"I'm here...if...when..." he whispers back reaching for my hand once more ...

To anyone observing this exchange, his statement would sound garbled, incomplete, almost nonsensical...but to me, it means everything...it means he really is my friend...it means he knows, and accepts, what happened, for exactly what it is...and it means that he doesn't want to hide from the hard words that I can't quite stomach yet...

Warm tears start to stream down my cheeks once more...as I begin to really understand, that not only is he trying to be my friend, he wants to try to support me through this...and I know how rare that is...

I'm silently pleading that he doesn't hug me now...because as much as I crave the physical contact, I'm not sure I could even hope to hold myself together, if I feel his arms pulling me to his chest...so I reach my second hand across me, lightly patting his arm, hoping he can somehow understand...

A few moments pass in an oddly, comfortable, silence, broken only by my sniffles or soft sobs...

There are no words for this moment, and we both seem to recognize it.

It's clear from the way his brow is furrowing, and his teeth are worrying his lip that he wants to ask am I ok, but he appears to understand the futility of the question...and tries to content himself with just holding my hand...

When I finally regain some control, I need to find something to change the direction of our conversation...I'm struggling for anything to defuse the now, impossibly high-expectation laden silence...

"I told Barba, I want to go back to work..." I announce, seemingly out of nowhere...

He takes a deep breath, swallowing down his own confused emotions and trying to process the sharp change in subject; "Do you need to do anything...legally...before...?"

I just shake my head slightly..."...Just call the boss..."

I try to make it sound like a simple task, but in truth, I'm almost as terrified of this supposedly, straightforward call, as I am of actually going back...

For a moment we wordlessly, battle the unwanted images of our last day of working together...both trying not to think of the person sitting beside us as an echo of that horror...

"Ok...so when do you want to go back?" he asks gently...

"I need a few more days...for the bruises to fade..." I unthinkingly, touch my face, thinking only of the clearly visible marks...

"Maybe...you should see your doctor...make sure that...get medical clearance...?"

His worry is plastered all over his face...and it becomes very clear to me, that he is still uncertain about how many injuries, possibly much more serious, than the yellowing discolorations that stain my face, hide behind my layers of loose clothing...

"My doc cleared me...for 'light' work...If I'm honest, I'm grateful, it helps ease me back in..."

I can see he is struggling with the idea that I am really ready to return...and I try to put his mind at ease...

"I know you are worried, and I know sometimes I've been known to push myself too hard, to ignore injuries or illnesses..."

The look he gives me screams that he thinks 'sometimes' is a huge understatement...

"...but I'm really not doing that...I am still carrying some injuries...but they're healing...my ribs...they were just bruised...and like all the other bruises...they're mending... and fading..."

I try to leave it at that, but he is almost holding his breath in anticipation of finally hearing some of the damage he feels he failed to prevent, and I slowly, begin to appreciate that he has his own questions he needs answered...despite them being as yet, unasked...

I try to push myself, to tell him some of the things he appears to need to know... to return some of the comfort he has given me...

"...There were some..." I start,but I can't find the words to describe the wounds, and he already looks sickened...

"You don't need to hear this...I'm healing...I'm ok..."

He nods his head gently, "I know...it must be so hard...to say...to catalogue them...to remember...and I'd give anything for them not to have happened...but...the things...I'm imagining..." he falters once more...his plea sinking into silence...

"I guess there's a lot I'm finding hard to say..." I quietly admit...as I take a deep breath

"... There were some...grazes...scrapes and scratches...on my arms, my legs, my back...from the concrete... rubbing..."

I can't look him in the eye, my cheeks already, burning bright with embarrassment.

"...other cuts...scrapes...nothing that needed more than steri-strips..." I try to assure quietly...

"Friction burns...?" I hear him choke...

I still can't look at him, as I struggle with his words...I want to say no, to call them something without the connotations...but eventually, I reluctantly, nod...

Even though I studiously avoid eye contact, I can hear his hand rubbing the light stubble on his face and the staggered sigh that escapes his mouth...I know without ever seeing them, tears are gathering in his eyes, and he is fighting really hard to hold them back...

I want to stop...to save him...and me...

But maybe the downside of the truth becoming easier to speak is that sometimes, it finds it's own way out regardless...

