Chapter Thirty-Six: Verdict

Olivia

Last night was sweet, talking until we fell asleep together, making plans for when you finally feel ready to come back. Turns out you've been thinking about what I said about starting your own law firm. You were in the middle of talking about how you'd decorate the office when we drifted off to sleep.

The alarm came too early this morning, and neither of us is really ready to go to the courthouse. Casey's closing starts at nine, and if all goes well, the verdict won't take long. The jury either believes the IDs or they don't. If they do, then the only other thing that needed to be proven was his danger, and your testimony should do that. To me, it seems fairly cut and dried, but I'm still nervous about today, and I know you are too. Last night is the first time I remember you having nightmares. Usually you're the one taking care of me at night, but at 2am I found myself staring at your beautiful face, contorted by… what? Fear? Pain? Anxiety? I'm not sure.

We take separate showers and get dressed. When I put on my belt holster and tuck my badge in my jacket pocket you shoot me a look. I promised you last night that if this jury didn't do their job, I would. I guess you didn't think I meant it literally. I refuse to lose you to this again. I know you're going back, but I won't let this end forever. As for whether or not I could actually pull the trigger or not… I don't know. I'd like to think I'd do whatever it took to protect you, even at the expense of my job, of my freedom. I cross my fingers and hope it doesn't come to that.

You dress in jeans, pulling out one of my work tees, and topping it off with one of my old leather coats. It's one I nearly threw out last year because it's been worn threadbare. I'm glad I didn't get rid of it, it was always your favorites and I can tell you need that comfort today. I pull out my favorite jeans and a button-down shirt. A similar jacket goes around my shoulders, pulled closed at the front to hide my piece. If you weren't looking at me so disapprovingly I'd almost laugh at this cloak-and-dagger feeling. I can't help wanting to protect you. This is the only way I know how. It won't matter if we get the guilty verdict. It will all be over soon.

When we're both done dressing I head to the kitchen for some orange juice, but you stop me before I get to the coffeepot.

"No coffee?"

"I think I'm jittery enough without caffeine today. Orange juice?"

I pour us matching glasses and we sit without speaking again. Our anxiety is palpable, as if there were a third person in the room. I finish my glass, and you hand me your half-full one. After rinsing them in the sink, I come up behind where you're waiting at the front door. You turn to face me and I can read the tension in your jaw. Your eyes are full of fear, and the look on your face breaks my heart.

In a copy of last night, I pull you to my body, your head settled on my shoulder. I hadn't realized until now that you're shaking.

"No matter what happens Alex, we'll get through this. But you'll see, they won't let him go. I won't let them take you away from me for good. I promise."

I can feel you nodding against my shoulder, still quivering in my arms. I don't think I've ever seen you quite this scared, not even the night we first heard the threats against you. I can understand why. Back then, annihilation was just a theory, but now we've been there. And we're both terrified that it could happen again, all it takes is one jury. Just one.

Alex

I can't think this morning. Can't eat. I feel like my whole life is riding on this. Probably because it is. I don't approve of you bringing your gun. You know how I feel about that, but I don't try to stop you. Last night you said you'd kill him if they let him go. At first I thought you were just trying to make me feel better, but the gun strapped on your belt tells a different story. I know it's meant to make me feel safe but for some reason, the sight of it makes me even more frightened. The fact that you're carrying it makes me think you're as worried as I am.

One jury. That's all that's standing between me and my freedom. In a way, I almost feel like I'm the one on trial. But for me, the words "not guilty" are the prison sentence. If Casey can't convince a jury that this is the man who was hired to kill me, I go back to WPP. Just because Zapata is dead and Valez is out of the picture doesn't erase the hit. The assassin has already been paid. They don't like to leave loose ends.

I don't bother to finish the orange juice you poured me. My stomach has enough acid churning already without help. I wait for you by the door as you wash our glasses. When I feel you behind me I turn around, needing to see in your eyes that you'll be with me. One look at my face finds your hands pulling me to you, my head on your shoulder again. Despite my thick borrowed tee, and your old leather jacket, I'm shivering. Shaking from my nerves and my fear and the anticipation of this day. The feel of your arms around me is nice, but not enough to knock away my fears.

"No matter what happens Alex, we'll get through this. But you'll see, they won't let him go. I won't let them take you away from me for good. I promise."

I nod, not pulling away from your embrace. We stand for a moment, my body wrapped up in you, and when I feel like I can hold myself up on my own again, I pull away from. We walk out the door, and you take my hand. Like last night, Elliot is waiting outside. We fall silent in the car, Elliot playing chauffeur, my hand clenched tightly in yours, our fingers laced together between us. You sit awkwardly, facing slightly inward towards me, your left knee and thigh so close to my right that we're almost connected, your free hand on my knee, patting me absently. I'm surprised to see camera crews at the courthouse, hadn't stopped to think that the return of a once-murdered ADA would be newsworthy. Elliot pushes a way for us through the crowd, and instead of dropping your hand like the old me would have done, I clutch you even tighter, letting your muscle pull me safely through the throng.

"Miss Cabot, how does it feel to be back?"

"Miss Cabot, do you think the jury will convict?"

"Miss Cabot, what happens if the verdict is returned not guilty?"

"Miss Cabot, will you be returning to New York when this is over?"

The questions fly from every angle, I wasn't expecting this push. You push cameramen away, flinging "no comment" to every reporter who comes close with a microphone. If I'd known, I would have waited at home for a phone call.

