In the First Degree

Sentencing Part 1

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

I recently posted a one-shot that exists in the Something Good universe called I Can Wait. It is a mega prequel (haha, meaning it takes places even before the other prequel to Something Good, The Rose) So if you haven't read Something Good, you should go ahead and read that. (Also, both one-shots will make sense even if you haven't read Something Good, so if you want a read with less time commitment, those will be great!)

Trigger warning on this chapter for discussion of triggers. I hope everyone is still safe and healthy! We get through this together by staying apart.

I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

On Christmas Eve morning, Olivia found her fiancée in the living room, typing away on her laptop. "Merry Christmas Eve," she greeted lightly from behind the couch, and Amanda hurriedly leaned her head backwards for an upside-down kiss. This casual intimacy was everything the woman had been craving, and now that it had been almost four weeks since the guilty verdict, Olivia seemed more relaxed.

The sight of Amanda brought a smile to her face, and the focused frown and furrowing of her eyebrows as she composed the document on her screen melted her heart. The blonde was Olivia's favorite nerd, her concentration letting the tip of her tongue protrude out of the corner of her mouth for a moment after the kiss before she finally spoke.

"Merry Christmas Eve," she repeated distractedly, patting the couch next to her as an invitation for Olivia to sit.

"Whatcha doin'?" The brunette attempted to ask casually as she joined Amanda on the couch, struggling to keep her voice nonchalant as her fiancée's eyes bore into the computer screen, and the older woman was trying her hardest not to read what the other detective was typing. When she didn't get a response, she tried again. "What did your laptop ever do to you, sweetness?"

The lighthearted term of endearment garnered the younger woman's attention, and she finally looked up. "Oh, I'm workin' on my victim allocution."

"You decided to make a statement at the hearing instead of having it included in the pre-sentencing report?" The last time they'd spoken about this, Amanda was leaning towards simply writing out a statement that the judge would read prior to sentencing.

Amanda nodded, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I just feel like it's important enough that I need to stay it out loud. Does that make sense?"

"Sure, it does."

"I know I have more than a week," Amanda acknowledged, "but with Christmas and our anniversary being tomorrow, and then New Year, I don't want to be focusing on this during the holidays, so I want to get it done. I'm just struggling to find words."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Amanda sighed, knowing her love wouldn't react positively to the statement she was about to make. "You know, the idea of this is just weird to me. I'm kinda used to seeing sex as a bartering tool. My mom did it all the time."

"Okay…" Olivia replied slowly, predictably, "but sex exchanged for drugs is a little different than 'sex' exchanged for my life."

Rollins pushed her computer to the side and raked her fingernails over her scalp. "Is it though? I mean, my mom never felt like she had a choice. And sometimes she'd agree to sex with my dad to avoid him beating her. That trade-off was all I knew as a kid, and I started doin' it myself as a teenager. I mean, this wasn't chronic abuse. It happened once. I'm not naïve," she swore in response to the look her fiancée was giving her. "I know that what Patton did to me was a crime, and I'm gonna be experiencing the effects of that crime for the rest of my life. But telling him about it in court still sorta feels wrong to me."

Liv thought for a moment. She knew it was never productive to invalidate Amanda's thoughts, even if they were somewhat illogical. "Well, you don't have to do it." Sticking to the statement itself was probably the strategy that would have the best result.

The younger detective shrugged, leaning back against the couch cushion. "I sorta feel a responsibility though."

The brunette's head bobbed up and down for a few moments as she pondered what to tell her conflicted future wife. "Can I risk becoming a broken record here?"

"Sure." Olivia often told Amanda the same things she told the survivors they worked with every day. On some level, it annoyed the blonde because she hated thinking of herself as a victim and she hated feeling bad for herself, but she also deeply appreciated her fiancée turning on her Detective Benson superpowers because she did know that everything the woman told her was true, and her loving words always offered a much needed shift in perspective.

