, I hope not."  He sat for a moment, frowning introspectively.  "I think... I think I'm gonna testify," he said slowly, somewhat surprised to hear those words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  I think... maybe I do need to face that son of a bitch."