Chapter 36

[tempered-rose.livejournal.com]

Title: The Eternal Heartache, Chapter 36 of 39 (I finally have an end number!)
Characters (this part only): Cesc Fabregas, Bojan Krkic, Pep Guardiola/Raul Gonzalez, Jose Mourinho, Cristiano Ronaldo, OFC
Rating: PG-13 this part
Words: this part: 2,557; overall total: 89,217
Warnings: strong mentions of past abuse, language
A/N: There’s another author’s note at the end and that is a technicality disclaimer that I won’t spoil here because that would give away the whole chapter. But anyways. As I said in the previous chapter, this story is drawing towards the close. I’m thinking about a sequel but I’m still considering it. It would be different from this story, but not completely so. I just hope it wouldn’t disappoint and that’s what I would be afraid of. Anyway, this is the first of three final chapters, including an epilogue. Thank you again if you have read this story through in its entirety. I really am amazed that it was so popular for as long as it was, thank you so much <3



Last part here. All previous parts listed here.


There was a problem. The lights were too bright, the room was too cold. There was too much space, and equally not enough. There were too many people with bright, curious eyes that would hear everything. And they were all so curious, so interested and fascinated by the dark secrets that would spill out to the public.

People would talk, they would gossip, share information that had nothing to do with them for their own entertainment. It was a gross invasion of privacy, but there was nothing that could be done about it. These were the laws; this is what had to be done to insure justice for the victims. At least, that was the idea.

The two defendants sat together, separated only by their lawyer, and listened as evidence was given against them. Their lawyer, a tired looking old man, questioned the witnesses but nothing could stop the great amount of evidence building higher and higher against their case. It was a shadow that they were not able to get out from underneath.

The two victims, both related to the defendants, sat quietly in the crowd. Their uncle and his partner sat on either side of the boys, sandwiching them protectively between the two of them. Representing the grievances of the unique family, was the uncle’s boss, the senior partner in the legal firm for which they worked.

He was a cold man, unfeeling even towards his own family. His silver hair and cold eyes could deter any sort of warmth from anyone, even someone who radiated care and concern. He was ruthless and would not hesitate to stab anyone that stood in his way in the back. He didn’t give an inch when he wanted something. It was for that reason, that he was one of the most powerful attorneys in Europe. His reputation had preceded him, in both prosecution and defense. Mourinho was regarded as the silver devil by many who came across him.

“Doctor, can you tell the court what these are, for the record?” He asked holding up two rather large files . Mourinho moved across the room and placed them in the doctor’s hands.

“It is the two medical files I compiled for the two boys in question.” He said after he checked the name on the labels.

“And could you tell us doctor why the files are so thick? What could they possibly contain that makes them so large?” Mourinho asked distantly as he turned to pace in front of the witness stand, hands clasped behind his back.

“In these files, two for each of the boys, I have performed an extensive analysis of their medical histories. The files are so thick because of the numerous injuries that both of them have sustained in their lifetimes.”

“Is it a complete record, doctor?”

The doctor hesitated before answering. “No.”

The crowd shifted, weight on benches changed as the crowd began to listen more intently. Mourinho turned to face the Doctor. He was enjoying himself greatly.

“Why not Doctor? Did you not just say that it was an extensive analysis?”

“Without having treated the boys since they were born, there is no possible way I could know every injury they may have suffered. Even if I did have documentation of every injury, I have no way to even estimate the emotional trauma that they have had to endure in addition to the physical.”

“So you believe the two victims, the two boys, have suffered emotional abuse as well as physical?” Mourinho looked to the tired defending lawyer who did not even dare object to the implied abuse. With glee, Mourinho turned back to the doctor and waited for an answer.

“Without question. There is no way that any child, or any one for that matter, would have been able to be put into this situation and not come out affected. It is simply impossible for them to not be damaged emotionally. They were put into a high-stress environment and came out relatively unscathed, apart from the physical, which is a commendation to their character. But even as strong as these two boys are, there is emotional trauma.”

“Will you read for the court the list of physical injuries sustained by the first boy, the youngest, Bojan?” Mourinho asked, eyes and body shifting to look at Maria who looked back proudly.

The doctor picked up the file, just barely thinner than its counterpart, and opened it. He flipped one page upwards and began to read his notes aloud.

