TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: mentions of rape, including transphobic rape

It is Saturday, 12:09 PM, three weeks, one day, twelve hours, and fourteen minutes after It happened.

Life has progressed in some fragile semblance of normalcy for the two of them, broken when Ludwig wakes up shaking or Feliciano's smile cracks and breaks. They still wake up together and eat meals together and go to bed together, but there are days when Ludwig wakes up so early it might still be late and has to clean the kitchen to calm down, or just doesn't have the appetite for dinner, or tosses and turns far into the night.

Feliciano has taped the list to the nightstand, and it grows. As of now, it reads:

Prosecution: yes; need to talk with Mr. Machado and figure out details

If he wants to talk or not about what happened: not yet unless for trial

Going back to work: done!

How can I help/how can Gilbert/Al/Lovino/Arthur/Marianne/Mattie help: stay close, give some alone time

Boundaries: no naked, no sex, hugs ok if ask, kisses ok on mouth without tongue, no pinning, cuddling ok with all clothes on, touching ok above waist

But there are conversations with Alfred and dinners with their brothers and occasional lunches with Marianne and Arthur-the-curator-for-Arms-and-Armor and the people on the forum are very supportive and last Saturday they went out with Carlino and Feliciano was very enthusiastic about being the Cool Big Brother and taking him out for a movie his grandfather wouldn't let him see (Ludwig would never say this, but being the Cool Big Pseudo-Brother-in-Law was also quite interesting, if only because he was the youngest in his own family).

Right now, what there is is a meeting.

It's largely informal, a few people from the forum having a get-together, but Ludwig promised them discounts on lunch and they should be here— five minutes ago, not counting for traffic.

Raivis scurries into the kitchen. "The-there's three ladies who want to s-see you, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"I'll take their orders," Ludwig replies, slipping past him and out of the kitchen to the cash register.

There are three women— one small, with dark hair in a bob, one blonde wearing more pink than Ludwig has ever thought entirely necessary, and one in a red shirt with a rather Lovino-like complexion, although much cheerier. This third one beams and extends a hand. "You're Ludwig?"

He shakes it quickly. "Yes. Um, not to be rude, but could you place your orders, please? The line..." Is not hellishly long, but it's there.

"Of course! I'd like a—" —she glances briefly at the chalkboard menu— "—a french dip sandwich? Also I'm Carmen, hi!"

"Hello."

Next is the small one, who looks a little familiar. "Chicken dumpling soup, please?" She's fiddling with her wallet as she speaks.

"Yeah, and I'd like a turkey club but, like, can you do it without mayo?" The blonde nods at him, dangly earrings flashing. "Name's Felicja."

"Of course." Ludwig totals up their orders and makes good on his promise by knocking about five dollars off the total. He'll pay that back later, anyway. "That's eleven twenty-five."

"W-wait," the shortest one pipes up, "that's not— I counted—"

"It's okay," Ludwig says hurriedly. "Um. I didn't get your name?"

"Sakura," she says, clearing her throat quietly and shifting.

Passing the order back to the kitchen, where Marianne, Chun-Yen, and Sadik are at work, Ludwig returns control of the register to Raivis with an "I'm going on lunch break" and slips out from behind the counter. He realizes roughly three minutes into the conversation at their table that he's not good at talking to strangers. Which, in all honesty, Ludwig should have remembered beforehand. Carmen seems to be carrying most of the conversation, talking about how nice it is here and her job at the aquarium and her other job as a dance instructor and maybe that's a good place to start.

Ludwig clears his throat. "So. Um. Felicja. What's your job?"

She flips her hair out of her face. "Software design." That's a bit of a shock for Ludwig, her general demeanor suggests "fashion designer" or "horse trainer", but then, how many people have done double takes when they learned he's a baker? "It's pretty cool, you get free food and the other guys are like really interesting."

Sakura seems to suddenly remember something, and turns to Ludwig. "Excuse me, but were you in the robotics club at Elihu Root High School?"

"Um, yes, I— oh." Something clicks in Ludwig's head, some memories from senior year, this quiet, mousy freshman who did the best circuitry Ludwig ever— "Sakura Honda?"

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?"

Carmen perks up. "You two know each other?"

"We were in robotics in high school together," says Sakura quietly. Ludwig is geared up to say something like it's great to meet you again, but then why they're meeting rears up in the back of his mind and oh.

Oh, no.

Fortunately, Felicja appears to pick up on this and steers the conversation back over to jobs— well, majors for Sakura— and their food arrives and they don't talk about any of their Its, at least not out loud.

Ludwig has to leave after forty-five minutes because otherwise Sadik will yell at him, but they all end up agreeing to meet again.

It's... interesting, he can't talk very well to strangers, but he could with them, and he wasn't afraid.

Perhaps he is making friends.

It's an encouraging thought.

It is Thursday, 10:47 PM, three weeks, six days, twenty-two hours, and fifty-two minutes after It happened.

Feliciano is thinking.

Ludwig has fallen asleep beside him, but Feliciano knows he won't sleep well, Ludwig never does these days, and the look in his eyes when he wakes up from a nightmare or comes out of a flashback or panic attack— the ashamed, I'm-sorry-I'm-so-weak look he tries to hide— nearly tears his heart out every time.

Feliciano knows the bruises are gone, physically there's no mark left on Ludwig, but he still doesn't even take his shirt off in front of Feliciano, and Feliciano gets the feeling his ribs would be a bit more prominent than before and that's only one of the reasons he hides it, because Ludwig told him once, haltingly, about how he feels cold and slimy and watched inside if he even thinks about not wearing clothes in front of people and Feliciano had tried not to be hurt by that but if Ludwig can't even trust Feliciano with that—

—no. No no no his thoughts are not going to go there, Ludwig doesn't mean anything bad about Feliciano by that. He doesn't mean he thinks Feliciano will hurt him.

