EPILOGUE

The weeks pass by in a blur...we work as many hours as we are physically able to, trying to help and support the men and women who bravely find their way to us. We can't file cases for all of them, and there are many more who will never see any real justice...but we do what we can. No one who comes to us, leaves without lists of organisations that can help them in their recovery...everyone is listened to, and treated with respect, as they share their horror with us. And every one of those men and women astound us with their bravery.

One morning, as I stumble bleary-eyed to my desk after another night of too little sleep, I find a magazine sitting on my desk...

After looking around, and finding no explanation for its presence or any clue as to who may have left it, I am about to throw it aside when a headlong catches my eye...TIME magazine's PERSON OF THE YEAR: The Silence Breakers; The voices that launched a movement.

It seems to take an inordinate amount of time to understand what I hold in my hand...

The hashtag that came into being so many years ago, that was thrust into the mainstream when a brave woman called an "untouchable" movie mogul to answer for his actions, has now morphed into a movement...like the Civil Rights Movement, or the Gay Rights Movement...or even the Women's Rights Movement of so long ago...

#MeToo is no longer an issue of the week...it's not a flash in the pan campaign that goes nowhere...there are too many voices...too many stories to ignore...

There is a flutter of excitement in my stomach, Barba's worst fears have not been realised...maybe things can really change now!?

"I wanted you to have a copy when I saw it on the newstand this morning..." my partner announces as he places a coffee in front of me and rounds his own desk.

I look down to see my hands clasped to the periodical. I am holding a new piece of history in my hands.

"You're one of those Silence Breakers, Amanda..." I hear Fin say.

I shake my head, looking at the familiar women who grace the glossy cover.

"You are!..." he insists, "...as is Liv...and I'm so proud to know both of you!"

The familiar guilt gnaws away at me as he tries to include me with those brave women.

"I didn't, Fin...I couldn't...I never posted my story...I never said "Me too"...I hid behind an inane "I support #MeToo"..."

"Amanda, This movement didn't start a few weeks ago, or even a few months or years ago...it has been built over decades...built on the foundation of every woman who ever tried to speak up when she was disrespected; every woman who tried to say "this is unacceptable behaviour"; every woman who ever listened to, or helped a friend after an assault; every woman who ever told another woman it "was not her fault"; every woman who ever whispered to another "be careful of him"...Every one of those woman has played a part in this victory..."

I understand his logic...it is how I instinctively imagined Liv on that cover with those famous faces...but it feels wrong to include me with those venerated women... The me that hid behind the carefully chosen words of a Facebook post that said "I support MeToo", when what I should have said was "Me Too!"...

"And it this huge step forward was also built on the men who were not afraid to stand with those women..." I say, wanting to remind him that his contribution to breaking down this stigma was not insignificant...nor was that of men like Munch, Capt. Cragen, Nick, Carisi or all of the others who started squads like the one I am part of...and every man who has treated us with respect...

"I still feel bad for not standing up, Fin. It feels like what I should do..."

"Amanda, you have done everything you should do...the only one who expects more, is you..."

I look down at the magazine, considering the importance of the headline...and try to accept his words...

"I guess this may take a while to accept too...I'm just not ready...I hate it! I hate not being able to control it..."

He just smiles at me...

I guess that's why the word tenacious fits me so well...I want to keep healing, I want to be able to share my story...and nothing is going to hold me back from doing that, even if I'm immensely frustrated that it can't be today...

I may not be the shining beacon of an example I wish I was...but as I would tell any man or woman coming in to report an assault to us, "You did what you had to!"..."You survived!"..."And things will get better!. Maybe it's time I take my own advice...

My partner places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, wordlessly showing his ever-present support.

I look at the magazine once more, the fingers of one hand brushing across its glossy cover, checking it is real...the guilt has receeded somewhat and i can just delight in the progress...it feels like a huge weight has been lifted...there are only two words running through my head, and now they don't feel like a dirge, they don't only lament a horrible experience, they also reflect strength, and I will claim them as my own, in time..."Me Too"