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queenshelby · 1 month

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The Client (Rewritten)

Part Two: New Relationships

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

The following morning, at Cillian's offices, he had expected to see you at around 8 o'clock but, when only his friend Dermont arrived, he became worried.

"She said that she doesn't need your help," Dermont told him with concern. "She said that she can just go to Legal Aid," he added.

But Cillian knew better. He understood that, when it came to matters of domestic violence, Legal Aid was often underfunded and inexperienced.

"Legal Aid?" he thus asked and, seeing that your husband James was a seasoned and experienced solicitor himself, Cillian experienced a knot in his stomach. He knew the odds you were facing. "Fuck she is stubborn!" Cillian muttered, raking his hands through his tousled brown hair before reaching for his coat.

"Where are you going?" Janette, who had been sitting in the meeting, queried Cillian with a raised eyebrow. "You have a meeting with John O'Shea at 10," she reminded him, but Cillian was on a mission.

"Cancel it. I need to see Y/N," Cillian brushed Janette's warnings aside, not in the mood for corporatespeak as he was determined to make his way to the women's shelter on York in order to confront you. He knew that you needed his help and he would not take no for an answer.

"I will come with you, man," Dermont solidified solidarity, standing up from his chair and grabbing his leather jacket.

"There is no point, Dermont. They won't let you in," Cillian told his friend, knowing that visitors, other than legal counsel and attending psychologists, were not allowed on premises due to safety concerns.

"Do you think she will actually talk to you?" Dermont asked as they walked towards the elevator.

"She bloody well will when I tell her what's going to happen if she doesn't take this seriously," Cillian replied, his jaw set with determination. "When you told me who she is married to, my alarm bells went off and I am not surprised that she did not leave this bastard yet. He is a piece of work, and he is most certainly is good at what he does," Cillian explaining after having worked with James in the past and having an inside perspective on the man's ruthless behavior.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and the two men entered. Cillian pressed the button for the parking garage, and the elevator began its descent in silence.

"Will she be safe?" Dermont queried Cillian with concern in his voice.

"I will make sure that she is," Cillian reassured Dermont, his tone firm.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the dimly lit parking garage. Cillian and Dermont walked towards Cillian's shiny black BMW. As Cillian unlocked the car, Dermont hesitated.

"You will need to wait in the car when we get there, okay?" Cillian told Dermont as they got in and fastened their seatbelts.

Dermont nodded silently and Cillian peeled out of the parking garage. About thirty minutes later , pulled up outside the women's shelter. He switched off the engine and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He knew that you were unlikely to receive him well after how things had ended between you many years ago, but he was not prepared to back down.

He got out of the car, entered the shelter's front door, and approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up at him, her face a mask of polite indifference.

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/LN," Cillian maintained eye contact.

"And you are?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Cillian Murphy. I am her solicitor," he told the woman while showing her his bar membership card and drivers license, knowing that she would have to keep his details on file. The woman's eyes glanced over his documents before she nodded, clearly authorized to allow him through.

"Miss Y/LN is in apartment 302, on the third floor," she told him, pointing up the nearby staircase. "But let me warn you that she might not be in the mood for company. Her husband tried to make contact this morning and was advised to leave," she added, her tone laced with disapproval.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Cillian mumbled, turning towards the staircase. His heart was hammering in his chest as he climbed the stairs, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy again. It had been years since he had last seen you, and the memories still haunted him to this day.

He reached the third floor and found your apartment on the left-hand side. He paused for a moment, taking another deep breath before knocking on the door.

To his surprise, you answered almost immediately, your face painted with shock upon seeing him.

"Cillian? What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice trembling as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over your body, and your hair was a mess of tangled curls. He could see the dark circles under your eyes and the bruise on your cheek, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Dermont saw me this morning and I came to talk to you," Cillian told you, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"I don't want your help," you muttered, turning your head away. But Cillian could see the uncertainty in your eyes, and he knew that you were just as confused by your feelings as he was. "I told Dermont that I will go to Legal Aid," you told him, trying to assert yourself, but Cillian could hear the hesitance in your voice.

"Listen to me, Y/N," Cillian said, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently turning you to face him. "Legal Aid won't be able to take your husband on and you know that," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You need someone who knows how to handle his type of mentality," he added, his gaze holding yours.

You could feel yourself being drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It was as if the years had melted away and you were once again that young girl who had fallen in love with him. You wanted to believe him, to trust him with your life. But you were also scared, terrified that history would repeat itself and you would be left with nothing but a broken heart and a shattered life.

You tried to push him away, but Cillian was not so easily swayed.

"Look at me, Y/N," Cillian whispered and your eyes met, and you could see the fire burning within them. "Let's just talk and then, if you still want to go to Legal Aid, I will even drive you there," he offered and you hesitated, your eyes searching his face for any sign of deception.