"I didn't want it...he hurt me...inside..."

It's scarcely an admission of any sort, the sobbed words barely making sense, their volume making them hardly audible, even in the quiet apartment...but it's the first time I've said it out loud...the first time I've made any attempt to admit my physical injuries...

It is not liberating, or empowering...the confession does nothing to restore any semblance of control or power...it just hurts...the emotional pain piling on top of the physical, as my body seems to fold in on itself...

I can hear John move from the chair on my right, onto the coffee table before me, tenderly taking my hand in his...trying to whisper comforting words to me, even as his voice is breaking with the weight of his own tears...

There is no thought behind my action, just a desperate, primitive, need for to feel less...alone... as I almost fall into his arms, sobbing...

Once he feels me relax into his embrace, he carefully moves to sit beside me, holding to me, as tight as I am to him...I can now feel his tears as they drop down onto me...until I have nothing left...

As he cradles me carefully against his chest, I hear a soft whisper, "Are you ok?"

I can only nod...

"I'm sorry for pushing you..." he says quietly...

"Maybe I need to be pushed a little?" I find myself whispering...as I begin to pull away from him.

He slowly, lets me go, gently releasing his arms from around me, but he doesn't seem uncomfortable or awkward as he stays sitting beside me...our legs still touching...the silence is not uneasy, but there seems to be no way to fill the quiet, no subject that would sit naturally into it. Every sentence that crosses my mind seems out of place, every word incongruous...

"I don't know what to say..." I finally admit softly.

He smiles at me sadly, "Me neither..." so we just try to relax into the calm, both lost in our own individual thoughts.

There is no expectation from him, I don't feel like I need to talk, to pretend that I am ok...he is there for me...just sitting with me...

"You're exhausted and it's getting late...!" he finally murmurs as he stands up, starting to tidy away the remains of dinner.

I try to deny it, but he draws my attention to the increasingly frequent yawns, and my heavy eyelids that, even now, are creeping ever lower...

"I hardly do anything, and yet...I'm so tired...all the time" I finally admit...

He just nods sympathetically, putting the leftovers in the fridge, scraping the remnants of our dinners into the bin...

"Just leave them!" I tell him as he stacks the dishes beside the sink and starts to fill it with water...

He seems to momentarily consider whether to ignore me, but decides to do as I ask, coming to stand before me again...

"Will you sleep?" he questions gently.

I nod back, "for a while anyway..."

He looks around the apartment, before running his hand across his chin.

"I'll let you get to bed, or else you're going to wake up there!" he is smiling at the way I have curled into the arm of the couch.

"Come on!" he encourages again, as he walks to the door, pulling across the chain and clicking off the lock...

I reluctantly drag myself up off the couch, as he opens the door, "I'm gonna stay outside til I hear you lock the door...give me a call tomorrow?"

I nod, yawning once more, as he steps out of my apartment, "John..." I call out, waiting for him to turn and look at me... "Thank you..."

The words don't feel even remotely, enough, but I hope he can see how much I mean them...I barely have time to see the big smile that greets my words before he leans back in, to wrap me into a warm, tight, hug.

As unexpected as it is, it is very welcome and I try to return the gesture, happily realizing that I hardly flinched at the sudden contact...

"You need sleep!" he reminds me as he steps back into the hallway, "Lock up and I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

I nod again; my soft "Night" partly obscured by a yawn, as I close the door and once more slide the chain across and turn the lock.

I hear a very quiet "Sleep well!" from the other side of the door, before he moves away.

Only minutes later, I'm slipping between the sheets of my bed.

I'm emotionally wrung out, from trying to balance the pain that seems to constantly sit in my chest, but runs much deeper than my still aching ribs, with the sense of relief that some of the words have finally clawed their way out, and he wasn't disgusted...

The pain scale the doctors used in the hospital to assess my physical injuries just can't be applied to the... weight, that seems to be pushing down on me now...this pain is no less but it can't be reduced by a few pills...and I have no concept of the recovery time on this...injury...

I could see as we talked tonight, how deeply affected, by what happened, John is...and in some strange way, it goes a long way in confirming how truly horrific it was...the fact that he was so upset by it, almost gives me permission to feel some of the things I had felt were out of proportion before...

