Summary:  Olivia discovers first hand what it is to be a victim, and the detectives of the SVU struggle to solve her case.  An old plot line with a new twist.  Olivia's POV.

Disclaimer:  I own Law & Order: SVU, and I'm raking in piles of money with this story.  *Laughs.*  Man, I have a great dream life….Translation:  don't own, don't know, don't sue.

A/N:  Plot bunnies have been run rampant in my head, and they finally held me at gunpoint and told me to start writing.  So here it is.  Let me know if I should continue.  The more feedback I get, the faster I write.  *Grins evilly.*

Broken

My eyelids felt like lead weights at first, and resisted my efforts to open them as I drifted into consciousness.  I shifted my weight as blurry shapes came into view, and heard a low moan as pain shot through my body.  By the time I realized that I myself had made the sound, the sharp edge of my desk had come into view, along with soft light from the window.  I was on the floor, next to my desk at work.  I was – I moved my arms – handcuffed to my desk, arms above my head.  And I was in pain.

Blinking groggily, I gingerly moved each body part, taking a mental inventory.  My hips, legs, arms, and wrists were sore.  Pain shot through one calf.  My jaw and neck ached.  And my nose was filled with the all-too-familiar acrid stench of blood.  Mine.  I lifted my pounding head, craning my neck towards the desk at my head.  My neck popped, and I couldn't decide if it caused more pain or more relief.  I twisted it again after taking stock of nearly-dried blood streaked across the side of the desk, and half-moaned as it popped again.  Once on the other side of my vision, I saw my hands, bloodied from cuts on my wrists, a result of the handcuffs or something else I couldn't tell.  Following the blood trail down my arms and taking in long gashes down my forearms, I decided it was both – my attacker...my attacker…had cut me.

As soon as the thought of my attacker crossed my mind, my senses went into overdrive and I flat-out panicked.  I jerked my head toward my feet, momentarily ignoring the pain, and realized I was naked and uncovered.  Blood covered from my thighs to my ankles, dried in rivulets where it hadn't been smeared across my skin.  I had been raped.  Raped.  Holy…oh, fuck fuck fuck fuckRaped.  I dealt with it on a daily basis, but rape had rarely been something I'd considered happening to me.  Sure, there were those times where a SVU detective would have the fleeting thought…what if something like this happened to me…or worse, to someone I care about.  But such thoughts were always quickly pushed out of my head as I made myself concentrate on the business at hand.  And it certainly wasn't a subject you'd want to get back to…so I never did.

Well, now it had.  And I was being pretty damn analytic about it, too.  Better not to get into the emotional side of it anytime soon, though, if I could help it.  I had to stay calm, get help, get…fixed.  Surely there was a way to fix this, make it go away.  Why couldn't life have one of those great "Edit/Undo" functions?  Dear Lord, I'd been raped.  What was I supposed to do?  I was past the threat of bleeding to death, but…I'd been raped.  What about the hospital?  There, handcuffed to a desk in a public building, albeit empty, the hospital seemed a world away.  Was I supposed to go to the police?  That was a joke.  I was the police.  Since I was a little girl, I couldn't remember feeling so helpless as I did then.

I allowed myself a moment to lay there, basking in self-pity, until I felt two tears, then three, roll down my cheeks.  I angrily wiped them against the available arm, probably smearing blood all over my face but frankly not caring.  I wasn't going to think about anything like that now.  Just think about what to do next.

First, handcuffs.  Get them off.  A quick search of items in reach came up lacking:  there was a box of police-issue latex gloves, a razor, which he'd evidently used to slice me up with, an empty condom box – the kind you buy in a gas station restroom – and a white rose in a vase, all neatly arranged to my right.  The perp was smart.  And neat.  To damn neat.  Pissed off at my lack of options and my earlier weakness, I lifted my right leg – the one that protested the least – and kicked the vase as hard as I could, sending it hurtling into a nearby desk.  I wanted to see it smash into a thousand little pieces, but it turned out to be plastic, and simply fell over and rolled away, pouring all of its water onto the floor beside John's desk.  I huffed furiously – plastic, it fucking figured – then forced myself to turn back to my options.

Nothing doing there as far as escape went.  I tugged on the handcuffs, then my desk, though I knew from experience that it would be useless.  It hit me as mildly ironic that this time I was on the receiving end of the cuffs, though I was still the good guy here.

Alright, so I had to find another alternative.  There had to be something here that was blatantly obvious that I was just missing.  The phones?  Out of reach.  By far.  Unless I could do one of those lovely gymnastic moves where I pushed my feet into the air and balanced on my neck and shoulders, then pick the phone up and dial 911 blindly with my toes, the phone was not an option.  Oh wait, it wouldn't matter if I could do a candlestick in the first place.  I'd just realized that the phone was now on the other side of the desk.  How nice of him to leave me incapacitated.

I paused to take a moment to marvel at my ability to be sarcastic yet logical.

Wait…him.  Who was him, anyways?  And for that matter, what the hell happened?  And why couldn't I remember it?  Stress I assumed, or a drug.  But that didn't answer the first two questions.

What time was it?  The meager light from the windows was getting stronger by the moment, so it had to be sometime in the morning.  I couldn't spot a clock anywhere.  It was sometime, hopefully, right before help would come.

I blinked in realization.  Did I even want help to come?  What I really wanted was for this never to have happened – for it to have been just one vivid nightmare – but the best I could hope for would be to get myself out of this mess and clean myself up and forget about it.  Certainly, I didn't want anyone seeing me like this.  I didn't want strangers to see me naked, and I didn't want to face the fact that my friends and co-workers will look at me and know….

Why didn't he just kill me?  Did he try, and it not work?  Or did he leave me there to live?  A fate, I pondered, that was worse than dying?  Was this how my mother felt?  Was this how all the rape victims I dealt with every day felt at some point in time?  Would I feel differently later?  Would I ever be able to move past this, to get on with my life, or would it kill me slowly like it did my mother?  Would someone ever come and rescue me from my thoughts?

I didn't know how long I'd been laying in that position, but suddenly I felt very stiff, and exposed.  I slowly, painfully drew my legs up toward my desk, curling myself into as tight a ball as possible.  At the same time I pulled myself up, allowing my arms to bend for the first time in quite a while, and sighed in relief as I rolled my shoulders to ease the tension.  Lying my head on one arm, heedless of the now-dried blood, I sighed, resigned to waiting until something new happened.  Surely it wouldn't be that long of a wait.  I'd been sitting there unconscious for…who knows how long?  And then I'd been awake for quite a while, I knew.  It was only a matter of time before someone had to come in….  Right…?

Suddenly images of unscheduled department vacations and unanimous sick days took flight in my mind.  My eyes widened as I attempted to dismiss such thoughts as folly.  That had never happened before, and my bad luck wasn't strong enough to make it happen a first time.  I just had to wait, the SVU would be buzzing with activity soon after the first few people drifted in this morning.  Someone would come and make this all better, soon.  I just had to be patient.  Just wait.

Wait…just wait…just wait…I let the mantra fill my mind soothingly, and barely registered surprise as my eyes slowly drifted close into sweet oblivion.