But all you could see was compassion and concern, and you felt yourself being drawn to him like a magnet. "Alright," you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

The apartment was small and cramped, with only a single bedroom and a living room that doubled as a kitchen. The walls were bare and the furniture sparse, a testament to how quickly you had left your old life behind.

Cillian looked around, his gaze taking in the small space.

He could see the weight of your situation reflected in the empty walls and the sparse furniture, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a mess. Dermont took me here after I was discharged from hospital and James froze all of my accounts," you explained, and Cillian could see the hurt and shame etched on your face and he wanted to take it all away.

"Don't worry about all that now," Cillian murmured as he gestured to the small kitchen table, and you took a seat across from him.

Cillian then sat there in silence for a moment, looking at you as if he didn’t know what to say and, he probably didn’t. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to tell you that everything will be okay. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to comfort you. Or, perhaps, he just wanted to be the person to help you through your darkest times.

Eventually though, he began to talk and took you through the legal process slowly. He told you what the steps were, including obtaining an AVO, gaining financial support for you and requesting your husband to return your property to you, including your identification documents and mobile phone. He then reassured you that getting custody for your son would not be an issue given his age. He explained that, at 16, your son would decide who he wants to live with and this was a relief for you.

Then, finally, he mentioned divorce. Of course, with all of this, you needed to apply for divorce. It was inevitable and you couldn’t wait until you were free from this monster.

“First, let’s talk about the AVO and getting you some financial support from him. This seems to be the most urgent matter and I have already obtained and looked through the discharge report from the hospital. You lied to the nurses, and I am not going to ask you why. I am sure you had your reasons. But I am telling you that, the fact that you did, will make it more difficult for us to prove that you need protection,” Cillian then explained quite suddenly before giving you a reassuring look.

“So, I cannot get an AVO against him?” you asked a little confused.

“We will get you an AVO Y/N but, if he challenges it, we will need to get some more evidence together to prove that you do, in fact, need it,” Cillian explained before handing you a box of tissues as he could see that you were becoming emotional already.

“The bruises seem quite bad. How are you coping with them?” Cillian then asked and, whilst you knew that it wasn’t relevant to the case, you appreciated his gesture.

“I am okay," you confirmed reluctantly while trying to mask your true emotions and the pain you were still feeling.

"What about the baby you lost? The hospital report said that your miscarriage was caused by physical trauma," Cillian's voice cracked with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes at the mention of your loss. "It's my fault," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I should have left him a long time ago." Your thoughts trailed off to the brutal night that had left you traumatized and alone, your unborn child taken from you before you had even gotten the chance to hold them in your arms.

"Hey," Cillian's voice softened as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. "This isn't your fault, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't help thinking that, if I had just been stronger, maybe he wouldn't have...," you stammered, leaving your sentence unfinished.

Cillian's heart broke at the sight of you in pain. "I am sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. He reached over to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle and soothing. He longed to take away your pain and shield you from harm, but he knew that he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

“I need to ask you some more questions about the harm he caused,” Cillian eventually said after taking a deep sigh and you nodded your head, accepting the inevitable nature of the situation, although part of you desperately wished to avoid revisiting the most painful memories.

“Can you describe what happened that night? How did he cause you to lose the baby?” he asked, his voice giving away the slight grimace that crossed his features.

“We had an argument about the state of the house. He made me clean and clean and clean all over again and still wasn't satisfied. He then became aggressive. He wanted sex I think. I don't know. I can't remember. All I remember was the blows to my stomach when he hit me repeatedly until I blacked out," you choked out, your voice low and trembling. "I woke up in the hospital a few hours later. I was weak from the pain and exhausted through the trauma. The doctors told me that I had lost my baby."

A wave of sadness and anger washed over Cillian as you told him the harrowing details of that night.

“Has he ever hurt you like this before or was this the first time?” Cillian asked carefully, knowing that this may trigger you to become even more upset and emotional.

“Yes” you cried before getting into more detail for him.

“He has hurt me many times. He even raped me before and said that it wasn't rape because we are married. When I tried to leave him, he threatened me. He told me that if I dared to speak of what he did to me, he would kill me and no-one would ever find out," you choked out, your voice filled with pain and betrayal.

Cillian listened quietly, holding your hands firmly in his as you spoke. He could feel the rage building up inside of him as you told him about the horrors that you had endured at the hands of your husband.

"Y/N, I promise you that I will make sure that he pays for every single thing that he has done to you," he promised, his voice filled with conviction.

He knew that his words were not enough, but he wanted you to know that you were not alone in this. That he would be there for you every step of the way, no matter how difficult things got.

His anger towards James was palpable and it was clear that he was not going to let him get away with what he had done.

“I need to know, are there any records of prior injuries with other hospitals or medical centers?” he then asked carefully once you were able to calm back down and you nodded again.

“A year ago, I had severe burns and I saw my general practitioner to get some cream for them” you told Cillian with teary eyes, causing his chin to drop.

“Burns? Did he inflict them?” Cillian asked a little surprised.

