Just a warning, this chapter gets violent at one point, and deals with some heavy adult themes. I will put in a note at this part so anyone who is uncomfortable reading it can skip it.

References: Henry ("Olivia")

The students had now finished their last week of classes, and they had three weeks of stuvac before their exams. Peter and Olivia were spending all their time together, so he'd help her study by quizzing her on her notes. They were curled up on the couch at his place – him underneath her leaning back across it while she rested between his legs, her back pressed into his warm chest.

"OK, next question. What's the US Department of Defence's definition for Terrorism?"

She thought for a moment. "Terrorism is the unlawful use of – or threatened use of – force or violence against individuals or property to coerce or intimidate governments or societies, often to achieve political, religious or ideological objectives."

He checked the flashcard he held and laughed. "Damn, you're good."

"Was that right?"

"Word for word."

She shrugged. "Photographic memory. Anyway, that's just terrorism. I haven't even started on my other subjects yet."

"Well, you are like three days into stuvac. Don't worry, Livia. I'm sure you'll do fine in the written tests with your wicked memory and conquer the pracs with your Dunhamator ninja skills," he pulled her a little closer. "And by the way, you're so damn cute when you wear those glasses and go on little rants about FBI stuff," he mentioned, nuzzling her neck.

She laughed. "You're shameless." He started peppering kisses along her cheek and she tilted her head back to kiss him fully. Trying not to separate them, she twisted herself around in his arms and straddled his thighs, draping her arms around his neck. They kept it simple so they wouldn't go too far, but neither of them could resist tempting themselves just a little bit. Olivia smoothed her palms over the broad scope of his chest, dragging them down his torso. Following her lead, he moved his hands up from her hips and let his fingertips creep underneath the hem of her top, running with tiny steps across the bare skin there.

His stomach muscles shivered as her hands moved up under his shirt, preparing to take it off. Suddenly Peter's watch alarm sounded, the noise breaking them apart with a mutual moan. "Looks like I've got to go to work, Livia – graveyard shift. I'll drive you back to campus."

"Thanks. It's only 9:30, I may as well get some study done in the library."

"You work too hard, you know."

"Well, I have to if I want to get a good spot in the next program."

"Fair enough, then. But take care of yourself. Charlie better not tell me you've been skipping meals to study," he joked. "I just don't want to see you tear yourself up, OK? I care about you way too much for that."

Even though his over-protectiveness made her a little nervous, she nodded. He noticed her do that thing she always did with her lip when she was uncertain, and kissed her again. He began a warm trail down her neck, making Olivia's breath catch slightly in her throat, before returning to her mouth in an attempt to drown out her weak protests. "Bishop…work…"

He pulled away, groaning. "I don't want to stop, but you're right - if I don't drop you home soon I'm going to be unemployed."

He drove her to the library - they were keeping it open 24/7 during stuvac so students could study, not that they did. Stuvac ended up being mostly used for procrastination and heavy drinking, but then again Olivia Dunham wasn't most students. She trudged her way up to the top floor where the Human Trafficking textbooks were, finding that there were only a few other students up there. After what seemed like forever, she looked up at the clock - 1:19am. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Seeing she was the only one left on the whole floor, she decided to call it a night. Picking up the books she'd used, she headed down an aisle to return them all. Out of nowhere, she heard heavy footsteps approaching.

"Well hello, Miss Dunham. I didn't think anyone would be here studying so late."

She knew that voice. It felt like ice on the tip of her spine.

Harris.

Fuck.

He started walking down the aisle towards her, and she could feel herself start to be cornered. She dumped the rest of the books without sorting them. "I was just leaving. Excuse me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she attempted to pass him.

He blocked her way. "Where do you think you're going?" There was alcohol on his breath. She tensed, fear ripping a whole through her stomach. She knew exactly where this was heading.

"Home," she snapped icily. "Excuse me."

She tried to push past again. He wasn't having it. "No, I don't think so." He stepped closer, his eyes darting to the empty office behind her at the other end of the aisle. "How bout a quickie in the back, Livvy?"

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck you!

She glared at him. Braced herself, furious. "You let me past. Right now."