"Having these feelings about questioning the severity of what you suffered is normal, common even. You've seen it. I've seen it. Almost every survivor does it." She began to cite the reasons many of their vics didn't see what they'd gone through as assault. "'Maybe he didn't hear me say no.' 'I'm a man, I'm supposed to want it.' 'He just used his hand.' 'It only hurt a little.' 'He's my boyfriend.' 'We'd had sex before.' 'He only groped my breast.' Sound familiar?" She raised her eyebrow in order to check for recognition in Amanda's features. She offered a sheepish nod. "I think it's how we protect ourselves. After Sealview, I held on so tightly to the fact that Harris hadn't raped me, that I didn't let myself grieve what he did do.…" She took a deep breath. "I was assaulted. I thought I was going to die. I had a right to be upset about that. I deserved my own compassion. Just like you deserve yours now."

Amanda cradled the older woman's cheek with one of her hands, her thumb ghosting over the semi-flushed skin, a delicate effort to provide comfort. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, baby. I hate the thought that he put his hands on you. If he wasn't already doing life, I—"

Benson interrupted her, gingerly pulling the blonde's hand away from her face and holding it tightly with both of hers. "My point is, love, I will never be able to completely relate to what you're going through. But I know without a doubt that it's significant. You deserve justice, and you deserve to ask the court for that justice."

"I guess speaking about the heinous nature of the crime sounds difficult. Maybe I'm just tired of spouting cold facts."

"Well, then don't discuss the facts," Olivia suggested before kissing warmth into each of Amanda's cool knuckles. "The judge will have access to all the evidence presented at trial. Don't talk about what Patton did to you. Talk about how it still affects you today, about how your life is different. Don't be afraid to turn on the pathos, honey. You know Patton will. You don't owe me or Alex or the state of New York anything. Just…say what you're comfortable with."

Amanda nodded in agreement, both women taking a few seconds to just be together. There was so much she could tell the sentencing judge. So much was relevant. And if she were being totally honest, she wasn't even after vengeance. Patton could do life at a ski resort for all she cared, as long as he didn't have access to Olivia. But the only way to accomplish that was maximum sentencing, and the blonde would have to convince the judge that the full twenty-five years was warranted.

As Liv bent forward to retrieve Amanda's lukewarm cup of coffee, she noticed an open envelope she hadn't seen before. "What's this on the table?" she asked, gesturing to the paper.

"Oh," Amanda blurted, remembering she'd meant to bring it up earlier, "it's a hospital bill. The rape kit is on there."

Liv picked it up, her whole face scrunching together as she pondered the ridiculousness of what she was reading. Law enforcement had strongly suggested, for lack of a better phrase, that Amanda get the kit prepared, and then insurance had the audacity to charge her for what was essentially an invasive—and medically unnecessary—bodily excavation. "The state is supposed to pay for that."

The younger detective knew that already. "Well, our employer-based insurance fucked up. I'm sure we can get out of this. I mean, it's gotta be a mistake, but the healthcare system in this country is atrocious."

Amanda had been deeply opinionated for her entire life, to an extent, but Olivia had always known the blonde to keep views like this to herself unless it was absolutely necessary to disclose them. Liv actually delighted in this statement. For months after her assault, Amanda had been a shell of herself, numb to the world around her, hardly reacting to the news. It was a breath of fresh air to see her this indignant over a hospital bill. "This situation has certainly radicalized you," the brunette observed, using the list of charges to give her a good-natured swat to the knee.

The younger detective stealthily stole the piece of paper from her fiancée's clutches, an incredulous smirk tipping the corners of her lips upwards. "You wanna pay this bill?"

Olivia didn't even entertain the question that was clearly rhetorical. "I'll call after the holidays," she announced, temporarily washing her hands of the situation as she watched Amanda pull her laptop in front of her once again.

"So, before I started writing my statement, I was looking at that information Dr. Jones sent me about making a trigger plan in preparation for having sex again. Remember?"

"Mhm," the brunette recalled, attempting to take a sip of the caffeinated beverage that still rested on the table in front of her, recoiling at the less than ideal temperature.

"I know you just woke up, but is this something you'd be interested in doing with me?"

