Disclaimer: Characters, recognizable dialogue and Beast's Obsession storyline belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. Lyrics from 'Never Tear Us Apart' by INXS. Everything else is mine.

Chapter One: Of Hollow Men That Will Not Die

We could live
For a thousand years
But if I hurt you
I'd make wine from your tears

{Hi, baby, I'm back.}

Bolting upright in bed, Olivia tries to calm the racing of her heart. He's not here, he's not here, he's there. He can't harm you.

{ That's what you think}

God, that was one fucked up dream, she thinks as she gets out of bed, rubbing her eyes. Well, there's going to be no going back to bed now. But she's used to it. Long, long nights with very little sleep have become common since her ordeal with William Lewis and the trial. You learn to deal with jumping in your sleep, waking every couple of hours just to keep checking to see that your apartment is still secure.

Hyper-vigilance has become Olivia's best friend. Never again is she going to be caught unawares. Her pillow is less comfortable to rest on but it's better having the revolver there, just in case. Even though it did her absolutely no good last time, it gives her a little bit of security.

My dad wants me to get a gun.

Well, I carry a gun. And I've been assaulted. Twice.

Benson opens the kitchen cabinet and finds a half-empty bottle of red wine. It's a cabernet, her favorite, one that Rafael brought over just a couple days ago. She smiles as she thinks of him. Since the trial, they've become a lot closer. They've not slept together yet but he's giving her time. There's been a few times when they've come close but he's recognized that she's still pretty skittish and he's usually the one who puts the brakes on before they go too far.

"You'll know when you're ready, Liv. Right now, you're not."

"Goddammit, Rafael, don't you fucking tell me when I'm ready and when I'm not. Stick to your fucking day job."

"Yell at me all you want, Olivia, but I'm not going to take advantage of you." He'd said seriously.

But then because he's Barba, he added with a little smirk. "At least not yet."

He had pulled her into his arms, looked into her eyes with that intense look of his and had said, "Liv, I can wait."

"I'm not made of fucking china, Barba." She'd said, less heatedly this time.

"I know." He'd touched her chin. "But the shadow of William Lewis makes for an uncomfortable guest, doesn't it?"

Benson knows he's right. There are still nights she wakes up screaming; nights where her sheets are soaked with sweat. She thought they'd subside after the trial and, for a while, they did.

But lately she's been dreaming. Dreaming of Lewis standing over her, smiling weirdly, as if he knew something that she didn't. As if he was privy to something that she would sell her soul to know. She often finds herself in the bathroom in the middle of the night, dry heaving...wondering if she'll ever be okay.

Whether she'd ever be able to feel someone's hands on her body without trembling in fear.

Whether she'll ever be able to be normal again. Have normal relationships, have sex without the very thought of it making her cringe in horror.

She'd sighed but granted the point. He was right.

Healing takes time, Olivia.

And they'd gone back to making out like horny teenagers, which was always fun. As it turns out, spinning arguments in the courtroom isn't the only situation where Barba is adept with the use of his tongue. And his hands. Oh god, those hands. What began as a rather peculiar friendship with undercurrents of something else has firmly turned into something else.

He smells of safety, of peace, home and family. Everything she's wanted and never really has had a chance to have. Because she's given her life to the job.

Occasionally, when they're working together now, she has a hard time looking at him and not thinking about the things he does to her when they're off the clock. But she's professional enough to not let it affect her work. And the twinkle that's in his eyes when he sees her knows that he is fully aware of what's on her mind.

But both of them have kept it very quiet, whatever this thing is between them. Quiet and away from the speculation and gossip of the workplace.

No need to disclose until they absolutely have to. Because neither of them are really sure what this is.

But the nightmares and flashbacks? Those are a different story.

Liv resists the impulse to pour another glass of wine.

She has to be at work in several hours and she really needs to stop the drinking. It's 2 in the morning and she really needs more sleep. But just one more sip won't hurt, no one will ever have to know. Trying to shut out that nagging voice in her head, she starts to reach for a bottle of sparkling water instead. But that's not enough.

It's never enough.

So she reaches for the wine instead.

…..

I was standing
You were there
Two worlds collided
And they could never tear us apart

Dressed in comfortable black pants and blouse, Olivia throws on her trench coat and walks out the door. She's decided to stop by the little coffee place on her way to work. Maybe the espresso will be strong enough to mute the smell of the cabernet still lingering on her tongue. As she locks the door, she takes one last look at the bottle on the kitchen counter.

Don't do it, Olivia.

Walking down the street to catch a cab, her cell phone rings. It's an unknown number. Normally, she'd not pick it up but this is her work phone and it could be one of her detectives needing immediate assistance. So she clicks on 'receive call'.

William Lewis pops up in a FaceChat.

"Morning, sunshine." He smiles. "Missed you."

{ Did you miss me, Detective? Oh, wait...it's Sergeant now. You don't have to answer. I know you did.}

But before she could say anything, he abruptly hangs up.

Oh, God, not again. Not again.

What the fuck just happened?

Throwing her coffee into the nearest garbage, she starts making a few calls and the picture quickly becomes frighteningly clear.

William Lewis is out. At least one more person is dead.

And he's gunning for her.

As she reaches for her phone to call her squad, it suddenly vibrates in her hand from another phone call. She flinches and, with great effort, tamps down the bile in her throat. What if it's Lewis again?

Looking at the ID, she's both relieved and terrified to see that it's only Barba.

She's going to have to tell him.

"Benson," she says, more abruptly than she intended, trying not to let the fear show in her voice.

"Liv?" Barba's voice is strained and tense. "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to work." She says and starts to say, "Look, Barba..."

Before she could tell him, he interrupts. "Lewis. He's escaped."

"I know." She says quietly. "He called me."

"He what?" There's a quiet fury in his voice, an abrupt anger that he quickly controls. But there's also concern. Concern for her.

"Relax, counselor." Liv says quietly. "It wasn't anything."

"Dammit, Liv, that's not nothing." Benson can tell that it's taking a great effort for Barba to control his anger. But she knows it's not anger at her. It's anger at Lewis.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.

"What I mean is that it didn't last very long." She explains weakly.

"What did he say? Do you know where he is?" And now it's the prosecutor on the other end, firing questions like bullets.

"Rafael." Benson says firmly. "It isn't a big deal. He's just trying to shake me."

And it's working. But she's not going to let him see or know that. She's beaten William Lewis before, she'll do it again. But she doesn't need people treating her with kid gloves.

Especially not Rafael Barba.

"What did he say, Liv?" Barba's not going to give up but his tone is less tense.

"Only that he missed me. No big deal." She hates that there's a faint crack in her voice.

And, clearly, Barba hears it but doesn't make an issue. He knows there's nothing she hates more than to be excessively fussed over.

"Dinner tonight?" He switches gears abruptly.

"I don't know." She says. "This situation with Lewis... I need to get it under control."

"Understood." He knows when not to push. "I'll check in later. Stay safe, Liv." Despite her fear, Benson smiles faintly as she hears the concern in his voice. He has her back; he's always had her back.

Taking a deep breath, she walks into the squad room.

Let it rain.