Hello lovelies! Here we are, the final chapter in the Psycho/Therapist storyline. Dun-dun. I promise you, after this things start to look up a little...this is the rock bottom. Thank you to everyone who's sticking with me, even when you hate me a little, because I love you all. Which is why I enjoy hurting you.
A/N: This chapter mainly takes place during the trial in Psycho/Therapist, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that this is graphic. Remember what I said about rock bottom? Keep that in mind. Title and quotes from losing my religion by REM. Thank you to my bff for listening to this song last night and thus reminding me of it. :)
As in previous chapters, the courtroom scenes are done in a transcript format and the initials of the speakers are as follows: B- Barba, O- Olivia, L- Lewis, J- the judge. I think this will be self explanatory as you read.
Oh, and this ends on an awful cliffhanger. You will all love me for this one. And off we go...
{that's me in the corner
that's me in the spotlight}
B: And during the time you were being held by the defendant, had you had anything to eat or drink?
O: Ah, very little. He had some candy bars, I maybe ate two of those in total. I only had little pieces at a time.
B: And he offered them to you?
O: He would say- I could have a piece, or I could get up to go to the bathroom, or...like that, whatever. As long as I...he told me that if I gave him what he wanted, I'd get what I wanted. He, ah, he said it was a game, and I had two choices of. I could do one or the other, and if I did a good job, then I'd get whatever it was I asked for.
B: And what was it he wanted?
O: He, um, mostly...mostly some sort of sexual favors. A couple of times he- I...I'm sorry. He would tell me what he wanted to do to me and then- he would leave me alone and then come back and say he was just joking. So I, I didn't always know if he was going to follow through. The last time he- he said he'd give me a glass of water if I, ah. He wanted oral- excuse me. I'm sorry.
B: That's fine. We know this is difficult. So did you do as he asked?
O: Yes. And after that he said...he didn't think I had done a good enough job. He, ah, he kicked me, in the stomach, and I fell backwards. I was down on the floor and he was hitting me...um. I knew I was getting dehydrated and I had to try, if I was going to survive, but after that, I couldn't. I gave up on asking for anything.
{life is bigger
it's bigger than you
and you are not me}
B: Now, was there any time during this ordeal that you weren't restrained?
O: Yes. Um...he would take the cuffs off and tell me to get undressed. While he watched. He, ah, he kept my gun pointed at my head the whole time so that I wouldn't try to get away and then...it was another game to him. Sometimes he'd just handcuff me again and leave me there alone for a while, or he'd sit next to me and smoke and tell me what he was going to do to me, but...but sometimes...he actually did follow through and, ah, sexually assault me. With his fingers or his mouth or...I told him to stop. I tried to fight him off but I was drunk and...I just couldn't.
B: It's okay. Can you tell me how many times this happened before you left your apartment?
O: Probably...five, I would guess, but I don't know for sure. The last thing I remember, he had given me several of these pills, and he wouldn't tell me what they were, but he said it was time to go and...things started to get fuzzy. He got angry about something, I know that, because he was yelling and...I was face down on the bed and he was hitting me all over and then I could feel his fingers. Ah...God. He was, um. Assaulting me. Anally. And I don't remember anything else. The next thing I remember is waking up in the trunk of the car, and...that's it. That's all I remember. Sorry...I'm sorry.
B: I know this is difficult, detective, so thank you. If there's no objections, we'll pick back up after lunch?
{consider this the slip
that brought me to my knees failed}
"Hey, uh."
You and Brian had yet to exchange words beyond 'hi' since you came home for the evening, and the anticipation of wondering who was going to break the silence must have finally been too much for him to take. "Hmm?"
"Um...so I...you know," he mumbles, and you think he's trying to hold off on speaking until you turn around and look at him. If so, he's going to be waiting a while. "This afternoon, when you came home and, ah..."
threw myself at you, we fucked, and then I ran out? "Brian, get to it. I'm so tired."
Another long pause. You finish your drink and empty the rest of the bottle into your glass. "Did I do something? Say something?"