No. I couldn't have waited that way. I need to be here. To hear it for myself, one way or another. We break through the cluster of reporters, and after their yelling and pushing, the courthouse seems eerily silent. I see Hammond and Rosco waiting by the doors to the courtroom, and Elliot stops to shake hands as you put an arm around my shoulder, the other on my arm, almost shielding me. Hammond nods and Rosco smiles, and the five of us enter the courtroom quietly, to see Casey at the table, getting ready. My assassin isn't here yet, but his lawyer sits across from Casey, looking not even slightly worried.

I try to tell myself that plenty of defense lawyers don't look worried before they lose, but I'm not convinced today. Casey turns at our entry and smiles confidently at me, nodding to you beside me. Your left arm lies on the back of the bench behind me, left hand cupped around my shoulder. With your right hand you stretch across your body, holding mine tightly, neither of us willing to let go. Elliot sits to your right, and Hammond and Rosco to my left. I'm surrounded by protection and still I feel unsafe as the bailiff brings in my attacker. He's dressed in a fancy suit, and I can't help thinking I helped him to afford it. From what the federal agents were able to ascertain Valez paid a hefty price to have me out of the way. My only real threat to his organization being my unwillingness to give up on Lydia's case, my unwillingness to let justice for her death go unfought.

Casey's arguments are brief, to the point. Her voice softens and hardens in all the right places. She addresses the jury and the judge. She is succinct, to the point. She touches on all of the things I would have were the situation reversed. I still don't like her, but at least I feel as though she can do the job.

The defense counsel brings up Tonio's state of mind, calling into question his ability to question someone he constantly refers to as "the ghost." How can someone identify a ghost? He looks at me as he reminds the jury that I didn't see who shot me. That I don't remember a license plate number. He questions my ability to identify the voice of the man who agreed to pay me a visit after speaking to Zapata. His points are valid, and I can see how the jury might be swayed.

I feel you squeezing my shoulder, your grip on my hand pulling it into your lap. I don't want to speculate about the look on my face. I feel terrified. I'm sure it shows. Closing arguments are brief, which surprises me. As the jury files out for deliberations, I feel you pulling me out of my seat, drawing me back to the hallway. We sit together on a bench outside the door, and the pose feels… familiar somehow.

You break our silence as Hammond, Rosco and Elliot go to retrieve some coffee.

"Casey did a good job today."

I nod. "So did Travis. If I hadn't been the one who got shot, I'd almost have bought it."

"The jury didn't."

"Really?" I wasn't watching the jury. I'm used to trying to gauge their reactions to things, trying to figure out when I've lost them, or won them. Today, all I could do is stare at the man who tried to kill me. Stare at the man who did kill me.

"The glasses of justice would have been waggling."

I try to laugh. "You think so?"

"Definitely." I know you're trying, but we can both tell you're as nervous as I am. You continue quietly, almost whispering.

"If. and I do mean if they come back not guilty." I whip my head up to meet your eyes. "If, Alex. I'll come back with you."

"What?"

"I'll come back with you, to Oregon. You won't have do this all alone again."

"They'll move me."

"I know."

"We could end up in some Podunk town in the middle of North Dakota, or Alaska."

"I don't care. I won't let this take you away from me forever."

"What about that?" I gesture to the butt of your gun, exposed as your jacket falls open slightly.

"It's more of a prop for confidence. I'd like to say I could use it Lexi, but I just don't know. And if I did, would it make me any better than he was? I'm sure Casey would enjoy the chance to prosecute me. But then we just end up separated again."

I nod again. I seem to be finding myself without words a lot today. We fall silent as the men come back with coffee for us, and tea for you. Elliot talks with Hammond and Rosco, and you and I sit together on the bench, our drinks untouched, free hands still clinging to each other. After about two hours, Elliot has to go home. Kathy's let him have the kids again for the weekend, and we all know he has to clean up his sty of a house and buy some real groceries before they get there. You were right about his weight loss, and the circles under his eyes have only gotten bigger since I got here. I can see why you're worried about him. He kisses me sweetly on the cheek before he goes, and claps you on the back, telling us it will all be ok.

We spend the rest of the time waiting silently. Rosco and Hammond occasionally going off for more coffee, taking turns getting food from the courthouse cafeteria. But you and I stay still. About an hour after bringing them to us, Rosco collects our still full, now-cold cups and throws them out. When we've been waiting for four hours, you lean in to speak in my ear.

Olivia

"Do you want to go? We can wait at home, you know Casey will call us."

You shake your head, than lean to rest it on my shoulder. I can feel you sigh against me, and I tuck my arm behind your shoulders and use my hand to tuck you closer to me. It's a sweet pose, and we stay this way for a while, growing tired of the waiting.

"What could possibly be taking so long?"

"I don't know Lexi. I don't know."

After five hours that feel like an eternity, Casey appears out of the doorway,

"They're back."

You pull your head off my shoulder and I squeeze your hand before we file back inside. I'm trying to be strong for you, but I don't feel it. One way or another, this is all about to end.

Alex

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have your honor."

"In the matter of The People versus Liam Connors, how do you find the defendant?"

I feel as though the whole courtroom has stopped moving. I look at the jury, then at Connors at the defense table. I try to see Casey, suddenly aware that the whole courtroom has erupted. I watch the scene in silence, suddenly unable to hear what's happening. It's not until I see you reaching for me, pulling me up from the bench, your face lit up, grinning ear to ear that I realize what's happened.

"Livvy?"

"Alex-- we won. They convicted him. It's over baby. It's over."

And suddenly I'm sobbing. Crying like I never have before, not able to understand. I feel my knees go numb, and then the feeling of being pulled towards the ground. It's odd, I don't think I've ever fainted before. The last thing I remember seeing is a flash of panic rolling through your eyes. I try to tell you something but no words come out. And then, like once before… blackness.