But despite his own feelings, he didn't really treat me very differently...sure, he was a little more cautious...a little more careful...but that was to be expected...I didn't get the "pity eyes" I was so sure would be a part of every exchange...maybe he really can see a snippet of the person behind it all...maybe she isn't gone?

Even with all the emotional upheaval it begins to feel like maybe this was actually a good day...

I should have known, that life doesn't work like that though...that the tormentors are never far away...that a step forward doesn't leave anything behind in the past...but yet, when barely an hour passes that I don't wake up, terrified, fighting off an invisible force, I am completely devastated...

It is just one more, unwanted, un-needed reminder that this is not going away...that all the emotions, the memories, I am so desperate to forget and leave behind me, are going nowhere...

When the sensations feel so real that I struggle to believe that it isn't happening again now, I flee back to the couch...and I can no longer really believe there is a route back to who I once was...

I don't want this to change me...

I don't want to be forever, someone different...some empty shell of what I once was...because of him...it feels like after everything, this would be his biggest victory...

The nightmares that have once more, driven me, from my bed, have ensured that no matter how exhausted I am, I won't sleep any more tonight...and I find myself scouring the TV channels for some appropriate viewing to distract me from the glacial advancement of the clock...

I'm afraid to watch a mystery or drama of any description; even though they had previously been my choice of TV show, for fear of anything that may heighten my already nervous state...

I've become over-sensitized to any form of violence, no matter how far removed from my experience it may be...so, in an attempt to escape any potential triggers, I have become a huge fan of cookery shows...I know I will never seek out any of the restaurants shown, or taste any of the outrageous foods that make me smile, but it is an escape from a much less palatable reality...and I see the hours of darkness slowly, pass into the early light of morning, curled up in a quilt...

The day seems to stretch out unendingly, in front of me...I have no where to go, nothing to do...and no energy or interest, in braving the world in general...

The phone summons me from where I threw it on charge, when all the nonsensical games I played to while away the hours since dawn, drained the battery, and I'm disappointed to see it is still only a little after eleven am...

It is Olivia calling and I hesitantly answer, always aware that each call from her, could be the one to inform me, that my case has fallen through...

"Hello?"

"Good morning. I hope it's not too early to call?"

I assure her it's not, trying not to draw any attention to how many hours I have already been up...

"If it's ok, I just wanted to check in, about you going back to work...I know Barba explained the restraining order, but if you have any problems, at all, you can talk to us, we'll do all we can to help..."

I'm sure that this isn't strictly her responsibility, and it means so much to me that she is trying to show support for me...

"Thank you..." I begin, as a huge yawn forces me to stall, "...I really appreciate the offer!"

There's a moment of silence before she quietly asks, "Did you sleep at all last night?"

I silently curse myself for the yawn that gave me away.

"A bit..." I cautiously assert.

"Nightmares?" is the only word I hear in response...

I can't bring myself to lie...but before I can formulate an acceptable answer, I find myself pleading "How much longer will they last?" instead.

She doesn't directly answer my beseeching query, preferring rather, to pivot to how perhaps talking to someone may help reduce their intensity and frequency of ...

"Have you given any more consideration to maybe seeing a therapist?"

I'm so exhausted that I'm ready to consider anything at this stage...and her reluctance to answer my question, leads me to believe that maybe they can't be expected to disappear any time soon..."Maybe...I've been talking to John, and perhaps it is helping..."

I can almost hear her smile in her next words, "I know it's not easy, to talk about it all...but some of the things we can't put into words, find their way into nightmares?"

This blatantly obvious comment nearly floors me. Is this not exactly what has been happening? All the things I have fought so hard to keep at bay during the day, force their way out when my brain relaxes ...all the fears, the worries, the memories, play out when sleep doesn't allow me to deny them...

"But last night, John...I met up with him...it was the first time...but it was so much better than I had thought...it is hard...and awkward sometimes...and there are some things we still haven't talked about...but for once it felt like maybe...it was getting a little better..."

She quietly finishes for me, "But last night, the nightmares were worse..."

I can't help the sigh that accompanies my soft acknowledgement..."Yeah...they were really bad..."