The earnestness in his voice is enough to drain the annoyance right out of you, at least temporarily. You prop your elbows up on the table and run your hands over your hair once, twice, three times, and you still don't know what to tell him. Certainly not the truth- and what is the truth, even? Once again, he's the one that bears the brunt of your unraveling. "No, Bri...you didn't. I promise you...you know what, I'm just gonna go shower and get ready for bed. I really am tired."
He looks so lost as you hurry by, and everything in you wants to reach out for him and not let go. But you can't. In the past, your aversion to being touched has come mostly from a misplaced sense of fear, from not being able to convince your brain that physical closeness isn't always the beginning of something bad. Today, though- today you feel like you're covered in this layer of your own self disgust and it's contagious, that anybody who gets too close will become infected right along with you.
So you quarantine yourself in the bathroom, hot water raining down as you start scrubbing furiously at the scars dotting your thighs, and once again the sting comes as a relief. Now you're the one in control of the pain. But is that even what you really want? You think back to a few hours ago, to jesus, will you stop and the growl in Brian's voice as he said it, to his fingers fucking you relentlessly and you being powerless to do anything but just take it. You try to tell yourself that he wasn't actually hurting you, that you knew he'd stop in an instant if you told him to. Both of which are the truth. But you had forgotten all that for a few moments, had passed that line where everything gets too intense and reality becomes blurred, where all you knew was that someone was holding you down and you couldn't move and you fucking loved it.
You watch in fascination as red rivers of blood meander down your legs and into the drain.
{oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough}
B: So now, detective, can you walk us through what happened once you got upstairs?
O: Yeah. Yeah, I...he had Mrs. Mayer tied to the bed. He told me to sit on the floor and if I made any noise or tried to move, he would kill us both, and that...if I didn't keep my eyes open, he would burn her with a cigarette and...I tried. I tried so hard but...the drugs, they hadn't worn off, and I tried everything I knew to stay awake. Everything but...I still passed out.
B: And what was going on with Mrs. Mayer during this time?
O: He raped her, he...it felt like it went on for hours without stopping, but I know my sense of time was confused and...the only thing I do know is when we first got upstairs, it was light, and the last thing I remember is the sun going down. When I woke up, it was dark.
B: And where were you when you woke up?
O: Back downstairs. I...woke up on a couch and he was on top of me. He was shoving his hand down my pants, telling me I was still his 'favorite' and he was touching- he said he was going to do me and I better start telling him how much I wanted it or. Or he was going to kill Mrs. Mayer and...I didn't know, I could hear her screaming but then it just stopped, I wasn't sure if she was still alive. But he hit me across the face and forced himself into my mouth and. Then. Ah, he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down, face down on the floor and then the next thing I knew, then, ah, well- he was inside of me and then. He...sorry, sorry. I'm...okay. Alright. Then. When he was finished he said we had to get going, he wanted to find somewhere we could be alone and. I couldn't stand up, I was still so dizzy so...he picked me up and we left. And...well, that's how it happened. When we were at the Mayers' house.
{every whisper, every waking hour
I'm choosing my confessions}
You shuffle quietly into the bedroom, climbing into bed next to Brian and half-hoping he won't wake up.
"Mmm hey," he mumbles, one arm wrapping around your shoulders.
No one's sleeping. No one's moving. No one's speaking.
Five minutes go by. Then ten.
"He hurt me," you say, and it's only a whisper but it sounds so loud.
"Yeah?" His voice is soft, careful. He doesn't have to ask what you mean.
"Yeah. It was...it was really bad..."
You duck your head against his arm, and when you don't move away he rests his palm on the middle of your back. "I know, babe, I know. I'm...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
{trying to keep up with you
and I don't know if I can do it}
L: Detective, were you in a relationship with anyone at the time of this alleged assault?
O: Yes.
L: So you were sexually involved with someone else at the same time?
O: I wasn't sexually involved with you.
L: Answer the question, please.
O: Yes. I was.
L: Just one other person?
O: Yes.
