Author's Note: So, I almost didn't put this chapter out this week, especially because I (feel) like I've been on death's door with a nasty bug (this is why you should visit your doctor when you're sick and contagious people, not your dentist.) Everyone knows doctors are assholes, anyways. Dentists are sweet and cuddly and we secretly love candy. Also we're likely to stab you painfully when you make us sick.

But failing to update would deprive me of the opportunity to torture my friend Sheepish.

Paybacks, my dear, are truly a bitch. Or maybe I am. Either way. Paybacks.

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Chapter 14

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It's a tongue worming it's way into her left nostril that wakes Amanda up, the detective snapping upright with a start, eyes flying open only to slam shut again as the bright light lances into her brain like an ice pick.

"Damn it, Frannie," Amanda groans, cradling her head in her hands as it throbs, pressing firmly on her temples to make the pain go away. It doesn't, not really. But it does lessen. A little.

A low chuckle erupts, and Amanda can't help but squint one eye open and pin its source with a angry glare. "Not helping, Liv." She jerks her head away as Frannie attempts to simultaneously lick and bite her nose.

Olivia is standing next to the bed, holding a bottle of Tylenol in her right hand and a glass of water in her left. Ordinarily Amanda would be extremely grateful but right now the pain is messing with all of her senses and making her extremely crabby.

"Sorry," Olivia says, not sounding all that sorry as Amanda takes the peace offering, scooping up the wiggling puppy and plopping her on the ground, nudging Frannie with her toe as the puppy attacks her sock. "We can try crating her again at night."

Amanda grunts, noncommittally, not sure much sleeping would be had with all the barking, tossing back the pain reliever and the water, polishing off the entire glass because she is so dehydrated. Her tongue keeps sticking to the roof of her mouth, and bracing herself against the sudden onslaught of pain, Amanda opens her eyes, wincing as she waits for the room to stop spinning. Olivia's visage comes into firm focus, the brunette now producing a bottle of water, and Amanda nods gratefully. "God, I love you," she forces out while Olivia passes it to her, downing the entire bottle before the room quits spinning.

"Bad?" The brunette asks, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed next to Amanda, hands gently resting on the edge.

Amanda doesn't need any prompting to know what Olivia is referencing.

"Pretty bad," Amanda's admits, trying to remember exactly how much alcohol she consumed the day before. She's damn lucky she made it back to the hotel room in one piece. God, she was such an idiot."I feel like I've been hit by a semi."

"That would seem about right," Olivia plucks at a piece of lint on her cream colored sweater, her mocha orbs leveling on the crease of her brown slacks. "You were pretty far gone when you got back." There's an undercurrent of tension beneath Olivia's words, the brunette's fingers digging lightly into the side of the bed.

Amanda's lips purse together, her eyes leveling on her blanketed legs. Memories of the previous evening, while disjointed, are trickling back into her consciousness. Stumbling back inebriated, throwing herself at Olivia, any one of the dozen or so times she woke up to puke her guts out, Olivia right by her side through all of it, holding her hair back, sometimes holding her.

Never complaining, not even once. Not even when she of all people has grounds to, both on personal and professional grounds.

Amanda's head drops in shame and humiliation. "I'm sorry." Light blue eyes rise to meet Olivia's, which have risen as well. They lock gazes.

"I was really worried, Amanda." Olivia's tone is quiet, contemplative, and that perhaps hurts worse than all the yelling in the universe. "You turned your phone off. All I could think about is that you could have been hurt, or killed, or..." the brunette's voice trails off. There's no need to highlight the 'or what'. They've both been working sex crimes long enough to know that there were some fates worse than death.

"I know," tears sting behind already puffy eyelids and Amanda wonders if she's on the verge of another breakdown. It seems like that's all she knows to do these days. "I'm sorry."

"Amanda, do you even understand how lucky you were to make it back here alive? Or what could have happened if you'd been stopped when you were driving back here?" Olivia shakes her head, the brunette clearly having spent her sleepless night deep in thought. "Do you know what would have happened if that casino had been raided with you in it? I can't fix something like that Amanda. Your career? It'd be over."

