Disclaimer: I own many things but Law and Order isn't one of them.

Author's Note: Unlike my recent pieces, this is a teleplay from a pair of excellent lemon stories and that gave way to an alternative school of thought. Given my takes on the Jack/Abbie pairing, I think it is time to ramp to the bedroom aspect. If you want PWP, go elsewhere. This one is special as I'll be tackling Abbie's rape and since we had only five lines of exposition, I'll be making it up as I go. I admit I'm a male and never been there myself but I've seen enough SVU to know enough to attempt the setting. I'm feeling brave here and I hope I don't offend anyone.

If you can't handle the concept of rape, then I got plenty G-Rated fiction for you to play with. You've been warned.

I should note the serrated borders are actual scene transition lines and the straight-line borders are flashback transition lines.

Beta: PureSakuraMelody. For her patience for my grammar issues, which are thankfully dying down, now I know what's what.

Lastly, the title is from the Cherokee word of "free".

Dedication: To all women who have endured this everywhere and the benevolent God that allows them a support system (man, friends, faith, anything) to endure the hell they have to go through every single day.

And some to both Neoinean for her help with the heavy issues I had with the project (apparently more than I thought, such as with the body issues as I re-edited. Thank you, dear) and Moonbeamdancer with enhancing the ending.

Timeline: Season 13, since I used the other post Abbie season numbers, I think. Or just because, whichever.

Ready Go!

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It was an ordinary night outside the Westbury's Howard Johnson motel. The air was calm and crisp as a mature gentleman passed the vending machines. He sighed as he caught a glimpse of his pensive face in the reflections of the windows he passed by. He has handled many aspects of the human condition in his job and his personal life, but this would be one of the most disarming.

He couldn't believe the events of tonight or the possible events of tonight with his girlfriend. The elder had deliberated of such possibilities but it wasn't until this night that he could have his opportunity with one of the stunning women on Earth. Given her past, he was aware of the truth behind her delays in this area, but he had no cares — he simply loved her too much. He had never been nervous in his experienced life but he was aware how his own concerns would pale in comparison to hers.

He hesitantly knocked on the motel door; his exotic female companion dressed in denim jeans, and a light azure T-Shirt gradually opened it.

"I didn't know how many would be proper as I don't want to return to the machine in the dead of night," he stated in his familiar jagged voice and handed her five sealed condoms.

"Don't men usually have one of these on their person at all times?" she jeered in her usual sarcasm as she stared at the wrappers.

"Abbie, if you still have your doubts, we don't have to do this. It's been this long; I can wait." He removed the olive fedora obscuring his face and his trademark verdant jacket and dropped them on the nearby dresser.

"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." Abbie placed the condoms on the dresser while he stretched.

"I know, just wishing we didn't have to be so secretive — making me dig out this old fedora and hiding my face while you dress like the Invisible Man with your own fedora and scarf."

"Well, Jack, I don't think the New York criminal justice system grapevine would appreciate finding its Executive Assistant District Attorney and the Southern District's top prosecutor running off in some seedy motel in the tabloids." She lightened her tone.

"I know, Abbie, I'm not thrilled either. Now I'm sorry I didn't clean my apartment. At least the motel isn't seedy."

"You're right; it is nice." They sat on the wide bed with a maroon bedspread. She hugged her knees while Jack slipped his hand around her waist.

"You know, I'm perfectly happy lying in this bed with you instead. I know I said this before but you don't have to prove anything to me."

"That's where you're wrong, Jack. I have to do this," she gazed into his unfathomable mahogany eyes. "As it's time to finally rid myself of this…corruption. That's the only word I have for this. I'm just…"

"I know you're scared. I'm even scared." He gripped tighter. If only those who have nothing but epithets for A.D.A. Abbie Carmichael and her acerbic mask could see her now and her vulnerability — she is just as human as anyone else.

"It's funny—the only man I revealed this to, I ended up being his…" Her depression started to consume her.

"Girlfriend, best friend, my equal? Feel free to use those words," he chortled mirthlessly.

She dissolved her strain. "Thank you."

"No thanks necessary; it's how I feel — I said this before as well but you know you're not just another notch on my belt, right?"

"No. But as you alluded to before — your experiences vs. my lack thereof…" she replied somberly.

"Aren't important here, Abbie. Just us. As much as I don't care for platitudes, they're needed here and you need to hear them." He clasped her right hand with his free one.

"I would have given anything for you to be my first. Well, you're the first one I give a damn about anyway."

"I love your honeyed words, too, dear." He kissed her on the cheek.