L: And so you'd had sex with someone else recently prior to the time we spent together? How recently would you say it had been?
O: Um, a day? Two days?
L: You don't remember the exact length of time. But you admit it was recent. Recently enough that you could've been injured by someone else.
O: Could have, but I wasn't.
L: And yet you have no way to prove that, do you? You don't have any physical evidence to rule that out- all you have is a statement from a deposition last month where you said you were quote unquote 'not interested' in so-called rough sex.
O: Yes. And I was telling the truth.
L: Let me ask you, is this relationship of yours monogamous?
O: Yes.
L: So if you had been involved sexually with someone else, you wouldn't want your boyfriend to find out about it. You might be tempted to lie. You might even be tempted to say that you were assaulted against your will?
B: Objection- speculation.
J: Sustained. Get to the point, Mr. Lewis.
L: That won't be necessary, your honor. I think we all understand the point I've made here.
{I think I thought I saw you try
but that was just a dream}
As you start another lap around the courthouse hallways, Nick stands up from the bench where he's sitting. "Want some company?"
You shrug and he takes that as a yes, falling into step with you, and you're both silent until you turn the corner and find yourselves alone.
"So where's Stabler?"
"Nick...don't worry. It's fine."
"Bullshit. He should be here." He looks over at you cautiously as you keep walking. "You wish he was, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter what I wish. He's made it clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me right now." You think of the flowers sitting on your dining room table, the ones you told Brian were from the squad, and how it might have been better if Elliot hadn't sent them and just kept ignoring you completely. At least then you would've known exactly where you stood. As it is, he could've just texted you and said 'I care about you, but not enough to be a part of your life', and he would've accomplished the same thing without having to go to the trouble of finding a floral arrangement to dress up the message. "And I know, you were right, I was wrong. Shit got too heavy for him to handle and he took off. Please don't say you told me so...it was my fault, not his. I don't need you to rub it in."
"I'm not gonna say that, Liv, I thought it was a bad idea but I never wanted you to get hurt."
You let out a little laugh. "Bad idea. Yeah. Take my advice, Nick. Don't sleep with your friends."
"I...oh," he says, and you could swear you saw the tips of his ears turn pink for a second or two. "I mean, I didn't know..."
"Yeah, you did. You can guess how it went. Things got...complicated, and we had a, a moment, and then I fucked everything up." You glance down the corridor to make sure no one's around and then sigh, pushing your hair back from your face. You're not quite sure why you're telling him all this- but you're on a roll now with this spilling your secrets to the world thing, and it does feel like a relief to have someone to talk to, so why the hell should you stop now? "I had...this godawful flashback and he hadn't done anything, he was just trying to help, but I said a lot of really fucking terrible things and I know it hurt him, even if he'd never actually admit it. I've tried to apologize twice now, I've told him that I wanna work things out and he just...brushed it off. Said he cares about me but he needs time to himself right now..."
You've managed not to cry this whole time but now the tears are pricking at your eyes. Nick leans in, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey. You're not...did you tell him? Why you freaked out and said all that?"
"Yeah. He knows. I...he's seen it before. Just maybe not that bad. I kinda hit him in the face, too, before I realized who he was..."
"Good! Son of a bitch deserves it," he says, nodding emphatically when you give him a disapproving look. "He knows what you're going through. You apologized. So he got his feelings hurt, too bad, he's a big boy. If he can't give you a break right now with everything...God! What the fuck was he thinking?"
"Nick, stop. I told you it's my fault. I shouldn't have done what I did, I shouldn't have believed that things would be any different...you know me. You know I'm, uh, maybe not the most trusting person. And I tried to tell, tried to show him that I'm not the same Olivia he knew. That I'm...but he said so many times, he promised me every single fucking day that he wasn't leaving, no matter what, that there's nothing I could do to scare him off because he needed me too much to lose me again and...goddamnit. I knew I shouldn't but somehow he got me to trust that...whatever, it doesn't matter. He's gone and that's all there is to it."