"Come on, be a good girl, now. You want to pass your law exam, right? Besides, I know you want it anyway, you little slut."

She spat at him. It stunned her. She'd never spat at anyone in her life but right now it was the least she could do. She swore long ago that she'd never let anyone speak to her the way her stepfather spoke to her mother, and she certainly wasn't going to put up with it tonight.

Violence starts here:

Needless to say, he wasn't impressed. He grabbed her. Slammed her back against the shelves. The pain was sudden and astonishing. He gripped both her arms now, pinning her as he slobbered all down her neck. She screamed and pushed him away. "Let me go! Get off me, you son of a bitch!"

His hand covered her mouth, smothering her. "Shut your fucking mouth! It'll just be worse for you if you don't."

She bit his hand. Hard. She felt it recoil. Tried to push off his weight. Screamed again. She used a self-defence tactic they were taught in PT, but he just countered it. A hand smacked her face into the shelf. Her lip split. He laughed at her. "You think you can beat me with those class-learned moves? Honey, we wrote that shit." He hit her again. And again. The edges of her vision went black.

Everything was a blur after that. She was being dragged. Her eyes went wide. No way was she going down without a fight. She thrashed like an animal – scratching, kicking, punching, screaming. But her thoughts were always ten steps behind her body. All she could think was: this isn't happening. Not to me. No. Things like this don't happen to me.

Somehow they'd ended up in the office. He shut the door. "Go on, fight," he taunted. "I love a girl who likes it rough." She lashed out harder against his grip. One of her punches landed. His nose cracked beneath her knuckles. He sucker punched her in the stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air. Felt tears in her eyes.

He slammed her hard against the wall and held her there. His nose was bleeding. A flicker of pride shot through her, but it was short lived. He backhanded her across the face. "You'll pay for that," he swore. Disoriented, she tried to keep a grip on things. She couldn't move. His whole body was against her. She was nauseated as she felt how his arousal grew the more she resisted. He grabbed her face so she was looking right at him. His other hand went between them to his belt. She didn't dare look away, but glared at him dead in the eyes, fiercely defiant. He was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing how terrified she was. He smirked anyway, leaning close. "Now you're gonna get on your knees, and you're gonna swallow everything you get. And you're gonna like it, bitch."

She thrashed against him. "Try it," she spat angrily through gritted teeth. "Anything you put in my mouth you're gonna lose."

He gripped her face tighter, fingers bruising her cheeks. "No, you listen here, little girl. If you bite me, I won't think twice about killing you."

She yelped as he pulled her hair. The pain was sharp. He forced her down. Pinched her nose closed. She held her breath. No fucking way was she opening her mouth. As he was unbuttoning himself and stepped back a little, her hands were freed. She lashed out again, punching him in the gut and groin until he doubled over from the pain.

She tried to run, but somehow he grabbed her again. He was bigger. Heavier. Stronger. She fought hard. So did he. The air was knocked out of her lungs as he threw her back onto the desk. The weight of his body over her was suffocating. He gripped her wrists together with one hand. The other tore her shirt open. "So fucking beautiful," he groaned as his hand moved over her bare skin, tracing the outlines of her bra as she squirmed away from his touch. She had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from crying and pleading with him to stop. No matter how bad this got, she wasn't going to beg that bastard for a damn thing.

But she'd never felt so helpless in her life. She knew she was screaming furiously, but was so zoned out she couldn't even hear her own voice. Harris punched her in the stomach again. She gasped for air. Slumped back. Her head smacked the desk. She tried to stay conscious. Don't give up, she thought. Don't you dare fucking give up.

Through blurry eyes, she saw him eyeing the snap of her jeans. He let go of her wrists and reached for it.

Big mistake.

Her hands now free, she reached frantically around the desk, grasping for anything she could pick up and swing. Her fingertips touched something cold and hard – a vase. She clutched it. Smashed it against his face. Glass snapped and sliced at him beneath her hand. He screamed an unearthly sound and staggered back away from her, pants around his ankles.