"It's hard to kill my cynicism, especially about this."

"Well, I do find it funny as you're the one who wanted this, remember?"

She tensed up again. "I know. Defense mechanisms and all that."

"That's why we're here, right? To finally put them to rest?" he tittered.

She sucked in a prolonged breath before slightly grinning. "You never cease to surprise me, you know that?"

"Is that a compliment, Ms. Carmichael?"

"I'll let my actions speak for me, Mr. McCoy." She sighed one final time. "I'm ready. I know you'll be gentle." She situated before him and separated herself from her T-Shirt, revealing the darker colored cobalt blue bra.

"Aren't I always?" he chuckled as he followed suit with the subtraction of his indigo sweater, "I'll take from your lead, whatever it may be, alright?"

She thawed from his compassionate pitch. "I'm ready, Jack."

"Then there is nothing left to say, except trust me," he clasped her left hand and they lingered in silence for a moment before commencing.

The elder male placed a hand on her bare waist. She tilted towards him and pressed her lips against his, licking them as she waited for his permission to enter his mouth with her tongue. She concluded his undressing with the exclusion of his white T-Shirt undergarment and gingerly traced his skin with her tapered fingers. Jack shuddered by her touch and compressed his hand against her spine.

Abbie completed the kiss and peered into his eyes again before reaching from behind to unhook her bra. She then clutched the bra cups against her breasts as the straps cascaded down her back. He looked intently at his younger lover's face as she released the bra.

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--October 13th, 1990

"Come on, Carmichael. It's just a date." An older, suave, chiseled male student dressed in typical prep clothes and well coiffed auburn hair persevered his persistent pleading with an eighteen-year-old Abbie Carmichael as she gaited down the University of Texas' quad.

"I have midterms, genius; I can't afford to slack off now." She carried on in her well-honed mordant manner. She was acquainted with the junior off/on in between classes and he seemed decent enough compared to most of the pinheads in the University. Would a date with such a man be so out of line?

"Midterms aren't until next week and you've been working night and day. Come on, live a little just for one night."

"You won't leave me alone until I do, right?" she growled.

"You got it."

"Fine, meet me here at 7:00 P.M. Happy?" she acquiesced.

"Quite. You won't be disappointed."

She rolled her eyes but the student had a charming arrogance to him and she could use the indulgence, if only for one night.

Abbie bolted to her dorm room as she only had a few hours to study before her date.

She sighed as she sashayed by her bathroom mirror, catching herself in the few dresses she brought with her.

"Nothing looks good. Guess I'll mix and match."

She cobbled together a unique ensemble: tight onyx leather pants with a corresponding colored tank top, and sandals. The spitfire Texan eyed the clock and skedaddled out the door.

The student waited at the center of the quad, appearing quite dashing with his denim jeans, russet windbreaker, and light cardigan.

"You look like you walked out of Harvard than UT. Where's the tweed?" she quipped as she scanned him.

"And you look like you walked out a Whitesnake video, or a crypt if you count your eyeliner. What's with you and all the black, Carmichael?"

"It's a non-color that's overrated? Or bright colors were so 80's? Pick one."

"Fine, fine, but I have to admit you do look like attractive in black."

"Don't suck up," she scoffed. "So where are we going?"

"I was thinking this diner outside the campus."

"Lead the way, MacDuff."


The duo departed the campus and drove out to a 50's style diner. They sat in a quaint corner booth and ordered their meals from a waitress with the oddest beehive hairdo.

Abbie leered as the waitress tottered along. "I was waiting for a swarm of bees to come out and attack me when she said they don't have barbeque."

"You and your barbeque. You're such a Texan."

"Damn right," she boomed with pride.

"Yeah. So anyway, Carmichael, so do you have any plans after you graduate or is that too far ahead?" He veiled his sneer.

"I don't know. I'm just a freshman; I got plenty of time to figure it all out."

"Yes, but graduation will be here before you know it and, then, what will you do?"

"I'll wing it," she shrugged.

"So confident, are we?" The student arched an eyebrow.

"I try to be."

"Right. I was thinking of being a defense attorney; can't let the government have its way on trampling people's rights, yeah?"

"Don't let the A.C.L.U. trick you. Some people don't deserve rights." She narrowed her eyes in smoldering indignation.

"Such a conservative. Alright, like who?"

"Murderers and rapists, for starters."

"I guess, depending on what they did," he replied nonchalantly. The waitress returned with their beverages and placed them on the table.

