Disclaimer: You know the drill — don't own them.

Author's Note: This popped in my head after watching "Standoff" and musing some details about the defendant's girlfriend and the aftermath of her rape, as shown in the courtroom scenes. Given my perimeters, I thought it would be interesting to write on. I will note that this isn't a sequel to "Asequui", but more a companion piece.

Beta: she is busy, so patience.

Timeline: Doesn't matter really.

Ready Go!


"Come on, Abigail, don't you know by now? The more you struggle, the more your body gets excited. And the more excited you are, the more aroused you become," the nameless college junior sordidly elucidated as he slipped one hand down the panties of one youthful Abbie Carmichael underneath her azure blue skirt while slackly grasping her neck with the other.

"Stop…" her body was wracked with stimulation while her mind was aflame with rage.

"See?" He withdrew her fingers from her to exhibit her wetness. "All women are the same; they hide behind such pretenses, but in the end, they're all just lumps of flesh waiting to be serviced by men."

"When I get my hands on you…" the college freshman seethed.

"Tsk, tsk, all in good time. But if you think slipping my hand in your tight pussy is something, wait until I show you the real prize."

He slammed her to an adjacent wall, tore asunder her panties, unzipped his pants, and inserted himself in her, bruising her vaginal walls.

"I'll wonder if you'll cum. A good woman knows how to cum. Come on, Abigail, are you a good woman?" he sneered as he crammed his penis deeper into her.

Her response was to spit in his face and the college junior-now-rapist evoked a simper. "You really are the spitfire, aren't you?"

The young woman snarled and gritted her eyes shut, waiting for the torment to cease and disconnect his repulsive organ from her.

"You may resist, but you know I'm making a woman out of you. Isn't that exciting?" he solicited as he continued forcing himself in.

"I'm ecstatic." Her scathing sarcasm was in fine form.

"Oh, you will be, you will be."

He quickened the tempo while she prayed her body would not betray her by bestowing an orgasm and prove the rapist's point. A few more thrusts would supply the answer; however, it would be for naught as she no longer felt his presence, in or out of her. She parted her eyes open and perceived his disappearance. A swift surveying of the bedroom detected only her and her boyfriend, Jack McCoy, nude in bed.

She cautiously arose herself up and darted her eyes in every direction. After locating no one, she sensed she was in a sweat and then rubbed her throbbing temples.

'Damn nightmare again. It's been six months since Jack and I made love, and it hasn't popped up until this past week. Why? I thought I was finally free of this. Apparently, not.'

Her eyes wafted to her slumbering lover. 'Oh, Jack. After all the effort we've done to reach this stage, and all the patience you've given me, I couldn't burden you anymore with this. This is my problem, my fight. But how do I fix this? I got everything I could need: a loving man whom I share myself with, both figuratively and literally,' she tenderly stroked his salt-and-pepper hair. 'My desire to move on, being in a positive relationship for the first time in years. So, why do I still have this damn dream?'

She suppressed the swelling of tears splashing within her. 'No, I won't cry. I cried enough about this. I will not be weak. I will not be weak anymore.' The firebrand slinked to the edge of the bed, eyeing the dusk.

'So why do I feel so powerless again? That bastard just wins again, doesn't he? It's been how many years and I still think about him.'

Jack murmured in his siesta and extended his arm to cuddle with his lady. When he felt a vacant spot of where her body should be, he stirred to consciousness.

"Abbie?" he croaked.

"I'm here, Jack." Her voice slightly quivered.

"Why are you over there?" he groggily questioned.

"Just had a nightmare is all," she declared in a monotone, immobilizing her emotions.

"Oh, you okay now?"

'No.' "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"You don't give me the third degree here, Jack," Abbie snapped back defensively. He achieved cognizance and slanted himself against the headboard.

"I'm not. But it's a little early for your barriers, isn't it?"

The question pierced her and her defense mechanisms. "Sorry."