“On an initially superficial examination of the patient, scaring is evident at first sight upon the back of the patient’s legs and all along his back. No sensitivity suggests that these are old wounds, though the varying scar tissue looks to show a period of about three years’ worth of abuse. Further examination revealed a history of many broken bones, including, but not limited to: a broken right arm several times, a broken left arm, evidence of a detached and possibly broken scapula, bruised ribs, broken ribs, bruised sternum, broken nose, broken fingers apart from the thumb on the entire left hand, both wrists broken, and lastly a dislocated hip and shoulder.”

The doctor’s final words settled in the court. Many eyes turned to look at the boy whose injuries had just been read aloud. His head was bowed, eyes focused only on his hands, and he was taking short, shallow breaths. His brother touched his arm lightly and kept his hand in place, a comforting gesture.

Mourinho let the silence reign for a moment before turning back to the doctor.

“Has the boy made a full recovery from those injuries?” He had enough grace about him to soften his tone.

The doctor shifted in the chair. “There are permanent results of those injuries. For instance, not all of the scars will never fade completely, some are simply too deep. Several of the broken bones were never set correctly and so they have healed, but not entirely in place. Another issue is that in the instance of,” he paused to check his notes, “twenty-one bones, they were broken and, at least once more, broken again. The scapula injury alone is worth further study.”

“Why is that doctor?” Mourinho interjected.

“Because I cannot determine if it was broken or not and healed badly, or if it was simply detached and never correctly set. When asked, the patient said it irritated him.”

“How would he have sustained such an injury, if it was indeed broken?”

“Scapula fractures are hard to do simply because of their location. It is possible that the patient could have fallen or been crushed in some way to injure that particular bone.”

“Very well doctor. Is the injury report the same for the other boy, Cesc?” Mourinho asked, his tone shifted into a lighter one. It was as if he had sensed his prey’s weaknesses and was about to go for the jugular.

“It is very similar, but it’s not the same, no.”

“What makes it different?” Mourinho asked cheerily.

The doctor released a burdened sigh. “The report conducted on the other patient is marginally longer, suggesting more abuse suffered than the youngest.”

“More abuse than his brother? But surely that is simply because he is older, isn’t it doctor?”

“I would assume so, sir.”

“Are there any severe injuries to Cesc that stand out more so than those of his brother?”

“There are several that caught my interest, yes.”

“Such as?” Mourinho prompted, eyes dancing with cruel amusement.

The doctor consulted his notes once more. “It appears that due to the healing patterns in the bones and their unique set, the patient walked with a broken right leg for some time before it healed, albeit maligned. It had healed but was broken again, but worse, this time affecting the ankle and foot as well.”

“And the final result, doctor?”

“If the patient had ever wanted to be an athlete, it would be impossible. Any sort of severe physical stress on that leg would potentially break the bones again.”

“Thank you doctor.” Mourinho smiled coldly. “No further questions at this time.”

The crowd shifted awkwardly in their seats while their eyes looked at the eldest of the two brothers. His eyes were fixated on his brother, and only his brother, and he did not look away to see what everyone was staring at. He could feel their eyes on him, but he didn’t look to meet them. He didn’t want to see the concerned, and even angry, looks in their eyes.

The defendants’ lawyer rose, and began to cough a little, covering his mouth with a white handkerchief. When he recovered, he moved to where Mourinho had been standing, the gleeful conductor of the ongoing circus, and took up the baton to give his own glorious performance.

“Doctor, forgive me, I’m a little confused here. You said that if the boy put severe stress on that leg, that it would break?”

“Yes, it would.”

“And how long has this injury been a factor?”

“From the bone, I would say five years or so.”

“And you don’t consider walking to be severe stress?” The lawyer asked with a quirk of his brow.

“No, I don’t. Walking wouldn’t exert the proper force on the muscles and bone that would cause the bones to break. But prolonged running or endurance training of any kind, could break those bones.” The doctor looked back levelly.

“I see. Did the boy ever complain about leg pains?”

“No, but he didn’t complain about any of the other injuries either.”

The lawyer opened his mouth, but shut it quickly. The doctor had apparently overshared his knowledge. He changed tactics.

“You’ve said that some of these bones were broken again, or were not set properly. Wouldn’t someone have noticed a boy walking around with such vivid injuries? Wouldn’t someone have had a responsibility to report these constant injuries?”

“Someone would have had to notice, but I cannot say why they did not ever report them.”

“Do you think those people should be on trial as well? After all, it isn’t fair that only two people be made to suffer when an entire village saw the damage done.”

