CASSIDY

"I liked it better, when you and Barba just hated my guts. Why does thishave to change that?"

The words shock me, even as they fall out of my mouth. She winds up coughing on a mouthful of her drink, and choking out an equally shocked laugh, although at this point, both cups are probably more liquor than coffee.

"I'd rather be hated for being me, than this… pity…just cos some prick.. did some stuff, when I was a kid…"

I know I'm just avoiding a difficult word, a legal term with clear definitions, even a soft socially acceptable equivalent would give too much away. I can't accept being confronted with that right now. So does it really matter whether he just grabbed my junk, as I told a buddy all those years ago, or whether he forced oral sex on me, or whether he started to rape me, and that's how my dad found out, why does it matter which it is, whether it's one of these, something in between, or all of it…

"Barba isn't as much of a prick as he likes everyone to think he is."

I laugh into my drink, with a questioning eye roll. I reluctantly agree. He has been great this past year, but I'm curious why she says that. When I was still with Liv I definitely would have said their relationship was 'contentious'...and that was his description at some after works squad drinks we were both invited to. At the time I had laughed politely substituting 'hostile' in my head.

"Seriously Cassidy. He's been amazing with Liv…"

She seems to be aware this is dangerous territory but I can't dispute it and my easy nod encourages her to continue.

"…But when I disclosed to him…he was incredibly good to me. I don't mean he was just sympathetic and kind. He walked that fine line of showing me he cared, following up, asking how I was but not in a way that made me hate him. Do you know what I mean?"

I consider it, my hand pulling through my hair self consciously, as I nod tightly.

"We weren't ever close before, he annoyed me if I'm honest. He's a good ADA, a good guy but he just seemed sarcastic and flashy and….I guess we never actually bothered to get to know each other, just let the armour-clad work 'personas' stand, instead of seeing the whole person. He thought I was an unreliable semi-reformed gambler, who drank too much and fucked up some of his cases."

She shrugs, wordlessly acknowledging there is a lot of truth in his initial analysis with a sheepish grin.

"I hated it, but when he explained, after Patton, it wasn't that he just all of a sudden stopped disliking me, it's just that he could understand whyand it meant he had more patience, we got to know each other better."

I say nothing, identifying all too closely with what she's saying.

"If it helps Cassidy, Ithink you're still a dick."

She says it with a smirk, but it is oddly comforting.

"You aren't magically nota dick now. I'm still gonna be in your face for being a dickhead. And if you ever put Liv in the position of hiding you when you're accused of murder again…"

She tails off, no need to make the threat any clearer but also carefully choosing a situation we both know is unlikely to reoccur to soften the intended warning.

"We're not automatically friends just because you've suffered a sexual assault. But think back Brian, we've reached out to each other before, declared a temporary ceasefire and made allowances for each other. We let stuff go we normally wouldn't. We've leaned on each other before. This is the same, I just understand a lot of what you're dealing with…"

I gulp down a few burning mouthfuls to deal with this reminder. There's only one thing she could possibly be talking about. She's not wrong…I would never have seen the similarities, if she hadn't mentioned it but we have helped each other.

We've never been close, but for those days when Liv was…gone. When hoping that Lewis would just leave her alive because she was gone too long to even hope that he wasn't doing any of the things his rap sheet spelled out for us, we brought each other food or coffee. Her whole squad, and me, we looked after each other, for her. Reminding each other when we would lose hope that Liv was a survivor, she would survive.

It's not the same, not even remotely, and she's not stupid enough to try to equate the sheer hell that Liv went through with my experience. She's trying to remind me that I haven't been instantly redeemed by a bad experience and she has already told me I'm still a dick, and that this mutual understanding isn't quite as out of character as it first seemed. I'm aware of my less desirable personality traits and this acknowledgment comforts me. I feel less weakened

And when I consider her admission, I have to admit that had I been aware of her rape and the trial that clearly had a huge effect on her, I would have made an effort to help her too. I guess it's just human nature, to try and help someone you know when they're hurting.

"Is this not triggering you?" I hope she accepts the honest inquiry and doesn't think I'm trying to upset her, but I can't imagine that sitting here laying herself bare for me isn't gonna cost her hugely.

She shrugs slightly, "A bit. I'm not sure it's possible to ever talk about it without bringing up some stuff. But I've had a lot of help, as I said, over the last few years. Nick, Fin, Liv, Barba….they've all been amazing. Supportive and helpful but not suffocating. And I fought it really hard but Liv put me in touch with a shrink and it really helped. Sometimes just having someone you can tell all the things that are in your head…saying them out loud…helps"

"I suppose it doeshelp."