"You know, if you need me to go beat some sense into him, the offer still stands. Fin even said he'd back me up."
"How the hell does Fin know any of this? Nick, I swear to God..." you complain, arms crossed in front of you.
"You've been gone so long, you knew we'd have to start talking about you." You roll your eyes at him. "Relax, I didn't say anything about...I just wanted to get Fin's read on the guy. All I said was you had been in touch with each other, and he just shook his head and said he doesn't want to know, but if he finds out that Stabler's even thought about making a move on you, he's taking him out. So I wasn't gonna tell him about the, uh...even though Fin's got my full support, don't get me wrong."
"Nick...enough. Can we talk about something else other than Elliot?"
"Sure. So where the hell is Cassidy?"
"At home, where I want him to be...that's a whole separate story, and I'm done with storytime for today." He tilts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes. "I'm okay. Really. I'm fine."
"Like hell you are," he says, and one corner of your mouth turns up in a tiny smile as you reach out to hug him.
{the lengths that I would go to
the distance in your eyes}
L: Now, at any point, did you try to coerce me into having sex with you?
O: No. Absolutely not.
L: You never said that you were going to prove how much you wanted me?
O: I was...trying to distract you. To keep from getting hurt.
L: But was I threatening you right then? Did I have a weapon on me?
O: I didn't know if you did or not.
L: So you didn't see one, correct? And what was I doing at the time?
O: I didn't, not right then. But I knew you had them. You were on the couch, smoking.
L: Not threatening you?
O: You had me handcuffed.
L: But you could still move, isn't that right? You weren't being restrained? Because if I recall correctly, you moved closer to me. Am I remembering that right? You see, I have memory problems. I have a traumatic brain injury as a result of being assaulted by Detective Benson, and I had a serious setback in my recovery when I was attacked by the man she sent to threaten me while I was in the prison hospital-
B: Objection!
J: Sustained- jury will disregard.
L: My apologies, your honor. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes. You moved closer to me, so that we were touching, and you said you were going to give me 'what I wanted.' Is that true?
O: I. Yes.
L: And when I told you I wasn't interested, did you keep asking? Telling me you were going to get down on your knees for me?
O: I was drunk. You had made me drink...I don't know how much. I lost track, but I was drunk. And I. I was trying to keep you from getting angry.
L: That wasn't what I asked. Did I tell you I wasn't interested?
O: You said you weren't going to make a deal with me.
L: And after that, did you keep talking? Asking if I was holding out on you?
O: I was afraid of what was going to happen.
L: Yes or no, detective?
O: Yes.
L: So I turned down your advances, and yet you kept trying to coerce me...because you were afraid? Scared of what I was going to do to you?
O: You didn't turn me down. You said you weren't going to make a deal with me, because you were the one in charge and I'd do what you said whether I wanted to or not.
L: Did I or did I not specifically say yes to you?
O: You held my head down and-
L: Answer the question, detective! Did I say yes?
O: No. No you didn't.
L: Thank you. So now...during the time we were together, would you say that you were aroused physically at any point?
B: Objection- relevance?
J: Overruled. I'll allow it, but you're approaching the line, Mr. Lewis.
L: Again, my apologies. Detective? Should I repeat the question?
O: No, I heard you the first time.
L: And so your answer would be?
O: I...I. Yes. But...
L: I'm sorry, I don't think we all heard that. Could you speak up?
O: Yes.
L: And would you say this happened more than once?
B: Objection-
L: Your honor, I think it's important for the jury to know if Detective Benson was giving out mixed signals-
O: You know I wasn't. You know I was telling you over and over again to stop, and you were purposely trying to get me to-
J: Detective, please answer the question and then, Mr. Lewis, you need to move on to another topic.
L: Should I remind you of the question-
O: Yes. The answer is yes.
L: The answer is yes. Thank you, that's all we needed to know.
{consider this the hint of the century}
L: You know what I find so fascinating about all this, detective?
O: I do not.
