Proven Guilty (Treadmill III)

VI

I asked Rebecca to do a lot of shit for me during our twenties. I think this was the biggest thing I ever asked her to do. It was bigger than when she had kept her mouth shut about the hit-and-run. It was bigger than when she had come to Lydia's aid and dragged me into it. It was bigger than asking her to not throw me under the bus in Trial One.

That's what I've dubbed the trial for Hank's murder. Trial One. Which would imply the existence of a Trial Two. But that isn't set in stone.

This was bigger because she would be committing an actual crime. A crime that she couldn't hide from. A crime that meant she wouldn't be eligible for bail if she were caught. She'd be breaking the terms of her bail by participating. Her life, if caught, could be over at 21.

Like I said. Biggest thing I asked her to do.

But you want to know how New Year's Eve went down, don't you? You want to know the true story? The story that the journalists and news anchors didn't know about?

You're in luck.

><><><

REBECCA

It felt like déjà vu, but as if the stakes had been multiplied by seven.

Rebecca remembered her life before Kennedy. Before she had become an accomplice and an accused murderer. Before everything had gone to shit.

I don't think I'd change meeting her, though.

She felt like Olivia Pope saying she wished she had never met Fitzgerald Grant. Things would have been easier for so many people if Olivia hadn't met Fitz. If Rebecca hadn't met Kennedy. But she had met her, the past three and a half months had happened, and she had spent her Christmas Day visiting Kennedy Abrams in jail. Now that she knew Kennedy, Rebecca didn't want to pretend she didn't exist.

The difference in this plan, besides the higher stakes, was that Kennedy was putting an insane amount of blind trust in Rebecca. If Rebecca decided at the last minute to not participate? Kennedy was screwed. So, so screwed. Nothing she could do would fix it. Brianne would quit as her lawyer. She would most likely spend the rest of her life in a jail cell.

A small part of Rebecca wanted to do it. She wanted to bail without warning. That small part of her was still furious with Kennedy for dragging her into all of this. For ruining her life. But then, a larger part of her felt sympathetic. A larger part of her knew she had been the one to call Kennedy in to save Lydia. Rebecca had trusted Kennedy's stepmother, and everything had gone up in flames.

She could blame Kennedy for Hank. She couldn't blame her for Jaxson.

Celeste was talking in the kitchen, rambling on about something that Spencer had said to piss her off that morning. Rebecca didn't care. She sat at the kitchen table, eyes fixated on the wall across from her. Her hands had been clasped together for so long that she couldn't feel them as separate entities anymore. Kennedy's delirious plan played on a loop in her head.

Celeste hadn't noticed that Rebecca wasn't paying attention. She was still talking. Rebecca could hear her chopping up strawberries and dropping them into a bowl. She could hear the discarded tops falling into the trash can. The sounds of strawberries being cut and discarded played as the soundtrack to Rebecca's thoughts. Celeste's complaining didn't even register.

"Don't you think that's a little rude?"

I don't have to do this. I told her I would, but I don't have to. Nothing is holding me to that.

"Bec?"

I don't have to do anything that she wants me to do. But I should. I can help her, and I understand why she needs the help. Why she wants the help. I know I'm the only one who can actually do it.

"Rebecca."

Rebecca looked up from the stain on their kitchen table.

"Yeah?"

Celeste's eyes travelled to the back of her head before landing back on Rebecca.

"I just talked to you for ten minutes. Did you listen to any of it?"

Rebecca shook her head, too exhausted to pretend that she had been paying attention.

Celeste sighed. "I guess it's pretty conceited to think that you should be concerned with my relationship drama right now," she took her bowl of cut strawberries and put it down on the table in front of Rebecca, "what with everything you have going on."

Tears pricked at the corners of Rebecca's eyes as she stared at the bowl of fruit in front of her.

"Thanks, Cel." Her smile was weak, but the gratitude was genuine, "I'm sorry for being so absent."

"Don't apologize." Celeste insisted, sitting down beside her, "I'm proud of you for getting out of bed in the morning, Bec. You're stronger than anyone else I know. You'll get through this; I know you will."

Rebecca nodded, but whether it was to Celeste or herself, she was unsure. The only thing she knew for sure was the decision she had made the second Celeste said, 'you'll get through this.'

Kennedy Abrams was getting out of jail on December 31st.

Rebecca Eaves was going to make it happen.