I'm not sure if it's looking for her approval, if it's just to shock her, to gain back some of my power or because I can't help the confession slipping out.

I find a perverse pleasure in her stunned look, which of course she tries to hide, but my knowing smirk pushes her to admit her surprise with a shrug.

"I'm impressed Cassidy, gotta admit I didn't expect it, but yeah, I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Don't be…it was a condition of keeping my job" I mutter, suddenly uncomfortable under the unexpected praise that I don't really deserve.

"Still, Cassidy, that's huge! It took me a lot more to finally relent."

And now I feel downright guilty. I am still seeing the doc, and he does help... but I still haven't said it.

I think now he has some inkling, maybe he has even known for a lot longer than I appreciate, but it sometimes feels like he's leaving things hanging, waiting for me to open that door… I've gotten close a couple times, recently. Hinting heavily no doubt, in some of the questions I've asked about panic attacks and nightmares and coping. But I've needed the help, and once I realised his stupid-sounding 'anchoring' and 'sitting with it' methods worked, well even I can't discount shit that works. I have been thinking, quite often the last few days, that I need to tell him. It's no longer something in my background, it's very front and centre, and it's tearing me apart.

I missed an appointment last night, I re-arranged it for tomorrow, I know I need it. Last night when we left Leo I even came close to ringing for an emergency appointment today, feeling sorry I gave myself the day to calm down and pull myself together before seeing him.

It's strange, I don't leave him feeling comforted, Dr Do-good drives me nuts, he picks and questions until I feel scooped out and empty, but afterwards, I feel... lighter.

After bringing this devastation into Rob's home, then the stress of seeing Leo again and his open admission that I wasright, he was one of Coach Gary's victims, I find it is his unwarranted apology that I am completely undone by . His confirmation came with absolutely no satisfaction. And it seems like such a small thing, considering his agreement to testify, the fact that he is making our case, probably guaranteeing a conviction, but his apology was so unexpected, so unnecessary, so….destroying. And I have no idea how another man, one who also...suffered like I did, feels the need to apologise to me? Is it because my...experience...came after his? I'm not even sure anymore exactly when things really started. Was it before Leo? Or were we both at he same time? Do I owe Leo and who knows how many other men apologies? And what would I really be apologising for? For letting it happen? For letting him move on to someone else? For not standing up to him? For letting him think it was okay by reacting, by staying silent by not even trying to stop him?

Could I have stopped him?

I just can't do it any longer…

"Fuck! Cassidy! Shit! I'm sorry!"

Rollins has just reached a gentle hand over, resting it on my back, not rubbing, just letting its warmth and presence soak in. A physical reminder, I guess, to remind me I'm not alone. I'm not sure what has necessitated her distressed outburst or the soft, careful touch until I realise I am bent over, sobbing like a broken hearted child.

She doesn't move any closer but also doesn't allow me to refuse the warm supporting touch, she seems content to just silently sit with me while I grieve. I'm not sure what exactly I'm grieving but that's exactly what it feels like…a loss, deep and all encompassing.

When I finally pull myself together, she says nothing, only letting me shrug off the hand that didn't falter when I meet her eye, and I see tears in the watery smile she returns.

"When it's like this, Brian, it feels like it's all you are, and you'll never be able to leave it behind. I'm not saying it ever goes away, but the day comes that it's no longer your story, it's just a chapter of it."

I want to bite back at the stupid fortune cookie wisdom, but I can only hope it's the truth because I really can't carry on like this.

She puts the liquor bottle back in the press I had taken it from, and I can only nod in agreement. I don't need anymore booze, I need to get back under control not lose anymore. She heads into the kitchen refilling both mugs with hot coffee, before sitting quietly beside me. I have no idea how long we sit there, no words spoken but surprisingly, it's not uncomfortable.

When we are both yawning uncontrollably I assure her I'm ok and am just going to bed. I'm grateful for her offer to stay on the couch but I refuse it, gently telling her to go home and kiss her kids. As she pulls open my door I thank her softly, and I hope she can see that my thanks are heartfelt.

I didn't sleep well last night, haven't really slept in days, and the unexpected emotion of tonight and pure exhaustion combine to knock me out much quicker than I anticipated.

I wake gently, basking in the warm sunlight beaming in the window. I must have forgotten to close the blinds again.

My snug bed cocoons me from last night's memories for a few moments, until my stuffy sinuses remind me of my embarrassing crying fit.