She was free. It took her a moment to realise it. She lay there in shock, gasping for air, and then retched over the side of the table. She pulled herself up and stared at him, stunned. He stumbled and collapsed against the wall, convulsing and screaming. Blood seeped from between his fingers as they covered his face.

"My eyes!" he howled, slumping to the floor. "You BITCH!"

Violence over:

When she managed to stand, she didn't waste her chance to run. She bolted out of the room, slamming a chair underneath the doorknob behind her. She went down two floors before she ran into another face. A janitor who was mopping stared horrified as she sprinted down the stairs toward him. "Oh my God, what happened to you?" He tried to approach her.

"No!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me!"

He held up his hands in defence. "It's OK. I'm not going to hurt you. You need some help."

"No, I have to get out of here."

"You're bleeding."

She looked down. Her hands were cut open from the glass, her shirt torn to shreds, her jeans half-unzipped; her whole body marred with forming bruises and split skin. She stumbled, staring at her bleeding hands. "I didn't even feel that," she breathed. The adrenaline lost its edge and pain began to register. She started shaking. Everything burned. "It hurts…" she whimpered.

"Just sit down, honey, OK? What's your name?"

"Olivia"

"I'm Henry. You're gonna be alright, Olivia. Let me call security."

Olivia knew was that she needed someone she could trust to be with her, but she couldn't let any of her friends see her like this. "Colonel Jacobsen," she said to Henry. "He's a psych lecturer who lives on campus. Can you tell security to bring him too? Please?"

He nodded and made the call. Minutes later, Jacobsen stormed up the stairwell with security guys and a medic. He took off his shirt and knelt down, draping it around Olivia's shoulders as the medic started examining her. "Olivia, are you alright?"

"Sir, we need more medics," she said, still in shock.

"Olivia, you're going to be OK -"

"No, not for me. For him. I cut his eyes. He's bleeding heaps. Up in the office on the fourth floor. I locked him in." The security guys exchanged a nervous look and sped up the stairs.

"Who was it, Olivia?" Jacobsen asked softly.

"Harris."

Jacobsen closed his eyes briefly, imagining the worst. "Olivia, we're going to make sure he gets what he deserves, but first we need to get you to the doctors. Do you want me to call any of your friends?"

She shook her head frantically. "No, please. Don't tell them," she begged. She looked down at herself, her eyes stinging with shameful tears. She felt like if any of them saw her in this state she'd never be able to look them in the eyes again.

"No one's going to tell them anything, OK? But Olivia, tonight's going to be hard. You should have a friend come down to support you. You don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to. If you find that it gets too much, we can ask them to leave, OK?"

Only two names came to her mind. As much as she wanted Peter there, a part of her felt like her boyfriend would never want her again after this. Who would? She felt ashamed. Humiliated. Worthless. Disgusting. He probably wouldn't be able to even look at her, all bloody and beaten. She wept at the thought of that.

In the end, she asked him to call Charlie.

At the hospital, Harris was taken to emergency surgery. Olivia and the doctors confirmed she wasn't raped, to everyone's relief. They treated her wounds, collected evidence and took her statement after she decided to press charges. She knew it was dangerous – he was a powerful man and this would probably affect her career for years, but she knew she had to make sure this didn't happen to another girl. Who knew how many others he'd already attacked? Maybe if someone before her had reported him, this might never have happened to her tonight.

The medical staff were sympathetic with her, but she still felt completely alone. They moved her up to a room where she could stay the night. Jacobsen was so kind, waiting with her for Charlie to come. When her friend finally entered the room, he left to give them some space.

It was like time stopped. Charlie just stood still. He looked like he couldn't speak, but somehow he managed it. "My God, Livvy, what happened?"

"What did they tell you?" she breathed coarsely. Her throat was raw.

"Nothing - just that you were here." He looked over her body, taking in her beaten face and stitched, bandaged hands. She felt grateful that she was wearing hospital pyjamas now and he couldn't see more of her bruises. "Livvy, if you don't want to explain…"

"It was Harris. In the library."

Somehow she found the courage to look him in the eyes. She could see it - the exact moment when he put two and two together, when the worst case scenario crossed his mind and wrote itself all over his face.