"I didn't just wake up." A poorly concealed yawn gave away her lie. "You want to do it right now?" Liv stood up, carrying the mug with her into the kitchen. She was going to need a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

"It's not a good time, is it?" Rollins called over the island that separated the living room from where the brunette was pressing buttons on their Keurig. "I mean, we have so much going on, and it's not even all that important."

"No, sweetheart. It is important. It's very important. Especially if you want a break from working on your statement, I think it would be a very productive use of our morning."

Amanda nodded, placing her computer down once more and hugging her knees to her chest as the other woman plopped herself back down next to her, warming her hands on the mug she held. It was a pretty straight-forward procedure, and she was hoping the hug she was giving herself would be soothing. "Are you sure?" The question came out in a meek whisper, and she realized that Liv would interpret this as hesitation on her part. She didn't expect the process to be fun, but if she and the beautiful woman by her side were ever going to reclaim sex as a part of their lives, she knew it was a necessary evil.

Benson gave her a comforting smile and a small nod. They hadn't explicitly discussed triggers yet, and she was a little nervous herself. Amanda wasn't an open book, and the most detail she'd ever given the brunette about what Patton had done to her was indirectly, the statement she gave as a witness being intended for the jurors. Olivia just happened to be in the courtroom at the time, and she had promised the blonde that she would never ask her to talk about those things again. She worried that Amanda was biting off more than she could chew. "It's been a few years since I've discussed trigger plans in detail. Is it still compiling a list of potential triggers and then a list of things that can ground you in the moment?"

"Yeah." Amanda wanted to sound confident, sure, prepared, but her voice cracked at the most inopportune time. "Piece of cake," she added, her tone slightly stronger, but the experienced detective saw right through it.

Olivia clapped her hand over Amanda's knee, her fingers moving in tight, firm circles for a few seconds. "If this conversation gets too overwhelming…." She trailed off.

The younger woman nodded. She knew the deal. "I'll ask for a break if I need one. I'm just wanting to make some progress, especially since I'm feelin' like I'm almost ready, but only if you're comfortable with it."

"I'm comfortable talking to you about anything," the brunette vowed. "Let me grab my notepad," she thought aloud, bounding to the front door and rummaging through her work bag. "That way all you have to do is talk, and I'll write the broad strokes. You good with that?" she concluded, curling up on the couch opposite Amanda.

A barely-there nod was all the blonde could offer Olivia. The older woman knew how much this meant to her fiancée—and she'd be lying if she tried to say she didn't miss the contact, which is why she opted for silence as a general rule—but she could see the hesitation in her eyes. A sex-related trigger plan had to be specific by nature. Otherwise, there would be no roadmap at all for where the two could travel. That meant Amanda would have to discuss detailed activities that she thought had the potential to feel unsafe. Behind the hesitation though, as both pairs of earnest eyes stared through the other, Olivia saw unadulterated trust reflected in ocean-blue pools. "When you're ready," she calmly directed, "tell me anything that comes to mind. You're leading us through this process. Only go where you feel safe to."

"Um," the blonde began wearily, a reassuring nod being sent in her direction. "Any sort of restraint—I wouldn't be okay with that."

Understandable. The older woman wrote dutifully on the same pad she used to take victims' statements. The couple had never been into bondage, and now that she thought about it, Olivia realized that Amanda had always been extremely selective about which sex acts they did together. Being a respectful partner, she never prodded the woman too harshly about it, but it was one of those 20/20 moments. "Would that include me being on top you?"

Rollins shrugged. "I don't know that for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised. I think it's something we'd have to try."

Compassionate eyes looked up to meet nervous ones. "Okay if I write it down anyway?"

"Sure." Both women were quiet for several seconds before their eyes met again. "Oral." Liv's lips parted to ask a follow-up question, but it wasn't necessary. "Receiving. Givin's fine."