"You'll make some liberal states very happy, I'm sure," she resumed as the server sauntered off again.

"Well, if not there, then, at least at places that need it — for example, I heard about the conviction rate of New York City and D.A. Adam Schiff's Executive Assistant D.A., Ben Stone. The guy is supposed to be a liberal, but he keeps racking in the convictions," he commented wistfully as he sipped his drink.

"You sound like you're going to weep." She enjoyed his despair.

"No, but I wish I knew what makes the man tick."

A whisper of a smile touched upon her lips. "Me, too."

"I shouldn't have said anything." He was ready to smack his head on the table.

"Not at all; you gave me a goal to look forward to," she retorted.

"Yeah," the male rejoined in his obvious disappointment. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

"Who has time for a boyfriend in between studying?" Abbie ridiculed as she swallowed some of her soda.

He perked up with that. "Really?"

"You got a girlfriend right? Not that I'm looking."

"Oh, I can free up my schedule," the student slyly responded.

"Right. So you got your date; happy?"

"Not yet. Ask me when we're done," he obfuscated.

"Fine, but I wouldn't know why you'd want to try with me. You ran out of junior and senior girls?" she tantalized.

"No, I found someone better." He attempted to clinch his hand on top of hers; she extricated herself.

"Nice try but as I said: I'm not looking." She increased her annoyed pitch.

"Oh come on, Carmichael; don't be like that. Lord knows we'll both need the distraction after midterms." He endeavored to seize her hand again.

"I said no; what don't you get about that?" The hothead was ready to feed the man his own arm.

"I don't get you, Abigail. I thought you were different," the student scowled.

"First off, it's Abbie. Secondly, I don't feel that way — I did it so you'd shut up and leave me alone. Now let's finish this meal and end this date." She in turn glowered.

"Fine." He gritted his teeth as the waitress arrived with their meals.


After the tension marred the astonishingly pleasant meal, they revisited the campus, the student inflicting all sorts of pleas to his perturbed companion.

"Fine, Abbie, what kind of guy do you like?" She hiked to her dorm while he tagged along.

"I haven't gotten that far yet. Ask me in ten years."

"Isn't that a little too long?"

"And yet you don't get it." She reached to her dorm room door; he simply grimaced as she unlocked her door.

"Oh, I get you. I get you just fine."

"Great, now I got major studying to do. So go turn back into a pumpkin and good night." Abbie was about to close it in his face when he positioned his foot by the doorframe.

"Look, can I at least use the bathroom? I won't make it in time," he implored.

"Make it quick." She ushered him to the bathroom.

"Thank you. I shall be fast."

She eyeballed the bathroom door, waiting for him. "Don't forget to leave the seat down."

"I know, I know," he echoed back.

He zipped up his fly and exited the lavatory. "I'm sorry for tonight. I shouldn't have touched you like that. How about we do something after midterms? It needn't be a date."

"It needn't be a date, but it will be. I'm sorry but —"

"Ok, fine, you know you never did answer my question — what kind of guy you like? Just tell me and I'll be that guy."

"I don't know what guy I want but it's not you. I'm not interested in you and I never ever will be." Her conviction could not be anymore palatable.

"Well, then, what's this?" He pointed to her ensemble.

"What's what? It's just something I threw on as I didn't bring any date dresses. It's nothing."

"Nothing? You sure sent the right signals with that tight leather." The student's rage elevated.

"No, that's me being lazy and bored. I'd probably wear it to a football game if I had the chance."

"Oh, you lie. You can't tell me you didn't wear that just for boredom — you want me, admit it."

"But I don't." The female firebrand was ready to haul him out of the room if he did not stop acting like a complete ass.

"You stupid…do you know how many women who would sell out their bodies and everything they have, just to be with me?" His arrogance augmented by his antagonism.

"So go be with them and leave me alone." She shoved him to the door.

"But I want you."

"Well, you're not going to get me."

"How could you say that after dressing like such a…whore for me?!" He shoved her back and she was knocked backwards on the hardwood floor.

"That's it. I'm getting the R.A. and you're in big trouble."

"We both know there is no one here — everyone is busy with midterms." He locked the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving what a whore you are." He rapidly kneeled on top of her, her crotch in between his legs and gripped his hands to her wrists.

"Get the hell off of me!" she exclaimed as loud as possible.

"Not until you see the truth. Look at these — hiding behind a flimsy tank top. I'm surprised your breasts hadn't flopped out already." The student released one hand to cop a feel with her right breast and unduly squeezed it, causing her to yelp. Abbie extended her hand to claw his face with her free hand but he swiftly countered with a harsh slap to her face as a distraction and then slammed the hand down, nearly breaking it.

