A/N Thank you for another review. It really means a huge amount to me that you take the time. As I said before I wish Forgiving Rollins had been 6 hours long. It has just caught my imagination so much. Please continue to let me know what you think?


Concentrate Rafael.

This should not be taking so long….

My hand reaches up unconsciously to rub my tired eyes. I knew that sleep wouldn't come easily immediately after Rollins' disclosure, but still I find myself unable to leave the memories behind when the day ends and sleep awaits.

It's like my conscious mind looses control when the fringes of sleep start to descend. It's in that semi-waking state that the niño comes to the fore, with all his worries and fears.

I have not heard from her since before the plea deal with Patten.

My resolve to not make a scene or treat her any differently is decimated the first day after, when I noticed her absence. Trying desperately to not be obvious in my concern I asked Liv, "Is Rollins not…?". I haven't got a clue how to finish the question, but thankfully Liv saves me from grappling for the correct words when she tells me that she has taken some time off.

I meet her sad brown eyes, searching for some further information. Was she ok? Does she feel betrayed? By the deal? By me…?

As these feelings of guilt and inadequacy start to bubble up, I look away.

I had failed again.

I didn't need to see the disappointment in those beautiful brown eyes.

Again, it was like she knew my innermost thoughts and she leads me around her office desk to the couch, placing her hand gently on my arm.

She waits patiently until she has my eyes again.

"I don't know Rafael…" she sighs "She is so…." And here she falters. I try to interpret what word she may be grasping for, but I just have no clue and realize I cannot hope to anticipate. This is not a conversation we can have silently. Nods, looks and sighs will not be enough to say what needs to be said now.

As if we have both understood the need to talk, we sit back into our seats on the small couch. I pull open my tie and collar, in a tacit understanding that this is going to require opening up, something I do not excel at.

She sighs frustratedly, still searching the word to describe Rollins. "She is so….closed off", she settles on.

I tilt my head gently to one side questioningly.

"I tried to talk to her. I know this must be so hard for her. I can imagine if Harris….." She wavers again but this time she is the one who looks away.

I anxiously rifle my memory for Harris.

Not her ex-partner. Not a friend or ex-lover as far as I know. I can't remember a case…. I'm drawing a blank…..

I look to her for an explanation silently cursing my stupidity.

Her body language is all wrong…. Her head is down…Her eyes are glassy and I can't tell if she is lost in memories of the past or battling the wetness that has appeared in those brown pools.

Oh god!

A weight starts to press on my chest, making my breathing instantly ragged. An invisible hand choking my throat lightly, realization starts to break.

No! Not again…. Not her…..I can't….

I can feel the wetness gathering in my eyes, as a storm starts to batter my insides, surprisingly ferocious in its speed.

The wetness slowly leaks out, and slides gradually down her right cheek.

"Liv…." I plead huskily, struggling to keep my own emotions controlled,

"Liv…."I repeat, refusing to say another word until she looks at me again.

She sniffs gently, whether unaware or uncaring of its presence, another tear begins its journey down the right side of her face. She looks up to me from her slumped position.

"Liv, who is Harris?" I gently question.

She tries to look away but I follow her gaze with my eyes, not allowing her to break away.

"I went undercover…..years ago….in a prison…" she starts to whisper, "god it was nothing! So insignificant in comparison to Lewis, and what Amanda suffered….".

She looks to me, almost waiting on a question. I just nod gently, almost giving her permission to just keep talking. The turmoil inside me doesn't allow me to speak.

She seems to draw strength from somewhere deep within as she continues, "We knew that someone was raping inmates in Sealview Correctional Facility. I went undercover. I thought I knew who it was,…there was a disturbance, one of the COs started to take me to the hole, I thought he was saving me. I didn't realize he was the ONE. I didn't notice we were going the wrong way….".

I inhale sharply. The weight on my chest preventing me from taking a deep breath. I watch the tears slowly free themselves now from both her eyes as I struggle to stop my own.

"There was a mattress. He beat me. He was going to… Fin got there in time. He had his pants down, he was about to force his…" a sob escapes her lips, and her image is distorting kaleidoscopically through my pent up tears, as I feel the first one break down my cheek, "his,... his...…into my mouth. But Fin saved me. He got there in time."

With this admission her head drops.

"Oh Liv" tumbles out of my mouth before I can think.

She looks back at me and I realize we both now have a steady stream of tears plummeting down our faces.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" I probe as gently as I can.

She just shakes her head.

I stretch out my hand, just resting it on her upper arm, wanting her to feel my presence without invading her space.

"I've wondered so many times over the years if I did the right thing? He was in prison anyways but I always tell myself I would never have left someone else to unknowingly fall victim to him….but….I don't know." The words just tumble out of her now.

I clear the massive lump from my throat as I attempt to put some of the wild thoughts careering through my head, into words.

"Liv, you know this was NOT your fault. Right?" She nods less than convincingly.

"He was a predator and I'm assuming you played a part in his incarceration?" again she just nods in response.

"Usually there is only one way to ensure a predator does not escape to hurt again, Liv, this time there was a second option. You took it. You tried to protect yourself…..you did nothing at all wrong...I just hope you didn't have to deal with it all on your own."

This time she answers, very quietly, whispering, "I did talk to a therapist".

"Good. I'm glad." I murmur back, struggling to voice the thoughts barraging me.

Now she tries to wipe away the tears that have laid a path down her face. She looks at me self consciously, until she sees my tear streaked face mirroring her own. She smiles tightly and shrugs her apology, leaving them instead.