After she'd written the newest item down, Liv looked up to see her fiancée taking slow, intentional breaths, her eyes closed as her fingernails dug into her thighs. "Hey," she cooed, quickly scooting forward to stop Amanda's assault on herself. The last thing they needed if the blonde was already panicking was for the younger woman to draw blood. "You still with me, love?" With one hand she tenderly restrained both sets of fingers, and with the other she massaged the thigh that was more heavily marred with angry half-moons.

"Yeah, yeah," Amanda assured, her eyes clearing in response to the sound of Liv's voice. "Oral is…definitely a trigger," she confirmed. "I'm…okay," she breathed out, her lips forming an "O". Breathe in, hold, breathe out. "Let's just move on."

Olivia distracted her fiancée's hands by absently playing with each finger, intentionally keeping the digits from marking the otherwise pale skin. "We can stop, you know," the brunette offered.

"No, I'm good." She didn't want Olivia to think it was the conversation itself that had been anxiety-inducing. The truth was most of the sexual activities the blonde flipped through in her mind felt appealing to her, a warm ache making itself known between her legs, and she had been entirely calm until the thought of oral sex had permeated her mind. Nothing else that Patton had done to her had been so totally violating.

And those words.

As if she hadn't spent her entire life reconciling her upbringing with her undeniable attraction to women.

As if she hadn't already struggled to let Olivia so close.

As if the Deputy Chief hadn't already done enough.

Enough. "I can think of one more thing to add to the list for now," she pushed through the residual anxiety. Patton was in New York state custody. Olivia was practically holding her. She was in the safest place in the world. She could do this. The brunette nodded expectantly, letting one hand retreat from the younger detective's skin in order to pick up the notepad she'd been using. "We should probably hold off on penetration for a while." Amanda wanted to chuckle bitterly at herself. What were their other options? She was basically saying, "Yes, we can have sex, but there is only one thing we can do. Should be fun!"

Olivia's thoughts were completely dissimilar to her fiancée's. She'd, with minimal support, pulled herself out of a flashback, and that was something the blonde should be proud of. A triumphant smile graced the older woman's lips. "You did so good!" she praised. She wasn't at all fazed by Amanda's limitations. They all made complete sense, and of course the only way Liv would enjoy having sex with her is if the other woman felt absolutely safe. "Do you feel up to discussing some things that would ground you in the case you become triggered by something we didn't expect?"

"Yeah, I um…" she paused to take a breath. "I've actually been thinking about this one, thinking about the things you do that make me feel safe." At these words, Olivia smiled so lovingly at her that it almost took her breath away. The brunette scooted even closer to the woman she loved, waiting patiently for her to continue. "If I ever ask you to stop," she began, earning a nod of understanding, "do you think you can verbally tell me that you stopped? I think if I'm caught up in the moment, hearing you say that you're not touching me anymore might be helpful."

"Absolutely."

"Also, remind me that I can move. It's been this thing I've noticed—when I panic, I freeze. I never froze in fear before…." She didn't finish the thought. "I used to be a fight person, in the fight-flight-freeze continuum. Not anymore. It's like this all-consuming feeling of powerlessness."

Olivia had stopped writing, but she was absorbing her love's words like a sponge. "So, really ensure that you know I'm not touching you once you've asked me to stop and make sure you know you have power over your body. Is that right?" she confirmed, her pointer finger drawing circles over the area of Amanda's stomach that wasn't covered by her tank top. She'd hesitated to initiate the contact at first, but the blonde had pulled her hand back to her body and placed it flush against her abdomen. This is what she'd meant about missing casual touch, and Liv eagerly gave into it, laying her head down on the area where red crescents were fading.

A relieved nod. Olivia understood. She always understood. "Anything else?" a soft voice questioned from below. "Would you like me to move completely away from you, or is there a type of touch that you think would usually be okay?"

"Uh." Before she could respond in full, the brunette's phone vibrated in her pocket, and she released a surprised yelp.

"It's Alex," she said. "She's in the area and wants to know if she can come talk to us about sentencing." Of course Alex Cabot had nothing better to do on Christmas Eve. "Is that okay with you? You must be tired."