L: You freely admitted to us that you were heavily intoxicated at times. You've indicated that there's things you don't remember, or don't remember fully. Yet you have perfect recollection of me forcing myself on you- multiple times!- against your will. Don't you think that's interesting? I do. I wonder if you might be remembering things incorrectly. I'm wondering if you actually consented and now you've chosen not to remember that. Or perhaps it was your idea for us to have sex in the first place? Perhaps-
J: Alright, Mr. Lewis, enough. There'll be time for soliloquies later.
O: We didn't have sex.
L: You seem pretty sure of that.
O: I'm completely sure of that.
L: You're completely sure you never agreed-
O: Yes. I am.
L: But your only evidence to back this up is your own unreliable memory.
O: There's no way I would ever consent to-
L: Just like there's no way you would ever shoot that police officer who pulled us over? Except in that case, we have fingerprint evidence on the gun itself to- oh, wait, that's right! We don't have any prints on the gun because you cleaned them off! I'm sorry, I forgot that little tidbit. You know, I have memory problems ever since-
J: We've already heard about that, Mr. Lewis. Let's stay on topic.
L: Of course, your honor, I apologize. I didn't remember that I'd already brought that up. Now, if I could have a second to recall what I was saying...oh yes. We were talking about you destroying evidence! That was a pretty convenient move on your part, wasn't it? Not only does it mean we'll never know who fired that shot, but it lets you frame me by crying rape with no way to prove or disprove it-
B: Objection...
J: Mr. Lewis, this trial isn't about who murdered the officer. You'll have your day in court for that. Neither is it about evidence tampering-
L: How is it not? She's violating my right to a fair trial by-
J: And you're welcome to pursue that in another venue, at another time. For now, we've already established that any evidence that might have been on the gun is no longer there. We went through the whys and hows yesterday and we're not going to do that again, so move along.
L: Alright then, moving along from here...we talked a lot about your ex-partner during our time together, didn't we?
O: No. You asked me questions and I said we weren't discussing him.
L: But we still did. You even told me you were in love with him, but he didn't reciprocate.
O: I did not say that. You asked if I'd ever been in love, and I said I wasn't sure. Then you went on from there with the rest.
L: So you're telling me I'm wrong?
O: You heard what you wanted to hear.
L: But you're clearly obsessed with the man. You've got pictures of the two of you everywhere, you brought him up in conversation-
B: Objection- how is this relevant?
L: Your honor, if you'll allow me to continue, I think you'll find that it's extremely relevant.
J: Don't let this turn into a gossip session, Mr. Lewis.
L: Of course not, your honor. Now, detective...he is an important person in your life, is he not?
O: We worked together for 13 years. Because of that, we were close.
L: You were close. But when we spoke about him last May, you hadn't seen or heard from him in years- at least that's what you claimed.
O: I hadn't.
L: And you missed him. Now, had the two of you ever been involved sexually?
O: No. He's married, it's against regulations, and...no.
L: That must have been difficult for you, being obsessed with someone you couldn't have.
J: Mr. Lewis...I'm still not seeing where this is going. This court isn't here to determine who's in love with who.
L: The point I'm trying to get at is that Detective Benson was obviously in a great deal of distress, being rejected by someone she knew shouldn't have been pursuing in the first place. It's not much of a stretch to envision how the focus of her obsession could've shifted toward someone else who was off limits to her. Namely, myself. But then things got out of hand, didn't they? So you had to create this story about me holding you against your will, raping you repeatedly, because you were desperate to cover up the truth!
O: I didn't lie. Everything I've said, that's the truth.
L: Because you wouldn't lie about an illicit sexual relationship, would you?
O: No.
L: Of course not. So I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for why this ex-partner of yours was aware of a scar that only someone you had been...intimately involved with would know about?
B: Objection, this isn't even approaching relevance-
L: Oh, I think it is. Especially when I never would have known this, had it not been for Detective Benson sending him to the prison hospital to threaten me, to viciously attack me all because I wouldn't falsely admit to raping her-
J: And, we're done here. Jury will disregard the defendant's last statement. We'll take a ten minute recess and when we return, Mr. Lewis, this is your last chance. So use it wisely.