Again she seems to find a reserve of strength as she breathes deeply, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I understand how hard it is. To keep a secret, like that. The guilt it brings. How it can literally stop you living…."

She looks to me, to see that I am still following her train of thought….

"She is so closed off. She has spent so long hiding this completely. I don't think she ever told anyone. Or got any help….." her voice dwindles off at this thought.

"I can't imagine what hell she has gone through for the last five years", I finally find my voice, barely recognizing it's sound.

She shakes her head thoughtfully.

I push myself to keep voicing my thoughts uncensored. "He was a police officer, her superior. I don't know how she continued to be a police officer, never mind an SVU detective."

She nods in agreement.

"So much about her makes more sense now….." I tense slightly, worried these words should not have escaped my lips.

She sighs again and nods gently. "Maybe if I had been more open and welcoming when she first started, we would have had a better relationship….."

I can't let her take any blame in this at all, "No, Liv, you know that she probably needed to keep a distance to be able to function."

"I know" she croaks miserably. "I just feel so helpless. I want to help her. I'm just not sure that even with all my experience, that I know how…..".

Her brow furrows in frustration and silence fills the air as we both sit considering….

No easy answers are forthcoming.

We keep looking to each other in the hopes of some divine inspiration striking the other, because the deafening silence in our own heads is soul destroying.

When I can no longer stomach the silence I suggest just talking through the problem, in the hope that we can find our solutions that way.

She nods eagerly, clearly as discouraged with her own lack of insight as I am.

I blow out a lungful of air, "Ok, so we want to help her, but she is very closed off. So big involved conversations probably are not our first choice?..."

She chews her lip pensively, "She won't want to be 'handled'….". Even with the situation as it is, I can't help raising an eyebrow in her direction.

She lays her two hands out, shrugging gently "Yeah, I DO recognize the sentiment, Counselor." She silently challenges me to question her further, smiling when I wisely opt to say no more.

The moment of levity is forgotten rapidly as we return ourselves to our conundrum.

"Do you think she knows she has our full support?...Really knows?" I venture after a few moments.

"No... I don't think so. Not really." She counters, "I think she probably believes we have to be seen to be supporting her, but at a guess,….." she looks to me pointedly, "…..well more from personal experience really, I think she feels unworthy of the support. So she can't allow herself to believe it."

Her words send my stomach tumbling, their force smashing into me full force. My waiting words lodge unspoken in my throat. I feel my face fall, my mouth dropping open, gasping fish-like as I wrestle to comprehend their meaning.

How little I really understood this crime until now, flashes across my mind again.

I know I need to say something now, but it has to be the perfectly right thing. The metaphorical tumbleweed blows across my brain again. I am speechless. It is not a feeling I am used to. My brain battles valiantly but I slowly grasp that these words will never come from my brain. These need to come from my heart, this is not a rational feeling for me and I start to sweat as I disengage the controls on my mouth, allowing my heart push whatever words it chooses out my dry lips.

"Liv, you know that you deserve every support possible, so does she. This is just another of those feelings that come from what happened."

She nods shyly but it feels like she is doing what is expected, rather than I have convinced her.

I scrunch my forehead trying to identify the source of this feeling, after an assault. "I don't really understand it, Liv. I'm lucky, I've never had to live it but…"

I can see I have her full, if tentative, attention now.

God Rafael, don't screw this up now!

"It has to be hard to really BELIEVE what has been forced on you. I guess that in a struggle for to win control back in anyway, maybe you try to take on some of the responsibility for it. No matter how much you know you shouldn't, you equate the sexual assault forced on your body with the only thing you can, a sexual act, and somewhere in the mix of emotions, you can't help feeling you sent out some kind of signal that invited it. Because otherwise why you and not someone else?..."

My inspiration runs out here, and I chance a glance in her direction now.

I am devastated to see her silently sobbing.

OH GOD! What have I done?

What was I thinking? This was not the time for pysch analysis 101.

But before I can start trying to take it back, desperately pleading for her to forgive my stupidity, she starts to nod, shaking her head, sniffling and gulping in a couple of deep breaths.

"That's pretty much exactly how it feels…." Another dry sob….

"I could never put it into words but that's pretty much exactly how it feels…..like no matter how well you know it's a control thing not a sex thing, it still feels like it has to be a sex thing….that your body has to have somehow betrayed you even more than you know. That on some level you had to have some part in it…."

She has started to calm down.

"It's why it's so confusing to feel so filthy, so used, so guilty….." the last words whispered so quietly, I wouldn't have heard them if I wasn't so close.

I nod in pained understanding. How much of this has she been holding inside all this time? Does it date back to Lewis, or even further back to Harris?

This time no words are necessary. I just carefully reach an arm loosely around her shoulders. She leans into me, into the loose hug.

The exhaustion that hits us now is nearly insurmountable as it occurs to us that we alone cannot help her enough. We can try and do everything we can think of but some feelings are so deeply locked inside that she needs to unlock them first before she can change them.

I can hear her breathing evening out now and she sits up straighter, I take this as my cue to remove my arm from her shoulders.

"I'll try to talk to her when she comes back."

"And I will keep telling her I am here WHEN she wants to talk." I add immediately.

She nods her agreement. "And I know the guys are eager to help in any way that they can…, she doesn't know it yet but she has a whole squad of people who want to help her. She was alone in Atlanta, horribly alone. Here she has a family…..".