"Was it that bad of a nightmare?"

Silence was the only riposte from her.

"Abbie?" He restated.

"Just a nightmare I get now and then, it comes and goes." She yet again dusted off her monotone. The elder accompanied by her position on the bed, warily enclosing his arm around her.

"You can't kid a kidder. I know that monotone — it's one of your classic defense mechanisms. That and I've seen you at the foot of the bed, being tense every night this past week."

She unraveled her tighten apprehension. "I can't fool you, eh?"

"We're too similar, dear, so no," he chuckled as he kissed her cheek. "I figured to wait to see if it would disappear by itself first. Apparently, not."

"I'm sorry." She turned to face him, cursing the darkness for forbidding her at glimpsing into his profound mahogany eyes.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" He embraced her, cradling her head by his chest.

"Jack, I…" The spitfire steadily squirmed against him.

"Abbie, didn't we already go through this when we hit the bedroom? And didn't I already proven myself to you? I'm not like all those other males and you know it." The E.A.D.A. clutched her with increasing tautness.

She sighed and slumped alongside him. "At least you didn't pull the intimacy card. And you could have, too."

He nuzzled the top of her head. "I'd like to think we're better than that. Now tell me what's going on with you."

A moment elapsed before she produced another sound. "It's a nightmare I had after my…rape, just reliving it again and again throughout the years. It died down…after I informed you about my rape. It didn't occur again until this past week." An epiphany was churning within her.

Jack widened his eyes in amazement. "Really? Not even when we first headed to the bedroom?"

"No. I was surprised by that, too." Her mind blazed forth as the epiphany exploded.

"Maybe you should see it as a sign?"

"Yeah, maybe," she acknowledged noncommittally.

"Abbie." His voice had a stern tenor.

"Again, I'm sorry. For so long, I had no one to help me deal with this, and now…I do." Her eyes brimmed with tears, her pitch wavering with sentiment.

"Are you crying?"

"No, I…damn it!" She forcibly extracted herself from his grip, establishing distance.

"What?" The gentleman stayed in his original position.

"You know I don't like to be weak like this, Jack. I had to push that out of me a long time ago. I couldn't afford to be sorry for myself and be the victim. That's why I became the hardened prosecutor that I am now — so it wouldn't happen to another college freshman," The woman affirmed with indignation.

"I understand, actually." He reacted with sympathy.

She perked up by that. "You do?"

A loud exhale ensued before he conversed once more. "When I was a kid, my mother was physically abused by my father. So, when I became a prosecutor, I vowed that I would try my best to make sure no child would ever be a victim, like yourself and the college freshmen. And whatever I had left in me, I used that to push on the offenders, so that didn't leave me much in the matters of vulnerabilities…or emotions for that matter."

Abbie inched towards him after his monologue. "I didn't know that."

"I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner, but you had enough on your plate anyway. I didn't want to be a burden."

"You're not. It's funny as I thought the same thing about sharing this dream with you. Now I want to apologize for freezing up and/or snapping on you. I don't want to wallow in self pity but…" she sustained her clambering to him.

"You're just being human, Abbie. I think you, more than anyone, have earned the right to feel sorry for yourself or…to cry." The elder concluded her action and encircled his arms around her. She glared at the man in reaction.

"I've been around, dear. I know the timber of a woman's voice when she is ready to cry."

The hothead female tilted her head to his chest for a second time. "It's been so long, I don't think I know how to anymore, Jack."

"That's okay. I don't think I know how either," he morbidly chortled.

"I guess we can try together?" she posed in her heartrending pitch, with tinges of hope. She then clasped one of Jack's hands.

"Yeah. I'll try to cry about your rape," he stated tenderly, intertwining his fingers with hers in response.

"And I'll try to cry about your father beating your mother." She rejoined in kind and securely compressed his hand.

The battleaxe prosecutors both shed their tears and their barricades as the twilight faded into the sunrise.


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