A/N Sorry for the long delay, it didn't seem important in the face of everything going on in the world. But I will finish, I don't leave stories unfinished. A special thank you to Amilyn for the amazing conversation and corrections.

CASSIDY

I hate that I can't control my reaction to her. I've spent a year trying to keep her at arm's length, literally. I don't want her to be able to touch me. Actually, no, I want that too much. If she wraps her arms around me, I won't be able to hold myself together.

I've no idea how I've stumbled through the last twelve months.

I do, though, it's only been with the help of Liv and Rafael that I have staggered through the weeks and months after facing up to my demons for the first time. I'm a grown ass man and yet it's only because of them that I've survived this.

Barba literally saved my job. I've got no idea what he said to McCoy, he told me he didn't actually tell him, just implied I had a 'history'…. I guess that would be enough, with a guy like McCoy, but I expected to be berated, to be yelled at, ultimately to be fired…

Instead, he looked me up and down, and when I launched into a half baked, stammering apology he listened to me.

His first question when I finished apologising, was to gruffly ask if I was okay.

I'm ashamed to say that it was so unexpected, so sudden, that I broke down.

He moved around his desk, sitting into a chair beside the one he guided me into. And he just waited patiently… I have no idea how long I snivelled like a child but he sat silently, looking over at the window.

And when I tried to brush off the tears he said, "We all have buttons…..you have to acknowledge them, deal with them as best you can….and recuse yourself when it gets too much….before it blows up."

Of all that I expected, when I entered his office, this was nowhere on my list.

"Cassidy, you fucked up!"

There was no defense to this, I could only admit it, so I nodded, "So badly…Boss."

"You're on three weeks suspension…unpaid… And even before this, you were in need of anger management, now you're going to go to the classes, and you're going to learn coping techniques. You're going to do more than show up!"

As I sat in that chair in front of the DA, all I could think was that I ruined a kid's life…fuck! More than one kid's life….I knew I was gonna spend the rest of my life trying to do enough good to balance that out…

My head bounced up and down in agreement, I was happy to take any penalty, short of losing my job.

"You're going to counselling, too! I can't force you to talk, I can only advise you…..some things are too much to deal with on your own. Even a dinosaur like me can see the benefit to talking things through….

This is your one chance, Cassidy. You don't get another. I'll be watching you….you can try to keep going as you have been, and you won't be here very long, or you can use the resources being put at your disposal and figure out better ways…

There will be no talk from this office. I have no information about the 'extenuating personal circumstances' that have played a large part in your breakdown on the stand, and had you not already requested some time off to deal with said personal issues before the incident, it would seem a little convenient…"

My head raised at this, he was telling me how he was going out on a limb for me, by fudging the timeline. And that my 'issues' are not going to show up anywhere, on any paperwork.

"I know I don't deserve it, but I….I need….this. Thank you"

"Don't thank me yet, I'm not finished, you go down a pay grade.

I'm not letting you off easy here. People are angry at how badly you screwed up the trial…you are not going to be popular.

And there are going to be a lot of questions….if you are not ready to tell the truth, I suggest you tidy yourself up, maybe quit drinking, and hope people find something else to attribute your 'personal issues' to…."

I shook my head. I didn't want anyone to know, I still don't…and this man was a genius, if it looked like I'd quit, or massively reduced my drinking, people would assume I had alcohol issues. It's pretty common…and no one really judges….

"I won't let you down."

That was the last thing I managed to say before he waved me out. I never told McCoy, I never had to, and maybe it is all that saved me.

It wasn't an easy meeting, and I owe McCoy for another chance, but it was Barba who made it possible. I have no idea what he said to make "Hang em High McCoy" go so easy on me, but I owe the man more than I can ever repay.

I need this job, in this moment and back when I sat there with Jack McCoy, more than I can explain. I know I don't deserve it, but I need it. I have nothing else…. I will do anything, try anything, to keep it.

Not only did Barba save my job and send Liv to me when I needed help more than any other time in my life, but he has consistently checked on me, giving me an easy-out of cases that may be difficult, asking how I'm doing in a way that doesn't feel suffocating. He makes it clear he's willing to listen but doesn't pressure me.

I know Liv is there for me too, but it's different. She calls me regularly, and I know she means well, but it reminds me that she knows. She has done everything she can think of to make it easier to talk…even talking about things I know she doesn't want to talk about.

But when she opens up to me, I compare, I know I have nothing to complain about after what she lived through…and I feel weak.

I have tried to avoid seeing her, because it is too hard, but I'm not strong enough to refuse her friendship and support entirely.

She has been there for me, she has been through so much with me, but she reminds me…. And being reminded of breaking down so entirely makes it even more difficult to pull myself back up.

I try to minimize the time we spend together, but when I see her standing at my door, I can't help the smile that pulls up my lips as I greet her.

She is only through the door though, and I start to feel nervous. Something isn't right, but I try to hide my anxiety and sit up on one of the stools, just far enough away.