"I know," the blonde sniffs, her head turning to the side as her eyes fill with tears. She's been doing so well – now, her stupidity may cost her not only Olivia, but her shield also.

And sadly, she deserves it. All of it.

Amanda wipes her eyes, looking out the window at the grey winter sky, unable to meeting the recrimination she's sure she'll find in her lieutenant's eyes. "I deserve that," she clamps her lips together, choking back a sob. "I know you didn't sign on for this."

"No," comes the brunnette's admission, Amanda's heart clenching painfully at the acknowledgement. Long fingers reach out, turning her chin to meet Olivia's compassionate expression. "But I signed on for you," the brunette whispers softly. "And I'm in it for the long haul, if you'll allow it."

She can't fling herself into the brunette's arms fast enough, her heart racing, throat clogged thick with emotion. Olivia's arms slip around Amanda's waist, chin resting against the top of the blonde hair while the younger woman buries her face into the tanned neck, repeats her apologies through broken sobs until her voice is hoarse and her throat scratchy.

"Just promise me something."

At this point Amanda would promise to cut off her left tit if Olivia asks for it. Not that she would — she seems enamored by that particular part of her anatomy.

"No more gambling. And please call me before you decide to go on your next bender," Olivia's lips brush her forehead, thumbs reaching up to brush the remaining tears from underneath the younger woman's eyes.

Amanda can't stop the harsh bark of laughter that escapes her throat, even though it hurts like hell.

"Don't worry, I won't even think about something like this for another three decades." Amanda promises, just so fucking grateful Olivia isn't leaving her over this. The brunette grins, rising to her feet and tugging Amanda with her, both women sporting identical smiles when Frannie starts frantically licking the blonde's bare toes.

"Now go shower and brush your teeth," Olivia nudges the younger woman in the direction of the bathroom, "before even Frannie stops kissing you."

Amanda sticks her tongue out at the older woman but does as requested anyways.

By the time Amanda pads into the shared living area of the suite, dressed in a plain peach t-shirt and jeans, feet bare, and toweling off her long, blonde hair, there was a bowl of oatmeal and some dry toast waiting for her on the coffee table.

"Damn woman, but I love you," Amanda must have puked at least a week's worth of meals, and even though the thought of food turns her stomach she acknowledges the fact that she needs to eat something to absorb the liquor.

"I thought we'd start simple and see how you do," Olivia sets another glass of water and a bowl of assorted fruit down as well. Amanda picks up a piece of the toast, nibbling on it, dropping her towel on the ground.

Olivia is quick to swipe it up before Frannie pounces. "Amanda, geez!"

"What?" Amanda looks up at the brunette innocently. "It's a hotel."

"And your wet towels still leave wet spots on the carpet," Olivia grumbles, stomping towards the bathroom to deposit the towel there. Amanda fights back a grin. "It's no different from an apartment."

Amanda grins, nibbling tentatively at one of the pieces of toast and batting her eyes innocently at Olivia. "Which one?" She asks, knowing that they've already established a rule for that at both of their respective places.

Olivia gives her a look that tells her she'd better not press her luck.

They literally have nearly every evening since they started dating at each other's places. Amanda even has her own space cleared out in Olivia's closet and vise versa. For all intents and purpose, one could argue that they are living together. And Amanda can't say she hasn't actually given the idea some thought.

Actually, she'd love nothing more.

But it is a hell of a big step to make. Neither of them has ever lived with another person during their entire adult lives, and even though they've been sleeping together for the better part of five years, living together was a hell of a big commitment. Amanda has absolutely no idea what Olivia would even say on the topic and right now, she's still afraid to ask. They would be announcing their relationship to the entire world, and taking whatever the consequences are.

"Amanda!"

The blonde's head snaps down, her eyes widening as she realizes Frannie is nosing around her plate, pink tongue lapping out as she struggles to get at the toast.

"Frannie, no!" Pushing the dog aside, issuing the command in a firm tone, she grabs the nearest chew toy and tosses it into the other room, watching as the puppy bounces after it.

"Hey," Olivia frowns, taking a seat next to Amanda, amber eyes lit up in concern. "Are you ok? Is your concussion bothering you? Your stomach?"

Has it really only been a few days since her concussion? It seems like yesterday.

