OLIVIA
I try not to let my mind wander, too much, as I drive to Cassidy's address. I had to grab it out of the case file...I've never been here before.
I briefly consider how inappropriate it is to appear, unannounced, at your ex's door, at 7:30am, when he is on suspension...but quickly discount it when I remember how upset Rafael looked, as he asked me to go check on him.
No matter how hard I try not to speculate, I can't help marrying previous experiences, with the situation I find myself in now.
The memory of a cop from the 21st who 'ate his gun' when he was suspended and faced losing his career, is foremost in my mind...but as my foot instinctively presses the accelerator slightly harder, I comfort myself that Rafael would not have waited until this morning if he felt that was a real possibility.
This case has had a particularly strong effect on the man I love. I'm not sure why. I had worried that perhaps there was something that resounded personally for him...but he has assured me, there wasn't.
Once more, I try to figure out why I am on my way to Brian's, at Rafael's urging...
Is it possible that he is worried that I won't forgive him if he has to fire Brian?
Is it possible that after last night, he wants me to be there to support my ex, to both curry favor with me, and prevent Brian from a messy, angry confrontation?
No! Rafael is not afraid of confrontation, or facing my ire.
As our relationship has progressed, and we have talked through many of our obstacles and difficulties, I have been quite open about how worried I am that I caused some lasting damage to Brian, with my unpredictable behavior and my changeable triggers...Rafael has always been understanding, supportive...despite not particularly liking him, Rafael seems to respect Brian and be sympathetic to our struggles after...
This only reminds me that I am very lucky...how many men would, not only, be happy for their partner to maintain a friendship with their ex, but actively encourage it?
Pulling up to the unknown apartment, I spot a deli on the corner...I haven't had breakfast, and knowing Brian, he is likely to have had more than a few beers last night, as he has no job to go to this morning.
I grab a couple of bagels and coffees to smooth my arrival, juggling them expertly as I ring the buzzer.
At first there is no answer, but after a couple of tries I am greeted by a voice that confirms my earlier supposition that last night was numbed by alcohol.
" 'lo?" The gravelly mutter is still largely asleep, and not happy to be disturbed.
"Brian, it's Liv..."
For a second I wonder if he hasn't heard...
"It's Liv...can I come up?" I repeat gently.
The buzzer releasing the door is my only answer.
When I step out of the lift on the 9th floor, I quickly search the numbers, finding his door ajar, silently inviting me in.
I nudge the door closed behind me with my hip, and look around his home. It is a little untidy, but somehow very familiar to me.
The man himself lumbers out of what I assume to be the bedroom, tying the string on a pair of sweats.
He heads towards the coffee machine so I call out, softly... "I brought coffee...and bagels..."
He turns toward me reluctantly and I don't know how to describe the emotion on his face.
He looks at the proffered food and drinks, seemingly grudging their existence.
He is clearly hung over. His hair is more unruly than usual, more than even regular bed-head, like he had spent a long time running his hands through it. His eyes are red rimmed, he must have gotten very little sleep... a fact further evidenced by the shadows under said eyes.
He looks like he is braced for an attack...
He is very much a beaten man...I wonder is this why Rafael sent me over here?
I smile gently at him, pushing his breakfast across the counter, settling onto a high stool myself, and tucking into my food.
He seems grateful to be given a short respite from whatever he seems to be dreading, and takes a bite of the bread.
We eat in silence, neither of us willing to be the one to speak first...until I wrap my empty paper into a ball...
"Brian? Are you ok?"
This seems to be enough to irritate him; he bristles visibly, his jaw tightening, his eyes rolling...
I know this man too well to be off put by such a simple gesture.
I know, from experience, to approach him in a different way.
"What you said last night..." I start, but the stricken look on his face makes the rest of my words fade...
"He told you."
There is no question, the words are deadpanned, his shoulders and head drop, his eyes close...
But I have no idea what he is talking about...
He is leaning against the counter now, as if it is all that is holding him up...
Every warning is going off in my head, I have no idea what he is referring to, but I know I have to tread extremely carefully.
"Told me what? Brian, I have no earthly idea who is supposed to have told me what?"
He looks to me disbelievingly, ready to retort acidly...but it seems my confusion is unmistakable.