“That isn’t my place to say, sir.” The doctor replied after a moment.

“Oh, that is correct, it’s not.” The lawyer retorted before shifting. “Do you think that the defendant, Maria, would be capable of causing such injuries to her own sons?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but I suppose it would be possible.”

“And what about the other defendant, Cristiano?”

“From his appearance alone, I would say that yes, it would be very possible.”

“Which do you think is more likely to have committed such injuries?”

“The man.” The doctor replied, shifting awkwardly in his seat. His expression was evident that he didn’t want to be there any longer.

“Then do you think it fair that the woman who gave him life, the woman who raised all of her sons, should be punished for something that he did?” The lawyer asked.

The crowd gasped a little and the weight on the benches shifted again. Cesc managed to look at Cristiano. His jaw had tightened and he was pretty sure that his brother’s eyes would be burning holes into the back of the lawyer’s head.

“I think that anyone who allowed these boys to suffer such horrific injuries should be punished to the fullest extent that could be done.”

The lawyer, having been deterred by the doctor’s testimony, looked to the judge.

“I have no further questions.”

The judge looked to the doctor. “Thank you, you may go. Señor Mourinho, have you any further witnesses?”

“No, sir. The prosecution rests.”

“Very well.” The judge looked at the papers spread before him. The court was quiet, apart from a few coughs and shifting of weight. After several long moments, he looked up and addressed the court. “The defendants will rise.”

Cristiano rose undeterred but his mother rose on shaking legs. They both regarded the judge distantly, Maria’s lower lip trembling while Cristiano’s eyes blazed darkly.

“What has been done to the two boys is nothing less than a tragedy. What is even more tragic is that the natural rights of any mother to protect her children from such a monstrous event never occurred to the defendant Maria Fabregas. She was negligent from the very first moment her eldest son, Cristiano, attempted to hit either of her youngest sons and she remained passively silent. As a result of her continued silence over many years of abuse, she has only become more and more negligent and derelict in her duties as a mother. Senora, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Maria’s lip trembled more as tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. Her entire body trembled and slumped in defeat.

“As for the other defendant, Cristiano, your behavior and actions toward your brothers and any sort of authority at all it seems, is appalling and at the very least criminal. What your mother’s silence has done, you have only encouraged. Words cannot express how disgusting of an individual you must be to injure your own family in such a monstrous way.”

Cristiano’s eyes remained dark and unaffected by the judge’s words.

“I will now pass sentence.” The judge began collecting the papers into one messy pile.

“For the defendant, Maria Fabregas, this court finds you guilty of gross negligence, child abuse, endangerment of your children, and failing to report abuse. You are sentenced to no less than twenty years and no more than forty in prison.”

Maria’s eyes widened and her body arrested its shaking before her knees gave way and she sank heavily to lean on the table.

“For the defendant, Cristiano Fabregas, this court finds you guilty of child abuse, personal assault, knowingly endangering the welfare of children, harassment, and gross negligence. You are sentenced to no less than forty years in prison and no more than your lifetime.”

Cristiano’s body stiffened as the judge’s words sank in. His eyes grew completely black while his fists clenched by his side.

“As for the two victims in this case, I am truly sorry for the crimes that has been committed against you. It is of little comfort I’m sure, but this court finds it necessary to grant permanent custody of both Cesc and Bojan Fabregas in the care of their uncle, Pep Guardiola.”

Cesc’s shoulders slumped in relief at the judge’s final words. His eyes closed as the emotion overtook him. He could hear several things with his eyes closed and he could only imagine what was going on just beyond his eyelids.

He could hear shouts that sounded like Cristiano and the scuffle from the front of the courtroom. He could hear Pep and Raul promising both he and Bojan a better life and all the things they would be able to achieve now. He could hear the shuffling of feet as the crowd left the courtroom. He could hear the cold detached tone of Mourinho come up to Pep and tell him that he ‘owed him one’. The last thing he really heard was the sound of his own heartbeat and his own breathing.

For the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time ever, Cesc fully registered the first beats of freedom.

---

I made an effort to try and find how Spanish courts proceeded about things. I found nothing, so I had to go with what little I knew of the subject, and yes, that is from an American perspective. I realize that this entire scene is out of reality and not accurate with Spanish courts, but I did try and couldn’t find anything substantial to base this scene on. I apologize for that lack of knowledge right now.