Every word cuts like a knife, as she shows me a photo, a young me in that shirt. That shirt has been a star in decades worth of nightmares, and I'm almost floored by being confronted with it once more, even from behind the safety of her phone screen.

If her previous words were sharp, hearing his name slip from her tongue is a chainsaw hacking open a wound that was already gaping wide.

I throw up every last defense, using every trick I learned in my undercover career to avoid giving myself away…but it is not enough, I can see in her panicked eyes…she knows.

When Madison interrupts, I am struggling to control my mouth and myself…..

Liv almost runs out, and I can't decide if I'm relieved or devastated…

She knows what I let happen, all those years ago…and now she knows that I let that bastard keep doing it…to other kids…..

I have no idea what I said or did to get rid of Madison, but I don't think Liv could have even reached her car, when I am sliding down the inside of my locked door, sobbing into the empty apartment.

Even when she found out my secret, I never imagined the day where she would come to me holding a picture of me in that filthy shirt….I made sure there were no pictures of that time.

I never could have envisaged his name poisoning her mouth….

"Gary Dolan"

I'm pulling at my hair, whimpering, wishing it was all just another nightmare.

Naming it was hard enough…..but naming him…..

I can't… I just can't.

I know now that it's not a heart attack, that has me clutching my chest….it's panic. The counselling and anger management I did to keep my job, did help….they taught me some better coping mechanisms, some awareness….but I could never completely open up to the shrink.

He would talk about trauma, and I would nod.

He would talk about panic…panic that made your chest hurt and your eyesight go blurry…..and I would nod again….

When he finally pushed for traumatic events in my life I told him about being shot, about thinking I would die on that street. I told him about the days where we thought Liv was gone, about that monster Lewis, and what I knew he had done to his other victims….how my SVU training had been a blessing and a curse in the after..…

I had enough other traumas to use to make changes around…I didn't need to tell him about that….

I know I'm very far from being fixed….if it is even possible to be fixed…but I did as McCoy advised…I used the tools I was given, and I am doing better…

Yeah, ok, the inner Liv voice is still telling me 'no Brian, you're cheating…', but it's not cheating, it's still making progress….even if there's a little omission in there….

I thought it was out in the open, I didn't think there was anything left to be dragged out of the past…..until now….

Coach Gary….I want to scrub myself clean after just thinking it…..

I keep grounding myself to avoid the avalanche of horror awaiting me in memories shaken loose by seeing myself, once more, in that green and white shirt…..

"It's not happening now…..you're safe….you're at home" I keep repeating as I feel the texture of the floor under me, counting my breaths, stretching my legs out into the open space before me, using every coping mechanism I learned.

I spend the rest of the day battling the memories that have come flooding back with just one image…..and when darkness falls I feel like a shell of who I once was.

All of these techniques aren't helping…..I feel awful…and the guilt that I have allowed him to do those things to countless other kids is suffocating….

For the last year I have been stuck between the first two stages of grief, progressing from shock and denial into pain and guilt. I'm not sure this really felt like progress, but the counselor insisted it was forward momentum, even though it was agonizing. I was never completely honest with the man, but I did learn from him, and as I feel the overwhelming heat of rage building at what that bastard has done to other kids, I'm vaguely aware that this is finally step three…anger. There's no sense of achievement though… only fury.

I'd like to claim that I am unaware of my actions as I dig out an old unregistered gun from when I was undercover, that in the fog of distress, I am incapable of understanding the likely outcome of the phone call I make to find the address of that bastard. But I'm not. Armed with the weapon and the location of a monster, I am intent on ending him, and am willing to make whatever sacrifice is needed.

Maybe if I had sacrificed earlier…..

It will never get to the inside of a courtroom regardless.

It doesn't take long to get to the crummy address on the balled paper, and I settle in to wait for the scumbag to show.

There is no sense of regret, no second guessing as I hunch down in the front seat of the sedan.

I am focused and calm.

When I see him walking, unbothered, around the corner, it takes every shred of willpower to not jump out and beat him to death on the street. But I want him to suffer, to understand….to admit what he has done… So I wait until he has disappeared inside before leaving the car.

I was a good undercover once, I have no problem getting in through the first door, and when there is no one conveniently leaving, I have my picks out in seconds to get through the next.

A hand lands on my arm, and I'm immediately poised for a fight, turning before my brain can process that my name was called.

Maybe I'm not as calm as I thought….

I didn't expect Barba to be the person standing in the small entrance.

"Barba, what are you doing here man?"

There's a faint trace of panic in his voice as he points to my waist.

"That's a Colt? Your service weapon is a Glock…?"

Whatever calm I had been clinging to, disappears when I have the chance to voice what I'm thinking.

"You don't wanna mess with me right now."

If I could see my face now I'm sure I have crazy eyes, I'm six feet tall and he's a good four or five inches shorter, but he doesn't back down. Not threatening, merely standing his ground, he's not to be messed with now either.