This gives him pause, and I take advantage of his surprised muteness...
"I'm here, because Rafael asked me to come..."
His face twists, in what looks like hatred, at the mention of Rafael...but I don't allow him to speak, not yet...
"I don't know why...all he told me was that you needed a friend...that he didn't think he could be that friend to you, that you wouldn't accept his help..."
For a moment, the man before me seems vulnerable...but then the shields I am so accustomed to, are hurriedly thrown up...
"I didn't ask for his help! I don't want it and I don't need it!" he roars...
If I didn't know him so well, I may be bothered by his reaction...but I am just more confused...
"Brian..." I answer softly, trying to diffuse the situation, "our discussion last night...it meant a lot to me. I didn't know you felt that way. I didn't know how much I needed that closure... I'm sorry. You were right! I couldn't open up to you...I don't know if it was just bad timing...but especially then...after Lewis..."
His name was something very, very, seldom said in those days, and its use has got his attention.
I smile sadly, "...I never realized how damaged I was...not even just by him...I needed therapy long before William Lewis..."
His body language is a lot more open now, and he is truly listening to me...as I tell him some of my carefully held secrets.
"...I was assaulted...before..."
His face drops as I admit this...
"...I was about to say it wasn't serious...but it was really...I just told myself that it wasn't...It was while I was undercover...I wasn't raped...but it was close...Fin saved me..."
He has pulled over the stool that was on the end of the breakfast bar and dropped heavily onto it.
"I never really talked about it. I did get some help...went to group therapy...but I kept it very separate... After Lewis, it wasn't separate anymore...I felt...weak...powerless... I was never great at talking, not about myself... We always had that in common!?"
He nods his assent with a choked chuckle...
"I wasn't ready to talk to anyone...you did nothing wrong...and I've always felt so bad...I worried about the damage I did you...I was so volatile...you could never win...Fuck Brian, I nearly shot you...I'm so sorry..."
He shakes his head, trying to shake off my apology...
"I really mean it...I was so messed up...and I couldn't ask for help...Brian, I couldn't even take it when it was offered..."
He looks like he is close to tears...and that's when I start to panic...
"I'm sorry! I don't know why I'm here...I don't know what you think I was told...Rafael knows how much it meant to me last night, and he asked me to come check on you today...but maybe, he wanted to give me a chance to say what I should have said...when you caught me off-guard..."
I hate that I'm rambling...and I'm worried I've gone too far, said things I shouldn't have...
His hand reaches across to me, lightly squeezing my fingers, his face, a mish-mash of hope, an odd dread, and reluctant acceptance.
"He really didn't tell you?"
"Rafael?" I ask in return.
His head nods tightly.
I splay my hands open, unable to find words, but overcome with an inexplicable, deep-seated, terror at what I am supposed to know...
He looks away, and I wait for him to meet my questioning gaze once more...there is no sign of it happening as the silence stretches out between us.
"He thinks you need a friend...Brian?"
His eyes shoot up momentarily, before dropping again. What I see in that instant is a huge maelstrom of emotion and complete vulnerability.
Every instinct is telling me to shut up...to wait as long as he needs... but it is a struggle not to pepper him with inane questions...
"I told you I went to see him, to plead for my job..." he finally whispers.
I nod, even though I know he cannot see it.
"I didn't...I went to plead for Reggie..." I can hear his reticence to say the words, even as they are pulled from his throat...
I smile. Not surprised...
Despite being a hot head, Brian cares...
Why was this a big deal...? And then it hits me...he feels guilty...
"Brian, it wasn't your fault...Reggie chose to do what he did...the lawyer goaded you, he tried to push you, he wanted you to blow up...we've all said the wrong thing on the stand..."
He knows we've all caused problems for ADAs in cases, by fucking up on the stand...I know he took things further, but now is not the time to pile onto his mistakes...he obviously feels terrible.
His head is shaking as I speak, his refusal to accept my words growing more adamant...
"No! Liv..."
The absolute misery etched into the creases on his face, stops me more than his words...
"I went to plead for Reggie...he is already being punished...every time he looks in the mirror..."
I can see the effort it is taking for him to say these words so I say nothing...
"I...I know."
His gaze once again, shoots up to mine before looking away.
His head drops into his hands.