"Stupid whore. You have another thing coming if you think you are going to overpower me. I have twice your body strength."

She loathed resigning herself to the facts but he was right — he pinned her right where he wanted her.

"You know, you're not the first but I will say that you are the first with the best body. I'm going to enjoy you…" he tipped forward and protruded his tongue like a serpent. "…And your flopping tits." The male cleaved the tank top open, exposing her rather sizable breasts.

They both noted the bruising of her breast. "I shouldn't have injured such a work of God; we should complete the set." He wrung her other breast, grinding her nipple with his palm.

"Stop!" She reiterated another prospect to scrape him but he caught her hand in time, slapped it down and then clinched both her wrists together. Her only rejoinder is a pained yowl.

"No, not until you know I'm right. And the best example would be your leather pants." He shifted off to her left side, clutching tighter on her wrists and snaked his hand from her unmarked breast to her crotch. With her hands restrained, he was just out of range for her to fight back. She maintained her screaming to anyone within earshot but to no avail.

"So tight, so alluring, so revealing of whom you really are. You can only hide yourself for so long with your putdowns and your black clothes before you realize the truth — that you want people to want you, too." He rubbed coarsely in between her legs, chafing herself against the leather.

"I hope you're not wearing any underwear." He adopted a licentious simper.

She snarled back in response. He massaged her crotch, grinding her clitoris against the rawhide pants while her cheaply constructed panties grated down.

"The mind is many things but even it can't beat the body and its impulses. Even when someone says 'no', their body can tell you otherwise," he mocked while she tentatively bit her lip against her body's rising betrayal. She would not grant the man the satisfaction.

The student beamed a sinister smirk. "See?"

"Stop, please…" she rasped back before tasting the metallic quality of her blood on her lips. She sensed her wetness down there, flooding her crotch.

"Stop what, my whore? You're clearly having a good time." He prolonged the cruel friction. She refused to whimper anymore for him as she sliced further into her lip.

"Well, well, well, the sarcastic Abbie Carmichael reduced to a quivering lump of flesh. It would be laughable if it wasn't so pathetic. Maybe I'll laugh anyway." His scathing cackling resonated throughout her dorm room and in her ears. Try as she could to forbear against him, Abbie shed a tear, as she could not control her body from drenching her pants in all that slickness.

"Aw, the whore is crying. The pleasure too much for you?" He licked off her tear. The spitfire mustered enough energy to literally spit her blood on his face.

"That…was…a…stupid….mistake!" he roared as he nearly choked her to death. She was too enervated and shut her eyes tight. If she was going to leave this mortal coil tonight, she did not want the last thing before her eyes to be this repugnant man.

"No, I can't drive you unconscious yet. You have one more lesson left. Remember that you brought this on yourself with those clothes of yours, Abigail."

She heard him unzip his pants; if she did open her eyes, she would have seen his dangling erect penis.

"I have to admit, there is nothing like an ice princess melting in my hands to get me so hard, and you, Carmichael, you are the queen of the Antarctic." He skinned off her pants, crawled on top of her, and guided himself into position; his head causing further friction against her clit.

"You had your pleasure, now it's time for mine." He inserted himself in her in haste, abrading her vaginal tissues. The only consolation to her was he wouldn't be able to pilfer her virginity, courtesy of a pathetic prom date so long ago.

"Once I get my hands on your…" she huffed as the torture intensified while he forced himself in and out.

"In time, dear, in time. You're not a virgin, surprising given your frostiness." The student turned rapist plunged deeper into her, her dampness splashing against him.

"You're enjoying this. Tell me you're enjoying this and I'll stop."

Her anguish paralyzed her. She mutely prayed to whatever deity who would listen to smite this contemptible bastard with anything: heart attack, impotence, anything to make the misery end.

"Come on, Abigail, tell me, you dirty whore," he taunted as he amplified his tempo.

Her only answer was her gnashing down on her teeth as he climaxed, his fluid dripping unceremoniously on the floor.

"You couldn't even come. What kind of woman are you? I take it back — you couldn't even charge a dime for your pathetic performance. Think about that in ten years, Abbie." The rapist separated himself from her. Her only counter was inhaling and exhaling, and being aware of the disgusting fluids slowly exiting her. Her only desire was to kill the homunculus responsible. She finally opened her eyes to burn his face into her brain.