"Yeah, that's fine." Amanda's hand travelled below the other woman's loose T-Shirt, warming itself on the hot flesh of her upper back. "We should be done in a few minutes."

Olivia hummed at the contact. "Where were we?" she asked after some silence, melting into the embrace of her lover. God, how she missed being this close.

"You asked if it was okay to touch me during a trigger," she reminded, lightly scratching the olive skin under her hand. Amanda's fingers were always so cold, and this was the quickest fix. "I really think it depends," she shrugged. "Your touch usually calms me, but I wish I could assure you it would always be a good idea…"

"No, it's okay," the older woman interrupted, squeezing tightly to the blonde's waist. "We'll have to edit this list over time because anxiety is an incredibly dynamic thing, but I don't want you to be discouraged by us having to add things to the trigger list. We'll probably be able to take some things off of it as well."

Amanda didn't feel the need to respond. She struggled to bend her body in half in attempt to kiss the other woman's head. Vanilla shampoo. The smell of safety.

Knock, knock, knock.

At the small jump Olivia felt from the woman below her, she pressed a series of quick kisses to both of her thighs and her lower stomach. "It's just Alex, my love," she whispered, reminding herself of Amanda's earlier requests. Touch usually helps. Words always help.

Amanda's first impression of ADA Cabot that day was that she was sleeping better than she'd had in months. You and me both, sister! After a few minutes of casual conversation, the talk turned to business.

"How explicit should I be?" the blonde detective asked when the subject of her statement was introduced.

"I think that's ultimately up to your discretion, Amanda." Alex was granting her free reign. "Your testimony was rather detailed, and it affected the jury considerably. You're welcome to be as emotional or as factual as feels right for you."

"Okay," Amanda nodded, a monster of a yawn involuntarily distorting the word.

"Baby, do you need to take a nap?" Liv questioned, rubbing the younger woman's shoulder.

"No, I'm good. Let me just lie down."

Olivia patted her lap, gesturing for Alex to toss her a pillow, which she did dumbfoundedly. "Guys, if this isn't a good time—"

"No, Alex, stay," Amanda insisted lethargically, letting her fiancée guide her head down onto the pillow. "You guys talk. I like the noise." It was more than she meant to give away, the petrifying terror that silence caused in her. It had been so quiet in the warehouse once Patton had left. The only sound remaining was her own shallow breathing. Voices were soothing. And the voices of two people that she cared for were deeply soothing.

She was out moments after she felt Olivia's gentle fingers tangle into her hair.

New Year came and went in a flash, and once again, the couple found themselves in the courthouse where it all began, joined by the fiery prosecutor who had gotten them this far.

Though Alex chose not to include Patton's prior bad acts in order to establish a pattern in the criminal trial, she did opt to give the judge more details about the harassment Amanda faced in Atlanta. This went by quickly enough, and eventually the blonde was asked to give her statement.

She stood slowly, clearing her throat. She'd prepared something succinct, short, meaningful, and hopefully persuasive. Only time would tell. "Your honor, six months ago I was a successful SVU detective living a comfortable life with my girlfriend, who I love dearly. I went to the movies, ran before work. Despite my career, I felt relatively safe. That changed June twenty-first of last year. On that day, Charles Patton re-entered my life and changed it irrevocably—again. I could have died from traumatic blood loss due to my injuries, and until this day, the sight of my own blood makes my heart skip a beat. I panic when my period is late, and I panic when it isn't. I'm in a committed relationship, and I haven't been physically intimate with my fiancée in more than six months. I have to learn how to have sex again, how to feel safe. Sometimes Olivia tells me that she loves me, and I don't believe her. I don't go out at night, and I never go out alone. I hate the darkness. Sleeping is a chore. I hate loud noises and I hate the quiet. My life will never be the same because of what Charles Patton did to me. I will get through this, and I will be okay eventually. But I'm not okay now, and I haven't been since Charles Patton raped me. Thank you, your honor, for taking these words into account when you hand down sentencing."

Though Liv generally chose to be discreet in public, especially in court, she couldn't help but pull the now seated woman into an awkward side-hug. The judge needed to hear those words, and Amanda had beautifully and eloquently explained her struggle.