Suddenly drinking felt even more stupid.

"I'm fine," comes the standard reply, scooping a bit of the oatmeal and forcing it down, ignoring the roiling of her stomach. She looks over at Olivia, reassuringly. "Just thinking." She hesitates. "When did you do this?"

"Yesterday, when you were gone," Olivia grabs a mandarin orange, peeling it. "I had a feeling that – well, let's just say I thought it might be needed. Room service lets you leave a menu on the doorknob for the next morning."

Amanda nods, slowly feeding herself, waiting until the nausea passes from each bite before attempting another. God, getting hammered here in Atlanta is absolutely the dumbest stunt she's pulled since... since she last went undercover. God – and that wasn't even that long ago.

She's damn lucky Olivia didn't make her sleep out in the hallway.

"Liv, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I mean it... It's just with everything that has gone on with... Charlie and then my old squad and then..."

"I know," Olivia rests a hand on Amanda's, interrupting her before she can spiral down the rabbit hole. "Eat." The brunette nods, pulls over her laptop to review the latest email and case reports from the precinct.

Amanda nods, turning up the volume on the muted television to a low enough level to provide background noise and allow for the ladies to talk.

"Barba dropped by the precinct earlier." Olivia says, eyes scanning over one of her messages. "The bartender pled guilty. Case isn't even going to trial."

Amanda snorts, scooping another bite up. Her stomach seems to have calmed down somewhat, enabling her to eat some of the toast. Hopefully some of this would absorb the remainder of the alcohol. "Remind me to have the guards at Rikers give him my regards."

Olivia chuckles, shaking her head. The two women are quiet, absorbed in their respective tasks — Olivia in her duties as lieutenant, Amanda with her eating. Once Amanda finishes, she moves to the ground, working a little on training with Frannie Mae before throwing the ball until the puppy finally plops down in exhaustion.

Amanda crawls her way back to the couch, climbing onto the cushion and resting her head in Olivia's lap. "I'm surprised the girls aren't over here crawling all over Frannie," she says as Olivia traces her fingers lightly through her hair.

"I talked with their mom earlier and let them know you had a bit of a late night," Olivia murmurs, eyes never leaving her computer screen. "She's a little leery about letting them out of her sight anyways." A pause. "Truthfully she seemed a little distracted."

Amanda snorts, "Mother of the year, that one."

The brunette's hand stops tracing, and Amanda immediately braces herself for the inevitable questions, but instead Olivia resumes wordlessly about a minute later.

Amanda closes her eyes and sighs. "I saw my mom. It was the same damn thing it's always been with my mom, Liv — 'Kim this' and 'Kim that' and 'You didn't see that' and 'He didn't do that'," she inhales, "along with a few 'you're destroying the family again's' for good measure." Amanda keeps her eyes closed, because if she looks at Olivia again she's gonna start crying again and she has cried enough these past two days to last a lifetime.

Olivia leans down, pressing her lips against Amanda's forehead. "I'm sorry, baby." Amanda opens her eyes, meeting the brunette's fathomless gaze. Olivia understands, at least in part, some of what she's going through. Amanda doesn't speak — it still hurts too damn much. But then again, she doesn't need to, not with Olivia. The brunette's arm drapes across her belly, hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, tracing comforting, idle patterns across her skin.

It's all so very peaceful, and Amanda allows her eyes to drift closed, just savoring the tranquility of the moment. It was a long evening, and maybe she'll be able to catch a little rest before...

...a loud banging against the door shatters the calm, startling both women, Amanda yelps, jerking as the noise causes a sharp stabbing pain in her temples. Olivia's arm tightens around her waist, keeping Amanda from tumbling to the floor, though just barely.

"What the..." Olivia mutters as Amanda sits up, both women standing simultaneously as the banging repeats.

"Atlanta PD, we have a warrant."

Olivia and Amanda trade confused looks. Olivia gives her a questioning look, Amanda shaking her head. "I have no idea Liv," Amanda forces herself to a sitting position. "I really don't." she repeats. "I swear."