"Well I hope that you're ready to shoot me too, cos that's what it's gonna take."

The betrayal is heartbreaking.

"Really? Whose side are you on? Huh, whose side? After what he did to that kid? What he did to me?"

He bites back equally quickly, shouting over me, every bit as impassioned.

"I'm not gonna let you ruin your life"

"You're too late for that" I tell him, turning back to the lock.

But he's not finished, and as he turns me back to face him, it's not just anger he's seeing, it's also panic as he grabs the collar of my coat in his two hands.

"Get your hands off me…..get your hands off me" what starts as an order quickly becomes a plea as he leans in to me.

"Stop" he pleads. Looking me in the eye, taking a couple of deep breaths, modelling how he wants me to follow, he takes my head in his hands.

"Think about what you are doing? It's not going to happen like this, Brian, okay?"

When he is sure he has gotten through to me, he takes his hands away, keeping eye contact, breathing slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, until I copy.

Confronted with the reality, my resolve has broken and I latch onto the familiar calming method.

He meets my eye, as I calm, and his hand reaches out. I can't help the flinch as his fingers gently wrap around the gun grip. I take a deep breath as I feel the warmed metal pull slowly out of my waistband. He checks the safety and shoves it into his coat, a soft nod acknowledging the whirl of emotion barely contained inside me, and the implied trust that allows him to disarm me.

Next he grabs my lock picks. "Let's get out of here" he mutters, quickly looking around before leading me down the street.

My feet seem to follow without thought, my mind too wrapped up in panic, guilt, and despair to be interested in something as simple as our destination.

He has led me to a small, neighbourhood bar.

He pushes open the door, a waft off warm air and blissfully low level TV is all my fried senses are left to cope with. There are only a couple of patrons quietly drinking.

He points me to the furthest booth and grabs two beers as I stagger into the seat.

I immediately grab the offered bottle taking a good mouthful, as though it were a lifeline, not sure if it is to calm me or loosen my tongue.

I don't even realise that I look around me, so ingrained is this secret, that I check there is no one to hear, without conscious thought.

"Look! The last time I checked, Dolan moved down to Jacksonville in the 90s. All right? I had no idea that he was back up here hurting kids….I swear to God!"

"And then Liv comes to your door with this? That must have been tough!"

"Tough? No! You have no idea"

I am so shaken, so empty, so blind, I don't realise he is making it easy for me to talk…. Had he asked a question, I would have shut down, but he just opens the door gently, 'that must have been tough'. After the last year I know I can trust him and just like that…..

"Look, with your testimony we're gonna put the son of a bitch away for a long time.."

"Testimony? What? Are you crazy? I'm not testifying in open court and telling a bunch of strangers what that sick son of a bitch did to me."

I thought he understood…I hate that anyone knows.

I hate that he knows.

I feel like after all these years they can see it, like now I'm wearing a sign, or it's branded onto me…"victim".

There's only three of them that know my dirty secret, Barba, Liv, and McCoy, and yet I feel completely exposed. To have everyone know?

To have them all know that I'm too weak to defend myself.

To know I let a guy do that.

To know that all anyone would see is that I'm the guy who got it up the ass.

I can already hear the comments inside my head.

I couldn't survive it.

"Hey, this isn't your fault."

"Save your breath."

He has to say that. I think it is literally trained into him. If not in his formal training, then by Liv in his early days of SVU. If he actually knew…

"You have done the hard part, the rest is downhill from here"

"The hard part? Are you crazy? I'm damaged goods Barba, I see it every time I look in the mirror"

It's the truth. I know it, Probably always have. But I never meant to say it out loud, not to him. Once again I can't control myself.

I see the impact of my words on the usually unflappable Barba, and wish I could take them back. I look away quickly, but I can't un-see his face dropping, the quick deep swallow or the way he looks at me with such pity…

"Maybe you should talk to Liv"

I know the speed of my answer andmy cracked voice give me away completely, but I could no more stop my wagging tongue than I could fly away.

"No, no man, she can't know anything about this, she already knows too much, she doesn't need to know about this, you gotta promise me that, she's the only person who has ever seen any good in me. And I can't not have that, I need that."

He looks at me with undisguised pain. I'm already spinning out, and the idea that she will know that I couldn't even clean up my own mess is too much. I'm fidgeting in the seat, my hands clasping and unclasping as I swallow compulsively trying to hold back tears.

"Okay" he whispers as he watches me spiralling. "Okay, Brian, I won't tell her."

"You have to find another way" I plead, unable to care that I am emasculating myself further with every word.

All that is important is that Liv not know…even as what I'm really trying to keep from her is unclear.

I saw her eyes when she came to me earlier with the photo, she already knows. The secrets I have spent a lifetime guarding are tumbling one after another, like some crazy domino show. I toppled the first tile, not quite deliberately, but I played a part. This stops now though, no more secrets, no more tumbling tiles knocking one another into an uncontrollable mess, yet another mess...