"You could try to report it, but who would the faculty believe? A respected junior with awards and laurels and soon plans to graduate in the top five of his class or a lowly dime-a-dozen freshman who wears clothes that invite promiscuity? Don't get up; I'll let myself out."

The door banged from the rapist's departure and all Abbie could do was to finally release all those unshed tears upon tears as she reeled in the aftermath.


--November 25, 2003

"So there you have it. I didn't say his name because I just blocked it all out as I didn't want to see him again. He wasn't my first — my first one was a loser from my prom. It certainly wasn't magical, I can tell you that, but I'd rather relive that than…you know.

"Between him and what I just told you, you can appreciate my rather dim view of sex. I thought about reporting it back then, but he was right — who would believe a freshman against one of the more distinguished students in the college?" Abbie submerged in a melancholy deportment as she informed Jack the true details of that night thirteen years ago while slumped on the couch back at his apartment.

"Abbie, I…" For the first time in his life, the prevailing E.A.D.A. never was so ineffective. All he could do was embrace his girlfriend, while vowing brutal vengeance on that rapist. He would not rebuke himself for such a human reaction.

"Not that I'm flattered, but why did you tell me all this now?"

"At the time, I didn't know if you deserved to know beyond the bare basics and now I see that I can't move forward in my life or to the next level of our relationship until I finally rid myself of him." She wanted to suppurate but she had done enough of that.

"Oh, I see. Abbie, look, I told you before we don't have to move forward; I'm perfectly happy where we are."

"'Perfectly happy'?" she jibed.

"Okay, perfectly content."

"I know, but I know you have these feelings, you can't deny them, Jack. God knows I've tried to suppress them with work and, then, later on with other aspects to our relationship but what I can say? I can't deny what I feel about you and yes, I'll placate your ego along with possibly mine — in all these years, I didn't have a boyfriend or anyone I'd trust enough to…help me, but now I do. You know how difficult this is for me to admit, Jack," she seethed in ire and clenched her fists.

"Abbie, you don't have to get defensive."

The once A.D.A. calmed down. "I'm sorry. You know how I don't like to show my…"

"I know. You're not the only one with a mask," he gently reprimanded.

"Right."

"Abbie, I don't need those feelings to prove myself to you; I'd say I've done it already. Just because everyone else is sleeping around, doesn't mean we have to."

"Jack, I'm not going for that 'intimacy in relationships can only work if it's physical' crap. We've already proven actual intimacy; we're just finally applying it to the rest." An assuaged appearance enhanced her face.

"Yeah, we have." His arms encircled her. "But short of what you're asking, I want to help you but I don't know what to offer instead, beyond seeking therapy. That is short of catching the bastard and hanging him by the scrotum." She actually cracked a grin by his suggestion.

"Tempting, but no. I thought about those, but I don't need people spouting clichés at me telling me that I need to be with a man I could trust. I already did that." She cuddled up next to him. "I don't want those. I'm just tired of this, Jack. I'm tired of running away from this. I know you're tired of it, too. We've waited what? Two years running around in secret, if not longer?" Abbie glimpsed into her boyfriend's eyes.

"At least."

"I don't want this to be undone because of my issues."

"Abbie, you didn't ask to get raped. It is his fault, he should have known better and if I met you back then, I would have decked him and castrated him myself. God, I sound like Mike Logan, a hothead detective I used to know."

The firebrand Texan giggled. "I don't think what we have here would have worked back then. I had to refine my tastes first."

"As did I. You know I don't jump into bed with every woman I meet. I knew being with you meant I'd deal with the rape eventually. However, it's not like pure sex matters with me in a relationship; I'm not looking for lust here." He nearly squashed the woman in a vise style grip.

"Anyone ever tell you you're one of the few good men out there?"

"Once or twice; not like this."

"Cards on the table?"

"Cards on the table. Besides everything else, if we're in bed, I wouldn't want you to dwell about my past. I know it's quite a giant molehill, and I don't want them or myself intensifying those memories of yours."

She enfolded her knees. "I didn't even think about that."

"They're not you, Abbie. It's just you and me. If I wanted one of them, would I be with you now?" he consoled in his empathetic style.

She was emboldened by that. "No."

"I just don't want to hurt you, for what could be a shot in the dark."

She sighed and gaped at him. "Since I already said it to you, I guess I'll have to ask — do you trust me?"

"Abbie…" He blinked in bewilderment.

"Do you trust me?" She repeated.

"Yes."

"Then you can't hurt me. Damn it, Jack, I'm tired of licking my wounds — I want you to be the one to fix this; why are you having such a difficult time grasping that?"