"On our way," Olivia calls out, closes the laptop, pushing to her feet alongside Amanda, the pair moving quickly to the door. She glances back to Amanda. "Let me answer it," her voice is laced with a hint of command, interposing herself between Amanda and the doorway.

The brunette opens the door, is about to speak when the door is pushed open, a folded set of papers slapped against her chest by one bull-necked detective while the another one follows, his eyes a little more sympathetic. Rounding out the group is a uniformed patrol officer who stands just inside the door, his face an emotionless mask, hand resting lightly on his service weapon.

"Excuse me?" Olivia seems outraged by the lack of common courtesy. "I'm Lieutenant Olivia..."

"Take that one," the first detective cuts her off, indicating the main bedroom. "I'll take the second one. We'll regroup and search the main areas last."

Amanda has a strange foreboding forming in the pit of her stomach. She knows at least one of these detectives, Matt, and he's a good cop. They've known each other since high school, went through the academy together. Last she heard, he had just started working homicide out of the sixth precinct.

"Matt?" Amanda frowns, stepping in front of the pair, blue eyes searching. Surely there is some mistake.

"Step aside, Amanda." Stormy grey eyes meet hers. "Please."

"What the fuck is going on?" Olivia's face is absolutely livid now, pushing into the face of the one who seems to be calling the shots. Furious at both at the intrusion and at their treatment by the hands of the detectives. "If you're going to be tearing apart our suite, we have a right..."

"It's in the warrant, ma'am," Matt says, intercepting Olivia before she can reach the other detective, who outweighs her by a good hundred pounds. "Just doing our jobs. Please, let us work. Don't make us ask again."

Olivia's jaw teeth slam shut, her jaw tensing as she does as instructed, hands tearing furiously at the warrant, her eyes scanning over the paperwork. Amanda frowns, stepping up behind Olivia, peering over her shoulder as she reads.

This warrant applies to any and all property of the suspect and/or the deceased that may have been used in the commission or facilitation in violation of the law in question, according to Georgia Penal Code Article...

Amanda's face pales.

All guns.

All computers.

All cell phones.

"Liv..." suddenly there is the very real possibility that she is going to faint. Amanda sways unsteadily on her feet, clamping one hand over her mouth while the other digs into the brunette's shoulder.

"I see it," Olivia murmurs softly, her coffee-colored eyes equally as troubled. She reaches up with her right hand and closes her hand over Amanda's. "I don't understand what..."

"No one' been staying in this room," the bull-necked detective says, returning to the main living room. He looks back and forth between Olivia and Amanda, face contorted in what she can only guess is disgust.

"I've got something, Travers." Matt emerges from the main room, mouth grim, dangling from a pinky.

Amanda's gun.

"My service weapon," It slips out without thinking, Amanda raising an eyebrow, frowning at the glance the two detectives shared. "You know I'm a police officer, what..." her voice trails off, her heart stopping when she realizes what is happening. No... not again.

"You can't possibly think..." Olivia seems to reach the same conclusion, her voice straining the limits of incredulity.

"I'm going to have to ask you to turn around," Travers grabs Amanda firmly by the arm, his grip like iron as he tugs her away from Olivia. Amanda's blue eyes trail helplessly to Olivia's, latching onto those dark pools that are filled with an anger and an agony that she's never seen before.

"This has to be a mistake. She's a decorated police officer, for Christ's sake." Olivia's voice is rising, and if anyone besides Amanda noted the undercurrents of desperation, they give no sign. "I'm her superior officer and we've been together this entire time."

"Amanda Rollins," there is a click as one wrist, then the other, is cuffed behind her back, Travers tightening the cuffs so they put an uncomfortable strain on her arms just up to the point where they hurt. "You are under arrest for murder."

Try as she might, Amanda can't stop the tears that roll down her face. Because, even if Olivia can't fully understand it, she does, and she knows how deep in trouble she is in.

"Someone is obviously trying to set her up. This is retaliation from someone in the Atlanta PD." Olivia storms into Matt's face, and in that moment Amanda thinks Olivia is angrier than she's ever seen her. More angry than when Amanda relapsed. Maybe even angrier than when Lewis escaped. "Who exactly is she supposed to have murdered?"

And Matt's expression is almost sorrowful.

"The murder of Charles Beckett."