And then it all flits through my mind, like an unwanted slideshow of photos playing.

Like after a particularly boozy night, I sink into the sheets in disgust and loathing for my humiliating behaviour, wishing I could take it all back.

Eventually managing to drag my ass out of bed, I'm glad I went for an uncharacteristically early appointment with Dr Do-good. I had no reason for arranging a lunchtime session, I have no idea how I had intended to fit it into my lunch break had I been working, and I choose not to overthink it. I refuse to entertain the subconscious understanding that I would not be at work today. I don't have too much time to kill, enough to eat and shower, without needing to rush, but not giving myself too much time to question the decision I have made.

Fresh from the shower I scramble some eggs, despite knowing there's little chance I will eat them, and perch uneasily at the breakfast bar watching them congeal untouched.

"Uunghhhh." I groan loudly, slamming my head into the seat back, when I've parked the car outside the office. I'm really not up for this right now. I have little confidence in my ability to keep my shit together.

I toy with the idea of rescheduling, or cancelling and never coming back.

"Fuuuuuck!"

This time it's loud enough that a guy getting into his car a few spaces down, steps back out to look at me as I slam my door and stomp off.

I know I only have a few moments to wait in the stupid, supposedly 'calming' waiting room but my anxiety only continues to increase as I take in my surroundings, wanting to throw the soft cushions at the tabletop water feature.

"Brian, come in."

I take some perverse pleasure in imagining he's already doing the "you're an idiot" face as I march past him, and drop into his chair.

He says nothing, just comfortably stretches out on the sofa and reaches to grab the mug from the table between us, ignoring the closed notepad for now.

"How have you been Brian?"

I start to explain why I had rescheduled my last appointment.

Despite my 'flexible' work schedule often necessitating changes for personal commitments, I have never cancelled or moved a session, but he carelessly waves off the change. At first this diligent attendance had been my way of proving I was sticking to McCoy's conditions for keeping my job. I needed to be careful to show up and actually participate, in case he checked up. And then it became a priority for me, even if I wasn't totally honest about everything that led me to him, I came into it open to doing something and it was surprisingly useful. I learned how to deal with the panic or the nightmares better. I began to see it as a pressure release valve.
I began to do it for myself.

I scowl at him as he tells me 'It's no problem'. My inner voice is screaming 'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!' at him as he tries to take away the only inroad into this nightmare conversation that I can imagine, and it doubtlessly plays across my face, because he does indeed shut up.

"I had to go out of state with one of the ADAs. With Barba."

I don't know if its payback for a moment ago but now he just nods, when I could do with a bit of help to get it out….

"We, ehmm, we went to see if a couple of guys would testify…if they had reason…..if they were… victims"

Again, this dickhead just looks at me and 'mmms'. After all his stupid questions and prompts and not letting me finish a sentence uninterrupted, now he has nothing to say.

"The guy…the perp…..he was a baseball coach….years ago…a paedo…"

All the anger management I've been made take over the years has been an absolute waste of my time as I simmer in my rage.

"Well fuck Doc. Sorry for disturbing your nice little rest on your fucking sofa by talking at you, but I've had a shit couple of days so you can get off your ass and tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to do now.
I…just can't….. I know…I'm being a coward… his namemakes me puke…I can't look at his picture…I can't even imagine seeing him….I'm a fuckinggrown ass man…I'm not 12 years old anymore…"

I don't know when it happened but Dr Do-good is siting on the edge of the sofa nearest to me, his mug missing, the closed notebook still sitting undisturbed on the table, as he nods gently.

I blink back the tears, absolutely refusing to let them loose.

Carefully looking at my feet I start to tell him...

"This perp….. he…did….things….to me, when I was a kid! I should be testifying! I shouldn't be such a coward. That prick…..that creep…he fucking did it to me too…he fucking MOLESTED ME TOO…"

I should care that I'm shouting now, that someone could hear me, someone other than the doc I still refuse to look directly at, but I can't stop myself.

"THAT MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD….RAPED ME"

There are no tears now. And it feels like there should be some huge reaction to words I've held in for a lifetime, but as I breathe slow and heavy he just sits there, making deliberate eye contact, nodding in some sort of non verbal acknowledgment or validation.

"Doc, I swear if you fucking ask me how I feel!?"

I start to laugh at this ridiculousness. A slightly hysterical, choked chuckle.

"Brian you've been holding that in for far too long."

And then the tears change the laughs into sobs, and all I can do is nod, as I pull my hand back and drop my head into it and its mate.