"Oh Livvy, he didn't," he whispered, his rough voice breaking. "Please tell me he didn't."

"No. He tried. But no. I got away."

He ran his hands over his head and closed his eyes, his face tensing in despair. She'd never seen him look so hopeless. He slowly approached where she was sitting in her bed, curled in a ball. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Livvy. May I hug you?" he asked gently. "I'll understand if you say no."

She wrapped her arms around her knees a little tighter and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. "Charlie, I don't know if I can handle that yet…But I'd really like it if you could hold my hand."

"Of course, Livvy. Anything." Her hand tentatively slid into his. They were both shaking. He felt her initially flinch at the contact, but then she squeezed hard, like he was the only thing keeping her breathing – and maybe, tonight, he was. He gently squeezed back, just enough to let her know that she wasn't alone.

Something snapped. She started sobbing. Having Charlie see her like this just made everything real. She buried her face in her knees and just bawled, feeling like she couldn't even breathe. Somehow through a sick, wet choke she spluttered out, "I tried…I tried so hard, but…" She gasped for air and sobbed again, her shoulders shuddering. "Oh Charlie, he wouldn't stop…"

His heart broke for her. He tried to soothe her but she barely heard anything he was saying. He didn't know what to do. "Livvy, do you want me to get Peter to come?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No…Don't, please… I can still feel Harris on me, Charlie. I can still smell his breath - it's like it's in my skin. I feel disgusting…" She wiped her face as she wept. "I think Peter loves me, Charlie. He hasn't told me yet, but I can tell. If he sees me like this… He'll never want me now. I'm too damaged. He'll leave and go somewhere like he always does and he won't ever come back for me."

"Livvy, you know that isn't true. You said yourself, he loves you to pieces. And when he finds out what happened, that's not going to change. Trust me, he'll want to kill Harris, but he'll also want to do everything he possibly can to make you feel better. No matter what happened tonight, Liv, he will never leave you. And neither will I." He sighed. "How about you get some rest and we can think about calling him in the morning, OK?"

She nodded numbly. She let go of his hand and took some painkillers, allowing herself to succumb to her exhaustion. She lay back in her bed and he pulled up a chair beside her. "Livvy?"

"Yeah?" she replied weakly.

"I just wanted to say…" he murmured, his hand rediscovering hers. "What you did tonight wasn't easy. It wasn't easy, and it was brave. And I couldn't be more proud of you." A tear slipped from her cheek to her pillow as she closed her eyes.

He stayed with her through every nightmare, soothing her back to sleep each time. After a few hours she finally gave in - she had to see Peter, even if she was scared of his reaction. Charlie let a nurse watch Olivia sleep so he could go outside and make the call.

It was 6:41am - Peter would have only just finished his late shift. Charlie sighed and waited in the seating area down the hall from Olivia's room, head in his hands. He'd never had to deliver news like this before. No matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn't think of a decent way to tell Peter that his girlfriend with was beaten to a pulp and almost raped while he was just at work. There was no decent way.

Finally, Peter stormed in, looking around frantically until his tired eyes finally settled on Charlie. "Where is she?"

Charlie stood up to meet him. He tried to swallow, but his throat was tight and dry. "She's asleep in there," he said, gesturing to her room. "The nurse is watching her."

"What is going on? Is she sick?"

"No, Peter. She's not sick."

"Well what, then?"

"Listen, she's going to be alright. That's all the matters now, OK?"

"Charlie, what's wrong with her?" Peter pressed, panicking.

Charlie couldn't respond. He just shook his head, rubbing his bleary eyes. Swore under his breath. Looked away. He couldn't even get the words out.

"Charlie!" Peter snapped. "What the hell happened? Tell me! What is wrong with Olivia?"

Charlie put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes for the first time. Peter knew then that it was something really serious. He went quiet, still. Seeing fear settle into Peter's face, Charlie ushered him over to the seats in the waiting room. "Sit down, Peter," he said softly, his voice weighed down with burden. "There's something you and I need to talk about."

OK, get your breath back.

Before you all kill me, let me assure you that, like always, P/O will survive this.

Please review.