Patton's words were markedly more brief and much less sincere. "What this has been all about is an incredibly unfortunate case of miscommunication, and I deeply regret that. I'm a good man, your honor. I've served the city of Atlanta for many, many years, putting sexual predators away. I am not one of them, and I do not deserve to rot in prison like one of them."

Were those actual tears?

Maybe he was just sorry he got caught.

Twenty-five years.

The social construct of time was about to become very real for Charles Patton.

Twenty-five years was exponentially longer than three thousand two hundred seventy-three seconds.

But it wasn't as long as Amanda would have to live with what he'd done to her.

Indeed, Amanda would be serving a much longer sentence.

Justice.

When they arrived home, Olivia more easily pulled her fiancée to her, burying her face into a pale neck and pressing her lips against a hammering pulse. No words were needed in moments like these, when the two women were able to drink each other in and connect in a way not possible by any other means.

It was over.

"Something about speaking freely in court," the blonde felt compelled to articulate eventually, "not having to answer anyone's questions, but just sharing my thoughts and my experience, having complete control over what I say—it was a very powerful feeling. A very good feeling. I've never been in court like that before, but...it was somethin' else. I'm so grateful."

Benson pulled back, cradling both sides of Amanda's face. "God, I love you," she declared, emotion lacing her raspy voice. "How do you do it?"

"I love you too, babe." The younger woman mirrored her fiancée's hold on her, thumbs stroking lightly over flushed earlobes, before realizing that in her hazy stupor, she'd forgotten Olivia's question. "Do what?"

"I know twenty-five years is the max sentence for first degree rape, but I feel like you deserve so much more than that. After everything you've been through—why aren't you more angry?"

She'd been avoiding anger this whole time, and she'd previously thought it was knocking at the door of her heart, just begging to be let in, but when she searched for that rage, invited in whatever she'd naturally be feeling, she'd found that anger was a secondary emotion—caused by betrayal, hurt, insult. When Amanda stripped away the layers of the complex feelings she had about her assault and the following months, what was at the core of her emotions was as far away from anger as it got. She didn't blame survivors who hated their attackers and those who remained angry for years; God knows she'd been there too. Today, for Amanda specifically, was not one of those days. "Liv," she breathed, "I got more justice than ninety-nine point nine percent of survivors. He'll be an old man when he gets out, if he gets out. I have you. You're safe. Anger isn't what I want to feel right now."

As the blonde pulled her close, Olivia was in awe of the woman she was lucky enough to hold in her arms. "What I want to feel," Amanda whispered into a goose-bumped ear, "is you."

Liv instinctively stepped back as if she'd been burned by a flame. "Are you sure?"

The younger detective sighed in relief as she erased the distance the other woman had created between them. It wasn't an outright refusal. Amanda would be the first to admit that she was in an emotional place, but she was in a stable place, and she knew what she was asking for. Olivia seemed to recognize this instinctively, but she wouldn't be the woman the blonde had fallen madly in love with if she didn't confirm. "I'm absolutely sure."

Amanda watched the person she loved more than anything in the world incrementally give in to her urges. A gentle right hand found its way around the nape of her neck, and a nimble thumb let itself lightly stroke her pulse point. The blonde observed the other woman swallow thickly, her need becoming apparent in muddy irises. "If you change your mind—"

All the younger woman wanted to do was quell the concern the practically shaking woman was experiencing. Olivia walked on eggshells around her fiancée constantly, terrified of a hidden mine prone to explosion. Amanda needed her to know that the extraordinary way the detective cared for her had disarmed every bomb, calmed every fear, shone light into the darkness, so she stepped impossibly closer to her, placing her pointer finger over her lips, so close that the blonde could feel her ragged breathing. "Shh, baby, just kiss me."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment/review, and please read Something Good and/or its one-shots! Remember, I'll be replying to comments/reviews/PMs. Stay safe!

(Next chapter will feature explicit sexual content).

-Gabby