{what if all these fantasies
come flailing around}
"Liv? Are you there? Talk to me, damn it..."
"Yeah," you manage to whisper into the phone. "Just me."
"What happened? Where are you? Are you alright?" Brian asks, voice getting a little more frantic with each question.
"No," you admit, face red from embarrassment as you lean against the wall in a Starbucks bathroom and try not to hyperventilate. "I'm...I can't go back out there, I'm stuck. I can't leave."
You walked out of the apartment only ten minutes ago, telling him you were going to CVS a block away, so you knew he had to be wondering what the hell kind of trouble you could've gotten into between then and now. "Okay, it's okay. But you've gotta tell me where you are first."
"I'm at the Starbucks, the one down the street. I can't go out there. The car...this car that's parked outside, I can't. It looks like his car and so I came in here but I can't go back. I can't look at it again," you explain, memories of waking up in a sheet wrapped around you like a straitjacket and a tiny dark trunk flooding back to you.
"Liv? Breathe, babe, we're gonna figure this out but you've gotta try to calm down, okay?"
"Y-yeah."
"Good, that's really good. Now you know that's not him out there, right? He can't get to you."
You nod even though he can't see it. "I know, I know, but I walked past it and it was right there and..."
"I get it, it just freaked you out."
"Yeah."
"But now you've gotta get back home and you don't want to walk past it again," he says, starting to put the pieces of this slightly damaged puzzle together. "Can you go around the block the other way?"
You clench your teeth as if he's just told you that you'll need to crawl through the jungle on all fours. "Bri..."
"Oh right, right," and he's saved you from having to rehash it, how you had a sudden massive panic attack at that intersection shortly after moving here and have avoided it ever since. "What if I meet you there and walk back with you?"
"I'm...I don't know," you admit, feeling dizzy at the thought of navigating your way through the crowds, even with someone you trusted at your side.
"Could you go outside and get a cab?" When you don't respond, he changes his mind. "Just stay there and wait. I'm gonna grab the car and pick you up."
"Bri, you don't-"
"Will you be okay waiting inside until I get there?"
"Yeah, but..."
And that is the story of how Brian walked ten minutes in the below-zero chill so he could get his car and drive you down the block. Your good luck continued when you got back to your building, only to be faced with a big "Out Of Order" sign on the elevator door.
"I can't do this anymore," you murmured, sitting down in the stairwell with your head in your hands as the tears started to flow because goddamnit, you'd earned the right to fall apart wherever and however you pleased. Here you were, 45 years old and stubbornly self-sufficient, a fucking cop who's taken down armed perps twice your size, paralyzed in fear by the sight of an illegally parked Lincoln. "I'm losing my fucking mind, Bri, I don't know what the hell's wrong with me but I can't keep living like this. I can't."
So now here you both were, two people who'd barely spoken or touched or even looked at each other in days, huddled against a cold concrete wall with your arms around one another. He could tell you that it's almost over, that you only have to hold on for a little while longer and then you can start putting your life back together, or that this is rock bottom and it'll get better because there's no other alternative. But you know all that and he does too. The only thing left is silence, and that's what fills the stale air around you as you sit and wait. For what, you're not entirely sure.
Brian's phone buzzes and he glances down at the screen. "Jury's back- time to go."
{trying to keep an eye on you
like a hurt lost and blinded fool}
"Liv."
It's over. This week that's been looming above your head for the better part of a year is over, and you kinda won, there's some part of you somewhere that survived even if you can't quite locate it right now, and you asked for a few minutes alone so that you could fall apart just enough to survive the trip home, enough to last you until you can have your next breakdown, and now you look up and Elliot fucking Stabler is standing right in front of you.
"You're...why are you here?" you ask, because you can't think of anything else to say. You're pretty sure he didn't come all this way to tell you to fuck off, but that's the same thing you told yourself the last time he called, and oh how wrong you were. "If Nick put you up to this, I swear to fuck..."