It still hurts.

He needs an outlet. The pillow doesn't work so much anymore, not for this deep, foreign anger rising out of the back of his mind— anger that someone hurt Ludwig, made him ashamed and scared and uncomfortable in his own skin, left more than bruises and took so much—

Feliciano's hands are balled into fists in his lap. He wants to— he doesn't know what he wants, but one thing he knows is he wants to go out and hit something.

The forums said get a hobby.

Feliciano has never been good at martial arts, but something stirs in his mind— watching old Errol Flynn movies a few months ago, pretending to be a knight when he was little— and he slowly unclenches his fists.

Swordfighting. There's an idea.

He could look it up, there's probably some decently affordable classes somewhere, and it's exercise and it's fighting and it'd be a way to let out all the things he feels guilty showing in front of Ludwig, all the upset and anger that he needs out.

Thinking about it— thinking about it calms Feliciano down, a little. Enough to sleep.

He curls up against Ludwig and hopes they'll sleep the whole night.

It is Monday, 1:15 PM, one month, thirteen hours, and twenty minutes after It happened.

Mr. Machado isn't fat so much as he is outsize: he just seems to be built on a scale about one-tenth larger than most.

He also keeps a box of chocolate cigars with him wherever he goes. He told Ludwig it's to break a habit.

Right now, Ludwig sits across from him, Feliciano at his side, and lets the news wash over him.

"Trial could be in two weeks. Three, tops. It's pretty clear-cut, which is lucky, 'cause I've seen some cases that go on for months." Mr. Machado fiddles with the chocolate-cigar box. "We'll win. Really no question."

Ludwig nods, and he feels Feliciano's hand tighten on his, and then he realizes he'll have to testify.

God.

He hasn't even talked about It to Feliciano, and only the bare minimum with Sakura and Felicja and Carmen and the forum, and in three weeks tops he'll have to stand in front of a jury and judge and courtroom and talk about It to all of them, God, he can imagine the stares already—

Deep breaths.

If, at their last meeting at Felicja's house while her girlfriend Julija was out, Felicja and Carmen and Sakura could talk about their Its—

—a few months after I started on estrogen in college and this total douchebag who'd been hassling me for a while said if you want to act like a woman then—

—almost twenty years ago, it was a man I was dating, he was very unpleasant but I thought I had to—

—I was at a party and this man cornered me in a guestroom, there is not much else to say—

—he should be able to.

He should.

Ludwig squeezes Feliciano's hand back. "Is there anything else we need to know?"

"We've already covered giving testimonial, so— right. Don't talk to the defense. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, and especially not from the defense."

"All right."

"You'll call us as soon as they schedule the trial, right?" Feliciano says.

"Of course." Mr. Machado sets aside the box. "Any more questions, you know my phone number."

Ludwig and Feliciano leave Mr. Machado's office, and Ludwig tries very hard not to think that in three weeks tops he'll be testifying about It people will know and no he is not going to worry he is going to breathe and go back to work and leave the law offices and it will be okay.

It will.

He can do this.

He should be able to.

It is Friday, 4:37 PM, one month, eleven days, sixteen hours, and forty-two minutes after It happened.

The trial came so fast— a week and a half— and sitting there, listening to Ludwig stumble his way through testimony, with Gilbert seething and Ludwig's grandfather stone-faced and Lovino and Nonno glaring at the defense and Alfred shifting in his seat— he'd testified first—, was the hardest thing he'd ever done, or at least until he had to sit through the defendants' testimonies and all he could do was hold Ludwig's hand and grit his teeth.

Court is adjourned now, and Feliciano finds Ludwig talking in a low voice to Gilbert and his grandfather, and wraps his arms about Ludwig's waist and kisses his cheek. "So brave," he whispers. "You're so brave."

After testifying, Ludwig had been shaking so hard the judge had called a five-minute break and Feliciano had taken him outside and pulled him close and rubbed at the back of his suit jacket, patted his hair and tried to tell him it would be okay, he'd done such a good job; and Feliciano does that again now and Gilbert joins them almost immediately.

Lovino and Alfred come in as well, and later Nonno, and they sit in silence and wait.

And wait.

What's taking the jury so long?

They keep waiting. At one point Alfred passes around some snack cookies, but Feliciano is too nervous to eat and, by the looks of it, so is Ludwig. All the stories he heard on the forum buzz inside his head, the acquittals and not-guiltys and too-little-evidences, and he knows there's more than enough evidence but what if—

The next two hours somehow simultaneously fly by and drag endlessly until they get the notice and court is called back into session. Feliciano files into the courtroom, still holding Ludwig's hand, and they sit and wait and then one of the jurors stands up to read the verdict and—

—guilty washes over him like a wave, and next to him Ludwig sighs nearly inaudibly, and Feliciano just doesn't pay attention to the rest because they're guiltyguiltyguilty and that's all that matters and then the judge says "Dismissed" and the absolute first thing Feliciano does is hug Ludwig so tight he thinks his arms'll fall off and then hug Mr. Machado and say "Thank you thank you thank you" over and over again until Nonno detaches him.

Then Nonno flings an arm around Mr. Machado's shoulders and another around Ludwig and declares that he is taking everyone out for dinner, you wouldn't deny an old man, would you?

Alfred turns this into another group hug, and there's barely any tension in Ludwig's shoulders.

Dinner is wonderful, and afterwards in bed Feliciano repeats what he said earlier, so brave, so strong, and kisses Ludwig after scratching prosecution off the list.