"I do see it, but I have to tell you, this is far out of my range." He shrouded his ensuing blush.

"You're not alone, Jack. I've thought about this, I've thought about it for at least six months if not longer, on top of carrying this for thirteen years. I want to let it go and be in control of myself again. Whom else could I turn to for this? Whom else could I have trusted to know me inside and out, except for you?"

"I can't argue with that."

"Then, taking me in this manner is the only way and we both know it. We can't avoid it anymore."

He chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't think I trust myself with a task this important."

"Well, I trust you enough for the both of us. Now I can finally say this — I want…I want to…make love to you, Jack McCoy. Do you want to make love to me?" she queried in her most solemn tone.

Jack could not contest this striking yet broken woman's sincerity and determination to liberate herself while beseeching for his help — the perfect irony to those who labeled him a womanizer so long ago. After 10 excruciating seconds, he replied "Yes. When and where?"

"Well, our apartments are rather messy and I'm done with waiting. Know any good out of the city motels that can hold a reservation within an hour?"

Jack's eyebrow ascended. "I do. I know this place in Westbury if that's far enough for you. An hour? Impulsive, are we?"

"After all the waiting and everything else, I think we're allowed to be impulsive just once, right?"

"I think we earned that right. If you're that ready, I'll do it, but…."

She mused for a minute. "I don't suppose waiting a day will kill us. The rest we'll play by ear."

"My, you have changed, Abbie."

"I think I have been around you too much."

"I don't know about that. Before you knew me, I was an arrogant son of a bitch — a guy you shouldn't date," he sniggered.

"You're not now."

"No, I humbled myself; maybe it was just in time when I met you." The E.A.D.A.'s brow ruffled with ponderings.

"What?"

"I don't know, Abbie. I was rather cocky — pardon the pun — before, such as with Claire, and after her death, I had to humble myself and, then, you came along and insured that. The timing was right; I dare say it could be…"

"Fate?" she simpered.

"I don't think so, but I can't ignore the coincidences."

"Maybe you should take the hint?" she jovially bantered.

"Maybe I should," he simply snorted.

"Well, I am. Why else do you think I'm asking to do this?" She inclined forward to kiss him.

"Point well taken, Counselor."

"Then just trust me." She assured him as the couple sustained their embrace into the night.

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--November 26, 2003

"Abbie…" Jack panted as he buried his head in her neck, kissing her further. Abbie gripped his salt and pepper hair as he drove deeper into her, both people savoring the feeling of becoming one complete being. She screamed in rapture at every thrust, drowning in her increasing pleasure, and finally undoing the injury from so long ago. They glanced into one another's amber eyes before yielding to the orgasm.

He rolled around and had her on top, both panting from their act. She draped herself on his chest.

"I think the most important question of all is 'how do you feel'?" His hands roamed all over her back before resting them on her spine.

"Liberated first comes to mind," she murmured as she snuggled up against him.

"Then it was worth it. You were right."

"I love when I hear that," she jested in smug satisfaction. His only response was increasing laughter.

"I love your arrogance."

"I learned from the best, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Any regrets? I don't have any."

"You shouldn't, because I certainly have none," the ex-A.D.A. stated in her "all business" tenor.

"Well, then, here we are — the next level, what's next? Marriage?"

"Is that a proposal?" Her smirk worked overtime tonight, as did his mounting eyebrow.

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. You know you have to meet my daughter, right?"

She relaxed against his breathing torso. "That should be a treat." Her self-depreciation climbed.

"It should. You'd be the first one I'd bring home since the divorce."

The woman sited her hand over his heart. "Then I can't wait."

"Abbie?"

"Yeah?"

His hand advanced to hers on his chest and intertwined their fingers together before composing the following three words: "I love you."

Her only reaction was gliding her hands on his shoulders and embedding her fingernails as deep as possible into his flesh, latching on him permanently — her vow never to release him, in addition to being a symbol of the profound trust for this gentleman. He faced her with her scrutinizing him, with a budding smile and a single teardrop on her beautiful face.

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The song Explode from Nelly Furtudo's Folklore album helped me write the rape scene in what is the most difficult segment I've ever written.

The inspiration of the story is from a Pokemon piece called "The End of the Ice Age" by RainbowMistress and some of the dialogue from a Yu-Gi-Oh! piece called "Butterflies". I highly recommend them and they are both found on Give them a read.

If I'm right or wrong in my take on moving on with rape, leave me a review and see you in the funny papers.