I sit there, the reality of his words spreading through me. My mouth falls slightly open, my chest is tight, my mind feels like it has almost been wiped clean, and my arms and legs grow heavier by the second...
The weight of those two words is leaden.
I try to say 'I'm sorry', or ask 'why didn't you tell me?'...but nothing comes out.
Despite keeping his face low, I can see him rubbing the stubble on his jaw, scrubbing his face, messing the already wild hair, even more...
"I know I should have told you...but I didn't want you looking at me like that!"
I want to tell him he has no idea how I am looking at him...because he hasn't looked at me! But we both know, that were he to look, he would find some of the compassion he is so loathe to see.
I want to say some or all of the things I know I should say...like it's not his fault, and I don't see him any differently, but I can't find those words quite yet.
"You never told anyone?" is what spills out instead.
His head shakes slightly, "My father...found out... Beat the crap out of him."
I know I should be reassuring him, but I have lost the power of speech, as we both flounder, in the oppressive silence.
I want, no need, to know more...Who hurt him? How old was he? What was done to him? Did he seek, or get any justice? Did he ever get any help? What did it do to his relationship with his father? There are so many questions...
I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him it wasn't his fault, and he doesn't ever have to tell anyone he doesn't want to...
But all I can do is sit...in shock...these thoughts cartwheeling through my brain...
When I find my voice, none of my training or experience is visible in my words...
"You told Rafael?"
He nods... "Only to make sure he understood...Reggie...what he has already suffered..."
His words are even quieter than my own, and I lean forward to hear them.
"As always, I cocked up...fucked up beyond all recognition...I needed to do something...that kid, he needs help...not more punishment... He won't ever forget...what was done to him...or what he did..."
I don't know when it happened, but his two hands are fisted tightly, on the counter, and I grab them with my own, not letting go when he tries to pull away.
"I can't imagine how hard it was to share that secret..."
I didn't mean to say it out loud, but when I hear the words whispered, breathily, in my voice, I'm quite proud of them.
This is sufficiently unexpected that his head lifts.
"I mean it Brian! Fuck, there's so much I should be saying now...but...Jesus!...how much strength it took to do that!"
He is still hunched defensively, but he doesn't dip his head again.
"I thought you'd be angry, betrayed I didn't ...?"
Despite them not being said we both hear so many more words...'disgusted'... 'horrified'...'repelled'...and finally my training, my experience, and who I am, make themselves known.
I clasp his hands firmly, "Brian, I am shocked, and not for any other reason than I have known you for so long, and so intimately, without knowing you had been hurt like that.
And no, I'm not angry that you didn't tell me...some things are incredibly hard to tell the person you are so close to.
I'm really sorry that you experienced that. You are a good person and you did not deserve to be hurt like that.
I completely understand keeping it a secret...I really do...I've kept my own secrets...and from you! But I am so glad you have told me now, and I hope you know you can always talk to me...if you want to?
No I don't feel betrayed, I feel incredibly privileged that you have trusted me. "
He is looking at me under his eyelashes...his intense vulnerability striking...as he seems to evaluate my words.
"It wasn't that I didn't trust you Liv..."
I want to cut him off, to interject that I wasn't insinuating he didn't trust me, but he needs the space to say whatever he is thinking.
"...I didn't want you to look at me like... that!"
I feel like there should be anger behind those words, but all I hear is bitter resignation.
A few moments pass, as I consider his words.
"Bri, I think I understand...when I was at my worst, after Lewis; when I was really struggling; when I was sobbing and trying to claim I was fine...you would sometimes get this look on your face...at the time, I felt like it was you judging me weak, or giving the 'victim' sympathy...it felt negative and I pushed you away...but now I understand it was compassion. You felt for me, you wanted to help...you didn't think any less of me..."
Now his voice cracks, "God! No! Never Liv... I couldn't believe how you were still standing after what that bastard did...I couldn't believe your strength!"
I nod softly, letting him see the tears gathering in my eyes, "Now look at me again...?." I plead...
He looks me in the eye, nodding slightly as he reevaluates...
"I hate that it still bothers me...all those years ago, when I was twelve...it only went on for a couple of months...and still..."
There are no words to answer this huge revelation, so I just squeeze his hands tighter, showing my support in the small action.