The next night, Olivia was on a stakeout with Elliot, and Alex went to bed alone. One more cut to add to the ribbon of red on her arm, and then she cried herself to sleep, crossing her arms over her chest and pretending it was Olivia holding her.

The call came at 4:22, from Elliot rather than Olivia, and Alex tried not to feel hurt. "Alex," he said simply. "We got them. We need you down here."

Alex knew exactly what he meant and her heart stopped for a moment. She tried to make her voice as strong as possible. "I – I'll be there in ten." She really wanted to ask if she could talk to Olivia, but she knew Olivia wouldn't want to talk to her.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt to hide the deep red cuts on her arm, then thought the better of it and put on a business suit. Who knew how long they'd be at the precinct, arguing with scumbag defence attorneys and trying to pressure these monsters into a confession? Her body subconsciously started to tremble at the mere thought of seeing these men, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle it.

But, as she'd told Olivia, she had to do her job.

She hailed a cab – which unsurprisingly wasn't difficult at 4:30 in the morning – and told the driver to take her to the precinct. The ride lasted forever, yet it ended too soon. She climbed out of the car, paid the driver, and pushed herself up onto slightly shaky legs. She tried to stop her body from trembling as she went inside.

Elliot met her in the squad room. He looked exhausted, but he greeted her with a wan smile. "Hey, Alex."

She managed a half-smile back. "Where's Olivia?"

He gestured toward one of the interrogation rooms. "She's talking to them. She told me to come out here and wait for you." He rolled his eyes. "I told her you'd be able to find your own way in, but that Olivia. She loves you, Alex. You're lucky."

She was lucky. "She shouldn't be in there alone!" Alex cried.

Elliot gave her a strange look. "She's fine." He stared at her for another moment, then said, "Shall we?"

Alex nodded, folding her hands in a futile attempt to alleviate their shaking. She followed Elliot into the interrogation room.

Olivia looked up when she saw them. "Elliot," she ordered. "Leave."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was –"

"Do as I say," she snapped, and Elliot raised his hands in surrender before complying.

Alex glanced at the two men in the room and involuntarily started to shiver. One was tall, well-built with dark hair and cold, cold eyes. The other was skinny and not as dark as his partner, but just as frightening. Neither looked particularly concerned with anything either the detective or the ADA might have to say.

"Ah," said the first man – his name was Jonathan Smythe – fondly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "Alexandra."

Olivia clearly noticed how Alex's frail body was shaking at his statement, because she snapped, "This is ADA Cabot."

Smythe shrugged, gesturing to Alex. "Detective Benson, you should really arrest this one here, not us. She's the one who raped you after all."

Alex forced herself to be calm. She had to be strong. She would not show these men her fear. And she was the one in control now. Not them. Her.

"She did no such thing," said Olivia calmly. "And we're not here to discuss that."

The second man – Alan Granger – raised an eyebrow. "You mean you didn't tell anyone what 'ADA Cabot' did to you?"

"She didn't do anything to me," replied Olivia. "You did."

"She can't even talk for herself," said Smythe, smirking. "'ADA Cabot,' you raped someone. Does that make you feel good?"

Alex managed to ignore their taunts. She turned to Olivia. "Did they waive Miranda?"

"Their lawyer is on her way."

"So we shouldn't be talking to them."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "We're not. They're talking to us. We're just listening."

Alex sighed. She didn't really want to make that distinction, because she knew it wouldn't go over well with the men's lawyer, but she didn't have the energy to argue right now. So she just nodded mutely.

The door to the interrogation room opened and a woman neither Alex nor Olivia knew entered. "Out," she ordered. "My clients invoke their rights to remain silent."

"Hey, no, we don't," said Smythe. "We were having such a lovely chat with these two lovely ladies."

"Lovely in every way," added Granger, grinning. He didn't say it aloud, but the implication was there, crude as ever.

Their lawyer gave them a disapproving look, then turned to Alex, holding out her hand. "Dana Lowenstein," she said shortly.

"Alex Cabot," Alex introduced herself in a clipped tone, shaking the other lawyer's hand.

Lowenstein pulled out a chair and sat down at the table beside her clients. "I highly recommend neither of you say another word."

Alex ignored her. "Both of you are being arraigned in a few hours, so if you have anything to say, say it now."

"You can't touch us," sneered Granger.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "We can and we will. We caught you in the act. We don't need you to say anything, but it may go better for you if you do."

"We never touched a woman."

"No, you made women touch each other."

"They wanted it."

"You held them at gunpoint!" exclaimed Olivia.

"And you know that because . . ." said Smythe with a smirk.

Olivia leaned forward. "You know what? Let's leave that for a moment. My real question is why?"

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why do you do it?"

"Because we hate you dykes."

Alex glanced at Olivia, quirking an eyebrow. "That sounded a lot like a confession to me."

"Me, too," agreed Olivia.

Lowenstein had clearly realized the same thing, because she looked pissed.

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