“Yes, he did! When James found out that…uhm…I…I had an abortion about a year ago he…” you started to cry again, your resolve crumbling down slowly.

“Take your time Y/N” Cillian told you while reaching across the table and holding onto your hand, unbothered by the fact that you still held on to the wet tear-soaked tissue.

“He burned me,” you sobbed and Cillian’s grip on your hands tightened involuntarily at hearing about the harrowing pain that you went through. He wanted to strangle James for making you suffer like that but, instead, he took a moment to compose himself.

“How did he burn you?” Cillian asked and what he heard next made him sick to the stomach.

“He used the iron on me,” you choked out, your eyes glazing over as you were thrown right back into that dreadful moment in time.

Visions of that scalding hot iron being dragged down the length of your arm seared through your mind like it was happening all over again. You could smell the burning flesh and hear your own screams echoing through the house.

Cillian inhaled sharply, trying to contain the crossed wires running riot through his brain.rage, sympathy, passion, disgust.

He couldn't decide which emotion to settle for, so he let out a low growl of frustration instead.

"Fuck," Cillian swore loudly, dragging a hand through his thick shock of hair before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands.

"Can you show me the burns?" Cillian asked softly, dropping his hands as he looked at you with eyes filled with concern.

You bit your bottom lip nervously, unsure of whether you should expose yourself to him. Nevertheless, you stood up and peeled back the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the pale white scars that marred your skin.

Cillian sucked in his breath, feeling a mix of anger and sadness wash over him. You flinched slightly, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

Cillian, sensing your discomfort, quickly looked away, but not before he took a mental image of the faint lines that marked your skin.

"I am so sorry for everything that you've gone through," he murmured, his voice laced with anguish and fury. "No person deserves to be treated like this," he told you before asking you whether you would be willing to undergo a medical examination for evidence.

The thought of allowing someone else to examine your battered body repulsed you, but you gave Cillian your consent, knowing full well that it was necessary for your case.

"I will arrange an appointment for you with one of the centers on Callum Street. They specialize in these types of cases and the medical examiner there is an old colleague of mine," Cillian told you, his voice steady and reassuring.

As you agreed to the appointment, Cillian checked his watch and realized that it was already almost noon.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked you, noticing your thin frame and the dark shadows under your eyes.

You shook your head no, causing Cillian to frown.

"Let's grab a bite then and have a break. Your brother has been sitting in my car for a few hours now and is probably bored," Cillian suggested as he rose from his chair.

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "I can't really afford to go out for lunch Cillian," you said, feeling embarrassed to admit that you had no money to spend on luxuries like that.

Cillian's eyebrows pulled together with concern. "That's not a problem, Y/N, I'm happy to buy," he said. "Come on, let's take a break and this afternoon we will work on getting your statements ready for the AVO and the claims against James," he reassured you before guiding you out of the apartment.

You walked down the hallway and descended the stairs. Cillian led you to his car where your brother was waiting.

Dermont's face lit up as soon as he saw you. "How are you holding up?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm alright," you replied, giving him a weak smile.

"Shall we go and grab some lunch then?" Cillian interrupted, eager to allow you to distract yourself.

"I know this great little cafe just down the road. They have the best paninis in Dublin, trust me, I practically live there," he joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere and Dermont chuckled politely and opened the car door, allowing you to slide in shotgun.

As they drove down the busy streets of Dublin, your nerves subsided and the three of you engaged in lighthearted banter, speaking about everything apart from James. For the first time in months, you laughed wholeheartedly and felt your worries melt away, if only for a short while.

You glanced over at Cillian and caught him staring at you, his piercing blue eyes softening as they met yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and you quickly turned away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Cillian's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he too turned away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

The car ride was short, and before you knew it, they arrived at the cafe. Cillian parked the car and the three of you made your way inside.

Despite the bustling lunchtime crowd, Cillian somehow managed to secure a cozy corner booth for the three of you, complete with plush cushions and a view of the bustling Dublin Street outside.

You settled into the booth, letting out a sigh of relief as your body relaxed into the comfortable seat. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this safe, this protected. It was as if Cillian and Dermont were your personal bodyguards, shielding you from the dangers of the outside world.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards them both, their presence a comforting balm to your troubled soul.

After finishing your lunch, the three of you decided to head back to Cillian's office to continue working on your case which pretty much took all afternoon, following which Cillian sent an application to both, the police and the courts, to get your matter started.

Once this was done, Cillian drove you back to the shelter and dropped you off, promising to pick you up early the following morning to begin preparations for the next few days to get the interim orders drawn up, but just as you stepped out of the car, you noticed something strange.

There was a black sedan parked in front of the shelter with two men sitting inside. As you watched, one of the men pulled out a cell phone, while the other kept a watchful eye on the entrance.

Thinking nothing much of it, you turned back to Cillian, who was still seated in the driver's seat. "See you tomorrow, Cillian," you said with a slight smile before calling it a night.

"See you tomorrow Y/N," he told you before, finally, driving off.

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