"I don't know why, but it seems to happen like that...and it feels so devastating...but it is progress..."

In my current state of exhaustion, I'm struggling to see this as any form of progress, but I trust her...she has always been honest with me, and she really understands so I try to just accept her words until I can believe them...

"I had been avoiding seeing John...and there were a few...incidents...but...we even laughed a little...and we talked some more...he needs to talk almost as much as I do...you were so right!"

Once more I can hear the smile behind her words... "You can help each other...but you can't feel responsible for him...you didn't hurt him, he was hurt when you were... but not by you!"

I find myself incredibly grateful to hear these words said out loud to me...despite knowing the truth of them, I can't help feeling guilty that he is also dealing with some of this...

"Thank you..." I whisper... "Maybe I can try to see the nightmares as less of a failure..."

"They're not a failure!" she assures me.

I know it's still early in the day, but I'm already exhausted...and her words seem to give me the permission I need, to give in to my body's demand for rest...

"I hardly slept last night, I think I'm going to take a nap..."

"Good" she says softly, "I know how hard it can be, but try not punish yourself, you're not failing...try to look after yourself..."

I never though of it like that, but that's almost, what I had been doing...I couldn't sleep through the night, so I was punishing myself...by making myself try to get through the day without the sleep I so greatly need...instead of allowing myself to sleep when I can...

So desperate was I, to deny the impact of what happened, I couldn't allow myself to need recovery time...instead I tried to pretend that I had just had a sleepless night...never allowing myself, even the small concessions I would routinely make when I had a small injury, a minor illness...even just a series of long, sleep deprived work days... for instance; a morning in bed, an afternoon nap...even the comforting relief, of a hot water bottle...

"Thank you Olivia... I appreciate it...once again, you have really helped me..."

"Good, I'm very glad...We'll be in contact...Sleep well!"

"I will...Goodbye!"

Now, when I slip back between the cool sheets of my bed, with the sun streaming in onto me, it doesn't feel like yet another immense failure...it feels like slipping into bed after a long night at work, when, despite the hour, sleep is a necessity...a reward for the previous night's hard slog...

Now, my night was spent differently, but the exhaustion that weighs down my limbs is no less ...

As I lie in bed I can't help but consider, that maybe meeting John face to face, and some of the things I managed to admit, to him and to myself... were indeed progress.

I allow my tense muscles to relax and my eyes to drift closed...hoping all the while, for no further reminders of horrors, to disturb my slumber...

A/N Thank you so much to LittleFlatts and to Aneotek for the very kind follows, they mean a lot!

Intala; Thank you so much for all 5 reviews! It meant so much that you took the time to review each chapter as you read them! I was worried that Olivia sharing her experience even in the most vague way would be too much, and I also love the way John is trying to support her...I have a sneaking suspicion he has gotten some advice somewhere! I think I'd quite like a 'John' myself!

Shootthephoto;Thank you so much, I do think that it becomes easier to talk the more you do it, but the caveat to that is sometimes things you had not intended to say can fall out of your mouth too...
It meant so much that you truly understood how the discussion with John seemed to be up and down and a little hysterical at points...she really was trying to be strong and 'normal'...but normal isn't what it was...and I quite like the imperfection of that exchange and how they negotiate their way through it...
And I do agree that realisations seem to come very much out of the blue...and it can often be something relatively small that prompts a perspective shift...It is not easy to accept the enormity of what can be minimised into a relatively simple act(especialy in our own heads)...maybe that's why it can take so long to really come to terms with an assault and its effects...

Guest; Thank you so much, every chapter worries me that I've lost my mind...or perspective...

MrsChilton; I quite often feel when watching SVU that we see Barba's DA mode slip slightly when we see him deal with victims and I love the care he shows...I know that the conversation with John was a little fragmented and very up and down, but I suppose as I said to shootthephoto, it is trying to accept and learn to live with a new reality...I think that many people don't know what to say in a situation like this and I love that John is trying, and that he is making mistakes...I really don't think he sees her very differently but he knows to some degree how badly hurt she has been, and sometimes his hesitation and worry gets on top of him...but at the end he just sees his friend...And I completely agree that allowing John into her house was a huge leap of trust...Thank you